I picked up the bag. It was the kind you carry over one shoulder. It was full of clothes, which I could feel through the cover. A small jar fell out as I turned the bag around. Retrieving it, I opened the lid and caught the bitter smell of… pickled onions!

My heart almost stopped. I began searching furiously for a name tag, praying the pickled onions didn't mean what I feared.

My prayers went unanswered.

The handwriting, when I found it, was neat but unjoined. The writing of a child.

"This bag is the property of Sam Grest," it said, and his address was just beneath. "Hands off!!" it warned at the end, which was pretty ironic given what had happened a minute or so earlier to R.V.

But I didn't have time to laugh at my twisted, dark joke.

Sam ! For some reason he snuck out here tonight — probably to stow away with the Cirque — and must have seen and followed me. It was Sam the wolf-man's beady eyes had spotted, standing behind me. It was Sam running for his life through the camp.

The wolf-man was after Sam!

Ishouldn't have chased them on my own. I should have gone for help. It was crazy, rushing off into the darkness by myself.

But he was after Sam. Sam, who wanted to join the Cirque. Sam, who asked to be my blood brother. Harmless, friendly, long-winded Sam. The boy who'd saved my life.

I didn't think about my own safety. Sam was in trouble, and there wasn't time to seek anyone else's help. It might be the death of me, but I had to go after them, to try to save Sam. I owed him.

I got out of the camp quickly. The clouds had parted overhead and I spotted the wolf-man disappearing into the trees. I hurried after him, running as fast as I could.

I heard the wolf-man howl a while later, which was a good sign. It meant he was still chasing Sam. If he'd caught him, he'd be too busy eating to howl.

I wondered why he hadn't caught him yet. He should have. Although I'd never seen him running in the open, I was sure he must be fast. Maybe he was playing with Sam, toying with him before he moved in for the kill.

Their footprints were clear in the damp night earth, but I would have been able to follow from their sounds anyway. It's hard to run silently through a forest, especially at night.

We ran in that way for a few minutes, Sam and the wolf-man way in front and out of sight, me trailing behind. My legs were beginning to get really tired, but I forced myself on.

I thought about what I'd do when I caught up. There was no way I could beat the wolf-man in a fair fight. I could smash him over the head with a stick or something, but probably not. He was strong and fast, and had the taste for human blood. He'd be pretty much unstoppable.

The most I could hope to do was throw myself in his path and take Sam's place. If I offered myself instead of Sam, maybe he'd take me and Sam could escape.

I wouldn't mind dying for Sam. I'd given up my humanity for one friend; it wasn't asking so much more to give up my life for another.

Besides, this way, if I died, it would be for a good cause. I wouldn't have to worry anymore about drinking human blood or starving to death. I could go down fighting.

After a few more minutes, I ran into a clearing and realized where Sam had led us: the old deserted railroad station.

It showed he was still thinking clearly. This was the best place to come, with plenty of hiding spots and lots of stuff — chunks of metal and glass — to use in a fight. Maybe neither of us would have to die. Maybe there was a chance we could win this battle.

I saw the wolf-man pause in the middle of the station yard and sniff the air. He howled again, a loud spine-shivering howl, then sprinted toward one of the rusty train cars.

I ran around the back of the car, moving as quietly as I could. I listened for sounds when I got there but couldn't hear anything. I lifted myself up and looked in one of the windows: nothing.

I lowered myself and slid along to the third window over. I couldn't see anything when I looked inside again.

I was lifting myself to peek in the next window, when I suddenly saw a metal bar moving toward my face at high speed.

I twisted to my side just in time to avoid it. It whistled by my face, scratching me but not doing any serious damage.

"Sam, stop, it's me !" I hissed, dropping to the ground. There was silence for a moment, then Sam's face appeared in the round window.

"Darren?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I followed you," I said.

"I thought you were the wolf-man. I was trying to kill you."

"You practically did."

"I'm sorry."

"For God's sake, Sam, don't waste time apologizing," I snapped. "We're in big trouble. We've got to think. Get out here quick."

He backed away from the window. There were soft shuffling sounds, then he appeared outside the car door. He looked to make sure the wolf-man wasn't around, jumped down, and crept over to me.

"Where is he?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," I whispered. "He's around somewhere, though. I saw him coming in this direction."

"Maybe he found something else to attack." Sam whispered back hopefully. "A sheep or a cow."

"I wouldn't bet on it," I said. "He wouldn't have run all this way just to abandon the chase at the very end."

We huddled close together, Sam covering the right with his eyes, me the left. I could feel his body trembling, and I'm sure he could feel mine shaking, too.

"What are we going to do?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," I whispered. "Any ideas?"

"A couple," he said. "We could lead him into the guard's house. He might fall through the rotten floorboards. We could trap him down there."

"Maybe," I said. "But what if we fall through, too? We'd be trapped. He could jump down and eat us whenever he liked."

"How about the rafters?" Sam asked. "We could climb out into the middle of a rafter and hang on, back to back. We could take sticks with us and beat him off if he attacked. There'd only be one way for him to come at us up there."

"And somebody's got to arrive from the Cirque Du Freak sooner or later," I whispered, thinking it over. "But what if he decides to snap the rafter at one end?"

"They're set pretty deeply into brick," Sam said. "I don't think he could break them with his bare hands."

"Would a rafter hold the weight of three of us?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Sam admitted. "But at least if we fell from that height it'd be over quickly. Who knows, we might get lucky and fall on the wolf-man. He could break our fall and get killed in the process."

I laughed weakly. "You watch too many cartoons. But that's a good idea. Better than any I can think of."

"How long do you think it'll be before the people from the Cirque get here?" Sam whispered.

"Depends on when they realize what's happening," I said. "If we're lucky, they'll have heard him howling and might be here in a couple of minutes. Otherwise we might have to wait until the end of the show, which could be another hour, maybe longer."

"Do you have a weapon?" Sam asked.

"No," I said. "I didn't have time to pick anything up."

He handed me a short iron bar. "Here," he said. "I had this for backup. It's not very good, but it's better than nothing."

"Any sign of the wolf-man?" I asked.

"No," he said. "Not yet."

"We'd better get going before he arrives," I whispered, then stopped. "How are we going to go to the guard's house? It's a far hike, and the wolf-man could be hiding anywhere along the way."

"We'll have to run for it and hope for the best," Sam said.

"Should we split up?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I think we're better off together."

"Okay. Are you ready to start?"