Savage Moon

Prologue

The quad bike bounced across the moors, headlight catching coarse blades of grass before rearing up into the infinity of the night sky. Like a rider struggling with an unbroken horse, the woman fought to control the vehicle. But rather than slow down, she kept the revs high, her knees flexed in readiness for the next jarring bump.

Way off to her right the undulating red light that topped the radio mast disappeared behind a rise in the land. Finally she dropped her speed, and the engine's angry growl subsided to reveal the same sound that had sparked her reckless dash in the first place: the terror-stricken bleating of a sheep.

'Not another,' she murmured, eyes turning to the shallow ravine that dropped away to her right. She yanked the handlebars round but the headlight's angle was too high. A turn of the key and the engine shuddered into silence. Suffocating darkness engulfed her. She groped for the heavy-duty spotlight behind the saddle and, as she set off down the slope, began playing the yellow beam before her.

Maybe thirty metres away was a cluster of large boulders. A haze-winged moth homed in on the torch like a heat-seeking missile. It landed on her cuff and she felt the frantic blur of wings against the back of her hand. Ignoring the insect, she trudged onwards, eyes fixed on a blood-stained clump of white fleece. The moth launched itself on a sharp curve, flashed across the trembling shaft and plummeted into the turf. She reached the head-high rocks, stepped round the outermost one and shone the light into the semi-circular grouping.

The sheep was lying on its stomach, its head hanging over front legs that were tucked under its chest. The rear legs were tangled up in entrails that glistened like freshly caught eels. An acrid smell stung her nostrils as she stepped closer, then crouched down. Oh no. The animal was still alive. She swung the torch towards the base of the nearest boulder. Something to put it out of its misery. A rock. Anything. The light picked out a trail of blood dripping down the steep grit surface — the implications were just sinking in when the low snarl sounded from above. As she began to swivel the torch upwards a heavy black form landed on top of her.