Crowflies tapped at his knuckle, and he pressed it into the Birdkin’s beak. The proboscis buried deep in its throat levered out, pressing just enough to slide beneath the skin. Sa-at closed his eyes. Sometimes, when they were connected this way, he saw the world as Crowflies saw it. This time, however, it was different. The forest seemed to move about him, and yet he knew he was standing still.

I’m flying!

But I’m not flying.

This isn’t me. This isn’t now. It’s the past. I’m seeing Crowflies’ thoughts. No. I’m seeing a memory.

Through its compound eyes, the forest was broken into tiny pieces, each a different window showing a slightly different vision. Shadows no longer matched the things that made them, the trees seemed to loom more, some openly hostile, others indifferent, still others shifting their branches, allowing easier progress.

A shape became visible, hulking, crimson-skinned, moving slowly, guiding himself by touch: Crunch! He was muttering to himself, a bitter, hateful monologue, and Sa-at knew he was the subject of the vitriol. Crowflies banked away and the memory took Sa-at all the way back to them. It was not a long flight. If they didn’t move soon, the last Red Brother would find them.

Crowflies broke contact, pinching the wound shut, and Sa-at opened his eyes again. Crunch did not just linger in his mind, his scent lingered on his palm, carried by the wind, a sharp and bloody tang. He quickly woke his friends and explained the situation. ‘We need to run!’

Tal dutifully sat up and put one of Rochant’s arms over his shoulder.

‘Wait,’ said Rochant. ‘Before we expend our energy, what is our plan?’

‘I told you: running.’

‘That isn’t a plan. Are we going to run to the Godroad? To Sagan? All the way to my castle? Is running even the best approach here?’

Sa-at just stared at him.

‘What do you know about your enemy?’

‘He’s scary.’

‘Good. What else?’

‘He’s … big?’ Rochant continued to watch him, patient. ‘He’s strong. He has sharp teeth. He’s angry.’

‘How angry?’

‘Very.’

‘Why?’

‘Because his brothers are dead.’

‘Good, continue.’

‘He has big ears that hear everything, but he’s blind and he can’t smell.’

‘Anything else?’

‘He’s good at hiding.’

‘So you have an enemy that is enraged, not thinking clearly, and desperate for revenge. He is strong, and knows that is his advantage. He will favour a direct approach, but he has limited abilities to find you and he is slower. This means he will need to rely on his stealth. He will likely try to get as close as he can before making his attack. If he can get his hands on you, he wins.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Sa-at, and his bottom lip began to tremble. It was all too easy to imagine. ‘My plan is to run.’

Tal gathered himself to stand again.