‘I want your eyes on the ground and hands on your head.’ His tone was far more aggressive this time.

Her breaths came faster, her vision blurring. ‘Please. I am alone, and I have no weapons.’

‘The reason I stand here alive and free is because our kind know your kind are all fucking liars.’

She pressed her eyes closed. ‘I swear to you.’

He took a few steps fowards. ‘If there’s a God you would like to pray to, now’s the time.’

Isabel held her breath when she heard the bow creak again, the sound cut off by a familiar beating of wings. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw the eagle dive at him in warning. Fearing for the bird, she shouted, ‘Margery, leave!’

The eagle took off again, flying up and away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Isabel saw the man lower his bow. She dared a glance in his direction. He was probably only a few years older than her, but his hardened features and the silver scar crossing one eye were evidence of a tough few years.

‘What did you say?’ he asked, his voice quieter now.

Isabel shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

He took a step in her direction, and she tensed.

‘You spoke to the eagle.’

Her mind scrambled to try and remember what she had said. ‘I… I didn’t want her to get hurt.’

He continued to stare at her. ‘You know the bird’s name.’

As did he, it seemed. And there was only one way he could have found it out. ‘You know Ita?’

Nothing changed on his face.

‘Where is she?’

He looked over his shoulder as a cloaked figure stepped out from behind one of the trees, face partially covered by the hood of their cloak. Isabel did not need to see her face to recognise her. She would recognise Ita anywhere. Via form, height, posture. Via heart waves.

Margery appeared overhead, gliding down to land on Ita’s shoulder, in case she needed further confirmation. Isabel’s hands slid from her head, falling uselessly at her sides.

Ita reached up and dragged the hood of her cloak back. And there was her beautiful round face and pale green eyes, wide with shock. The visual was too much for Isabel. She covered her face with her hands as tears fought their way out, then sank down to the ground until the backs of her hands pressed against the dirt. She heard Margery take flight, her work there done. Then feet padded towards her, and Ita pulled her up until Isabel was seated on her heels, drawing her hands away from her face.

Isabel had no choice but to look at her.

They sat there crouched in the dirt, eye to eye, staring at each other. Then Ita turned to the man behind her and said, ‘I’ve no idea who this is. You can go ahead and shoot her.’

Isabel’s face fell. ‘Wait. What?’

Ita turned back to her, laughing. ‘I knew you would come back.’ She took Isabel by the hand and pulled her to her feet before wrapping her arms around her.