Friday at last! Not that I don’t enjoy school, I just like Scouts better.
My current scout uniform had to be about fifteen years old due to the many different Scout groups I had jumped between. If I stayed in one group for too long, they would notice quickly that I never appeared on a full moon and I never seemed to grow with the other Scouts.
Being back in Bierton was a comfort. 1st Bierton was my first scout group and was the only group I’d gone to as a human. My parents had moved here from up in the north of England somewhere to find nicer weather. I was born in Bierton and it is where I was bitten.
The scout leader’s booming voice echoed round the hall and knocked me out of my reverie. “Troop, listen up!”
Most of the patrols were quiet instantly but the Cobras were still chatting away; Oli’s patrol. My patrol, Wolves (ironically), were glaring at them in annoyance while Oli tried, in vain, to quieten down his patrol. One culprit, who I thought was called Angus, was shouting back at Oli in defiance. Another scout leader came up behind him and clipped him round the ear, making the rest of the troop laugh and applaud.
“Alright! Settle down,” bellowed the scout leader again. “You could stand here talking all night...” He paused for effect. “... Or you could play manhunt.”
Gasps and whispers of “yes!” reverberated around the troop. Manhunt was all our favourite game because it was a time where there were no leaders to listen to and almost no limit to game-play.
My Wolf patrol started to shuffle about restlessly. Regan, Sam and Jazz were a few of the members of my patrol who were lined around one side of the hall grinning enthusiastically. Manhunt wasn’t just a bit of fun for us; it was a chance to show off our stealth, speed and endurance, all of which we had seemingly limitless amounts of.
The leader spoke up again. “Wolves, Hawks and Bulldogs are outside first. Cobras, Panthers and Lions stay in here. Go!”