At the end of the street, Cath turned to the right, away from the Sawtry, and Danny to the left, away from the center of town, so they collided and stopped running, breathing hard. Cath’s right sock was soaked from splashing into a puddle, and now that she’d stopped running she saw that it was still raining, a little steadier. Danny’s face was glistening wet. “We can’t stop,” he gasped. “He’ll find us.” “Your teacher? Nah, he’ll only have run as far as the phone. Fat fool,” said Cath. People like that didn’t run. Barshin hopped up and down the curb a couple of times, shaking his paws as the raindrops landed on his fur. Danny wasn’t looking at him, although Cath could see by the tilt of his head that a part of him wanted to. “I can hear him!” said Barshin. “He talks too! He must be a tela! Why doesn’t he—” But Danny evidently couldn’t hear Barshin, because he broke in halfway through. “I don’t mean my teacher … I mean, we’ll get into trouble,”
