‘Not again’ they said as Tomas came running down the hill towards them.

His arms were cartwheeling, eyes staring, he bent double panting for breath. The crowd in the street rolled their eyes as he croaked ‘Wolves, the wolves are coming’.

Tomas’ father cuffed him on the side of his head and dragged him to one side. ‘You shame me’ he said angrily, ‘This nonsense again and again. How could you be so foolish?’

‘But Dad the wolves are coming, I saw them streaming down the hill toward us. Please you must believe me’. Tears course down his face.

‘Again! No one trusts you, three times we called out the militia to repel them, three times nothing’

‘Please’ Tomas wailed.

Then a darkness appeared on the mountain top, the sound of scrabbling feet descending like molten lava, both fast and furious.

There was silence as everyone turned to the hills, motionless for a minute. Too late to call the militia, too late to barricade the town, only one option left.

‘RUN!’ The cry ringing through the streets as panic set in.