"Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;

the Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Has had elsewhere its setting, And comes from afar; "

William Wordsworth

Melanie flashed her torch about, probing the tangle of rusty fence and tall, choking weeds. Logan stood beside her. In the darkness, Melanie couldn't see his expression.

"Come on!" complained Logan, "I want to go home!"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down!"

"But there's nobody round. Why should I be quiet? Do you think there might be ghosts?"

"Don't be stupid!"

Another torch light waved about.

"Hey! Don't go so fast!"

"Sorry" said Melanie, "We thought you were right behind us."

"I was, until I got stuck in the hedge. I think my jacket's ripped."

"It doesn't matter Alex," said Logan, "Its just your old one. Mum won't even notice."

Melanie pulled some wire away from a bush and kicked the tangle down with her foot.

"Good thing I've got Dad's boots on," she said.

The three children shone their torches into the gap.

"We can get through here," said Melanie, "Who's coming?"

"Me!" said Logan.

"Count me in too!" said Alex. She didn't sound quite as sure. Melanie pushed through the gap between the broken, twisted barbed wires and the bushes. Everything scraped and dragged across her clothes, like thousands of little claws.

"I'm through!" she whispered.

"Alex?" said Logan, "Do you want to go next?"