Ark didn’t know. Perhaps he had. Maybe if he grabbed hold of Petronio, the boy would fall still. “Answer my question! Where … is … she?” Each word shot out of his mouth, the force behind his voice making Petronio awkward for a second.

But only a second. “You think you can command me, sewer rat?” His knife glinted in the flickering lamplight. “Don’t worry, killing little girls is not on the agenda, for now!”

“You’d sell your own family for gold!” Ark hissed as he launched himself at Petronio. There was a sudden silence in the forest as if every tree waited for the outcome. Ark saw his fist fly through the air. This wasn’t about feathers or magical powers, only revenge. Whatever he’d felt down in the deeps was long gone.

Petronio’s training was about defending himself against skillful opponents, not righteous treenagers going berserk. Before he knew what was happening, Ark had landed a punch that grazed the side of his face. Petronio’s knife flew from his hand, skittering in spinning circles across the wood. He made to grab it, but Ark was all over him like a clinging vine scrabbling for purchase.

“Get off me, you squitty little bud!”

The drizzling rain had become a downpour. Ark hammered away with his fists, forcing Petronio onto the ground, trying to hold back his thick arm as it groped toward the fallen knife. It was only inches away. If Petronio got it back, Ark might as well jump now. There were no screams, only grunts and groans. This was no playfight.

Petronio strained with all his might, his knees scraping on the rough woodway. He could feel Ark’s fingernails scratching across his face like splinters. It was like wrestling with a bramble bush. Come on! The knife was near now. With one last massive effort, Petronio reared up and leapt for the blade, throwing Ark off his back. He grabbed the handle, twisting round like a vine snake as he lunged.

The knife did what it was forged to do, coming up and slicing straight through Ark’s leather jerkin and the thin shift underneath to score a bloody furrow in his chest. Ark jerked back with the intense pain, his body slamming onto the wet woodway, almost slipping off the edge. His hand instinctively reached up to check his wounds. The shift he wore clung to the cut and the wetness spread across the cloth. At least his guts weren’t spilling out … yet.

“You’ll have to do better than that, squit-for-brains!” taunted Petronio. The constant drum of rain was now joined by the drip of Ark’s blood onto the road as he tried to stand up.

Ark felt his confidence drain away. He’d come all this way to be killed by an overfed bully. “I’ll —”