He pauses on the dark forest fringe, glances back at me over his shoulder. ‘Go home, Cholliemurrum,’ he says. Then he steps amongst the trees and disappears into the dark.

‘I bloody saved your life!’ I call after him. ‘Come back here! Harby! Harby!’

But I hear the sounds of him crashing away from me through the bushes.

I don’t understand. ‘Wait! Harby! Wait! Please!’ I call after him. But it’s too late; the forest has fallen silent and Harby has already vanished into the shadows.

I run down through the clearing and into the forest. He can’t just … abandon me. We’re a team; I was trying to help him; we were helping each oth—

My foot tangles in a briar and I trip. My head clonks forward with a mighty thwack on to a tree branch. For a moment I just stay there on my hands and knees, partly in shock, partly because my eyes have gone all funny. Cautiously, I touch my head; I can feel a bump actually rising under my fingers. It really hurts. I look at my fingers; no blood. I blink, squeeze my smarting eyes shut and open a few times until my vision starts to clear. I can smell mint. Sniffing, still on my hands and knees, I raise my chin and look up. Straight into a pair of huge amber eyes.

LYNX

The lynx is so close I can smell her warm scent, leafy like autumn. We crouch, frozen in time, face to face, eye to eye. Her nostrils flare slightly as she breathes, breathes in my smell. Her fiery eyes bore into mine, dangerously calm, like a deadly staring contest. Her eyes narrow but I blink first.

She opens her black mouth; I can hear the sticky smack of saliva as she shows me her long curved teeth. I draw back from the meaty whiff of her breath. Her eyes stay fixed on mine, and she hisses, powerful and wild and proud.

Slowly, carefully I start to crawl backwards, my eyes fixed on hers. Keeping her head low, she arches her back and her shadow-striped fur stands on end along her bony spine. I see the angry twitch and flick of her tufted ears. I shuffle backwards, scarcely breathing, mouth dry. What do I do?

Then I remember: spirit song.

I make the circle shape with my free hand and I start to chant, low and slow and dangerous.

‘TWINkle

TWINkle

LITtle

STAR.

HOW I

WONder …’

Her golden eyes stay fixed on mine. She lowers herself, shifting her weight back on to her haunches, like Howard Carter does when he’s readying to pounce.

Panic pounds in my heart.

‘… what you …’ My voice is all weak and wobbly. The spirit song isn’t working! I can’t get it right on my own! It’s not enough …

‘… are …’ I squeak.

The lynx hisses again. I brace myself for her pounce. And then in the rhythm of my own pounding heartbeat I hear the echo of another song. An older song. The oldest song I’ve ever known. The first song I ever heard, the one Dad sang every bedtime, back when I was little.