Liska shifted back to her human form, changing shape even as she walked over to where the others were beginning to dismount the wyvern. ‘Is this Nammu? I thought we had much further to go!’

‘No.’ Elowen had hopped to the ground and was now staring up at the dead tree, with sad eyes, arms wrapped tightly around herself. ‘This is Lysalm. Or was, I should say. Before it died.’

Liska spotted a gaping hole in the side of the trunk. She had a good idea what must have happened to it. ‘They took its heart, didn’t they?’

Elowen nodded. ‘It used to be beautiful,’ she said. ‘Just like the Undrentree, except with golden bark and leaves the colour of sunrise and starlight. The whole city was perfect. Tall stone buildings. Statues, fountains, gardens. Such a wonderful place to live.’

‘I thought you’d only ever lived in Arborven,’ said Lug.

‘No.’ Elowen looked around her at the shattered houses and crumbled streets. ‘I was born here.’

*

They made camp at the base of the tree, in between two roots that sheltered them like walls.

There was plenty of dead dry wood around, and even some pieces of what might have been furniture, now shattered and sanded smooth by centuries of wind-blown dust. They stacked it inside a circle of broken bricks and built up quite a blaze, then set about using their supplies to cook dinner. It mostly consisted of dried herbs that Elowen had brought but, after centuries of not having to eat anything, she’d forgotten what taste was, and they were all quite horrible. Liska was about to suggest she shapewalked and went hunting when Fishbone appeared out of the gathering darkness, carrying three dead furry things.

‘Are they . . . rats?’ Lug asked, giving one a poke. ‘I’m not eating rat. I don’t care how hungry I am. I’m almost definitely allergic to them.’

‘Fatter than rat,’ said Fishbone, licking blood from his lips. ‘Not as tasty.’

‘I think they’re groundhogs,’ said Liska. ‘They’ll taste fine once they’re roasted.’

Luckily her battle training had included some survival skills and she knew how to gut and skin small animals. Soon the unfortunate groundhogs were cooking over the campfire, giving off a delicious fatty smell that made everyone’s stomachs grumble.

‘Will there be enough to feed Myrtle?’ Lug asked. The wyvern had curled up on the other side of the blaze, seeming to enjoy the heat.

‘There’s barely enough for us,’ said Liska. ‘I think Myrtle will have to go and hunt for herself. What do wyverns eat anyway?’

‘Cattle. Deer. Things like that,’ Elowen answered, but her eyes were fixed on the flames. All the excitement she usually bubbled with seemed to have drained out of her.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Liska shuffled closer to her, rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘About what happened here when you were . . . younger. And alive.’