The Fox's Tower

The Fox's Tower

The Fox's Tower

The Fox's Tower

Hardcover

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Overview

The Fox’s Tower takes everything you knew, or thought you knew, about nature and the animal kingdom, and turns it on its head.” – Piers Torday, author of The Last Wild trilogy

When Willow witnesses her animal-loving father, Silas, get kidnapped by a group of foxes and a huge wolf-like creature, she pursues them into the woods. There she meets wolves who tell her they know her father. Together they boldly enter the enormous tower the foxes have built deep in the forest. In the tower Willow discovers the dark project of the chief fox, Reynard, to create new life forms from magical clay buried in the Deep Forest where few can enter. To rescue her dad, Willow must brave the Deep Forest and dig deep in herself to foil Reynard's evil scheme to remake the world – but she also finds herself siding with the foxes against their new oppressor, the charismatic but wicked lion Noble.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781915071354
Publisher: Little Island Books
Publication date: 08/08/2023
Series: Wolfstongue , #2
Pages: 272
Sales rank: 1,146,647
Product dimensions: 5.80(w) x 8.30(h) x (d)
Age Range: 8 - 12 Years

About the Author

Sam Thompson lives in Belfast and teaches English and creative writing at Queens University. His first book Communion Town was longlisted for the 2012 Man Booker Prize. Jott was shortlisted for the Encore Award. His fiction and criticism have appeared in the Times Literary Supplement, London Review of Books, on BBC Radio 4 and in Best British Short Stories 2019 (Salt Publishing).This is his second novel for children.

Read an Excerpt

The night the foxes stole her father, Willow could not sleep.

She had been lying for hours in the darkness, listening to the wind that sang in the walls. Floorboards creaked as Dad moved around the house. He was sleepless too. Some time past midnight, she heard the back door open. She threw off her duvet and went to the window. Dad was standing on the patio in a spill of light from the kitchen. Willow put her forehead to the glass and tried to see what he was doing.

He walked down the garden, pushing through the tall weeds. The rear fence had rotted long ago, leaving only a few soggy posts to mark the edge of the woodland. As he approached, a small animal came out from the trees. It was a fox. Another followed, then a third, their eyes reflecting gold.

Dad must have some food in his hand, Willow thought. He squatted and the foxes gathered around him.

She wiped mist from the window pane. Dad was speaking to the animals. Why did he have to act so strangely all the time? He was like an old clown, with his tangled hair and his sagging tracksuit bottoms. He was always going outside at weird times. Lately she often found him sitting on the garden bench first thing in the morning, ignoring thedrizzle, gazing up at the mountains, feeding bits of bread to a big black raven he had half-tamed.

Dad was not only speaking to the foxes: he seemed to be having an argument with them. He kept shaking his head. At last he got up and turned back towards the house.

As he walked away, the three foxes made a noise — a piercing shriek like a human being in pain. In answer to their call, something huge and dark loped out of the woods. The thing was shaped like a wolf, but it was a wolf from a nightmare, too terrible to be real. It was much larger than any wolf could possibly be. As it loomed over Dad its gigantic head was on a level with Willow’s bedroom window. The hulking thing had no features that she could make out: its silhouette against the trees was pure darkness, as if it were not a living creature but a black hole with the outline of a wolf.

It pounced, fast and silent, and knocked Dad to the ground.

It took his ankle in its jaws and dragged him towards the tree line. The foxes watched him clawing at the grass. He looked bewildered to find himself sliding so fast away from the light of home. His hand clutched at a fence post. Then he was gone, swallowed by the dark.

The foxes vanished into the forest.

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