“Only one night, and stuck out here in the forest,” said Diarmid bitterly. “Where can we start, when there is so much to be done?”

“Some things can be achieved,” said Liam, taking control. “Small things, maybe, but useful. Believe me, Sorcha, it pains and shames each one of us to be forced to leave you here alone. But we can at least ensure a little comfort for you. The cutting of wood, the readying of this place for winter, for I fear we will not return before the snows are deep here; this can be done by lantern light. Have you an axe?”

I nodded.

“To the west there is grazing land, and grain stored,” said Conor.

“How far?” asked Cormack.

“You can get there and back before daybreak,” his twin answered. “Take Linn. It’s dark, and the paths are treacherous. She will lead you. I suspect she would not consent to stay behind, in any case.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Padriac. “Or would do, but these boots are killing me. That’s the problem with transformations. You keep on growing, but your clothes stay the same size. Maybe yours would fit me, Finbar.” They fitted him well enough, for my youngest brother was half a head taller than when I had last seen him. His outgrown pair might do for me one day, if I ever grew into them. Then Padriac and Cormack were off under the trees, small lantern in hand and knives in their belts, for they had found those as well. I hoped the weapons would not be needed. I thought they might go unnoticed amid the midsummer revelers, whatever their errand. Linn followed; it would have been beyond anyone’s power to stop her. At least of the three of them she knew the way.

Liam and Diarmid set to with axe and hatchet, lopping branches off the dead ash tree and stacking them under the shelter of an overhang. They worked with a speed and precision that startled me, and stopped for neither food nor drink. They took the second lamp to light their task, leaving the rest of us in semidarkness by the glowing fire.

“Now,” said Conor, “I want to see those hands. Have you a supply of salves? Beeswax?”

I showed him my dwindling stocks, stored in a niche of the cave.

“This will not last long,” he said gravely. “Then what will you do? Is there not some other way this task can be accomplished?”

I shook my head.

“Then at least I can tend to you tonight, and perhaps seek some help for you. You must understand, little owl, that this is the worst thing for us. Not being here with you, having to watch you suffer on our behalf, seeing you sacrifice your life for ours—this cuts us deep. For Finbar it is hardest. He, of us all, needs to follow the path that leads straight ahead, whatever obstacles are in the way. To have that taken from him, on what seems little more than a whim, tears him apart. And now he must hurt what he loves best.”