They stayed like that for a while, till Joe’s stomach gave a loud growl. How many days since he’d eaten properly?

‘You must eat,’ Winter said, holding something out to him. ‘It’s been three days since I found you.’

‘Three days!’ Joe took it and shoved it in his mouth – some kind of fried meat in a dusty flour wrap – and gulped the food down. ‘Thanks.’ He felt stronger almost immedi­ately, his thoughts flowing more clearly. 68

Four days then since he’d seen his parents. He’d never been away from home for so long before. Missing them felt like a pain in his chest, taking his breath away. He slumped forwards.

‘What is it?’ Winter asked.

‘My family. I miss them.’ He’d have to get better at managing that, in this new life he’d chosen. ‘But I can’t go back … not till I’ve done something, something good,’ he finished clumsily.

Pity flickered across her face. ‘There’s a rumour.’

‘What rumour?’ What else did people think he’d done?

‘Ship went down. In the storm.’ She spoke in strange short bursts. ‘With you aboard, they think.’

‘People think I’m dead?’ Joe began shivering hard.

Winter nodded. ‘You were seen. At the harbour.’

‘But no one would take me!’ he cried. Then he realised: perhaps it was better this way. He couldn’t go back and hurt them again. He couldn’t make it worse. He couldn’t shame them any more. He rubbed his face with his hands and winced at the pain in his shoulder and in his burns.

‘How are you?’ Winter reached over and touched his forehead. ‘Just cold and shock. Not fever.’ She seemed satisfied.

‘Why are you helping me?’ Joe asked, sitting up again and wiping his face. ‘I mean, I’m grateful, I am – thank you!’ But what was in it for her?

‘I found you.’ Winter’s eyes gleamed brightly in the wavering lamplight.

Joe studied her. In her dark cloak, she reminded him of 69a blackbird maybe, or a starling: hopping, peering intently, ready to fly away.

‘Why should you die? If I can help?’ Winter said. Under his gaze she suddenly grew agitated, as if she’d used up the day’s supply of words and needed to be gone to find more. Tilting her head in that birdlike way, she said, ‘I must go. Find a blanket, find more food.’

‘Wait!’ Joe called. ‘Please. Did the boy live, the one who was crushed on Hatching Day?’

She was already backing away, muttering as she went down the corridor. ‘Yes. He lived. Now you must.’

The lamp went out. Joe lay there in complete darkness, full of relief at that news. There was nothing else he could do now – he was stuck, suspended in the dark. His old life was over. He’d messed it up spectacularly, but it was finished. He couldn’t hurt his parents any more. This was the new start he’d been looking for. He would begin again, and he would learn to tame his anger, so he didn’t hurt anyone else.