After the confusion and shock started to settle, Tim could not believe what had happened. His captors were the stuff of legends, once whispered by other creatures on the mountain. The men who had taken him were the Searchers, a group who journeyed across lands and seas, hunting for creatures to feed to their leader, the Dark Giant. The Dark Giant feasted on the souls of innocent beings, consuming all their goodness and leaving only a joyless shell. He dwelled on the Island of Perpetual Night, where he had sucked the light out of the sky to live in total darkness. His evil hunger filled the empty hearts of the Searchers, who found belonging and purpose in his service.

Now, as they journeyed across the sea, they had covered themselves in thick robes to protect against the howling wind, and they looked like black specters haunting the dim morning light.  There were ten of them, at Tim’s last count. What do they want? Maybe my antlers? He wanted to tell them that if they waited until the summer, his antlers would drop off. But he was terrified, and silent.

The ship tipped from side to side, rocked by the waves. What if I never make it home? What if George came looking for me and he’s got lost? He had to save him, didn’t he? He had to. Tim dreamt of the rescue scene now: George would storm aboard, crush the Searchers and steer the boat to safety. Then George would make an awful joke about Tim having the best horn on the island.

The ship tipped from side to side, rocked by the waves. Tim stared over the edge into the water. There was land on either side. Land! Which land? Where are we? The ship sailed near the shore now, past the mouth of a river that flowed in-land, perhaps back to George. Tim thought now of the life that had been taken from him, how precious it was. He had spent most of his adolescence alone, searching for highs, feeling the lows, and never finding the place in-between. As he grew up into a young adult, he felt empty. His body was a dried out river bed where the water used to flow. Then he met George, and they kissed for the first time. It was like a fountain burst up through the dry, cracked ground, and life flowed free through his bloodstream.

The ship tipped from side to side, rocked by the waves. A tear trickled down Tim’s face, though the net, onto the hard floor of the ship. He felt one of the Searchers moving past him, and then watched the blur of him slowly remove a large sheet from the huge shape on the other side of the boat. The Searcher revealed another beast, locked in thick chains. He tried to focus: it looked like a stag. A huge, strong body with powerful horns; completely powerless now. Tim could not see his face from where he was held, but the stag had something about him that he knew so well. The bend and point of his horns, the golden brown colour of his fur, the shape…  He felt the pang of panic and could not breathe.

It was the Great Stag. It was his father. Tim’s stomach clenched. He felt a spike of anger shoot through him, the rage he had not felt since… The last time he saw him was three years ago, when the Great Stag had looked him in the eye and told him he had to leave his herd. Tim had been banished for loving George, and he had had to leave everything he knew behind and start a new life, far away on the Green Mountain. He had stifled the pain of rejection inside him – it was too great to bear – but it had been lurking at the bottom of his heart ever since, and it rushed up through him in a violent eruption. What is he doing here? Why is he here? How did this happen? Is he hurt? What is happening? 

Little did either stag know that the Searchers were taking them both to the Island of Perpetual Night, and the lair of the Dark Giant.

***

For Squiggly, Koogy and Jip, finding the boat had been the easy bit. Now they had to put Jip’s plan into action: to sail to the island they had heard of many times, and never dared to go. It was the place where moving shadows lived. Even when the sun was up, it did not shine there. That was why they called it the Island of Perpetual Night. The three villagers were going to capture one of the Island’s fabled creatures whose cries could be heard out at sea, screaming through the night. The trio’s old knowledge of sailing came back to them in rusty revelations, as they slowly made their way out to sea.

Written by Henry Hudson
@henrycehudson

Illustrated by Rebecca Hopkinson