Deenai and Beric came to see her also, full of news about their journey south and their new home amongst the trees. The northern gateway had been opened and the forest shapewalkers had been given the task of patrolling the foothills outside the city. The magic of the Undrentree had refreshed their powers and they could shift form just as easily as Liska, a trick that they took great delight in showing her. Deenai’s form was a sleek white-furred she-wolf with deep green eyes. She nuzzled Liska’s hand before trotting off back to the cool shadows between the trees.

Once or twice, as the healers came to check on her, Liska caught sight of a treekeeper outside her room, bending down to look in. Embla had been there, with her clubbed fist and cloud of red-ivy hair, as had Edda. Liska was sure he had winked at her with one of his glowing eyes.

Apparently Lug had even suggested that Myrtle came to visit, but the infirmary mages managed to persuade him otherwise. The young wyvern hadn’t actually been allowed into the city yet, but they had made a landing pad for her just outside the new gate. Lug met her there every day to groom her and keep her free of parasites. He usually had an audience of terrified onlookers. It was going to take a little while before the tree-dwelling mages learnt to accept a wyvern as an ally.

And then the day of the ceremony came around.

She stood in the hall just as before, only now it was packed with shapewalkers as well as mages. All the treekeepers were there too, including Embla and the giant who was now affectionately known as Mossy. They waved as she looked at them, and Liska grinned back.

Her family and friends were in the front row, looking proud enough to burst. She even caught sight of Odis amongst the black-robed arbomancers. She half expected him to cast a spell at her, but instead he nodded before looking away. A respectful truce then. Probably the best she could hope for.

Edda himself was going to be performing the stripe giving, which was apparently a great honour. The hall fell silent as he entered, taking his place at the front where Liska was kneeling, ready for the ritual. He said some words in his rumbling voice but Liska didn’t really hear them. She was too busy wondering which leg the stripe should be on, what colour it might be. Her thoughts were interrupted by her mother’s frantic whispering behind her.

‘Liska! Change your shape!’

She realised, with a cringe, that the entire hall was staring at her in silent expectation. ‘Oh,’ she stammered. ‘Yes. Sorry.’

She drew her cloak about her and shifted until she stood on all fours before Edda, her tail twitching nervously back and forth, her eyes scrunched shut. Was it going to hurt? Burn? Tickle?