Craf passed out of sight and Corban slipped into the treeline, looked back to check that no one was left out in the open. Only Brina was still standing on the grassy slope, her face pale and anxious.

‘Brina, come on,’ Corban called, holding his hand out to her. She gave him a foul look but hurried under the cover of the trees, refusing to take his hand.

Corban looked, saw Balur standing by a tree trunk to one side, another giant to Corban’s left. The trees either side of him formed a kind of gateway into the woods. He looked behind, up at the tallest tree, saw Dath’s boots dangling down from the highest branches. Dath had the best eyes in the whole warband.

‘Anything?’ Corban called up to him.

‘Nothing,’ Dath called back down.

Corban swallowed.

‘Craf won’t do it,’ the crow had said. ‘Craf scared. Too dangerous. Might die.’

‘I know it is dangerous,’ Corban had said to Craf, ‘but it is necessary. Please help us, Craf. Be brave and do it for us. And you will get first pickings of everything that Storm catches.’

‘Everything?’ Craf had asked.

‘Aye, everything.’

‘First pickings, not last?’

‘Aye. You have my word.’

Craf had bobbed his head, thinking.

‘First pickings no good if Craf dead,’ the bird had eventually croaked.

‘You won’t die, Craf.’

‘Corban can’t say that. False promise.’

‘I don’t think you’ll die,’ Corban had corrected.

‘Anything?’ Corban called up to Dath again now.

‘N— . . . wait, I think I see something. Yes. He’s coming.’

‘Just Craf?’

‘No. The other one’s after him.’

Corban’s heart rose into his throat. Brina edged closer to him. Corban wasn’t sure if it was for comfort or so that she would be nearer to kill him if Craf got hurt. Heartbeats passed.

‘Nearly here,’ Dath called down. ‘The other one’s almost on top of him.’ The creaking of branches signalled that Dath had started to climb down.

It was just as before, Craf setting off on a scouting mission, the hawk spotting him and swooping down from above, Craf dashing for the safety of the warband.

Please. Elyon, don’t let it end like last time.

Craf burst over the edge of the canopy, cutting tight to the trees and looping steeply down the slope. The hawk appeared, just moments behind, talons outstretched, wings tucked tight in a steep dive. Somehow Craf turned, a sharp bank in the air that brought his path around to face towards Corban beneath the trees. Wings flapping furiously, he powered towards Corban. The hawk turned too, with greater control and agility, hardly breaking pace.

Come on, Craf. Corban willed himself not to move, prayed that no one else would. Craf was close to the first branches now, with a rush of beating wings passed under the first boughs, the hawk half a dozen heartbeats behind. Craf hurtled over Corban’s head.

‘Now!’ Corban yelled.