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Spring seemed to stretch out forever and Blake knew that he was changing as well. He visited Goldenclaw three times a day; morning, during his lunch break and in the evening. It was when he was visiting Goldenclaw at lunch when he finally got caught!

He was throwing pieces of his ham sandwich into the air and Goldenclaw was doing fancy swoops and catching it in her beak when he heard a gasp and someone say “Blake is that’s a . . .” Blake turned around his face as white as the small yoghurt he had eaten earlier. He tried to speak but his mouth wouldn’t form the words. So instead he tried to hide the eagle but she just flew onto his shoulder and glared at Dylan Hunter (for he was the boy) for interrupting her game. “Blake,” stuttered Dylan, “what are you doing with this golden eagle.” For once Blake was lost for words but finally he said “Her name is Goldenclaw.” “Whatever her name is, why didn’t you tell me about her?”asked Dylan, stepping back as she lashed out with her beak. Blake was shocked. That was not what he had expected him to say. Before he could say anything Dylan carried on. “I thought I was your friend but it seems that I’m not.”
”Please will you keep her a secret !”said Blake in despair. “I don’t know Blake. Sorry.”said Dylan before turning and running back through the forest. Blake stared after him feeling three parts of his life lip away from him; his friendship with Dylan, Dylan’s trust and most importantly, Goldenclaw.

After school that evening, Aunt Agatha and Blake tried to think of a way to protect Goldenclaw but eventually Agatha said, “I’m sorry Blake but we’ll have to move her.”

For days after Blake found himself visiting Goldenclaw more and more often and sometimes even by himself. His aunt had told him not to tell anyone about her; not even his best friend Dylan Hunter. She said that someone would try to catch her and put her in a zoo. Blake was very careful about making sure no one was around when he went to visit Goldenclaw but there was one time when he almost got caught!

Blake was talking to Goldenclaw when he heard a twig snap and the eagle flew into the air with fright. He spun round to see Felix Spencer walking out from behind a bush. “Who you talking to Witch Boy?”he asked smirking. Blake sighed inwardly. Witch Boy was Felix and some other boys name for him because they believed his aunt was a witch. “Nobody,” Blake mumbled, staring at the ground. “I know you’ve got something hidden there, Witch Boy.” Felix smirked even more as he said this. “A wolf. Panther. Komodo dragon. Bald eagle.” Blake shook his head at all of these but when he heard the last one, well that was to close for comfort. “I don’t have anything hidden, alright!”he shouted. Felix looked startled for a moment, before regaining his composure. “I know you’ve got something hidden there, Witch Boy,”he repeated but not with as much ferociously. “I said nothing!” Blake shouted again. Suddenly, Felix gave a scream and ran back through the forest. Blake turned around to see what had scared him and saw his aunt standing there with a cauldron, broom and something that resembled a wand. “Thought you might need some help,”she said as she placed her cauldron, broom and wand on the ground. “Thanks,”mumbled Blake. He didn’t like accepting his aunts help but he did admit that he would of struggled to get rid of Felix if she hadn’t turned up.

As the seasons changed, Blake found himself changing with them. He was no longer that grumpy boy he used to be but a happy, cheerful boy who whistled as he walked to and from school. The real Blake had made its first appearance.

Blake Langshan stared out through his window that overlooked  a grey expanse of forest before a long stretch of moor. He’d never wanted to come here and he didn’t want to stay. There were three reasons why he hadn’t wanted to come. One, because he wanted to fight in the war with his father. Two, because nothing exiting ever happened in the country. And three, because he didn’t want to stay with his Aunt Agatha. Ever since he started school here, the other boys had been telling him that his aunt was a witch and was always sneaking out of the house at night to place curses on sleeping people. Blake didn’t believe the part about witches and placing curses on people while they slept, but the part about sneaking out at night? That he wasn’t too sure on. His aunt did sleep in and the wick of the lamp she kept downstairs was nearly always quite hot in the morning. Blake had found that out the hard way. And finally, there were bits of grass and mud in the hall like she had been out in the forest. And that night Blake was planning on finding out where and why she was leaving the house at night. He stretched and turned to look at his little clock. Midnight exactly. “Hurry up Aunt Agatha. I don’t have all night!”he said. Just then he heard the front door slam and someone walking down the path. He almost fell through the floor with excitement. He ran downstairs, pulled on his boots and ran outside. He followed the light of her lantern through the forest until they reached a small grassy clearing where his aunt said “Come out Blake! I know your there!” Blake came out from behind his bush thinking I really need to work on my stalking. Suddenly Aunt Agatha gave a high pieced whistle before calling “Goldenclaw! Here girl!” Strange thought Blake. What a name for for a dog. Then an idea hit him! It’s not a dog, it’s an owl! He feeling quite pleased with himself when he heard a loud rush of wings and saw a flash of gold. That puzzled him until he remembered something. “Goldenclaw is a . . .”he couldn’t get the words out so Agatha finished his sentence for him. “A golden eagle.”

