‘Use your magic,’ he hisses after a while. ‘That’s what attracted them, when you were in the forest. Rory saw it herself. Maybe if you focus on it now, the shadow will be drawn to you.’

‘I don’t want to draw it to me!’ I say. ‘And I don’t really know what my magic is, Peg. Or how to use it.’

‘You’ve already used it,’ he says. ‘When you glamoured Yanny, for example, and probably many other times. If you’d just stop telling yourself you can’t do it, that might help. Just try,’ he says. ‘I’m here.’

There’s a small howl from my ankles; Teacake has followed us here.

I close my eyes and imagine the magic as a small fire deep inside me. I picture it getting brighter, filling my veins like a silent stream. When I open my eyes again, my whole body feels like it’s on fire.

‘Steady,’ says Peg.

I breathe out, with a little burst of silver sparks that fizz in the cold air.

‘Goodness!’ he yelps, scrambling to cover his face with his wings.

‘Sorry,’ I say.

My tongue feels dry and dusty. I try to calm the rush of energy that’s still rolling through me, and that’s when I see it. Over by the fence, perched on the henhouse, a small figure with spines running down its back.

‘What kind of creature is that?’ I ask.

‘Could be anything,’ Peg whispers. ‘They make their forms out of shadow; there are no limits.’

‘I suppose that makes sense,’ I say. ‘In the forest, there were wolves, and birds . . . and the Stag . . .’

The creature looks back over its shoulder at us, and hisses, revealing iron-grey teeth that shine.

‘It doesn’t seem to be attracted,’ I say.

‘Give it a minute.’

I focus on steadying the energy, until it’s a low hum. The creature jumps down from the henhouse and hunkers low on the ground, barely visible, and after what seems an age, it starts to move towards us.

‘What do I do?’ I whisper, terrified.

Teacake stretches out on the ground before my feet and rolls on to her back, exposing her tiny belly, the picture of unconcern. I frown.

‘Silly kitten,’ growls Peg. ‘What’s she doing?’

‘Something,’ I say.

I crouch down, put a hand on her pale fur. She curls up around my hand, her claws sharp against my skin, but not digging in, her green eyes staring as if she’s trying to tell me something. The shadow edges ever closer, watching intently, but I act like I don’t care. Like this is all perfectly normal. And then, when it’s crept closer than my mind can really bear, and all my skin is goosebumps, I take my hand away from Teacake and curl my fingers around my acorn, turning to face the shadow.

‘Go, Stella!’ says a little voice in my mind.

And so I do, eye to eye, fear against fear, I howl. A little bright spark flares around me, and the shadow is, after all, just a shadow, I tell myself in a hard, new voice. In this garden, in my home, it does not have the power of many – no power over me. The sparks keep flying, and the shadow unravels, and then I’m breathing hard, and Teacake is sitting pert and watchful, and Peg is his beautiful imp self, his tail curling over my shoulders, and the garden is, just for an instant, a blaze of pale light.