Silence. Maybe the birds were studying a scrawny boy and seeing the hopeless nothing that he was. He felt the mass of them weighing the branches down, their brute force, the lure of the dark. Yet behind all this, a fierce, unwavering nobility.

It was up to him to ask the question, to tell them what he now was. He stared back at the shining, fathomless eyes, calming the tremor that ran through his body: I am Arktorious Malikum, sewage worker. But I am also son of Corwenna, Ark of the trees. I have faced my fears. And will do so again. Will you help us fight the danger of Maw? Are you with me?

Silence again. Ark wondered if he’d failed, if the ravens would dismiss his boldness as arrogance. A single bird bent its beak to its breast and plucked a parasitic tick the size of a clenched fist from deep within its feathers. The offending insect was crushed within its claws.

A screech shattered the still air. Ark turned. It was Hedd, elder of the flock, whose thoughts now spoke for all the raven brood. Yes. Boy born of wood. We are with you. To the end.

Relief washed over Ark. He bowed deeply, in gratitude.

Hedd continued: Listen. We are eyes of Corwenna. We move like night. Better than night. We spy something that worries. Man of stone. Flint his name. Heart empty as hollow tree. His army is on move. He is traitor, boy of wood. Look.

A white moth suddenly spiraled down through the air and landed in Ark’s outstretched hands, where it unfolded into a sheet of creased vellum. Ark turned it over, excited fingers tracing out the scratching of ink-filled quills. It was a map of the castle and much, much more. Times, dates, schemes of dark deeds written out as plain as day.

Hedd screeched one more time. Be brave. Be bold. And with that, the sky suddenly darkened with feathers, and a furious wind pinned Ark to the woodway. He blinked his eyes and the Ravenwood was empty, its branches bare.

Ark studied the map and drank in the foul words inscribed on it. In his head, a plan began to unfurl like a spring leaf. Maybe, just maybe, it was possible after all.

The following day dawned gray and unpromising. As Ark, Mucum, and Shiv stood outside, a chill wind funneled through the forest, picking at their clothes with sharp fingers. Flo had returned a day earlier to prepare the Rootshooters.

Corwenna closed the door behind her. “Come. You have been fed. Here are provisions.” She passed a bag to Mucum. “Ark, I return this to you.” Corwenna handed over the feather that only a few days ago he’d tried to kill her with. “And little, brave Shiv, this gift might be small, but it is most useful.”

“Candy!” she guessed, sniffing the tiny wrapper. “I like candy!”