here, there. They've gone now," Otto comforted his companion. "Those horrible gipsies! I won’t let them bother you again." The boy stroked Buttercup's swollen flank and smoothed his fingers gently through her coarse, black hairs. The animal's breathing gradually became more even, and she issued a contented, porcine grunt. Otto, curled up in the straw beside her, rested his head against Buttercup's heaving side and slowly sank into a deep sleep. He dreamed.

Otto was standing in the piggeries in which he worked for Kalman Zsupan, the mayor. He was hand-in-hand with Zsupan's daughter, his beloved Arletta. They were gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, lost in one another. Beside them, Buttercup was grazing contentedly on a pile of rotting vegetables, while her newborn litter of piglets scampered around, playing in the mud. The sun was shining in a clear sky, and everything was bliss.

Suddenly, large, black storm clouds moved in from nowhere, blotting out the sun and covering the landscape in a grey cast. A streak of lightning pierced the sky — Arletta and the pigs were gone. In their place, a huge crowd of gipsies, hundreds of them, gradually moving in menacingly around Otto. To the sound of a diabolical fiddle, they began to dance, spinning in ecstasy while cloaks of purple and red flew about them.

Otto was lost in a confusion of flailing limbs and billowing silk. Hopelessly, he tried to look for Arletta, calling her name, utterly terrified. Clasped in the gipsies' hands were treasures of unimaginable wealth — great golden goblets, dishes and tankards; jewel-encrusted crowns from eastern lands; endless strings of pearls, rubies and emeralds. Each thrust cruelly towards his face and then lifted towards the sky.

On a hill, some distance away, was Arletta. She was dressed as a gipsy, in scarlet and green, and wore a manic smile which filled Otto with dread. Next to her, was a powerful male figure. He seemed both familiar and a stranger. His face was hidden, but he had a possessive arm around Arletta’s shoulders. Otto fell to the floor, stricken with grief and fear.

Then the gipsy began to change. Huge, razor-sharp tusks protruded from the sides of his mouth, and his face elongated into a snout. His cloak fell away to reveal a massive, bristly torso. The gipsy uttered a ferocious roar and fell forward onto his hands which had become fearsome trotters. Otto wailed. It was the Boar of Zalaegerszey, the mythical creature all Hungarians learn about as children. The beast reared up and then began to thunder towards Otto.

"Nooooo!" Otto sat bolt upright, sweat pouring off him, his heart beating out of his chest. He was back in the barn, Buttercup still snoozing beside him. Somewhere a bell was ringing; someone at the gate. Otto raised himself on shaky legs, brushed the straw off his breeches, and made his way unsteadily through the door and out into the morning light.

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