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there are no other caravans. It’s hardly a tourist attraction – a wild beast prowling the moor, devouring sheep.’
    Mr Troll hadn’t spoken for a while. He was staring intently out of the window. Suddenly he held up a finger. ‘Shhh!’
    Everyone fell silent.
    â€˜What?’ whispered Mr Priddle.
    â€˜That noise. Can you hear it?’
    They listened again. The caravan rocked slightly. Nobody moved for a full minute.
    â€˜What kind of noise?’ whispered Mr Priddle at last.
    â€˜That strange moaning noise. Like “Ooooooooh! Ooooooooh!”’
    â€˜You mean like the wind moaning?’
    Mr Troll listened again and his expression relaxed. ‘Oh yes, it’s only the wind.’
    Everyone let out a groan. ‘Please don’t do that!’ said Mrs Priddle, irritably. ‘My nerves are on edge as it is. Maybe we should all get to bed.’
    Warren shook his head. Now it was dark he wasn’t feeling quite so brave.
    â€˜What if it comes in the night?’ he said. ‘What if it tries to get in?’

    â€˜I’m sure it won’t, Warren. We’ll lock the door.’
    â€˜But maybe it’s a ghost. Ghosts can walk through doors.’
    â€˜That’s true,’ said Mr Troll. ‘I once heard of a headless goblin –’
    â€˜PLEASE! Don’t start on goblins!’ shouted Mrs Priddle, banging her mug down on the table.
    â€˜Sorry,’ said Mr Troll. ‘I was only going to say I’ve got an idea.’
    â€˜Oh Lord!’ groaned Mr Priddle.
    â€˜But I was thinking, why doesn’t one of us stay on guard? Then we’ll all be safe as mouses.’
    â€˜Actually, it’s not a bad idea,’ admitted Mr Priddle. ‘But who’s going to stand out there in the dark?’ They all looked at each other.
    â€˜I will,’ said Mr Troll. ‘I’m not frighted of hairy beasts.’
    Mrs Troll leaned over and gave him a kiss. ‘You’re my big hairy beast,’ she said.
    â€˜Well, that’s settled then,’ said Mrs Priddle. ‘Egbert can stay on guard while the rest of us try to get some sleep.’
    Ulrik turned to his dad, as the others got ready for bed.
    â€˜Dad, can I be on guard with you? I won’t be frighted,’ he said.
    Mr Troll smiled and ruffled his son’s hairy head. ‘Of course you can, my ugglesome.’

    Outside, Mr Troll stamped his feet and blew into his hands to keep warm.
    â€˜You stay here, Ulrik, while I go and look for some firewood. A nice roaring fire will keep us warm.’
    â€˜Can’t I come with you?’ asked Ulrik.
    â€˜No, somebody’s got to stay on guard. I won’t be long.’
    Ulrik nodded doubtfully.
    â€˜Remember, what are trolls?’ asked Mr Troll.
    â€˜Fierce and scaresome.’
    â€˜That’s right. And what do trolls do?’
    â€˜They roar. Rarrgghh!’ growled Ulrik, pulling his fiercest face.
    â€˜Not bad,’ said Mr Troll, patting him on the head. ‘If you hear anything, give a roar and I’ll be here in two shakes of a goat’s tail. All right?’
    Ulrik nodded again. His dad strode off into the darkness in the direction of the woods, leaving him alone. He hugged himself and tromped up and down to keep warm. It was a cold, blustery night with inky clouds racing across the moon. Actually he hadn’t told the truth about not feeling scared. With his dad around he felt safe, but he hadn’t expected to be left by himself in the dark. Trolls weren’t scared of the dark of course but it wasn’t the dark that worried him, it was what was
out there
in the dark.
    The light in the caravan suddenly went out,leaving him with only the moon and stars for company. He wished his dad would hurry up with that firewood. How long had he been gone now? The wind gusted and the caravan shuddered on the steep hill. Ulrik tried to think of something to take his mind off being