Crowflies settled on a nearby branch but kept its distance from the oak.

Sa-at nodded to himself. Crowflies feels it too.

At first glance, things appeared as they had before. The tree remained aloof, and he could see a length of his hair hanging from one of the branches. The feathers were there, just as he’d placed them. But something wasn’t right.

He exchanged a look with Crowflies before edging forward. If he wanted the tree to release his friends he was going to have to give it three more daubs of his blood.

As he got closer, he realized what was wrong.

I gave the oak two locks of my hair but I can only see one.

However, there was something else where he’d tied the second lock of hair, but it was wrapped around the branch and partly obscured by the leaves. Sa-at frowned, not liking the sense that the oak was deliberately hiding something from him.

He pretended not to have noticed and walked over to the trunk, keeping his eyes on the roots as if intending to fulfil his bargain. Then, when he was close enough, he leapt up, parting the lower branches so that he could see what was being hidden.

The oak rustled indignantly, but was too late to stop him getting a good look at its new decoration.

A thick string of crimson flesh had been wound along the length of the branch, as if a snake had coiled there before shedding its skin. He had seen flesh like that before, sprouting like hair from the heads of the Red Brothers.

Heart sinking, he spun round, to find two of the trees had moved in behind him. No, he thought as their shapes wavered, not trees, demons. And as he blinked, they resolved themselves into the hated forms of Eyesore and Crunch.

Sa-at experienced a moment of terror so pure that he didn’t even notice Tal’s boots slipping from his grasp and dropping to the ground.

‘Well,’ said Crunch, his voice rumbling with satisfaction. ‘Is that the trembling of a Birdspawn I hear?’

Eyesore rubbed his hands together.

Sa-at backed away until the oak bumped roughly against his shoulder. Its branches formed a funnel either side of him, the only way out blocked by the Red Brothers.

The tree had betrayed him! Such an act wasn’t just underhanded, it was wrong. Sa-at had acted in accordance with the ways, and their deal had not concluded. He still owed blood to its roots. But then, if the Red Brothers got their hands on him, he had no doubt there would be bloodshed, enough to slake its thirst many times over. And his deal had been to protect his friends, not him. In a way, the tree had done nothing wrong.