I stand outside Ruth’s old cell door, suddenly afraid to look in. Afraid her bloodstains will still be there. I remember the promise I made to her on Da’s grave that I would sort out this mess of deer hearts for her. I haven’t done it. I’ve just been biding my time, hoping it would happen on its own. I think that’s what she’s waiting for. For me to act.

There’s a soft cough inside the cell. My heart leaps. Ruth. I scramble to the door’s hole to see if it’s her, knowing that it can’t be, and hoping all the same.

But of course it’s not. I know the gnarled figure inside even from the back. The Willow Tree, a candle at his side, leaning over a body.

‘Are you there?’ he calls. I step back from the peephole before he sees me. ‘You may unlock the door, I’ve finished.’

When there’s no answer he calls louder, ‘Hello?!’ Footsteps echo down the passage. I move into a shadow as Mouldy Beard comes around the curve. He peeps into Ruth’s old cell.

‘Found the witch this time, did you?’ Mouldy Beard asks.

‘Lamentably, no,’ the Willow Tree says back. ‘Maker help us.’

Mouldy Beard unlocks the door, and the Willow Tree comes out wiping his hands on a dark cloth. As he passes Mouldy Beard he says, ‘You can remove the body.’

It takes a good while for Mouldy Beard to drag the woman out. She smells of burnt meat. I keep my eyes in the shadows so I won’t see what the Willow Tree did to her. After Mouldy Beard’s gone, I finally make my way out of the dungeon.

It’s deep night, and a full moon lights the courtyard. I don’t know if it’s the Willow Tree’s work or the witching hour, but my guts are all wobbly. I belong in the night, I remind myself, and start to make my way home.

I haven’t gone far across the courtyard when something curious catches my eye. From the shadow of a doorway, a small light flickers twice and then disappears. A moment later it comes again, like a candle flame, flashing twice, and then gone.

I’m trying to fathom what it might be when I catch the sound of a door opening on the other side of the courtyard. I keep still as a rabbit as a hooded figure walks sure and direct through the moonlight towards the flashing.

The light appears again, this time steady. Steady enough that I can see it’s a candle held by a man. The hooded figure joins him. If they speak, it’s too low to hear. All at once the hooded figure reaches into the hood and tugs. He offers what he’s plucked to the candle man. The candle man wraps the hairs in a kerchief.