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Rathbone's
memory demands it.'
    And so, of course, did his re-election as Grand
Growler, although he would never tell Freddy that.
    'Yes, sir,' Freddy croaked nervously, trying to
look fierce.
    As Sir Hotspur stood up and raised his hands, the
crowd fell silent.
    'Honoured guests, Werens, Fangen, all! The time
has come. Now is the Grand Growling and High
Howling of the Hidden Moonlight Gathering of
Werefolk. We howl thanks for the ancient magic of the
Moonstone. Now, by the power of the silver moon, let
the Transwolfation begin!'
    With that, Sir Hotspur pulled back the curtain to
reveal a tall window. There in the midnight sky shone
a perfect, beautiful full moon. Although Freddy was
standing back from the light, his skin began to itch
even more. All around him Fangen struck by the
moonbeams began transforming into wolves. Large old
greying wolves, young beautiful black wolves, wolves
with sleek brown hair, even pure white wolves. Lady
Whitehorn transformed into a tiny pale wolf with her
diamond tiara still balanced precariously on her head.
It was a terrible and magnificent sight. Howling filled
the air. While still a boy, Freddy couldn't understand
the Wolfen words; they sounded like deadly music.
Only as a wolf would he be able to join in this ancient
language. Eventually all the wolves apart from Sir
Hotspur and his nephew had transformed.
    'Now you, Frederick,' Uncle Hotspur ordered.
'And make it good, sir! This is no place for a foolster,'
he added menacingly, his eyes glaring from under his
hairy red eyebrows.
    Freddy felt like running away, but he pulled
together his courage and walked towards the patch of
moonlight. The crowd fell silent in anticipation.
    'Please don't let it hurt,' Freddy whimpered to himself.
    As he stepped into the moonbeams he felt the
most marvellous warmth spread over his body. For a
Fangen, the light of the moon is like the sun's rays on
a beautiful summer day. He began to stretch and it felt
glorious, like picking a scab or scratching an itch. It
was as if he were turning and twisting inside out. He
fell forward onto his hands and knees and a searing
shiver shot through him as he felt new hair growing
through his skin. Freddy had transformed. He put
back his head and howled with joy.
    'Yip!'
    Freddy opened his eyes in alarm.
    The wolves howled in disgust.
    The Putrid Pair squealed with delight.
    Sir Hotspur roared with rage.
    Freddy felt that something was not quite right ...
He ran to the window and looked at his reflection
against the dark night.
    'Yip!' he woofed in shock. The reflection staring
back at him was not that of a fearsome, proud wolf.
Instead, he saw a perfectly tiny, utterly un-fierce and
totally ridiculous black poodle.
    'I'm a were-poodle!'
    Never once in his nightmares had he imagined a
fate as bad as this. Surely life couldn't get any worse?
Oh, poor old Freddy. Life could be, and was about to
become, very much worse.

C HAPTER F OUR
Dripsy-Wimpsy

    The room echoed with a tumult of furious howls.
    There could be no sight more repulsive to werefolk
than a dog in their midst. Even normal wolves and dogs
distrust each other. Dogs see themselves as civilised and
wolves as wild and dangerous. Since cavemen first threw
sticks, dogs have always sided with men against wolves.
Dogs lived in the humans' caves, then their huts and
then their houses, but wolves were always in the forests.
Then wolves were gradually driven out of the ancient
woods as humans built their towns. They viewed the
dogs that helped men to hunt them down as traitors to
animal-kind.
    For werefolk the disgust with dogs goes even
deeper. Added to the distrust any normal wolf feels
is a fear of discovery, since some humans would not
only seek to drive them away, but to destroy them
entirely. Not even human form will fool some dogs
– some can always smell the wolf within. Sir Rathbone
himself had been tracked down and uncovered by a
wolfhound. These traitorous beasts had led soldiers
to the gates of this very