The silence between them is thick and murky. Who will break it? What is there to say? A howl starts up and becomes a roar. Nevis rising to her full height now, her teeth glinting in the moonlight. Mulholland tightens his grip on the rifle.

Honor takes a breath in. She thinks, now is the time. If not now, then never. She sees Nevis staring at her, trying to make sense of Mulholland’s words and, opening her mouth, she says, ‘Remember the kingfisher, my darling, when she left the Ark, turned blue by the water and orange by the sunrise. She was the first, the bravest.’

The sun will rise here too. There will be a new day, a new beginning.

The ’copter is shaking the tops of the trees.

Is that the sound of sirens in the distance?

And then, in a flash, it happens. From the tracks comes a roar as Nevis launches herself through the dusty blue air and at the enemy. Her feet jam into Mulholland’s belly. He buckles then stumbles back over the railway track, arms windmilling in space, his legs twisting under him. Honor sees the spark as the barrel of the rifle hits the tracks, hears a thud and the unmistakeable crack of bone snapping on metal as Mulholland goes down. For a moment Mulholland reels yelping in pain and reaching for the rifle tries to stand and then Honor, leaping towards the prostrate figure, kicks his damaged leg from under him. He goes down again. She steps forward, raises her boot and stamps down hard on his rifle arm. Mulholland roars with pain and loosens his grip on his weapon. In a split second Honor lunges forward and kicks the gun away and, catching her foot on the side of her leg, sways and feels herself falling, seeing the earth coming up towards her, swinging her body and landing with a thud just shy of the tracks. Again Mulholland tries to stand but the broken leg hangs from his hip like a used paper bag and, as he struggles to get his balance, Honor scrambles forwards on all fours and grabbing the rifle with one hand pushes herself to stand. Fighting the urge to be sick, she lifts the weapon in her arms so that it is primed on Mulholland. How much of her life has been leading up to this moment.

‘You have no idea how to use that,’ Mulholland says.

‘Try me.’ She smiles to herself. As a girl, she was taught by Jim how to shoot the rats that hung around the Traveller encampments. Said it was kinder than laying down traps or poison. A girl doesn’t forget the lessons of her father.

Nevis is standing just behind her. She reaches back behind her, feels the tips of Nevis’s fingers reach out to touch her, says, ‘My brave girl. Are you OK?’

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