Through dappled light he walked; the church steeple appeared through the tops of the trees, and he realised he was a lot closer to it than he’d thought. The edge of the wood in fact bordered onto the graveyard. Mossy statues of angels and crumbling headstones peeked over a wall on the verge of tumbling down. Tom, fearing to lean on it, looked over, but could not see any sign of movement or habitation in the church. Perhaps it was empty; perhaps nobody had worshipped there for centuries. He could make out some names on the gravestones. There was a William Swinton, almost rubbed away with age, lichen covering half the stone.

The lurcher came to his heel and regarded him inquisitively. Her intelligent eyes seemed to beckon him onwards, and she jumped up at him, placing her paws on his arm. ‘All right then, you. Off we go.’ He turned towards the path that would lead deeper into the woods, and breathed in the soft air. It was fresh and it was beautiful.

Something twanged, and a black-fletched arrow stuck into the ground at his feet.

Terrified, he looked up, to see, standing in the middle of the path, facing him, bow in hand, flowers woven into her hair, a girl.

She had a mocking smile on her lips. The lurcher whined and hid behind Tom’s legs. She was tall, taller than Tom by half a head or so. Her nostrils twitched, and she moved with animal urgency.

‘Do not be afraid. My fellows are away, seeking the Knot. They would be angry if they knew I was here.’ Like the Samdhya he’d met at school, her accent was hard to place; guttural, almost as if she found the words hard to say.

And yet there was an edge of familiarity about it, reminding Tom of something far off in his memory, some voice, some face.

Tom stuttered and backed away. As if realising something, she carefully placed her bow on the ground. She took the quiver off her back and laid it down in the long grass beside the bow. Around them the breeze rustled through the leaves, and a muntjac barked nearby.

He should run, thought Tom. But she would catch him. ‘The arrow,’ said Tom. ‘In the cart, when I arrived. It nearly got my hand.’

‘It was a warning.’

Tom was only a foot away from her. Leana kept close to his legs.

The girl was wearing a wine-coloured tunic and dark jewels shone around her neck. They seemed to shift colour as he watched. She had a tattoo on her cheek – a tattoo he had seen before.

‘The one that Jack has. She made the flowers come. Blue and white. That’s when the balance was true. Jack has upset the balance.’

‘Who would be angry with you?’ Tom managed to say, not understanding what she said.