She nodded in relief. ‘Good,’ she said, and then a second time, to herself. ‘That’s good.’

Vasin spoke his thoughts aloud. ‘This is all connected somehow, I’m sure of it. The repeated attacks, the way the demons went after you, even what Quiverhive was up to on the Godroad.’

‘I agree. But I don’t know how or why. This is beyond me, Vasin. I need to bring my mother back now or there won’t be a House Ruby left when she returns.’

He paused to look at her. This was a Ruby matter, and not his place, but he had grave misgivings about a rushed rebirth. Subtlety had never been his strength, and Anuja sighed when she saw the expression on his face.

‘An urgent summons for the Bringers of Endless Order is already on its way.’

‘You know they won’t like this either.’

‘I do, but it is my decision to make and my burden to bear.’

‘Forgive me,’ he said, bowing.

‘Of course. I have neither time nor energy for pettiness. Now go, prepare yourself, and take care with my hunters.’ She lowered her voice. ‘They are brave but their wings are fresh, and their spear-tips clean.’

‘I will look after them as if they were my own.’

She inclined her head, dismissing him. ‘Hunt well and thorough, my friend.’

Sa-at hid in his favourite tree, trying not to think about food. He should have found something hours ago but he’d been too miserable. Now it was dark and he had no choice but to wait until morning.

At least the tree was comfortable, the branches wide and curving, forming perfect resting places for his back and bottom. It hadn’t always been this shape, but it had taken pity on him when he was small, and in return he had fed it, given it gifts, and the two had grown together.

He liked to sleep squished between the branches in a ball, feet propped up, knees tight against his chest. It gave him the sense of being held, the pressure of his own legs reimagined as the pressure of another.

Crowflies had settled on his feet, warming them. Despite the comfort its closeness brought, Sa-at still sniffled from time to time, punctuating the night with comments like:

‘It isn’t fair.’

And:

‘Why are Gatherers so horrible?’

And:

‘I hate them. Stupid Tal. Stupid Rin.’

And:

‘Next time I’ll let the Spiders eat them all.’

The Birdkin regarded him but didn’t answer, the tilt of its head communicating a most profound boredom.

‘Next time I’ll …’ Sa-at trailed off, then sighed. ‘I hope Tal is alright. If I see him again, I’ll tell him how I saved him and—’

Crowflies cawed derisively.

‘—How we saved him and then he’ll be our friend. I wish I could see him again.’

Sa-at sighed and his stomach grumbled.

Crowflies yawned.

Eyes, normal and faceted, closed, and the two slept.