A horn blast, the front of the column halting, the rest rippling to a stop behind.

‘What’s happening?’ Jost said, peering along the line.

‘You’re taller than me,’ Riv said. ‘All I can see is someone’s back. And Jost, I wanted to give you my thanks, for last night.’

‘You’re my sword-kin, what are friends for, eh?’ he said, smiling, one eye half-closed, a purple bruise circling it.

‘Your poor eye,’ she said.

‘Ah, it’s not so bad. I’d rather that than wake up this morning with teeth marks in my ankle, like one of their lot has had to do.’

They both laughed at that, receiving strict looks from a White-Wing in the ranks ahead.

Another horn blast and then the column was moving on again. Suddenly, Riv saw what had caused them to stop.

They had found the bodies of the townsfolk. From an overhanging tree branch hung a body. A noose about one ankle, it was headless, skinned and gutted like a boar ready for the spit. Riv had to force herself to look away as they marched beneath it and on into the forest.

As they pushed on, more bodies were visible, hanging from branches, swaying, dangling, chewed upon by things that flew or climbed.

They are like markers showing the way.

Which is worrying. Is this an ambush? Are we marching to our slaughter?

Riv felt fear tingling through her veins, but also excitement, the thought that she might finally fight the Kadoshim. She felt as if she were born to do that. The one thing that she existed to do.

And then they found them.

Bodies in a small clearing, hundreds upon hundreds heaped upon each other in a tangled, stinking pile. Crows and flies rose in a buzzing, croaking cloud, the stench of rot rolling out from the dead like a wave. Jost was not the only one to empty his guts into a bush.

Orders were barked, Balur One-Eye appearing out of the gloom. All were mindful of an ambush, eyeing the trees suspiciously, horns blowing and the White-Wings splitting, some moving to help Balur and his giants as they went about setting up a perimeter, giants hacking at thinner trees, White-Wings using machetes and axes to chop at vine and brush, pushing the forest back a little, clearing a defensible space. The other White-Wings and fledglings merged into a circular defensive formation, weapons bristling outwards, while Kol and his captains stood and consulted near the pile of the dead.

Riv scanned the forest, her spear clutched ready, her eyes drifting higher, aware that Kadoshim could strike from any angle, any direction. She saw a Ben-Elim swooping through branches high above. The more she stared, the more she thought.

There’s no one here, except the dead.