Free Kit's Wilderness by David Almond

beginning to creep out from the river’s edge. How long would it take for the ice from the edges to meet up and cover the river beneath? I hunched down and watched, and I heard again the tiny whispering all around me. I saw children shifting at the edges of my vision. I squinted and saw the skinny silhouettes, saw the round eyes catching the light from stars.
    Maybe I knew he’d be there as well. There was no surprise when I heard him, when I saw him from the corner of my eye, hunched over, further along the bank.
    “Down,” he whispered. “Leave him.”
    Silence. Just the gentle running of the river, a distant giggling, far behind.
    “Askew,” I said.
    Nothing. I moved closer to him. I spoke his name softly, as if he was an animal in pain: likely to attack, but desperately in need of comfort and love.
    “Askew,” I whispered. “Askew.”
    He sighed, grunted something, pulled his collar close, yanked his woolen hat down. The dog stirred as I drew nearer.
    “You’ll catch your death,” I said.
    He grunted again.
    Silence.
    “What do you do all day?” I said.
    He clicked his tongue.
    Silence.
    “You seen the ice?” I said.
    No answer.
    “It covered the whole river once,” I said. “They walked from bank to bank. A boy drowned when it melted.”
    Nothing.
    “Askew?” I said.
    He yanked his hat again. “You’ll catch your death,” I said.
    “You,” he whispered. “You, and that stupid pretty one.”
    “What?” I said.
    Nothing.
    We watched the water and the ice. I felt the cold creeping into me, into my bones, saw the starlit eyes watching from the dark, heard the shallow breath, the whispers. Shuddered.
    “I’ve done more stories,” I said. “You could do pictures. We could be a team.”
    Askew grunted.
    “Team. Bloody team!”
    “The other one you did was great,” I said.
    He lowered his head, gazed down. I saw the starlight caught in the dog’s eyes, in its teeth.
    “Afterward,” I said. “I dreamed about it. I dreamed that I was with Silky.”
    Long silence.
    “That’s the way of it,” he said. “You draw what you dream. Then you dream what you draw.”
    “That’s the way with stories, too.”
    Silence, just skinny bodies shifting in the darkness.
    “You see them?” I whispered.
    “Them?”
    I squinted, saw them, black silhouettes within the dark, starlight catching in their eyes, starlight glistening on their skin.
    “Them,” I said.
    Askew grinned, turned his face to the dark. The bodies crouched, stared. I heard the intake of their breath.
    “There’s more than them,” he whispered. “There’s things from further back. You’ll come to see them with your dead eyes, Kit Watson.” He stepped closer. “I was going to find you out here. I was going to bring you down here. Throw you in, or let Jax on you.”
    “Askew, man. Why?”
    “Why? ’Cause I was. ’Cause everything was fine till you came here. ’Cause you were the one that brought the teacher running. ’Cause you were the one that got the game ended and me chucked out.” He laughed.
    “But mebbe it’s better this way. Mebbe it’s what I’ve always wanted. Mebbe you’ve done me a favor, Kit Watson. Pushed me further out toward the dark.”
    I heard how his breath shuddered as he breathed, how his body shuddered. Closer to him, I saw how he was growing, how he was thickening, how massive he was becoming.
    “Why don’t you go home?” I said. “You’ll freeze out here.”
    Nothing.
    “Heading out soon,” he whispered. “Me and him. Getting out.”
    “Where to?”
    “Don’t matter. Nowhere. Somewhere. They’ll wake up, we’ll be gone.”
    “Askew, man,” I said.
    Silence.
    “I’ll bring a story round,” I said. “Like you brought the picture.”
    He grunted.
    I felt the ice deepening in my bones.
    “I will,” I whispered.
    “Silky,” he said.
    “Eh?”
    “Eh? That Silky. I see him too. He shows himself to both of us, Kit Watson.” He didn’t turn, just stayed hunched, facing the