The Swarm Descends. Jacob Grey

      The air seemed to have become chillier as a light wind picked up, ruffling the treetops and blowing leaves across the graveyard. Caw saw more birds gathered in the branches – thrushes, woodpeckers, and an owl. All seemed to be watching intently. The old man with the stick shifted a little, and a ferret poked its head from the bottom of his trouser leg.

      “Mamba’s snakes were trying to find Emily herself, but instead they found her daughters,” Mrs Strickham said, her voice close to cracking. “Their deaths were quick and that was a small mercy. After that Emily fought on, somehow. Without her, we could never have defeated our enemies during the Dark Summer. But it took all she had and afterwards she was never the same.

      “I will not say her twilight years were happy, because we do not need to sugarcoat our existence, and Emily would be contemptuous of such a lie. But nor do I think she died a wretched death. In fact, she told me just a week ago that she was planning to set up her knitting circle once more. That can only mean she had found a sort of peace.”

      Mrs Strickham paused. Caw searched the faces of the other mourners, and saw that several were in tears.

      “With Emily, the centipede line ends,” said Mrs Strickham. “Hers is a double death, and our world is poorer for her passing. May she rest in peace.”

      “Rest in peace,” the crowd muttered, and Caw joined in.

      Mrs Strickham threw the rose on to the coffin. Racklen stepped forward and began to shovel earth into the grave. The centipedes, Caw noticed, remained in the ground with their mistress.

      “You went to see Quaker, didn’t you?”

      The question startled Caw. He whipped his head around to see Pip, then turned back to keep his eyes on Mrs Strickham.

      “You followed me!” he whispered.

      “You might have got away from the pigeons, but mice can crawl down drains,” said Pip. “We lost track of you when you went up a ladder though.”

      Caw let out a silent sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was Crumb finding out about the incident with the police car. He would definitely not approve.

      The mourners were beginning to drift away now and Crumb had gone over to speak with the ferret feral, greeting him with a hug. Pip’s mice were scampering around with the raccoon, climbing its fur while it tried to shake them off. Ali’s bees flew lazily around the meadow flowers that lined the graveyard, while their master spoke to the girl with the Dobermann.

      “So what did you want with Quaker?” asked Pip. “Don’t worry, I haven’t told Crumb.”

      “Do whatever you like,” said Caw. “I just wanted to ask him more about my parents.”

      Pip frowned. But before the mouse feral could ask any more questions, Crumb beckoned them over. “You two, come and say hello to Mr Duddle.”

      Pip did as he was told without question, but Caw hung back. Why did Crumb have to boss him around all the time? He pretended he hadn’t heard, he went over to the wolf feral instead, who was still shovelling, sweat glistening on his forehead.

      The huge man paused as Caw came close and buried the shovel in the ground. “Crow talker,” he said flatly.

      Caw wasn’t really sure how to respond. The wolf feral didn’t seem about to carry on digging, but didn’t say anything either. Caw began to wish he’d gone with Pip.

      “I just wanted to ask,” Caw said slowly, “about the girl who talks to squirrels. Is she all right?” Caw remembered Racklen was the one pushing Madeleine’s wheelchair that day when he’d first met them.

      “Why are you asking me?” rumbled the wolf feral.

      Caw shrank back a little. “I … I thought you might be friends,” he said.

      Something brushed against Caw’s leg, and when he looked down he saw that it was a fox. Velma Strickham was standing a few paces behind, staring fiercely at Caw.

      “Would you come with me a moment please?” she asked. “There’s someone who’d like to say hello.” Without waiting, she turned and headed down the path through the graveyard.

      “I guess I should go,” Caw mumbled at Racklen. “I’m sorry.”

      The wolf feral’s glare softened, and he shook his head. “No, crow talker,” he said quietly. “I am sorry. Emily was a friend of mine, and today has been hard. Madeleine has a hospital appointment today, but she is doing well.”

      Caw nodded.

      “And by the way,” said Racklen, “all ferals owe you their thanks. What you did in the Land of the Dead … it was very brave.”

      He thrust out a huge, soil-stained paw of a hand. Caw took it, blushing, then ran down the hill after Mrs Strickham. She had already reached her car and opened the door.

      Lydia stepped out. Her mass of red hair was loose over her shoulders and her fringe came right to her eyeline, making her delicate face seem even smaller than normal. She was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with a picture of a seal reclining on an iceberg. He studied the words for a moment. It read “Just Chill”. He looked up to see that his friend was beaming at him.

      Caw rushed up to her, grinning, then wasn’t sure exactly what to do. She opened her arms and Caw realised she wanted to give him a hug. He leant forward and let her do it, wrapping his arms awkwardly around her. She squeezed him tightly.

      “I haven’t seen you for ages,” Lydia said.

      Caw shot a glance at Mrs Strickham. Her attention was on the churchyard, but he sensed she was listening to everything he said.

      “No,” Caw replied. “I’ve been … erm … busy.”

      “Still living at the church?”

      Caw nodded. “What’s been happening with you?”

      Lydia blew out her cheeks. “A lot, I guess.” She looked across, waiting until her mother had climbed into the car and closed the door. She lowered her voice. “Caw, it’s been terrible! Mum hardly lets me out of the house. I think she’s worried I’ll get into trouble. And Dad’s lost his job.”

      “Oh no! Why?” said Caw.

      Lydia shrugged. “Supposedly because of the escaped convicts,” said Lydia. “But Dad says it’s political. Something to do with a new Police Commissioner wanting to replace the governor at the prison. We might have to move out of the house. But anyway …” she punched his arm. “You’ve been so busy you couldn’t come and see me?”

      Caw could tell she was upset. “We need to get going,” said Lydia’s mother impatiently, hand on the car roof.

      “Crumb’s been training me really hard,” said Caw, and he knew at once how lame it sounded. He rolled up his sleeve and showed her his bruises from where Crumb’s pigeons had shoved him over a park bench two days before. There were several others too from the fall off the police car – grazes and a deep purple welt across his wrist.

      “Ouch!” she said. “Did you do something to upset him?”

      “It’s worse than it looks,” Caw said guiltily. “He’s been teaching me to read too. There’s still lots of words I don’t know, but I’m getting there.”

      “That’s great!” said Lydia, though a cloud passed across her face as she spoke. “And how are Screech and Glum?”

      “The same,” said Caw. “Well, not quite. I’ve got a new one called Shimmer. She’s cool. Screech really likes her.”

      Lydia giggled. “You mean he has a crush.”

      I do not! croaked a voice from above. Caw saw Screech was perched on the branch of an elm tree. I just admire her flying ability.

      The car’s engine started up. Mrs Strickham