I knew I would have to go to the helicopter on foot, otherwise the poachers would hear me, so I hurried over to the ATV and grabbed my camouflage from the back. I had made it myself, using a large piece of netting and covering it with scraps of cloth in different shades of green. When Dad and I had gone into the forest to try it out, he’d spent ages trying to find me before eventually giving up. He said it was the best camouflage he’d ever seen.

I put it on over my jacket and hoodie and left the ATV behind, sneaking through the darkening forest. I moved almost in silence, walking on the pine needles where possible, or stepping on the tips of the stones that broke through the soil. The bow was snug on my back, the string tight against my chest, and the arrows motionless inside the quiver. I might not have been strong enough to draw the traditional bow, but at least I was aware of its size, and I was thankful again for Dad’s insistence that I carry his when we were hunting. Not once did I snag the bow on the overhanging branches.

After a few minutes I came to a place where the trees thinned out and then, ahead, I saw what I was looking for. A large grassy meadow in a clearing on the side of the mountain, surrounded by the forest. It looked like a good place for deer, and I briefly wondered why it wasn’t marked on Dad’s map. I made a note to mark it myself when I got home.

The sky was gray and thunderclouds were gathering. The light was grainy and sparse among the trees, but still good enough to see out in the open. A distant rumble of thunder growled and the air seemed to grow even colder. Mom would have said that Ukko, the god of sky and thunder, was getting angry.

The helicopter was right in the center of the meadow — engine off, lights on, blades slowing to a stop. The air shimmered around the exhaust, and the smell of fuel drifted toward me on the wind.

I crouched in the bracken below the trees at the edge of the meadow, using the shadow of a large spruce for extra cover. Close by, two plump magpies screeched a warning at me and hopped backward and forward on their branch. As they settled, I pulled my woolly hat right down over my brow, then scooped soil from the ground and put it into the palm of my left hand. I spat into it and mixed it into a paste that I smeared on my face, stinging the scratches on my cheeks.

I was invisible now.

Unblinking, I watched as the door on one side of the helicopter slid open and two men jumped down. Dressed in plain green combat trousers and jackets, with strong black boots, they didn’t look much like hunters. More like soldiers of some kind.

One of them stayed by the open door of the helicopter like he was guarding something, while the other walked away and lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes. I ducked down even farther, sliding onto my stomach as he scanned the meadow, peering into the tree line.

Behind him, the pilot opened the cockpit door and stepped down onto the grass. He was about the same age as Dad, but shorter and not as strong-looking. He paused, taking something out of his pocket, then leaned back against the helicopter and lit a cigarette, watching the other men with interest. I recognized him right away. Patu.

“What are you looking for?” he called to the man with the binoculars, speaking in English. “I already told you; I don’t have a license to bring hunters here. There are other places we need to go to for that.”

The air was quiet. The meadow was well protected on all sides and I was downwind of what little breeze there was, so his voice carried well and I caught a hint of tobacco smoke. I was surprised by what he said, though. Maybe everyone was wrong about him.

The man with the binoculars ignored him. He continued to sweep the area, pausing when he was facing my direction. His body tensed and he stood straighter. He lowered the binoculars for a moment, squinting at almost the exact spot where I was lying.

I froze.

“See something?” Patu asked. “Because the only thing you can do is look at it. I told you, I don’t have —”

“Quiet!” said the man guarding the door.

“You can’t talk to —”

“Quiet!” the man said again.

The two of them locked eyes for a long moment, then Patu backed down and lifted his cigarette to take a long drag. Before he could finish, though, the man who had spoken to him reached over and took it out of his mouth. He threw it down onto the grass and crushed it under his boot heel.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Patu turned on the guard, standing straight and drawing himself up to his full height. Men from our village were tough and always ready to fight; he wouldn’t like to be pushed around by an outsider.

“Relax,” the guard said. “Stay quiet, do as you’re told, and you’ll get paid double.”

Patu hesitated, staring at the guard for a few seconds before moving away and lighting another cigarette.

The man with the binoculars took no notice of them and continued to watch the place where I was hiding.

I started to wonder if he could see me. Maybe my camouflage wasn’t very good. Maybe Dad had just been humoring me. A surge of fear burned through my veins, but I wasn’t sure why. As far as I knew these men were just hunters, but something about them felt odd. The way they looked more like soldiers, and the way they spoke to Patu … it just didn’t seem right.

Eventually, the man with the binoculars shook his head and went on scanning the rest of the tree line. I let out a long breath without even realizing I’d been holding it in.

When the man finally lowered the binoculars, he signaled to his friend, who retrieved something from inside the helicopter and came farther into the meadow. He paused, then unfolded a chair that he set on the ground, pushing it hard to make the feet sink into the grass.

When that was done, a third man stepped down from the helicopter, and it was obvious, right away, that he was in charge. He was tall and fit-looking, with tanned skin and a neat black beard. He wore combat trousers, similar to the ones the other men were wearing, and a black leather jacket with matching black leather gloves. There was an impressive knife hanging from his belt, and he was carrying a large case in his right hand.

