The Beast of Soggy Moor Read online

  SHAUN is the leader of the Flock. He’s clever, cool, and always keeps his head when the other sheep are losing theirs.

  BITZER

  The Farmer’s faithful dog and a good friend to Shaun, Bitzer is an ever-suffering sheepdog, doing his best to keep Shaun’s pals out of trouble.

  THE FARMER

  Running the farm with Bitzer at his side, the Farmer is completely oblivious to the human-like intelligence — or stupidity — of his flock.

  THE FLOCK

  One big happy (if slightly dopey) family, the sheep like to play and create mischief together, though it’s usually Shaun and Bitzer who sort out the resulting messes.

  NUTS

  Nuts is the zaniest sheep around. His crazy exploits are always getting him into trouble. Luckily, Shaun is on hand to help him out.

  THE BEAST

  Aaaarroo! The beast is on the prowl, and it’s hungry. . . .

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ACTIVITIES

  FLOCK TO THE SEASIDE — a peek at the next book

  Mist oozed through the meadow, creeping into the farmyard from Soggy Moor. Deep, sleepy snores shook the rafters of the Mossy Bottom Farm barn. Lit by moonbeams shining through cracks in the walls, the Flock slept, their snores broken by a horrible slurping, lip-smacking sound. In her dream, Shirley was doing the breaststroke through a sea of cupcakes.

  But not everyone on Mossy Bottom Farm was sleeping. Bats flitted around the crumbling chimneys of the farmhouse. A single light burned in a high window. Silhouetted, the Farmer trimmed his nose hairs with a pair of garden shears.

  And below, someone or something padded through the farmyard on silent paws — a dark figure with mist curling around its ankles. It was making a low growling noise that got louder with every step. Hunger gnawing at its stomach, it peered around in the moonlight.

  A tiny bit of drool leaked from the corner of its mouth.

  It was starving.

  It needed to feed.

  Bones, it thought to itself. Lovely fresh bones. And a cup of tea.

  Bitzer stepped out of the fog and stopped by a gate where a crooked sign was hung.

  His stomach grumbled again. Embarrassed, Bitzer patted it, wishing he’d brought a cookie with him. Evening rounds were almost finished, though. Soon, he could settle down for a quiet night in with his favorite bone and a cup of tea. Now, what was left to do?

  He checked his clipboard. The Flock was tucked up in the barn, the Farmer was in the farmhouse, the ducks were playing a late-night game of cards, and the pigs were snoring like bulldozers. But there was something he had forgotten. Muttering to himself, he flipped a page and peered at it in the moonlight. The chickens! After jabbing the clipboard with his pencil, he set off toward the henhouse, humming, “Pum-pum-pa-puuum.”

  The bush rustled. Bitzer’s ears twitched. Just the wind, he told himself as he arrived at the chicken coop and went inside.

  One chicken, two chickens, three chickens. . . . Bitzer ticked them off his list, grinning to himself, when Beryl clucked in drowsy surprise and laid an egg in her sleep. Breakfast had arrived.

  Four chickens, five chickens —

  Bitzer’s knees started to knock. He couldn’t go outside; there was something out there. Something that didn’t sound at all friendly. In fact, it sounded like it gobbled sheepdogs for breakfast.

  Bitzer clutched his paws together pleadingly. He was too young to be gobbled up. Could he stay a little longer? He’d be very, very quiet. The chickens wouldn’t know he was there. Wouldn’t the chickens feel safer with a dog to protect them?

  The rooster sniffed, fixed him with a beady eye, and pointed with his wing again. OUT!

  Bitzer peered outside. The moon shone down. Nothing moved but the bats and the silhouette of the Farmer, which was hopping up and down, clutching its nose. Bitzer gulped.

  He wasn’t afraid, he told himself with a nervous chuckle. Oh no, it would take more than a silly howl to scare him. He was the kind of dog that licked the face of fear. Besides, the howling was probably just Shaun up to his usual tricks.

  Bitzer nodded. Yes, that was it. Shaun would be out there, a sheet over his head, ready to jump out and scare him. Well, Bitzer did not scare easily. After tucking the clipboard under his arm, he marched out of the henhouse.

  AAAAAARRRROOOOOooooooooooo!

