‘Look!’ Deenai shouted. ‘It is Liska of the griffyxes! And she has a treekeeper of her own!’

Suddenly all eyes were staring in their direction. Gasps and whoops could be heard, followed by a scream of joy.

‘Liska! Liska, is that you?’

A trio of people were running at them from among the ranks of the shapewalkers, fox-fur cloaks flapping behind them.

‘Mother! Father! Ylva!’ Liska shouted back, scrambling over Embla’s shoulder and tumbling head over feet to land in her family’s arms. She felt herself being squeezed, kissed and slapped on the back, all at the same time.

‘Oh, Liska! Liska!’ her mother was saying. ‘Where did you go? What happened to you? I thought you were dead until the forest people arrived!’

‘Hello, Mother.’ Liska grinned up at her, pointing to Lug and his precious burden. ‘I brought you the heart.’

*

Even though they faced an unstoppable army, there was pause for some rejoicing. Lug’s parents were fetched and there was much crying, hugging and scolding.

Liska learnt that the attack on the Noon Fort had been beaten back around dawn on the day they left. Since then, there had been several more battles. Many people had been wounded or lost, or had simply vanished in the chaos. That was what everyone had assumed had happened to Lug and Liska, right up until Deenai’s people and the giant arrived.

Liska’s mother had a bandaged arm and leg and half-healed wounds on one side of her face. But she had dragged herself out of the hospital to fight again. Her father and sister were scraped and battered but otherwise uninjured. They listened to a brief version of Liska’s adventures with a mixture of amazement and pride on their faces.

At some point Edda the treekeeper came over. When he saw Embla and the heart, he bowed low before speaking to her in a language of creaks and rustles that only the pair of them seemed to understand.

‘You’re welcome,’ Embla replied. Liska realised Edda must have been thanking her for Nammu’s heart. The greatest gift one treekeeper could give to another.

Then Edda spotted Elowen and rested a twiggy hand on her shoulder.

‘Lady Dawnsoul. Niece,’ he said, in his creaking voice.

‘Lady?’ Lug gawped. ‘You never said you were a lady!’

Elowen just gave a knowing smile.

‘I know,’ said Lug. ‘It’s because I never asked.’

Finally Edda turned to Liska. ‘I owe you an apology, young shapewalker. I believed – we all believed – that the story was just a myth. I should have had more faith. And now, thanks to your bravery, we might have a chance.’

‘Are we still in time, then?’ Liska asked. ‘You haven’t sacrificed the Undrentree, have you?’