Chapter 5

Mickey was paralyzed with fear and he stared at the ominous figure swathed in a black cloak. They were so close to each other that he could smell his putrid breath, and he thought he could almost see, in spite of the fog, a sinister glare that he seemed to recognize.

It was then that Pipwolf came hurtling past on a rusty, crusty penny farthing.

It was quite surreal—a werewolf cyclist on a vintage bike. If it weren't all so terrifying, he would have laughed. Mickey felt himself being grabbed by the collar just a moment before the monster could lay his claws on him.

“Let's scram!” the werewolf shouted “That's who was following me the other evening. He wants the mirror!”

Mickey had wanted to thank Pipwolf for saving him but he quickly realized that his guide was at risk of being more dangerous than any mysterious creature.

“Watch the roooad!” he shouted, to no avail.

Pipwolf argued that there was no point: with this fog he wouldn't have seen anything anyway. It was much better instead to read an extract from The Manual for the Perfect Guide . The werewolf began to flick through the pages of the book in his pocket, leaving the steering of the handlebars to fate. Mickey gritted his teeth.

“Chapter one: The Guide and His Traveler” he began, dodging the lamppost by a hair's breadth, “Every guide (that's me) has a duty to accompany at least one traveler (that's you), who has an open mind, and is prepared to visit dimensions that are otherwise invisible and unfathomable to them.”

Mickey went pale and pointed straight at a rickety bridge. He shouted at the top of his voice: “Water! The canal! The briiidge!”

The penny farthing accelerated and literally took flight, jumping over the canal. Mickey held his breath, while Pipwolf jabbered on about his first experience as a guide and the fact that, being a free spirit, he would have gladly avoided all the pomp and ceremony. They landed with a couple of bounces and several jolts out of the fog and Mickey began to breathe again, although immediately after, he shouted, “The cars! The cross roads! The liiights!”

“I have decided” Pipwolf said suddenly, and solemnly, he grabbed Mickey's little finger, declaring, “Ow-lee, ow-lay! Flickety, flocket-ay! Flooky-in-soo! Boo and re-boo!”

A man in a convertible slammed on his brakes, a little car almost went off the road. Everyone sounded their horns furiously, while many shouted out of their windows.

While Pipwolf was jumping for joy on the saddle of his bike for managing to say the whole pompous spell without making a mistake, Mickey could only breathe a sigh of relief that he was still alive after his “lovely” bicycle trip. Little did he know that this was just the beginning of a far more dangerous journey. EXr6287u6NNVz+GYLY+7SBsrcqIjTEksQl6hvkLhtOzogwUEg6k7NKkMkEKPp6LyPax8lT9VnO+uJTeQipvxVw==