I hobble out into the golden drizzle. ‘Where we go?’ I murmur, under my breath, as I walk towards the Pinnacle, staring uncertainly into the dripping trees, searching for a plan …

But then I realise the boy isn’t following me. I squint back through the leaves of the fallen tree; he’s gone the opposite way and is shuffling along the stone ledge outside the cave mouth, under where the bridge would be if this was my world. Where’s he going? ‘Hey, come this way! Follow me!’ I call back, checking the forest nervously, thinking of those other howls I heard.

But the boy ignores me; he’s stopped shuffling now and is drawing back curtains of creepers, peering beneath them like he’s looking for something. Suddenly, the boy cries out.

My heart lurches. ‘Are you OK?’

He turns to me and he’s smiling, his face all lit up and golden in the strange after-storm light. ‘Cholliemurrum!’ he calls, gesturing excitedly. ‘Look, Cholliemurrum! Look this!’

So I shuffle along the ledge to him and look. Beneath the hanging creepers, there’s a shadowy tower of handprints – all different sizes. The boy is pressing his own palm to each one in turn, a curious concentration in his eye.

‘What’re you doing? Is this what you want to show me?’

He looks earnestly into my eyes. His hand is resting on a print that fits it perfectly, like a piece in a puzzle. ‘Me,’ he says, and he sounds so pleased with himself, I can’t help but smile.

‘Is that your handprint?’

The boy nods. He looks kind of stunned. ‘Me! I member me!’

His memory’s coming back! ‘Brilliant!’ I say, and then I’m so excited I almost wobble off the ledge. If he remembers stuff then maybe he can help me find my way home. I steady myself. ‘That’s brilliant! Who are you then? What’s your name?’

He mumbles something, blinking at me uncertainly.

‘What? Pardon? Say it again.’

This time he says his name big and proud, banging his chest with his fist. But I still can’t quite catch it.

‘Arby?’ I try.

A flash of irritation crosses his face. He says the same word once more, even louder this time.

‘Harby?’ I try again.

The boy bends double, making a puffing sound, like he’s choking, like he can’t breathe. Alarmed, I reach forward to help him even though I’m not sure how.

Then I realise he’s not choking. He’s laughing.

‘Harrrbeeee?’ he says, in a strange squeaky voice. He looks at me sidelong, grinning. ‘Haaarrrbeeeeee!’

I smile. I get it!

‘I CHOLLIEMURRUM,’ I say, making my voice all thick and low and chewy just like his real voice, banging my chest, copying him right back.

‘I Harrbeeee!’ He’s really giggling now.

‘Hi, Harby,’ I say through my own giggles. ‘Pleased to meet you!’

He pauses halfway through a funny puffy laugh, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ‘… eat you?’ he echoes back.

‘No thanks!’ I laugh, and he laughs again then too.