Milly was about six feet from the nearest creature, the closest she’d been to one without trying to either escape or fight it. It didn’t seem aware of her; it just crouched and sent its weird call skywards.

The sound vibrated in her belly, sending a wave of nausea through her, and worse. Milly experienced sudden, overwhelming fear: her heart began pounding and she struggled to breathe. This must be how Ellie felt during an anxiety attack, but Milly knew this dread had a single, very specific cause. One which, if she continued listening, she’d clearly perceive.

Part of her wanted that to happen – better to know the worst and face it – and she found herself swaying closer to the edge of the firelight. But then she recoiled, certain suddenly that whatever it was would be too much to bear.

Maybe she’d see the giants – because what could the Harpers’ “giants” be but devils? – and the sight of them might strike her dead or drive her mad. Or perhaps, perhaps, it would show her what they were dealing with, and how to defeat it –

“Milly!” Noel grabbed her arm; Milly stumbled backwards. She’d been only two or three feet from the nearest creature: another step would have taken her out into the darkness with them.

“Fuck,” she said at last. “Thanks, Jones.”

“Christ, Milly. Do not do that to me again.”

“Soz.”

“You okay?”

“Think so.”

They moved back, joining Laura and Ernie in the middle of the camp. Ernie eyed the monsters, pale-faced, sweat on his forehead. Milly touched his shoulder. “You okay?”

He looked away from the things, wiping his mouth. “Think so. That sound they make. Does something to your brain.”

“Great,” said Laura. “I mean, this is new, isn’t it? No one else ran into this last night?”

Noel shook her head. “Don’t think so. Not like they needed any secret weapons last night, though, was it? Having a whale of a time, they were.”

“Looks like they’re cranking up the pressure,” Milly said.

“Better go round the camp,” said Ernie. “Check on everyone. Last thing we need’s –”

Someone screamed. There were cries of alarm, shouts, running footsteps. Someone shouted “Hold him,” and a man ran screaming towards Milly and the others. He didn’t see them; his eyes were fixed on the creatures beyond. It was Plant-Pot, though Milly barely recognised him in his terror and rage, charging madly at his tormentors to punch or choke those horrible moans into silence because there was no escaping them and he couldn’t endure them for another moment, even though he’d be killed in seconds. Which was what the beasts wanted, of course: to drive or lure the survivors out of the light.