Ark nodded. The place sounded like a far tale. A land without trees? Now, that really was a Holly Woodsman’s version of hell. Towering palaces of mirrored glass and metal machines that flew. To most Dendrans, the distant empire was something of a rumor, a story that lurked at the back of their dreams. Now those dreams, those nightmares, were about to come to life. From what he’d heard today, Maw was rightly named, a greedy mouth keen to chew up their little island and spit out the pieces.

Mucum grabbed a small broken twig and began chewing it. He paused suddenly. “Every splinter worth its weight in gold to that lot? Makes yer think …” He looked around at the branches deepening into shadow, as the last of the stragglers from work made their way home and gaslights came on.

“Maybe they’re right. This place is precious,” muttered Ark, shivering at the thought of the future.

Mucum was already bored with talking about the end of the wood. “And they really shot at you with their crossbows?”

Ark nodded glumly.

“And you smacked one with yer wrench! Even I ’ave to admit that’s dead impressive.”

Ark tried not to smile, but actually, escaping killer guards was quite an achievement.

“That’s better. You’re cheerin’ up now. As for pretending to kill yourself— buddy marvelous! Who’d have thought that our mousy little apprentice had it in him?” Mucum paused for a second. “Wot about them ravens?” The boy shuddered at the thought. He’d fight anyone. But the ravens? “Stuff of nightmares, they are, not that I’m scared or nothing, right?”

Ark knew it was a good idea to nod his head in agreement.

“But since when did they let a free meal go asking? And that close to the nest. You might as well ’ave had a target painted on yer ‘ead! Am I missing something ’ere?”

“No. I don’t understand it either. It’s strange.” Even stranger that he wanted to stroke the raven chicks.

“Anyways. Your problems are bigger than a bunch of monster babies.”

“Thanks, Mucum. That really helps.” Ark suddenly felt heavy all over, exhausted from running, from everything. He could just curl up in these boxes and let everything else fall away.

“Oi, sleepyhead. Go home. Take advantage of being dead! It’s an asset, right? They’re hardly gonna be looking for yer!” Despite appearances, Mucum was not as thick as a plank.

“Yes. Of course, you’re right.”

“I’m always right, me. When did yer say it was all kickin’ off?”

Ark tried to remember what the woman had said. “Harvest Festival.”