The group stood huddled together in shock, until Six leaped off Surefoot’s back and began pushing aside the undergrowth, frantically searching for the sled tracks.

“Careful,” Twelve warned, remembering the strangler vines.

Six straightened up and let out a low, humorless laugh as he gazed around. “They’re really gone,” he said hollowly. “Just . . . gone.” A muscle was twitching in his jaw and his fists were clenched.

Exhaustion made Twelve’s thoughts sluggish, but Six’s anguish forced her to focus. They’d come too far and been through too much to fail now.

“We should split up, search a wider area,” she suggested, trying to sound hopeful.

Dog’s hackles rose and the low growl was back. “This place!” He shook his head. “We must not venture too far apart. Shout if you see anything suspicious.”

Six nodded eagerly, swinging himself onto Surefoot behind Five with renewed purpose.

“Not sure how I feel about shouting in here,” Twelve said darkly. In the moonstone-light, the slumbering faces in the gnarled trunks were visible again, sending a shiver through her.

“We have made a lot of noise already,” Dog pointed out. “We can only hope it goes unnoticed.”

They fanned out. Twelve pushed aside bushes, looked with and without the moonstone, and narrowly avoided being ensnared by a strangler vine. But the tracks had vanished completely.

“Over here!” Six’s voice called distantly. Twelve was sprinting before he’d even finished his shout, her axes out and ready, her heart pounding. Had he found the tracks again? Spotted some sign of Seven? Widge clung on as she ran, squealing with surprise as Dog sprang from the undergrowth in front of them.

“I’m all right,” Six called, “but there’s something very strange here.” He pointed up and Twelve slowed, peering into the canopy, Dog beside her.

The trees were taller here, the straight trunks unbroken by branches for most of their height. A long way above their heads, just beneath the thick dark canopy, something hung, glimmering in the low light. At first glance, it was difficult to tell what it was, but, as Twelve shifted, light slid along the filaments like water down a thread, and the image began to make sense: a spider’s web, the largest she’d ever seen. It hung enormously above them, sinister and spectacular, its silk the width of a thumb and dripping with icicles.

“What could have made that?” Six breathed.

“Must be a deathspinner,” Twelve said slowly, her flesh beginning to creep. At intervals across the web hung silk-wrapped packages, some as large as her. She didn’t want to think about what was in them or how they’d gotten up there. Widge’s tail twitched with alarm and he buried his face in her hair.

“It’s way too big!” Six exclaimed. “I know deathspinners are large, but not like this—look at it!”