branches. Then, there had been danger all around and a sense of utter futility facing an enemy they couldn’t see until it was too late. He waited, feeling his shoulders stiffen involuntarily; told himself to ignore it and worked hard at not squeezing his eyes shut.
Alongside him, Claude was staring into the dense trees over the barrels of his shotgun, an over-under model, the stock shiny with use and lovingly cared for, darkly functional. A tool of his trade.
Rocco took in the scenery afresh, breathing to relax. All around them was light and shadow and fresh air, and bare, wintry branches and slim trunks clustered tightly together like passengers on the Métro. High above, through a latticework of branches, was a glimpse of darkening grey sky.
‘Nice weapon,’ he whispered. ‘You think we need that?’
‘Damn right.’ Claude puffed out his cheeks. ‘It’s a Darne. Best gun ever. I bought it from a farmer who’d given up killing stuff. But this isn’t for any man; there are wild boar in this area.’ He looked at Rocco’s blank expression and said, ‘You do know about boars, don’t you?’
‘Of course. You didn’t think to mention them before we came in here?’ He’d heard the stories; normally placid if left alone and keen to avoid humans, in protection of their young, wild boars were ferocious, especially the sows.
‘Would it have made a difference?’
‘I suppose not. Are they as bad as they say?’
‘If cornered, yes.’ Claude chewed on his lip. ‘If threatened, they’ll kill. Man, beast … they’ll even wreck a car if they feel like it. A herd over by Bapaume opened up a Panhard like a tin can once.’ He indicated the base of a nearby tree where the earth had been ripped and churned over, the surrounding area peppered with small hoof marks. ‘These tracks are fresh. The animals roam, but these don’t look old. I reckon they’re not far away.’
‘How big are they?’ Rocco couldn’t recall seeing a boar close up, but felt uneasy at Claude’s obvious concern.
‘It’s not size you need to worry about. It’s weight and speed. You get hit low by a hundred-plus kilos of pissed-off pig, and you’ll go down, I promise. Then they’ll gore you with their tusks.’ He shook his head. ‘It won’t be nice.’
Rocco took a firmer hold of his gun. Come on, piggy, he thought. As if I haven’t got enough problems to be going on with, I’m going face to face with an enraged pork sausage on legs.
‘If they do come,’ Claude continued, ‘go for the nearest tree. Don’t stop to shoot; they’re too fast for a pistol shot, and once they’re stirred up, they’re not easy to stop, even with this thing.’ He raised the shotgun. ‘Believe me.’
‘What will you be doing?’
‘Me? I’ll be up the tree ahead of you.’
He straightened slowly, then stepped past Rocco and led the way deeper into the wood, pausing regularly to peer beneath the thick tangles of branches and other fallen vegetation where the boars’ low height would provide good cover.
Rocco followed, watching his friend’s back.
They had covered maybe thirty metres when Claude stopped and held out a warning hand. Slowly, very slowly, he sank to the ground and signalled for Rocco to do the same.
As they did so, an eruption of screaming came from ahead of them not twenty metres away, and a dark shape shot out from under a thicket followed by several other smaller shapes.
‘A mother and young,’ Claude hissed in warning.
And he and Rocco were right in their path.
Rocco felt his gut contract. They had nowhere to go but up, but there was no time. He swore and fired twice into the ground in front of where he thought the boars were. Instead of coming on, the boar turned and went back on its tracks, the young following like little boats on a string.
Suddenly the thicket moved and two shots rang out. One of the young boars flipped over and lay still. Instantly the mother squealed and charged, barrelling through the undergrowth like a vengeful rocket.
This time the scream they heard came from a man.
Claude fired two shots into the air, quickly reloading while Rocco covered him, then fired twice more.
In the silence that followed, they heard the squeals of the boars diminishing towards the far side of the wood, then a groan close by. It was followed by a crackling noise as someone made their way through the trees across their front, but too far away to see clearly.
‘He’s heading towards