“That’s where we’ve got to go.” I point at the village on the coast. It’s made up of wooden buildings, some built on stilts over the sea, which stand silhouetted against the setting sun. The village looks ramshackle, and possibly abandoned, but it’s got to be warmer than where we are right now. Night is coming and a freezing wind has started to blow off the waterfall. We need to get to shelter.

Rose nods, her teeth chattering, and Win pulls out his telescope. “We’ll find the warmest building and make a fire,” he says.

“And find some food,” I say. Suddenly I’m starving.

“And wash it down with a lovely pint of hot muskot glögg,” adds Win, smacking his lips.

“What’s that?” says Rose.

Win shrugs, still gazing through the telescope. “I don’t know, but they sell it at the Bucket of Blood.”

He passes me the telescope and I scan across the snowy landscape until I find the little village. One of the buildings is bigger than the others: a wooden tower that’s built on stilts. A sign hangs over a door with the words “The Bucket of Blood” written across it in red paint. I shift the telescope and see that Win’s right. HOT MUSKOT GLÖGG is advertised on the side of the building.

I don’t know what hot muskot glögg is, but right now I want some more than anything in the world. “Let’s go,” I say, shoving the telescope in my pocket.

Rose leads us away from the waterfall and down a track that winds through the forest. “We need to be quick,” she calls over her shoulder. “The sun’s setting.”

She doesn’t mention Hati Skoll and the wolves, or Crowky and the Box, but I’m sure that’s what drives us on through the silent, deserted forest. A crow bursts from the branches of a tree, making us jump, and then a mournful wail whistles through the trees.

“Just the wind,” says Win, and we carry on trudging through the thick snow.

Night falls as we cross the plain, but we don’t need to use Mitch’s bottle to see where we’re going. The full moon lights our way, making the snow sparkle and giving us the shadows of giants.

We walk in silence, our breath misting the air, until, finally, we reach a path. Ahead of us comes the distant suck and crash of waves. “We’re getting close,” says Rose, “and look.” She’s spotted a wooden signpost. We brush away snow to reveal messy writing.

“BaRRaCuda BaY,” Win reads. “What’s that?”

Rose lets out a sigh of exasperation. “I’ll tell you what Barracuda Bay is, Win. It’s Arthur’s stupid pirate village and it was always full of endless sword fights with monkey pirates who went around going, ‘oooh-arrr!’ and now we’ve got to sleep in it!”