The footpath down was long and winding, the incline gentle to avoid too punishing a journey. Ellie would normally be glad of that, especially with the propane bottle on her back, but today it only served to extend their journey time. She was sure the sky above was considerably darker, the last light at the horizon a duller, more ember-like red, by the time they finally reached the bottom.

She didn’t want to guess how little time remained before the things came out again. Would they only wake when it was full dark, or were they already watching the weak dying light in their tunnel entrances and waiting for the last of it to fade?

If they weren’t already awake, they would be soon enough. There was little chance of success, less still of survival, but what was the alternative? Wait for the axe to fall at the camp? Or for the Dance to take place and –

You don’t seriously fucking believe this, do you, Ell? Scrawlings in an old Bible by a bunch of inbreds? A dying vicar’s fever-dreams? What sort of evidence is that? How Tom Graham would’ve rolled his eyes. Too much imagination, Ellie. Last thing a copper needs.

Well, she’d have preferred not to believe it, but disbelief was a luxury she didn’t dare avail herself of. Dance or no Dance, the survivors’ best chance was to attack the menace at its source. So either way, she was going down.

They followed Jess across the field in single file. From time-to-time Ellie stole glances at the low grim hulk of Barrowman Farm, the blind erased eyes of its shuttered windows and that thin black line of chimney-smoke, searching for any sign of movement or threat, but saw none. With any luck, Liz Harper was in no shape to cause Ellie any further trouble.

The only sound was the crunch of boots in snow as they made their way across the untrodden fields towards the bare black thicketing woods that filled the bottleneck at the end of the valley, crawling up the slopes to Fendmoor like huge, blackened spiders in the gloom. Barrow Woods.

Tiny though she was, Jess Harper pulled ahead of the group with her fierce determined march; Ellie jogged to catch up, steam puffing from her mouth; the cold air seared her lungs. A dully glowing line of blood-coloured light marked the join between the sky and land.