‘Can I see? If it is there’s this sap Rin was talking about that could plug it. Course, I’m not sure which tree it comes from, but I’d know the sap if I saw it again. It’s more orangey than most, and really thick too. Do you know it?’

‘No.’

‘Hmm. Show it anyway? We can’t let it go bad, can we?’

Sa-at hesitantly offered his closed fist to Tal, who gently turned it over.

‘I don’t see any blood. That’s a good sign. Can you open it?’

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and held it, uncurling the fingers one by one. As he did so, he felt the skin of his palm move in a way he’d never known before, opening. It felt tender and the air tickled it differently, feeling especially cold, fresh and alive with information. He got a sudden waft of Tal’s scent. The musk of his sweat, the different tones of hair, skin and clothing, all so distinct, and then bile, also Tal’s, sharp, tingling in his nostrils. No, not his nostrils, his palm.

‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ said Tal, getting up and hurrying away.

Sa-at forced himself to open his eyes. He saw bruising that corresponded with the stiff pain, but it wasn’t as bad as he feared. However, that wasn’t what had disturbed Tal. For in the centre of his palm was an oval hole, or, more precisely, as it did not penetrate through to the back of his hand, a pit. Despite its shallowness, however, the hole was dark, unfathomable, the sunslight unable to illuminate it fully.

When he looked up, he was surprised to see Tal’s stick pointing at his throat.

‘Tell me again that you’re not a demon.’

‘I’m not.’

Am I?

I know Crowflies is a demon.

I know Tal is a human.

But what am I? Why do I not have a human name? Why did Crunch call me Birdspawn? Was it just a name or is it what I am?

The stick wavered. ‘That was the price, wasn’t it? When you saved me.’

‘Yes.’

Tal sat down again, but further away this time, his back to the cold. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Yes.’

‘Badly?’

‘No.’

He wanted to cry and he wanted to be held, the way the wings used to hold him, or the arms that he barely remembered. He wanted it so badly. But he couldn’t bring himself to ask Tal, nor could he allow himself to cry. If he started, he might never stop.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Tal.

‘No.’

‘You can tell me about it, if you want.’

‘I wasn’t supposed to bargain with the Brothers for you,’ he held up his palm, ‘or for this. I was supposed to learn about the Scuttling Corpseman.’