  Bitzer threw his clipboard into the air with a yelp. Shaun hadn’t made that terrifying sound. And if Shaun hadn’t, what had?

  Clouds rolled away from the moon. Long shadows fell across the dark meadow. There, outlined against the wall of the barn, was the shadow of . . .

  a BEAST!

  The barn shook as the door slammed with a CRASH! Shaun’s eyes flashed opened to see Bitzer spread-eagled against it. He looked terrified. One by one, the Flock opened their eyes and stretched. They stared at the petrified Bitzer. Shirley pushed her sleep mask up. After peeling the slices of cucumber from her eyes, she popped them into her mouth. Meanwhile, Nuts, thinking it was morning, began his daily exercise routine with a few push-ups and sheep dips. With a yawn, Timmy poked his mum: Breakfast time.

  A face dripping green slime lifted its head.

  “Waaaaah!” Bitzer goggled at it, gargling with fear.

  Blinking, Shaun looked from Bitzer to Timmy’s Mum. It was true she didn’t look at her best covered in Wrinkle-B-Gone age-defying night cream, but she wasn’t that scary. Shaun threw off his blanket and then prodded Bitzer. What was wrong with him?

  A fresh shiver ran down Bitzer’s spine as he remembered the terrible shadow against the barn wall. With an effort, he forced his knees to stop knocking. He had to warn the Flock about . . . the beast! He pulled his face into a nasty, drooling snarl.

  Shaun frowned. Was it a toothache?

  Bitzer shook his head and tried again. This time, his eyes rolled wildly and he gnashed his teeth. It was horrible. Horrible!

  Shaun nodded. He thought he understood what had happened. Had Bitzer heard the Farmer practicing his trombone again? He patted the sheepdog sympathetically. It was enough to upset anyone.

  By now, Bitzer was jumping with frustration. He stretched out his claws and growled, pointing at the door. A savage beast was prowling Mossy Bottom Farm.

  Shaun chuckled. A savage beast? The only savage beast on Mossy Bottom Farm was in Bitzer’s imagination. Although he had to admit one or two of the ducks could get quite nasty if their breakfast didn’t arrive on time.

  Bitzer made the beast face again, this time with extra snarling. The beast was out there. He had seen it! It was huge, with enormous jaws and teeth like hedge trimmers.

  Shaun patted Bitzer again. It had been bound to happen. The stress of standing by the gate all day watching sheep had been too much. Bitzer’s mind had snapped. He had gone completely bonkers.

  Shaun bleated kindly. He would take Bitzer back to his kennel. Bitzer would feel better after a good night’s sleep.

  A curl of mist oozed into the barn as Shaun pulled the door open. With a whimper, Bitzer slammed it shut again.

  A sudden, fearful bleat made Shaun look around. Hazel was shivering beneath a sack with a terrified look in her eyes. She shook her head slowly. Bitzer wasn’t crazy. There was a beast. She had heard the stories from her mum when she was just a tiny lamb.

  A monster prowled the moor beyond Mossy Bottom Farm. Once, Hazel had heard its ghastly wail in the dead of night. “Aaarroo!” she bleated in a low whisper.

  Bitzer nodded in excitement. Yes. Yes! The beast had sounded exactly like that! He glared at
Shaun. Now did he believe it?

  Shaun rolled his eyes. He heard strange noises in the night all the time. Usually they were made by Shirley.

  Timmy’s Mum bleated nervously. She remembered being awoken one dark night — a night just like this one — by the sound of some hideous creature devouring its prey. It had made a ghastly, slurping, chewing noise.

  Shaun sighed, shaking his head. Shirley yet again, he thought to himself. There was nothing to be frightened of —

  Scraaattch.

  The barn was filled with bleats of terror. Sheep dived under their blankets.

  Quivering like jelly, everyone stared at the door. There was something outside. Something that was trying to get in! The beast had come to eat them!

  Timmy sucked his pacifier and giggled happily. He loved hide-and-seek. After putting his hands over his eyes, he began counting to ten, bleating with disappointment when his mum scooped him up and set him down behind her. Growling, she picked up the first weapon she could lay a hoof on. If the beast came for Timmy it would get — she glanced down — a fight with a carrot it would never forget.

