Plainly this loss had hurt, and I did not press her for explanations. ‘What would you rather be doing, instead of dancing and conversation and embroidery?’

‘Making things from wood. Walking in the forest. Climbing trees. Telling the trees’ stories, and listening to theirs.’ She flushed crimson, pressing her lips together as if to stop further words.

Tread softly, Blackthorn. ‘Speaking of conversation,’ I said, refilling her cup, ‘that’s the most interesting thing you’ve said since we met.’

‘Really?’

‘I wish I had the same ability, Cara. I imagine trees have some very, very old stories to tell. Wise tales. The kind more folk should listen to. Only most people can’t hear them.’ I wanted to ask if she had told her father about this; whether he knew, as her only living parent, what she truly cared about. But I did not ask. From what she had said, and from what she had not said, I suspected her father was one of the folk who made her words dry up before she could get them out. A bully. I hadn’t liked the sound of him when Grim had told me what he knew, and now I liked it even less.

‘Do you actually mean that?’ Cara’s voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Or do you think I’m still a child who makes things up, someone you must be kind to so she doesn’t start screaming and throwing things?’

That made me smile. ‘Grim would like you,’ I said. ‘Believe me, I do my own share of screaming and throwing things. As for children making things up, who is to say those things are not real? Perhaps only children can see them. The world is full of wonder. But . . . it’s full of danger, too, Cara. The bright and beautiful exist alongside the dark and shadowy, the evil and perilous. I know your father has hurt you with this decision. But you should abide by his rules for now. He may have some very good reason for doing what he’s done.’ Secrets; Wolf Glen seemed to be full of them.

Cara bowed her head. What she had expected of me I could not guess, but it was clearly more than this.

‘You’d best be going,’ I said, mindful of the two men waiting. ‘I’m fairly sure Grim will agree about the tools. But I’d like a promise from you. Please don’t make another attempt to get home on your own without coming and talking to me first. I know from experience the dangers of rushing off on impulse, thinking you can make the world better.’

Cara mumbled something.

‘Promise,’ I said.

‘Can I take this?’ She had picked up the little hedgehog again, curling her fingers protectively around it.