Huge, blacker even than the night out of which it now appeared, its great mouth open, its gleaming teeth clearly visible, tongue lolling over slavering lips, dripping with saliva. Silent, relentless, unstoppable.
There could be no doubting that the massive dog bounding down towards them was the Hell Hound itself! And straight in its path, unaware of its approach, still nursing his twisted ankle as he sat on the damp ground, was Brian.
Stirling reacted first, his son too terrified to move. In one easy, almost graceful movement, he scooped up a rock and hurled it with considerable strength towards the charging beast. He’d been a keen cricketer all of his life, still finding time to play every other Sunday. He may have lost some of his natural timing, but his accuracy still remained. And Ri
