Moments later a figure appeared in the gloom, pausing for a while on the path below her, then moving on, slow and steady, eyes sweeping ahead and the forest to either side. Then two more figures, further back, twenty paces apart, like an arrowhead. She waited longer.

No one else came.

A sound behind her, the scuff of bark, Storm’s surprised snarl and she was throwing herself forwards, twisting as she fell, loosing the arrow half-blind into a shadow looming behind her. A scream, then Storm smashed into the figure, an explosion of blood.

Coralen lurched to her feet, trusting Storm with her back, reaching for another arrow. The men on the path were scrambling for cover, one down with an arrow through his throat that she knew instinctively was Dath’s. Arrows whistled through the twilight, one skittered off a tree, another sank thrumming into a trunk.

Two men down there, at least two men.

Then she saw them – one flat against a tree, spear in hand, the other a dozen paces from him, crouched behind a fallen trunk. The one behind the tree peered around it, showing her his back and she put an arrow through it. He grunted and sank to the floor. The one behind the fallen trunk saw his comrade collapse, realized someone was behind them and leaped into motion. He was fast, running and leaping diagonally away from the others Coralen had placed on the opposite bank, but away from her as well. He weaved as he ran, Coralen releasing one arrow which missed him by a hair’s breadth, then she was up and running. In a dozen paces she knew he was faster than her.

But not faster than Storm.

The wolven hurtled past her down the slope, bone-white fur blurring in the gloom as she raced after the huntsman. He heard the drum of her paws, turned panicked eyes towards her, fumbled with a knife at his belt and then she was on him, tearing at him as they rolled.

Coralen ran faster, saw them separate and Storm spring to her feet, twisting to get back at him. The huntsman struggled to rise, blood slicking his shoulder and back. Storm ran at him.

‘Hold,’ Coralen yelled at Storm, and the wolven skidded to a halt before the man, stood snarling and slavering over him. Coralen reached him, kicked his knife from his hand and then kicked him in the head. He dropped onto his back.

Dath emerged from the gloom, others close behind.

The huntsman on the ground groaned. ‘Who do you serve?’ Coralen said, drawing her sword and pointing its tip unwaveringly at his chest. He curled his lip and spat blood.

‘That is rude,’ Kulla observed. Her sword was in her hand, and although she made no move the man on the ground cringed a little.

‘Look at me,’ Coralen said to him. He did. ‘I will have an answer to my question, one way or another.’