‘Elowen, move!’ she shouted, terrified the beast might snap her up.

‘Big Mew’s paws, I can’t watch,’ said Fishbone, hiding his face in his tail.

The wyvern’s head was level with Elowen now, its jaws wide enough to eat her in one crunch. But to everyone’s relief, it simply lowered its nose and rubbed it against Elowen’s outstretched hand.

‘It’s alright,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘It’s not going to eat us. I think it wants to say thank you.’

*

After all the excitement, they felt that they needed a rest. Making a quick camp, they shared some water and biscuits, while the wyvern coiled up beside them, licking its wounds. It seemed to know Lug had healed it and kept glancing over in his direction and huffing hazy clouds of grateful smoke.

Liska found herself wanting to curl up and sleep for a hundred years. She was too tired to even try changing back to her human form but, at the same time, she was aware of Thresher somewhere up in the mountains behind her, drawing closer every second.

‘So,’ she asked Elowen. ‘What now? Is there a path we can follow north?’

Elowen looked around at the deserted, rocky wasteland, puzzled. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘The last time I travelled this way there was a small trading town at the start of the northern road. It must have been around this spot, I’m sure of it.’

‘No towns here,’ said Fishbone, nibbling at a biscuit and wrinkling his nose. ‘No roads, either. There was some ruins, back when I was being a young kitten. Just rocks now.’

He pointed with a clawed finger at a cluster of stones half covered by drifts of sandy earth and spidery gorse bushes. Liska had thought they were just more boulders but, looking closer, she could see they had regular edges, as if they had been carved and used as parts of buildings.

‘Oh, great!’ Lug waved his hands in the air. ‘Our guide knows the way . . . but only if we travel back in time five hundred years! How are we supposed to go anywhere now? There’s no path! Just a wasteland filled with wyverns and those scary punk people!’

‘I’m sure I can still find the way,’ said Elowen, looking hurt. ‘There must be traces of road. We can make our way if we’re careful . . .’

‘No traces,’ said Fishbone. ‘Just dirt and sand. And poisonous snakes. Dune sharks, knife spiders, swoophawks . . . Very dangerous out there.’

‘And we can’t “be careful”,’ Lug added. ‘Thresher is after us! We shouldn’t even be sitting here talking! Although if I take another step, my leg bones are going to crumble. My kneecaps are going to pop out. My toes are going to . . .’

Liska had been half listening to the argument. She was looking at the baby wyvern with a thoughtful expression on her face.