  Shirley whimpered. She was so plump and juicy, the beast was bound to come for her first. But perhaps it might leave her alone if there were two sheep to eat instead. Hoping no one was looking, she edged behind the Twins.

  Scraaattch.

  Shaun blinked at the door. He had been sure Bitzer was making the beast up, but there was definitely something outside. Maybe it was just the branches of a tree blowing against the door. . . . Except there weren’t any trees near the barn. He gulped, then took a deep breath.

  With his heart in his mouth, Shaun opened the door.

  Bitzer nodded at him. Go on. Then he covered his eyes, peering between his paws and whining as Shaun stepped out into the night.

  Shaun shrugged and bleated. There was nothing outside but a swirl of mist.

  Bitzer dropped his paws. He took a sniff, then a small step outside. Shaun crossed his arms and tapped a hoof. Bitzer noticed that the sheep were staring at him. Embarrassed, he gave a small cough, then trotted out to stand by Shaun. He looked about and barked. The beast had gone. He, Bitzer, must’ve frightened it away.

  Shaun sighed as the Flock burst into applause. Bitzer puffed out his chest. The Flock had nothing to be afraid of while Bitzer was there to protect them.

  Shaun growled softly in Bitzer’s ear.

  The sheepdog yelped and jumped three feet in the air.

  “Heh, heh, heh,” Shaun snickered behind his hoof.

  Bitzer squeezed his eyes closed and turned over, mumbling for just another five minutes’ sleep. Shaun prodded him again. Bitzer was harder to wake up than a box of hedgehogs. He looked around, grinning to himself as his eyes settled on a bucket of water. . . .

  Spluttering and spitting, Bitzer sat up. As Hazel threw the barn doors open, memories of the night before came flooding back. With a shiver, Bitzer pulled his sack blanket up to his nose, eyes darting about nervously. The beast? Had it gone?

  Outside, birds twittered and a rooster crowed an only slightly grumpy alarm call. The fog had vanished. In the distance, Shaun could see the Farmer. He had a bandaged nose and was clanking empty slop buckets by the pigsty. As he bent to refill them, he clonked his head on the corner of the trough. “Waaaarrgh . . . oooooowww!” he wailed.

  Shaun chuckled to himself. The Farmer was always clumsy. The week before, he had managed to run over his own thumb with the wheelbarrow. People all the way down in Mossy Bottom village had heard him wailing.

  Shaun nudged Bitzer again and tapped a hoof impatiently. It was time for breakfast. Was he going to do his morning rounds, or was he too scared?

  Shaun tried not to smile as Bitzer gave him a chilly look and wrung water out of his hat. The only reason Bitzer had stayed in the barn all night was to guard the Flock. It would take more than a silly beast to scare Bitzer the guard dog.

  Ignoring Shaun’s grin, he settled his hat on his head, strolled out into the meadow, and picked up his muddy clipboard. He didn’t have time to stand around chatting all day.

  As Shaun watched Bitzer head into the henhouse, he hatched a plan for later. He snickered, imagining Bitzer’s reaction when —

  Bitzer flew out of the henhouse, yowling in panic, followed by an explosion of feathers and terrified chickens.

  The beast! The BEAST!

  THE BEAST HAD STRUCK!

  Bitzer stood panting in the middle of a ring of sheep and jabbed at his clipboard with a trembling paw. One of chickens was missing. The beast had taken her! Mossy Bottom Farm was in the clutches of a rampaging monster.

  They were all DOOMED!

  Bitzer howled again.

  But — but — surely the beast only existed in Bitzer’s imagination? It wasn’t real! Shaun swallowed. It couldn’t be true. There must be some mistake.

  Nuts interrupted with a low bleat. There was no mistake. He, too, had heard stories of the beast. His dear old grandpa had told him about a terrible creature. It was huge and covered in black and white hair, with horns, and its howl was a dreadful “Moo!” that made a sheep’s blood run cold.

  Bitzer shook his head. Nuts’s beast sounded nasty, but this one was worse. He pointed at the tractor. The shadow of the beast had been that big. And it had teeth as long as — as — he pointed at an old pickax leaning against the barn, and it had three . . . no, five . . . heads.

