She swung round and he swung the rifle and she raised her arms and the scales did their best, but the rifle smashed and her left arm broke, she could feel it, and she went down, and Benjamin laughed as she screamed and tossed aside the remains of the weapon as he stalked after her.

“You’re right, you know,” he said, smiling and showing her his fangs. “Of course you’re right. I’ve been waiting for this all year. We all have. We love it. It’s what keeps us going.”

The pain was blinding. Amber rolled on to her right side, somehow finding the strength to push herself away from him with her legs. He kept up easily.

“And you wanted to take that away from us? Away from me? That was never going to happen.”

She hit the gate that contained the log pile, brought her feet in, got them under her.

Benjamin watched her stand on legs made of Jell-o. “You know what I’m going to do? And I’m amazed this hasn’t occurred to me before. I’m going to take your advice.”

The axe. It was right next to her. She could just reach out now, wrap her fingers around the handle, maybe pull it free with one tug, swing it into his neck before he had a chance to react. Maybe. Maybe she could do it if she hadn’t just been shot twice. If her arm wasn’t broken. If her strength wasn’t leaving her.

“I’m going to eat you,” said Benjamin. “Maybe I’ll absorb your strength. What do you think? Maybe I’ll even be able to stay like this all year round. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? What? You’re inching towards the axe, huh? Go ahead. Go for it. Let’s see who’s faster.”

She hesitated. Benjamin grinned. She moved.

Benjamin dived for the axe, but Amber just swung the log she was holding, felt it crack into Benjamin’s face, felt it snap him round, and as he staggered she took hold of the axe and yanked it free and roared as she swung. Benjamin turned away from her, caught the blade in the back, and he jerked straight and toppled, face down into the snow.

Amber dropped to one knee and then fell sideways, clutching her broken arm, crying with the pain.

She lay there for a long while, and the night was quiet again – quiet except for the gunshots and the screams from down in Desolation Hill.

“A-Amber?”

She kept her eyes closed. “What?”

Benjamin’s voice was muffled. Strained. “I think … I think I’m hurt. I think … oh Jesus, I think you’ve done something to my back …”

She didn’t answer. She was too busy dying.