‘What was that, Peg?’

‘A warning,’ he says, sounding tired. ‘I cannot go with you. And if you don’t do this now, you may never get in here again. Rory will see to that.’

He gives me a long, level look, and then starts barking out instructions, about silent mushrooms and the creep of the wilder-vine, and there’s something about the shadows, and the yew . . . but I can’t concentrate. All my reason is unravelling in here.

Zara looks how I feel. She stares at Peg while he explains everything, and when he’s done, she nods, but I don’t think she knows any better than I do quite what he was saying. He lifts from my shoulder with one last, sharp warning to keep the lantern fully lit, and takes to the air on red-gold wings. Teacake sticks close beside us and chirrups, and on we go, through the tangle of wood, past the silent ranks of golden ash and the sharp, winter shadows that make our breath bloom like smoke.

For a moment, all things seem possible. The air is clear and quiet; the shadows hardly more than mist—

And then they are among us – a choking, fighting whirl of darkness, which takes my spirit and drives me to my knees, while Zara screams.

I can’t see.

I can’t breathe.

All I can hear is the silence that rings hollow after Zara’s scream. I get to my feet slowly, and all my chest is cramped and tight, and the shadows swarm around me.

‘Zara?’ My voice is a whisper. ‘Zara!’

‘I’m here,’ she says. ‘Is that the shadows, Stella? I can’t see them, but I think I can feel them – it’s horrible. I feel so hopeless, like my heart is breaking . . . I thought I knew what that felt like, but maybe I didn’t . . .’

I move towards her voice, but the shadows are stronger. They form into their wolf selves, and their teeth glint against the darkness.

‘Get away from me,’ I hiss, stretching my hands out to feel for her, silver sparks breaking the air.

They hiss back, snakes in the frozen grass between the trees.

‘Zara, keep talking!’

‘I thought when we moved here, and Dad stayed behind, and I cried so much that my throat hurt . . . I thought that was what it felt like. But here, it feels like something’s got its hand around my heart. And I keep seeing his face as we drove off. And I wanted Mum to turn around, but she just kept driving, and her knuckles were all tight on the steering wheel. I knew she was just as torn apart as he was, and we’d done all the talking and all the packing, so I knew we weren’t just going to turn around, but I was so angry, I didn’t care.’

She’s silent for a moment, and then her voice comes again, softer now.