A stray root caught his foot and he stumbled, lost his balance, and fell. Momentum took him into a roll and back onto his feet. A few whirls of his arms and he was steady again, barely any time lost. After that, he stopped thinking and focused on where he was.

Without the others to slow him down, he soon reached a friendly looking tree – a marker of Murderkind’s territory – and put his back to it, panting while Crowflies settled on a nearby branch. He caught his breath quickly but his heart continued to beat as if he were still running. ‘Crowflies, go and tell Murderkind that I am ready to keep my promise.’

The Birdkin shuffled from one foot to the other. ‘Sa-aat.’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.’

Crowflies tilted its head, unconvinced.

‘Fly fast, my friend.’

The white beak bobbed once, and then it was gone in a flutter of wing beats, leaving Sa-at with only the friendly tree for company. He gave the trunk a hug, letting his finger trace the gnarled lines of its bark, and then he climbed quickly into the sanctuary of its upper branches.

I must be like Rochant, he thought. I must say one thing and feel another.

He began to hum the song Crowflies sung to him when he was tiny, the one his mother had once sung. Sa-at didn’t know how he knew this – he had no real memory of his mother beyond some vague sense of being held by her once – but he did. He tried to sound as happy as possible, repeating the song over and over, until the friendly tree began to rustle softly along with the tune.

It wasn’t long before the knuckle where his little finger used to be began to itch. Sa-at ignored it and continued humming. He tried to appear calm, reclining against the branches as if he didn’t have a care in the world, whilst at the same time stealing glances of the forest floor. There was no sign of Crunch, but he was close, Sa-at knew.

His heart hammered in his chest, and he was struck by the awful need to piss, to run, and to scream, all at the same time. But he kept humming the tune.

One moment, there was nobody, the next Crunch was there, as if he’d stepped through an invisible door. Parts of his face had been burned white from when Sa-at had hit him with the tanzanite, and others had puckered, no longer completely covering his teeth. ‘Happy are we? Happy up there in your nest, Birdspawn? Come down to me and I’ll make you sing a different song. A red song of screaming.’ The vertical slit of his mouth opened wide and he licked his ragged lips. ‘Hmm, yes, I’ll chew the notes from your bones.’

‘I’m not coming down,’ said Sa-at, and started to hum the song again.