Dear Ma,

I would like to tell you about things after you left me at the station. The journey was alright except that the rain was pouring down the window, which meant that we couldn’t see much. I passed the time by trying to talk to to the person who was in the same carriage as me but when that didn’t work I just decided to think about what the stables that I was going to live at would be like. Red brick stables, chestnut and piebald horses peering over the door, great piles of hay and comfortable chairs to watch the sea on a balcony jutting out over the beach. When I finally arrived my new foster family was the last to arrive. I didn’t really like the look of them. The man ( later I found out that he was Mr Bangleshuttle ) had a short clipped beard and was wearing a brown tweed suit. The woman ( Mrs Bangleshuttle ) had blonde hair tied up in a bun, and was wearing a black dress. It was the girl who I most didn’t like the look of. She had a dark blue dress and a sneering smile. But that wasn’t what scared me. It was her eyes. They were the darkest green you could imagine; like dark pits of molten emeralds. They really did scare me, Ma.Anyways, that night was not how I expected it to be like. The stables were nothing like how I’d imagined them to be like. There were no horses which meant that there were no comfy piles of hay, the balcony just had a small potted plant on and nothing else and the beach was just a thin thin strip of brown sand before a long stretch of murky water that is called the sea but to me looked like a long stretch of icky mud. That night was one of the worst nights that I had ever had ( even worse than the night at Aunt Maggie’s ). The bed was hard and itchy so I hardly slept a wink. There is a school that is 2 miles away and I am going to walk there every day, starting on the morrow. I don’t want to worry you Ma but there are these big black and white things that Mrs Bangleshuttle says cows and are totally harmless but they look like they could kill you with their eyes. There are also animals called geese, sheep and chickens but I don’t want to frighten you with what they look like. I’ll just say that I will never, ever go near them. I must go now as Mrs Bangleshuttle is stomping up the stairs shouting threats that she will do if I am still awake and she only sent me to bed 5 minutes ago. Missing you lots.

Your daughter Maya            

This jealousy is made from,
the gleaming spittle of a unicorn,
the tail feathers of a phoenix,
a strand of Medusa’s hair of snakes,
the handle of Thor’s hammer
and the fire of a dragon’s fury.

I found it,
hiding in the depths of despair,
crouching at the gates of Asgard,
creeping through the halls of Valhalla,
clinging to the wing of a griffin
as it zooms through the forests of cloud.

This jealousy can,
tear down Mount Fuji as if were a paper ladder.
It can take away the happiness of the people who are precious to the world.
It can steal Helen’s beauty as if it was a leaf falling from a tree.
It can fight Achilles single handed
and it can end the life of the person who owns this jealousy.

If this jealousy was unleashed into the world,
a minotaur would seem like a kitten.

A lion’s tooth,
as sharp as a double edged sword,
like a archer firing a flaming arrow through the sky.
Killing pearl.

A albino whale,
as pale as moonlight on water,
like a crystal descending through the depths.
Water’s secret.

The darkest forest,
as black as a witch’s heart,
like a feather fallen from a crow.
Loud silence.

A shooting star,
as fast as a cheetah in a fit,
like a falling shard of stargold.
Flying wisher.

A pen,
as colourful as a million rainbows combined,
like a bomb, ready to explode with ideas.
Writer’s sidekick.

A poem,
as interesting as an adventure packed story,
like a pile of ideas ready to be improved.
End of this one.

On the ship of dreams,
the oars gently pull through the smooth water
ripples dancing across the reflected pinpricks of golden light.

On the ship of dreams,
the silver sails carry the little boat along the endless black waters
following the the bright light of the Star of the North.

On the ship of dreams,
the coils of rope gleam bright by the light of the moon,
like silver snakes smiling up at the stars.

On the ship of dreams,
the deck sways gently along with the movement of the water,
casting oars into the deep.

On the ship of dreams,
the captain stares out across the velvet waters,
wondering if he will ever see land again.