The other man also visits his enemy, but this man becomes a fox that wriggles its way through the community.

The first man is broken by his enemy – his skin is shed and he drags it like spoils of the hunt.

The second man breaks away, taking his enemy’s children with him.

I want to still those fingers, put out the fire – I don’t want to see any more. But a new figure rises and the flames breathe the word: hero.

I reach out to touch this person made from shadows, but when my fingers get close the shadow fades into smoke. The fire is out and I am in darkness. The puppeteer’s fingers trace their way up my spine and I shiver.

Chapter Nineteen

I wake from my dream, my teeth chattering. I go for a walk to clear my head and see Jack Minnow. He still visits the hall of remembrance every night. As I watch him in the moonlight, he looks up at the window where I stand, and our eyes meet. He smiles. I am waiting, biding my time. I want to know more first – who is Davey Minnow and why risk so much to remember him?

The days pass, and Mel has no more new tales written in her notebook. It is irking her, keeping her story inside. After a week, she snaps.

“This is ridiculous.” Mel throws down her pen and lets her chair scrape as she stands. “I’m the storyteller; I have authority of my own. We’re going to see him. I’m going to tell Longsight my new story.”

“No, Mel—” But she is gone, walking fast. I run to keep up with her, and am almost dizzied as we turn corner after corner, finally finding ourselves outside Mayor Longsight’s study. I catch her arm.

“Please don’t do this,” I whisper. “We need more time…”

But Mel holds her hand up for silence. And that’s when I realize: the door is ajar, and we hear familiar voices. We lean closer to the door and listen.

“Tell me again,” Mayor Longsight is saying. “Tell me how it happened.”

There is a pause and then Jack Minnow speaks, his voice carrying. “You were pronounced dead. Carried into the mourning room, and we gathered about you for three days. And then it was time for your final journey. We prepared you. And then I heard it – a gasp. The faintest sound.

“I cleared the room; it was just you and me. I hardly dared believe it, but it was so. You were breathing. Your prediction was true, and my delight burned in me. When you spoke first, I knew I had to record your words.” I hear the shunt of a drawer opening and the crackle of paper. “It’s all there – you’ve read it many times. A message from the grave, sir.”

“It’s all so hard to remember.” The mayor sounds weary. There is a period of silence which seems to stretch for ever. “But it happened, just like you said. It must have done.”