The cloaked leader shot them a look that told them to be quiet. Liska got the feeling they weren’t quite prisoners, but not guests either. There might be a way out of this, she thought. If we play it just right.

They were led further into the forest, walking for what seemed like hours until they could hear noises through the trees. The laughter of children, crackle of fires, clanking of pots. Soon, they emerged into another clearing, this one filled with moss-covered huts. Liska could see they had been built with stone salvaged from the ruins of Almberg, but that had been a very long time ago, judging by the thick blankets of lichen that covered everything.

The village was bustling with shapewalkers, some in human form with cloaks of fur, some as beasts. They lounged in doorways and next to campfires, while children in clothing made from leather scraps ran in between the huts, clambering over animals that must be their mothers and fathers wearing their animal shapes.

The bear led them, still with their accompanying pack, to a long squat hut that stood in the centre. An old woman sat on a pile of furs at the entrance, white locks cascading over her shoulders and trailing across the floor. The skin hung from her bony arms in folds, but her green eyes were still sharp. They remained fixed on Liska as she approached.

‘What is this you have found in our packlands, Beric? A winged fox? Like a beast from the old legends?’

‘Deenai.’ The shapewalker that led them bowed his head. ‘We caught these strangers walking the path from the old city. They were on their own. No adults were with them. And . . . there is something you should see.’

The old woman, Deenai, cocked her head as a curious wolf might. She made a motion with her hand, waiting to be shown. Liska had an idea just what the sight might be.

‘If you wouldn’t mind’ – the shapewalker called Beric was speaking to her now – ‘could you change for us? Back to your human shape?’

Liska nodded. It was a bit soon after her last transformation but not close enough to strain her too much. She closed her eyes, found the map of her birth form in her head – the exact pattern of cells and bones and organs she was most used to – and willed her body to twist itself into it.

The dizzy feeling as her muscles shifted, the stretching, pulling of her skin and hair and teeth. All was as familiar and easy to Liska as breathing. Within a few heartbeats, she was rising to her feet, reaching her freshly formed fingers up to push back her hood and shake out her locks over her shoulders.