They made camp in a small stand of black alders that clung to the sides of the rocky bank of the stream. Booth had been peculiarly insistent in the layout of the tents: Merry and Don in the one nearest the water, then Booth’s larger one, then Pryce and Yan in a small clearing among the trees.Two of the monks had casually shown up towards afternoon carrying fishing poles and basket of potatoes and onions.

      “Aren’t we the happy little campers?” muttered Yan.

      "Yeah. Big filleting knives, too.” Pryce answered. “They keep looking around for something. Booth is a little more discreet, but he’s doing it too.”

      “Let’s go join the fun, shall we?”

      Yan grabbed one of the poles and headed to the spot where Booth and Merry were standing. Pryce followed. He watched as Yan adroitly detached Merry from the Scotsman, instigating a water fight and pulling Don into the fray. He also noticed that after one of Merry’s more spectacular dunkings one of the monks had started towards them angrily, but was stopped by Booth.

      They did enough fishing that there was stew for supper that evening. Whatever else the man may have been, Pryce was willing to concede Booth was a superb cook. Merry got another dose of medication with his bowl of stew, which he was told with great fanfare was the last he would ever need to take.

      After supper they sat around the fire, but there wasn’t much conversation. The monks’ presence cast a pall over the group. Even Booth seemed withdrawn. It was a warm night, with the moon nearly full, and a scattering of stars peeking through the clouds sailing overhead. The berries in the mistletoe clinging to the branches of the alders gleamed in the moonlight. There was a sort of odd expectancy in the air, or maybe it was just the way Booth and the monks kept twitching with every little sound.

      “I’m going to bed,” Merry announced, finally breaking the awkward silence. “I’m feeling a little tired. Yan, don’t forget to look for that map. I’m sure I put it in your pack, and we promised your uncle Andy we would give him a full report.”

      “Uncle Andy?” asked Booth.

      “Yan and Pryce’s uncle. Keen on nature photography.” Merry gave a big wave. “He’s always looking for something new to photograph. All of us scout for him whenever we travel.”

      Booth nodded, seemingly mollified. “Ok, guys, you know what to do.”

      They set to banking the fire and cleaning up the pots and utensils. Merry started singing Men of Harlech; Yan, Don, and even Pryce joined in. Merry had the strongest voice of all of them, and as the song climbed to its climax, the others dropped back to a melodic, wordless hum. As Merry reached the final notes, another sound joined in, so startling that even though Pryce and Yan had been expecting it, they could not help but shudder.

      It was the howl of a wolf.

      “Lupus magnum est, lupus fortis est, lupus deus est” chanted Booth and the monks into the
sudden silence.

      “What the hell was that?” asked Don.

      “A feral dog,” Booth replied easily. “There are some around here. We think it’s city people leaving them to fend for themselves.”

      “That’s sick!”

      Booth shrugged. “It happens.”

      Merry looked at Pryce and Yan. “If that’s a dog, it’s the bloody hound of the bloody Baskervilles,” he whispered.

      “Wolf,” Yan said. “Merry, we need to talk.”

      “Yeah. When they go off for Compline, ok?”

      Yan nodded. They waited until Booth and the monks had retreated to the guide’s tent for their evening prayers before cramming into Merry’s tent.

      “Don, I’m sorry, but you’re going to hear some things that are going to sound really strange, ok?” He waited until the other guy nodded. “Ok. Merry, what the hell is going on? Uncle Andy?”

      “Well, I knew it would get your attention! And I don’t know… no, that’s not true. Something happened while we were in Spain. Dad’s business started having troubles. Money went missing, they thought Dad may have taken it. A man came to see him. I thought it was a policeman, but I think it may have been one of the monks.”

      ‘These guys?”

      “I think so. Brother Athelstane, the forester? I caught a glimpse of him in the monastery. I’d swear it was the same guy. He and Dad had a long meeting and when they came out of the study they were both really pissed off. I heard Dad say he wanted no part of that damned superstition…But then all of us got sick, except Dad, and Mom died…The monk showed up again the day after the funeral. That night Dad started giving us new medicine and Leah and I got better almost overnight. All the business problems disappeared… Two months later we were back in Cardiff.”

      “Merry,” Yan said. “You think your Dad is involved in this?”

      Merry nodded miserably. “Whatever it is. And it’s about me, right? Dad’s turned me over to them for some reason.”

      “I’m sorry, Merry, I’m so sorry.” Yan said.

      “Guys,” Don interrupted. “There’s something you should know. My Dad’s been having business troubles too. I didn’t want to come on this trip, no offence, yeah? But my Dad ordered me to. He was almost frantic about it.”

      “Fuck.” Pryce swore. “A permanent host and a first transmission? So what are we?”

      “Food.” Said Yan chillingly. “They will need to feed as soon as the change happens. Merry, did you ever mention Torchwood to your Dad? Ever?”

      “No, but… he knew about it some, I think. I caught him looking at some papers once, and they looked like… well, like some of the things you showed me.”

      ‘Torchwood?” Don asked.

      “Long story.” Yan said. “So maybe your dad figured it out and it’s trying to help you out? Or they hope killing us will throw Torchwood into disarray as they make their move?”

      Merry hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know!”

      Pryce patted his back. “No worries, Merry. We sent out an SOS.”

     “I know. When we called Addie, you told her somehow.”

      “You guessed?”

      Merry gave a weak little chuckle. “Well, I remembered the name of those damned rosebushes we spent days lugging around for Mrs. Jones last summer!”

      “Yeah. She’ll let Uncle Jack know.”

      “We’re going to have to move before then,” said Yan. “It’s going to be a full moon tomorrow night.”

      “This has something to do with what happened here, right?” Merry said, “What you told me about Queen Victoria?”

      “I think so.”

      “What are we going to do?” Merry swallowed hard, then stiffened. “I’ll be damned if I play host to a… whatever the hell that thing is… without a fight.”

      Yan grinned recklessly. “We’re going to make a run for Torchwood House.”