At the far end of the meadow, tree tops were shivering. There was unmistakably a crackling and a crunching, as if something was forcing itself through the undergrowth.
When it broke through the branches into the full light of day, Fizz recognised it at once. It was HER lizard. But it just couldn’t be. The one she brought to mind from her Grandfather’s garden had been imagined. She had created it from the moving branches of a tree. This one was moving with liquid fluidity. This one looked predatory and ravenous