‘Yes, my love,’ Lily said in a voice that she hoped was comforting. She could not reveal her fear, especially not to Maeve. She knew that Maeve and Brenna would worry each other to death if they could, and she refused to give them anything more to worry about. ‘Yes, in a couple of days’ time, me and Jem, and Aunty Grace, and my lovely friend Alice, we’ll all be back here and we’ll cook a big family meal and everything will be happy and normal again. How does that sound?’

Maeve just nodded. Lily stood and turned to Jem. ‘Right, we need to be on our way, I’m afraid.’ She turned back to the children. ‘We’ve got a long day of travelling today and a big day tomorrow, so cross all your fingers for it to be an easy rescue.’

Each of the children took turns to say good luck, and they all came and hugged them both. Even Glenn, who was still quiet and brooding most of the time, was smiling. He hugged Lily and whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

Lily frowned, but Glenn stepped back and wouldn’t meet her eye. They all walked down to the rowboat and Lily and Jem climbed in, taking an oar each.

‘See you all for dinner in a few days! Be safe, make sure you behave, all right?’ Together, Glenn and Cass pushed the boat off the shingled shore and a gentle wave caught the craft, carrying them out onto the sea. The children all stood in a line on the shore, waving, trying their best not to look forlorn.

‘Did Glenn say anything to you when he hugged you?’ Lily asked Jem as the children faded from view.

‘No, why?’

‘Ah, no reason.’ For some reason, Lily found herself hiding Glenn’s apology from Jem. She decided she’d ask him about it when they returned, but for now, she pushed it from her mind. They had more important things to worry about. Like raiding the lair of the most notorious murderous coven this land had ever seen.

After half an hour of relentless rowing, they heard the tell-tale crumble of the bottom of the boat hitting land. Jem leaped out of the back of the boat and dragged it up onto shore. It was still early and the town hadn’t yet woken. The sky was alight with fuchsia pink and violet streaks as the sunrise twirled across the horizon. They secured the boat to a post that was driven deep into the sand and then walked into the centre of the village. Instead of following the path back up the cliff, the path Lily had nearly fallen down the week before, they went west, following the path through Kelseth and up a much less steep path that led to a different part of the moors.

For late autumn, the temperature was eerily cold and their heavy breathing from the walking created dancing patterns of mist in the air. Lily’s hands became red and sore with the chill, and she took to walking with them cupped over her mouth to collect the warm breath, instead of letting them slowly freeze by her sides. The smoking tendrils that escaped her mouth and nose made her feel a little like a fire-breathing dragon. Lily tried to embody that thought and take on the strength of a dragon, too.