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Mr Wild’s red truck appeared in front of them. “See?” Mr Montague said. “Nothing to worry about. We’ve
arrived!”
    Warren and Wilf were tossing a tennis ball back and forth, catching it in their mouths.
    Mr Montague parked at the far end of the clearing, and Maud jumped out of the car and rushed over.
    “Hi, Mau – oof!” said Wilf.
    Warren had let the tennis ball drop to the floor and grabbed Wilf in a headlock.
    “Grrrr!” said Warren.
    Wilf pulled at Warren’s forearm and scrabbled his feet around. “Let me go!”
    “Only when you admit you’re the weakest little brother in the whole world,” growled Warren.
    “Stop it!” said Maud. “I don’t know why you’re showing off. There’s no one here to watch.”
    “I was enjoying it, actually,” said a mocking voice that Maud knew all too well. Poisonous Penelope stepped out of a ragged black tent at the edge of the clearing.
    Penelope was a witch with straggly purple hair and a pointed hat, and she was Maud’s least favourite classmate. She was wearing black wellingtons and a waterproof version of her usual
black dress. “Hello, Montague,” she said.
    “What are you doing here?” asked Maud.
    “I’m Warren’s best friend,” said Penelope. “I always come. I’m surprised Wilf managed to find a friend this year, too. He’s so totally
un-monstrous.”

    Mr and Mrs Wild strode out into the clearing, wearing matching red wellingtons and checked shirts. “Glad you could all make it,” said Mr Wild. He turned to his
fighting sons and let out a low, angry growl. Maud thought he was going to tell Warren off, but instead he said, “I’ve told you before, Wilf. You need to throw your weight to get out of
a headlock. And stop whining.”
    Maud picked up the tennis ball and threw it over Warren’s head. “Fetch,” she said.
    Warren’s eyes followed it, and he bounded off, releasing Wilf.
    “Good boy,” said Maud.
    “Fight your own battles next time,” said Mr Wild, pointing his finger at Wilf. “You shouldn’t need little girls to help you.”
    “Sorry, Dad,” said Wilf, rubbing his neck.
    Mr Wild stomped back over to his truck.
    “I’m glad you’re here,” said Wilf.
    “That’s alright,” said Maud. “My parents are excited about it. I think they really like your mum and dad.”
    She pointed to her dad, who had untethered the caravan and was now chatting to Mr Wild. He was saying words like ‘awesome’ and ‘groovy’, and making Mr Wild cringe.
    “I’d better put my tent up,” said Maud. “Where’s yours?”
    “We don’t have any,” said Wilf.
    “You came camping without a tent?” asked Maud, surprised.
    “Of course,” said Wilf. “Why hide under a tent when you could be out in the open, feeling the moonlight on your fur?”
    Maud gulped. Keeping the truth about the Wilds’ secret from her parents was going to be even harder than she’d thought.

    She headed back to the car, where Milly was still sitting in the back with her seatbelt on and her arms folded.
    “Fancy helping me with the tent?” asked Maud.
    “No,” said Milly. “I fancy getting out of this mud pit right now, and I’d like to know why no one is listening to me.”
    “I’m sure you’ll find something to do,” said Maud. “Maybe you could build a swamp-castle.”
    Milly ignored her, so Maud went round to the boot and hauled out the tent. She dragged it into the middle of the clearing and tested the ground with her finger. It was firmer than the
surrounding bog, but it was still squidgy. At least it would be easy to get the pegs in.
    As Maud unrolled the tent, Wilf ran to the other side and grabbed a corner. He stretched it over the ground and pushed a peg into the soil.
    “Is your dad always so harsh?” asked Maud as they worked.
    “He’s usually much worse,” said Wilf, clicking two of the poles together. “He thinks all wolves should be fierce and strong. He’s proud of Warren, but he says
I’m so nice I couldn’t