What now? The door stood open. Should she just walk in? He might bundle her onto Willow and take her straight back to the prince’s house.

The crow spoke again. ‘Kraaa.’ It had settled on the post where the horse was tethered. Willow regarded the bird with nervous eyes.

‘All right,’ murmured Cara. ‘You’ll be here if I need you. I understand.’ What a crow could do, she wasn’t sure. But the presence of the birds made her feel a little less alone. ‘You little ones had best not come inside with me. Fly off, go, find a safe perch!’

Siskin and wren flew to settle on the thatch above the door. And now there came voices from inside the house. The voices of two men, rising fast, interrupting each other, talking over each other. One was her father’s.

‘Out!’ he shouted, and she heard an inner door crashing open. Something smashed on the floor. ‘Get out of my sight now! This is Grim’s doing, him and that woman of his, the two of them sticking their noses in other folk’s business, spinning lies! Where is he?’

Cara stood frozen, caught between the wish to be brave and the urge to flee before he saw her. She could run, she could hide herself the way she had before, she could get all the way back to Winterfalls and her father need never know.

And then, there he was, in the doorway. The wild man, Bardán. Her other father. ‘Brígh,’ he said in a hoarse whisper. In that one word were shock and love and tears and joy, all rolled up together. He still looked like some creature of the woods, more leaf, twig and bark than man. He still stank. But his eyes were warm – how had she not seen that before? And the smile that now curved his mouth was the smile of a man who has expected nothing and has been granted a miracle.

Cara opened her mouth to say something. She thought of the words she should have spoken that other time, when she’d been up in the oak. You are welcome here, traveller. I offer you the hospitality of this house. But all she could think of was, ‘Is that my name? Brígh?’

The wild man stepped out of the doorway and into the courtyard. Tears were spilling from his eyes; he fumbled to wipe them away and she saw how hurt his hands were, so crippled that he would never be a builder again.

‘Oh, your poor hands,’ Cara said, stepping closer.

A great sob burst out of Bardán’s mouth. He held out his arms to her.