  An ever-increasing circle of faces gaped at him. Terror had spread across Mossy Bottom Farm like wildfire. Every frightened animal wanted to know more about the beast. Chickens huddled together, clucking nervously. How many hens could the beast eat?

  All of them, thought Bitzer to himself.

  The other animals read the thought from the look of horror on his face. With a cluck, Beryl fell back in a dead faint, her legs in the air.

  “Squeee!” One of the pigs leaned over the wall. When he was a piglet, his dad had told him of a big, bad creature who huffed and puffed and blew little pigs up.

  The other pigs frowned. No, that was wrong. The beast dragged pigs off to market . . . or something like that. Roast beef and “wee, wee” were involved. It was horrible.

  Hazel cleared her throat. She rubbed her tummy. The beast was always hungry, or so she had heard.

  Shirley shook herself, fluffing up her wool until she had doubled in size. The beast was huge. A friend of a friend had said so.

  The Twins pulled their lips back, glaring and drooling. The beast was ferocious. Only the worst kind of monster would eat a chicken.

  Shaun jumped onto an upturned barrel, bleating for everyone to stop. None of the animals were going to be eaten. Bitzer wouldn’t allow it . . . would he?

  The animals looked around.

  Bitzer was nowhere to be seen.

  Beryl came around from her swoon, screamed a clucky scream, and fainted again. The beast had taken Bitzer!

  A terrified babbling broke out. Bitzer had been snatched away! The beast was among them. And it was invisible!

  With a bleat, Shaun pointed. It was all right. Bitzer was over by the doghouse, and he was making some home improvements.

  The animals of Mossy Bottom Farm peered questioningly through the ring of barbed wire, with a small sentry post, that Bitzer had put up. The sheepdog, wearing an upside-down colander on his head, was barricading his kennel.

  Bitzer, ashamed, shuffled his feet. He wasn’t afraid — oh no, no, no, no, no. He was just taking a few precautions.

  With a shake of his head, Shaun gestured at the moors that surrounded Mossy Bottom Farm. They couldn’t barricade the whole farm. Someone had to hunt the beast.

  Bitzer gulped. “W-w-w-woof,” he agreed, trembling.

  Timmy’s Mum clasped her hooves together. Bitzer was a hero.

  Shaun stared at the sky and whistled quietly while counting in his head: One, two, three . . .

  Bitzer blinked around at the circle of animals and made the shape of a beast with his paws. It was quite a large beast, wasn�
��t it?

  Four, counted Shaun.

  Bitzer barked again. Because it was such a massive creature, he would need help. He turned to Shaun with a sickly sweet, pleading smile.

  Five.

  Shaun rolled his eyes. It had taken Bitzer just five seconds to rope him in.

  As mist crept across the farmyard and a full moon rose in the sky, Shaun tied a strip of old sack around his head. Then, while taking a deep breath, he opened the barn door and crept out, keeping low to the ground.

  There was a light in the bathroom window of the farmhouse and the distant sound of running water. Shaun grinned to himself, wondering if the Farmer would get the temperature of the bath water right tonight. Last time it had been scalding hot, and the Farmer’s foot had looked like a ripe tomato for the next three days.

  Shaun peered into the gloom. All his sheep senses were alert, and his heart was drumming in his chest. The moonlight cast strange shadows. Shaun caught his breath, crouching lower as he spotted the shape of a ghastly creature with a flying-saucer-shaped head lurching toward him through the fog. Shaun’s heart skipped a beat before he realized it was only Bitzer in his colander helmet.

  Bitzer heard a chuckle and blinked nervously. The beast was close, and it was laughing at him! He yelped when Shaun touched him on the shoulder.

  Shaun bleated. If they were going to track the beast, Bitzer had to stop being so jumpy.

  Bitzer grinned to cover his embarrassment. He wasn’t scared. He’d known it was Shaun all along. He’d just been joking around.

  It was time to go on a beast hunt.

  Bitzer rolled his eyes. The underwear belonged to the Farmer. They must have blown off the washing line. Sheep were terrible at tracking, but dogs were brilliant hunters. His nose was already twitching. Bitzer stiffened, catching a scent. His eyes lit up. He was on the trail! Sniffing at the ground, tail wagging, he disappeared into the fog, zigzagging across the moor as his powerful nose led him onward.