‘I can remember the days when the city was alive,’ said Elowen. ‘I can remember your people as its guardians. The shapewalkers of Almberg were fierce and proud warriors. They were able to change their forms as easily as Liska can. This was thanks to the tree that grew there. The oil made from its branches, filled with magic, was the thing that made the change possible. As babies, the shapewalkers were bathed in it. It soaked into their every pore. And the skins they wore – the very same ones that you wear now, handed down through your families – were drenched in oil too. Then magic spoke to magic. Fur spoke to flesh. Your people could flow between forms, their bodies remembering the shapes of both animal and human.

‘But, since the city – and the tree – have died, the last shapewalkers moved into the forest. You must have lived here for centuries, forgetting much of your past. But some magic from Lysalm’s oil is still in your blood, which is why you can change from animal to human. Except, over the years, it has faded and become weaker. The transformation has become more and more difficult, and that’s why it causes you so much pain. Without the oil it will never get any easier. Quite the opposite, in fact.’

‘We will stop being able to change at all?’ Beric asked, the blood draining from his face.

‘Eventually, yes,’ said Elowen.

There was more muttering from the gathered forest people. One or two of the younger children even burst into tears. Liska looked from face to tortured face, feeling a horror only another shapewalker could understand.

Being told you will have to stay with one form, she thought. It would be like losing your sight or your hearing. Or never being able to walk again.

As she watched the misery spread through the tribe, Liska felt a crushing wave of pity mixed with a twinge of guilt. If she hadn’t come here, perhaps they would never have found out. Their changing might have slowly vanished, so slowly they might not even have realised it. If only there was some way she could help them. If only she could share her magic with them somehow . . .

And then it came to her. Perhaps there was a way she could share it . . .

‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I’ve had an idea.’

*

She thought of Arborven, of her home, of the trees, the fortresses and the mountains surrounding it. And she thought of her family there, fighting for their lives even as she was standing in this distant forest, with these strange leftover people that were the past of Almberg and might be the future of her own kind.

What wouldn’t the shapewalkers of the Undrentree give for more fighters to help them defend their own? And what wouldn’t the forest people give to have their gift refreshed – to have a new tree to defend with their fangs and claws?