I check quickly on the bird before we leave, relieved to find it’s still alive. It tries to peck my hand and I notice it’s eaten most of the food and drunk some water. ‘Good girl,’ I say to it, deciding it’s a female even though I have no idea. ‘You’ll be fine,’ I tell her, re-covering the box with the towel.

‘Come on,’ Liam says to me, already standing by the back door, impatient to leave.

In the kitchen I slip a bag of trail mix and an apple into my pocket and glance out of the window. The dawn has come, and the sky is still heavy with grey clouds, but streaked with pink. I don’t have a jacket to wear as mine is still damp from when I cleaned the bird excrement off it yesterday, but I suppose I’ll be OK to go without it. We head out, Liam making sure to lock the back door behind us. He eyes the forest up ahead of us, his eyes darting this way and that, as though he’s trying to spot a sniper, hidden among the trees. But it’s still dark out; the sky is only just beginning to lighten, and it’s impossible to know if anyone is out there, watching us.

Drizzle haloes my hair and when we enter the forest water drips so furiously from the tree branches that it might as well be raining. I regret not bringing my jacket, even if it’s damp, as cold slugs of water snake their way between the collar of my jumper and my bare skin. We slog through mud, the wet fronds of ferns and bracken soaking our jeans.

The castle waits for us, lurking in the mist. Today it seems even more ominous and threatening, sitting there under the low-slung sky. Half of me wishes I’d stayed behind in the cottage, but I couldn’t let Liam come alone.

Liam puts his finger to his lips to warn me to be quiet before we jog across the clearing towards the side cellar door we entered through last time. He wants the element of surprise on our side, which is why we’re here at the crack of dawn. I can hear my breath rasping in my ears and my heart thudding loudly. My stomach flutters with nerves. Liam reaches the cellar door before me, and he pauses; for a heartbeat I wonder if he’s having second thoughts. I pray desperately that he is but, as I get closer, I spot what it is that’s stopped him in his tracks. Words have been scrawled in red paint across the door: NO TRESPASSING.