‘Has Racer turned?’ Suggie asked Bultitude, remembering the lycan’s formidable size and the aura of danger that always hung about him.
‘Seems as if they all have,’ said Rance. ‘We can’t contact them anymore. Where they’ve gone, we don’t know.’
‘Even though we have lost two souls to the Frizz, I’m just praying that this strife will pass over,’ said Bultitude. ‘We’re grieving, did you know that?’
‘You’ve had casualties?’ said Suggie.
‘We have, a couple of boisterous boyos, just in their teens, dear to us because of their young and thoughtless ways.’
‘You reported it?’
‘We did not. We deal with our own. We cremated them on the shore in the fashion of the men of old. But that treasured camping ground along the estuary may now be finished so far as us travelling people are concerned.’
‘You didn’t request police help on the killings?’
‘No ned for that. We have our ways, as you may know, of dealing with the inhuman tribes.’
‘What’s happened, I don’t know,’ said Rance. ‘People here have always had contact with the wolves, my family and others, for generations. Kept the pipeline open. We maintained a good co-existence for a long time, man.’
‘Maybe they have just scattered,’ said Suggie. ‘What about the guys who live in the community, like Zodiac. I mean, isn't he just a normal clerk, like, except for the full and new moon?’
‘Yeah, gone to who knows where, man, maybe to the north pole.’