In any case, so that I could maintain the fiction that I was a poor non-witch willing to work nonsensical hours for the minimum wage I took the train, ostensibly travelling on my own. It was a long trip up to the north of Scotland, with several changes. It was nice to just sit back and relax. With the cart coming by every hour or so selling all manner of junk food, not to mention tea so strong you could stand up a spoon in it, I decided there were far worse ways to pass my time. Until, that was, someone came along and sat beside me after we’d passed Crewe.

I’m not averse to people. While I’m aware that my apathetic tendencies can sometimes be mistaken for misanthropy, I’m really not that bad. I’d not be much of a taxi driver if I were. However, when I end up sitting next to a man who spreads out his legs almost as wide as they’ll possibly go, squeezing me against the window, before falling asleep with his head dropping uncomfortably onto my shoulder, I happen to get rather tetchy.

I twice attempted to shove him away from me but, despite my best efforts, he stubbornly remained put. Even worse, when I sharply nudged him the second time, he just started to snore. It wasn’t a delicate little wheeze either. No: this man sounded like a warthog on a mission to wake up the devil.

Brutus appeared equally disgruntled by his presence, edging out a sharp claw from inside his cage to swipe at the space-hogging fiend. He had as little effect on the man as I did which, given just how sharp my familiar’s claws were, was quite something. I shook my head. This simply wouldn’t do. I’d have knocked my lukewarm tea off the little tray table onto his lap if it didn’t seem like a terrible waste of a good drink.

What I really needed was something organic. I’d dabbled in herblore for a week or two after my magical binding was removed, not because I enjoyed that particular strain of magic but because Winter was rather fond of it. In the end, however, it became too irritating when I never had the herbs I required to hand and I soon abandoned my efforts.

I dug around in my jacket pockets on the off-chance that there were a few sprinkles of something still lingering around. Unfortunately they were empty apart from a twisted sweet wrapper. Then I caught sight of the crisps trodden into the floor under the seat in front of me. Not perfect but, if I got lucky, they’d be one of the more pungent flavours. I was hoping for cheese and onion. The discarded corner of an egg mayo sandwich or a few lost scampi fries would be better, but the train was just a bit too clean for that. I’d have to work with what I had.

I stretched out one toe, arching it past Brutus’s carrier and snagging a few of the crumbs. Bringing them closer to me, which was no mean feat given just how little space I had to work with, I began drawing out the rune I required.