Extract from Hox

"I'm fine." But Robbie wasn't fine at all. The insistent pull that had drawn him all the way from the car park to the animal house was fierce now, dragging him forward almost against his will. With a mingled sense of dread and expectation, he pointed to the far end of the building.

"What's down there?"

"Not much." Joe led the way. "We were involved in a project to reintroduce native species into the wild, natural predators, to keep the deer under control. But the focus has changed — now we're concentrating on specifics."
Robbie could tell Joe was quoting someone. From the buzzwords he had heard at home lately when his father was talking on the phone, it was almost certainly Gavin Moir.

In defiance of his growing nausea, he made a determined effort to look interested as he followed Joe down the central walkway towards the rear of the building. They stopped in front of a large cage set against the back wall.

Robbie peered through the wire, watching the animal inside pace restlessly from one side of the small space to the other. It was a cat, but much bigger than a wildcat, the only native Scottish cat he had ever heard of. He stared at its dark brown fur, dotted with lines of darker spots. "Is she a leopard?"

Joe's eyes shifted between Robbie and the cat. A puzzled frown creased his forehead. "How did you know she's female?"

Robbie frowned. He had been asking himself the same question. "Just a wild guess?"

"Well, you're right." Joe tapped gently on the roof of the cage. "Hello, Freya," he said softly.

The cat stopped pacing and moved closer to the mesh. Her whiskers twitched and Robbie saw the ruff of pale fur round her face fluff out like a hood. She was interested in the outdoor smell from his rain-dampened jacket. He looked at the tufted ears, the solid, muscular body and the oddly clubbed tail.

"Not a leopard." Joe confirmed what Robbie had already realized. "Although a lot of people think that, because of the spots. She's a lynx. From Norway. But cats like this used to live all over Europe, including Scotland."

"Why did you bring her here?" Robbie stared at the cat. The cat stared back. There was nothing there, nothing to explain the pressure that was now building up to the point where his head felt as though it might explode.

Joe bristled, feeling accused of something. "We didn't kidnap her, if that's what you mean. Freya got hit by a car. Her hip's pretty much healed now, though. Soon she'll be going back to where she came from. We took her because we were looking for another cat to keep this one company."

With a theatrical flourish, Joe waved an arm in the direction of a neighbouring cage. "Our very own Baldur, born two years ago, right here at the Institute." There was both pride and ownership in his voice.

Hardly able to think, let alone move, Robbie forced himself to turn and look. Shadows shifted at the back of the cage, unfolding into a creature of gold and black. The lynx stretched and yawned, then padded forward, looking up at him intently.

Robbie stared into those ancient, knowing eyes and felt a sudden jolt of recognition, even though he knew he had never seen this animal before. The tugging sensation intensified into a dizzying dislocation, as though his head had come adrift from the rest of his body.

Extract from Hox by Annemarie Allan by kind permission of Floris Books, and remains © Annemarie Allan