Tom Graham might have been on to something when he’d talked about the dangers of imagination. Ellie certainly couldn’t afford it now. Too many grey areas, too many blank spots: filling them with speculation only made things worse. She had to focus on what was known, and on the immediate future. Getting through the night. And in the cold light of day – cold in every sense; how many people might have escaped the creatures only to freeze to death? – she could review whatever facts there were and draw what conclusions she could. She’d do whatever she could, whatever she must, for whoever was left. Tomorrow, in the sun.

But for now: survive the night.

“What’s on your mind?” Milly said.

“Nothing.”

Milly just looked at her. Ellie glanced around. Julie and Phil were wrapped up in one another; Kate Beck’s good arm was around Charlotte, who was crying on her shoulder. Ernie Stasiolek glowered at the things in the surrounding darkness, cold rage in his face. What did he see? Did he imagine them taunting him somehow? Maybe his own conscience was, for not going to his family. Without Ernie’s help, Ellie doubted they’d have lasted this long. If the others saw him crack up, it would be like tearing a building’s foundations away. And they mustn’t fall. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Just occurred to me – you know how we’re always saying there’s at least one poor sod turns up frozen to death out here, every bloody winter?”

“Like Tony Harper?”

“Yeah. Never wondered how our stats’d compare to the rest of the area.”

“Those markings are new, though.”

“Yeah. Or very old.” Milly frowned, and Ellie shook her head. “Sorry. Trying not to let my imagination run riot. Or to think too far ahead.”

“I get that,” Milly’s eyes filled up. “Trying not to think about Jones. He’s out there – or he was, I mean, and….”

Her voice cracked. And what could Ellie say? Don’t worry? I’m sure he’s fine? Only an idiot could offer such platitudes now. There was nothing to say; better, sometimes, to recognise that. She took Milly’s hand, and squeezed it. Milly squeezed back, trying to smile. Ellie went to hug her, but Milly shook her head. “Don’t, Ell. I’ll be in fucking bits.”

Sparks flew up from the fire. The creatures hung in the shadows. Their cloaks of human skin rustled; Ellie thought of that single precise cut along the length of Madeleine’s spine and hoped Kate and Charlotte hadn’t drawn the same conclusions.

She thought of looking at her phone; didn’t. She was afraid to see how far away first light still was.

“Dogs,” said Madeleine faintly.

Milly leant over her. “What’s up, love?”