Tracks led off in all four directions and Jack wondered which one to take. He was miles off his route and the sun was close to setting, so he wouldn’t get far tonight. He could retrace his steps back to Okayama, or cut south-west to the main coastal road. But from what he’d seen, the plain was desolate and exposed. He’d more than likely perish. The mountains to the north would be too harsh and dangerous, and anyway took him the wrong way. The forest appeared to offer the best hope. It provided protection against the elements, with the possibility of scavenging for food, and was more or less the direction he needed to head in. Hoisting his pack over his shoulder, Jack gave the despondent Neko a sorrowful wave, then trudged west out of the village.

As he passed each farmhouse, Jack caught glimpses of the villagers’ haggard faces watching him. He no longer felt so much pity for them. They had the warmth of a fire and the benefit of food. Already there was a sharp bite to the chill air and Jack shivered. He wasn’t looking forward to another frosty night out in the open. The rice of the previous day was now a distant memory and hunger began to gnaw at his insides. The churlish Toge hadn’t even allowed him to eat that final meal!

Jack was at the village border when Neko jumped out from behind the last building. Breathless from running, she presented a small bag to him. Inside were a few hastily snatched handfuls of rice.

‘Thank you, Neko,’ said Jack, bowing gratefully as he accepted her charity.

Putting the precious food inside his pack, Jack walked on into the forest. The last he saw of Neko was her bowing him goodbye, a light snow falling around her. Jack just hoped she wouldn’t be in trouble for helping him.

As he trekked west, the sun dropped behind the horizon and the evening light began to fade fast. The forest grew cold and threatening. He hadn’t gone far when he heard the sound of hurried footsteps.

Immediately, Jack diverted off the main track and hid behind a tree. He unsheathed his sword, ready to defend himself. Had the farmers changed their minds? Or was it the dreaded Akuma and his bandits?

His pursuer drew closer.

Blending himself with the tree, Jack held his breath and became still as a stone. Practised in gotonpo, the ninja Art of Concealment, Jack would be virtually invisible to his enemy.

A figure ran past and came to a stop where the track forked.

Jack peered round the trunk and saw Neko, a look of desperation on her face, her eyes searching the forest. She was about to set off again, when Jack stepped out from his hiding place.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded.