William turned back to Duke and gave him an encouraging nod. He wanted to give him a thumbs-up but he had no thumbs. Their plan was working well so far. Duke had dug out under the electrified fence earlier that evening and William had gently steered his brother towards the deepest hollow. He was not sure whether Pan knew about electric fences but he had allowed Billy to be nudged to a point where it was just about deep enough to allow the young goat to scrape under, even if the tips of his tiny horns had been left glowing blue for a few seconds.
The two goats trudged on. The field opened out, giving William views down towards the valley ahead of him and up the slope to his right where the farmhouse of farmer Garth Jones stood, dark and foreboding, on the hill. The mist had cleared a little on this side of the fence but the faint haze in the air gave the house a ghostly glow and sent a shiver down William’s spine.
Although the lack of light indicated that no one was at home - or, at least, at home and awake - William was nonetheless disheartened to notice that Billy was slowly changing course to head towards it. He did not want a run-in with Farmer Jones. He certainly did not want to end up as mutton stew, as Billy had rather pessimistically predicated earlier that day. (The fact that, technically, mutton only really referred to sheep was not much consolation.)
It was at that moment that Billy stopped dead in his tracks.
“Billy?” William whispered. “Are you awake?”
There was no reply. As suddenly as he had stopped, Billy resumed his march although William noted that his course had shifted and they were definitely skirting around the house rather than heading straight for it.
This might have given him some comfort had he not also noticed something rather disquieting. He could feel his hair beginning to stand up a little and a general sense of oppression was building in the air. He glanced heavenwards. Cloud cover was light tonight but it felt like a thunderstorm was brewing.
Sure enough, that thought has scarcely entered his head when a thunderous crash sounded from the direction of Swansea. Somewhere, an owl hooted mournfully into the night. William gulped. He was well into his fifth or sixth boding by now and still none the wiser as to how this evening would end.
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