She watched for a few minutes more, and then the fire began to collapse in on itself. Her duty wasn’t over and if Elowen wasn’t getting any sleep, then she shouldn’t either. With a yawn she went over to the wood pile for some fresh logs.

*

Dawn was the next thing that woke her. She’d fallen asleep sitting up, doubled over so her head was almost in her lap.

She stretched and rubbed her eyes, squinting across the cloud of smoke from the dying fire to watch the first rays of the sun sparkle across the swathes of frost that covered the open plain before her . . .

And that was when she saw Thresher and her seeper hounds not twenty metres away, stalking towards them as if they were a herd of fat gazelles about to be slaughtered.

‘Wake up!’ she yelled at the top of her voice, stumbling to her feet. ‘It’s Thresher! She’s here!’

Fishbone sprang up with a hiss and landed on all fours, his back arched. There was a mad tumble from the nest of blankets that held Lug, as he frantically tried to untangle himself.

Liska looked round to see – please, Tree, let her be finished – if Elowen was ready. Even knowing what Embla was being made into, the sight took her by surprise.

A towering treekeeper stood beside the trunk of Nammu. Three times taller than Embla had been, it was covered with fresh, gleaming silver bark. It had her same broad shoulders and thick, powerful limbs. The face of living wood mirrored her strong brow and wide nose. There was even a cloud of red-leaved ivy curling wildly around her shoulders.

It took a moment for Liska to catch her breath, the change was so amazing. But Thresher was going to be amongst them at any moment. ‘Are you done?’ she called. ‘Are you ready?’

Elowen was still standing by the tree, casting magic over Embla’s right arm. She looked tired for once, the purple shadows around her eyes deeper, her shoulders slumped.

‘Almost,’ she called back. ‘Her hand is still attached.’

Liska looked down to see Embla’s fist was still joined to Nammu. Strands of wooden tissue were snaking themselves together, knitting palm and fingers. On the other side of the fire, Thresher was walking towards them, spear at the ready. Her three remaining hounds were hunkered down, slinking through the dry grass, their mouths hanging open. Liska could see fangs there, formed from grey sludge, which steamed in the chill dawn air. With every step they took, the moss shrivelled and died behind them.

‘How long?’ Liska shouted. If it was anything more than a few minutes, they weren’t going to make it.

‘Ten minutes!’ Elowen shouted.

Curse it. Too long. Thresher was close enough now for Liska to see the smug smile on her face. She knew it too.