His body was a jangle of nerves, his mind racing to catch up with her words. They wrapped him around like the suffocating vines that crept up the trunks of this impenetrable forest. Could it really be true? He thought back to all that had happened. If she knew everything, why was she playing with him? Perhaps she was right. And perhaps the reason he had been brought to the Ravenwood was to meet Corwenna!

“Then help me save Arborium. My home is in trouble! If you are who you say you are, not just some crone from an old story, you’ll know that already.”

“Arborium is always in trouble!” Corwenna shrugged. “It is no longer my concern.”

“When I was attacked by your raven, I was trying to warn the King that Maw is about to overthrow the kingdom. Let me go, or if you’re so powerful, why won’t you help me?” She had to help him! But he must be careful. To taunt his captor was madness.

Corwenna was almost pushed back by the force of his words. She paused, looking down at the boy in a new light. “Well, Ark, it does seem as though my experiment has finally borne fruit. When my mother first brought the seeds of these trees to this once barren island many years ago, I knew the time to fight for the trees would come again.” The coldness of her voice was replaced with a surprising tenderness. “Welcome to the Ravenwood, Ark. We need each other. It might well be that you are the first-ever visitor who will live to speak of us. Now come, you must be tired. I shall dress your wounds and feed you.”

Ark was stunned. Is this what this strange woman had wanted all along? Was this a game to her?

The empty woods suddenly filled with the sound of wing-beats. Corwenna checked her stride. “Here we are.”

Ark had no idea where they were, only that every branch in the tree above them was now speckled with watching eyes. A feathered bodyguard of thousands. The door set into the hollow trunk that reared up in front of them was covered in sigils and scratchings: strange symbols of the moon, and trees that were half trunk, half woman. One of the pictures, of a female figure with a bow and arrow hunting down a tree stag, disturbed him.

Corwenna swung the door open. Ark had no choice but to enter.

A fire was lit in an ornate iron grate covered in embossed ravens with eyes of precious stones. The room was sumptuously furnished and the flames reflected off endless jewels and shiny metal implements.

“The birds have a way with shimmering objects. Some useful, others mere glitter. But is it not so with Dendrans and their love of gold?”

Ark nodded. Councillor Grasp was well named.