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The wind hammered against the side of the building; with a deafening clatter, it slammed one of the shutters against the bedroom window. Miss Fern couldn’t help but jump. She hurriedly finished wrapping up her long hair, and went over to secure the window before the wind did any real damage. Hauling the old fashioned sliding window up, she fiddled with the bolt on the wooden shutters, which was now wet and cold. She had nearly slid it across when the wind took hold again and wrenched it out of her fingers.

“No!” she exclaimed, reaching out and leaning her body out over the sill. She gasped sharply, suddenly feeling the full force of the storm on her skin, the rain soaking her nightdress almost immediately. She stretched out as far as she could, managing to catch the edge with her fingertips. She managed to get a better grip and tried to pull it back. As she battled the elements it seemed that the more she struggled, the more the rain was determined to soak her through and the wind to claim the stupid shutter as its own. She tried to lean out a bit further to get a better grip. That was when she felt her left hand slip from its position on the sill. Screaming out into the night, she felt gravity pulling her toward the ground and all her muscles tensed.

She didn’t breath for a while. Then, after forcing herself to open her eyes, she realised that the ground was still far below her. In fact, all that had happened is that she’d slipped forward a bit and ended up in an awkward position. She breathed a sigh of relief and started to edge back from the sill, slowly. As she was doing this, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked back to what she had seen, over by the main gates. She was sure there was a figure there, huddled over. They seemed to be unloading something. She squinted, peering into the dark. Her eyesight wasn’t that good anyway, let alone in this weather.

She strained to focus on the scene, trying to pick out the details. The person had unloaded two bundles, from some sort of cart or carriage, that seemed to be wrapped up in lots of cloth, and had placed them on the ground. She couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman, as they themselves were wrapped up against the storm. They then appeared to be getting back in the vehicle they’d come in and leaving. “Oi!” she yelled, at thin air since the figure would never be able to hear.

Wiggling herself determinedly back from the mortal danger of the window, she tried to work out what her action plan would be. Everyone had heard stories of these ‘mysterious packages’ being left anonymously, and turning out to be lethal gas bombs. Those who called themselves the “New Resistance” were known for carrying out the odd small target every so often just to remind everyone that they were still there. Although they had never been known to attack a school before, Miss Fern was not going to take any chances.

Bounding down the corridor, she intended to alert the headmistress. When she got to her room though, there was no answer. She tapped on the door louder; louder; banged it; hammered it! Finally she just opened it. The room was empty. Puzzled, she closed the door and reconsidered her plan. “I’ll go tell Miss Greebs,” she decided.

Miss Greebs was displeased at being woken at such a late, or indeed early as she pointed out, hour. Even eager assurances that the matter was of genuine urgency, and numerous attempts to explain the dilemma, would not get her out of her room until she had removed both her herbal face treatment mask and her hair rollers.

Miss Fern could see that this was going nowhere, and all the time the clock was ticking. Briefly pondering again, she decided to just go and sort it out herself.