For his part, Lann couldn’t shake his sense of betrayal. He felt strongly that Fleya was still not telling him all she knew about his birth, and this fuelled the anger and sense of frustration he felt towards her. Yet at the same time he missed their fireside chats and the mealtimes that they’d always shared. He could sense how much his behaviour, walking away whenever she tried to speak to him, bothered her, but he couldn’t help himself. He was hurting and confused, and he saw no reason why she should not be feeling the same way.

It was a cool morning in March and he’d just placed a young snowtear seedling in the ground, gently covering the fragile stem with a fine soil, when he became aware of his aunt standing at his side. Despite his acute hearing, she could still creep up on him like this at times, and he felt his annoyance rise at this unheralded interruption.

‘I have to go into the village of Bjoven to help a sick girl,’ Fleya told him. ‘If the child is as sick as I fear, I doubt I will be back until the morning. I might even be gone until this time tomorrow.’ She paused, waiting for a response that never came. ‘There is fresh bread, and I have left some cheese and butter next to it. Slide the bolt across when I have gone and wait for my return. I don’t need to tell you not to open up for anyone else.’ She sighed, but when she spoke again her voice was softer. ‘I want us to be friends again, Lann. I care a great deal for you. I know you may not believe that right now, but it is the truth.’ There was another pause and he heard her give another little sigh before she turned and walked away.

When the sound of the wagon had faded away, Lann got up and groped his way over to the cabin. Inside, he leaned his weight against the door and slid the heavy bolt across. Fleya often left him to go off to help the people in the lands surrounding Faun Forest, and she always made a fuss about him being left alone. But right now, he welcomed the solitude.