He stood still and looked around, nodded at the two men, then strode out to the chair and paused before sitting down and putting the case on his lap.

Behind him, three more men climbed out of the helicopter and began unloading a number of aluminium crates. There must have been five or six of the boxes, one of which was almost as big as my ATV and probably just as heavy, judging by the way the men struggled. It seemed to be an awful lot of gear for a hunting expedition.

“Look, Hazar, if you want to stay here, it’s going to be extra,” Patu said as he approached the man sitting in the chair. “Maybe more than double.”

Hazar ignored him and smoothed his hands across the case on his lap before popping open the catches.

“I told you, this isn’t a hunting area,” Patu went on. “If I get caught doing this kind of thing, I’ll lose my license, and I got kids, you know. There are people relying on me, not to mention the bills I got to pay. You think running a bird like this is cheap?”

Hazar flipped open the case just as Patu stopped behind him.

“Whoa.” Patu was impressed. “That’s what I call a rifle. Is that for elephants? There’s no elephants here, you know.”

Hazar didn’t reply. He reached into the briefcase and took out what looked like the stock of a rifle.

“How much do you have to pay for a thing like that?” Patu asked.

Hazar took a second piece out of the briefcase and attached it to the first, clicking it into place.

“Okay, sir.” Patu held up his hands and started to back away. “Tell you what, why don’t I come back for you men later? I’ll leave you here for a few hours and —” He turned around to see two of Hazar’s men throwing camouflage netting over the helicopter, similar to the one I was wearing, but a lot bigger. Another two had opened the largest aluminium crate and removed a pair of long, fat metal tubes that looked a lot like rocket launchers I had seen in video games. But I had to be wrong. What on earth would hunters want with rocket launchers? I narrowed my eyes, wondering if I was seeing things, and watched in confusion as the men hefted the tubes onto their shoulders and pointed them at the sky. They swept them from right to left, then back again, before lowering them and nodding to Hazar. “All good, sir.”

“What? Hey, wait a minute, what the hell’s going on?” Patu spun around and spoke to Hazar. “What the hell are they doing?”

“Don’t worry about what they are doing. You should be far more concerned for yourself.” Hazar’s words were icy and almost without emotion. He spoke English with an accent I hadn’t heard before, and his voice was deep and commanding, carrying well in the darkening air. He removed another piece of the rifle from his case and fitted it into place.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patu asked, and my scalp prickled as if something bad was going to happen.

“Well.” Hazar stopped what he was doing and shrugged. “You should be running.”

“Running?”

Hazar stood and turned to him. “I am a hunter.”

Patu looked confused and took a step back.

My mouth was dry and my mind was racing. Like Patu, I didn’t understand what was happening, but I knew it wasn’t good, and my fear for him was growing.

“I am about to shoot you.” Hazar’s words were clear and unmistakable, but somehow didn’t feel real. None of this could be happening. It had to be some sort of joke.

Hazar glanced around at his men before looking at Patu once more. “There really is nothing you can do to overpower me, but I don’t yet have a complete gun in my hand, so … your best chance is to run.”

“What?” Patu shook his head and took a step back.

“You know how to run, don’t you?” Hazar smiled, then pointed in my direction and waggled two fingers as if they were legs. “I suggest you go now.” He reached down into the briefcase and took out the barrel of the rifle.

“What the hell is going on?” Patu glanced about in panic, now seeing the other men passing around submachine guns from one of the smaller crates.

Patu looked back at Hazar, as confused as I was. A thousand questions tumbled about in my head. Rocket launchers? Men who looked like soldiers? Submachine guns? And the weapon Hazar was putting together was nothing like any hunting rifle I had ever seen.

“Who … who are you people?” Patu stammered, and he stood for a second longer, before something seemed to click on inside him.

He turned and ran.

I wanted to do something to help him. I wanted to shout to him or … or something, but there was nothing I could do. Nothing at all. There were six men by the helicopter, all of them heavily armed, and I was certain they weren’t hunters. If I so much as lifted my head, they might spot me, and then I would be in as much danger as Patu. The only thing I could do was stay hidden.

I could hear Patu’s heavy, fearful breathing, and the thump of his boots on the grass as he came. I could see his eyes, open wide in fear.

I willed him to run faster, my whole body growing more tense.

Behind him, Hazar was working without any sense of haste, calmly fitting the barrel of his rifle into place, showing no expression as he fitted the scope and loaded the huge cartridges.

Patu was coming closer by the second. Almost at the tree line.

Keep running, I thought. Keep running.

Any moment now he would reach the safety of the forest.

Hazar snapped the rifle shut.

Almost there.

Hazar raised the rifle to his shoulder and sighted through the scope just as Patu reached the trees. He crashed into the undergrowth, sending the pair of magpies fluttering for deeper cover, and ducked behind the trunk of a thick pine. He bent double, heaving in and out, making wheezing, sucking noises as he tried to catch his breath.

Patu was so close to me I could almost have reached out and touched him. I looked up and saw the way his body shook in terror as he drew breath. I had never seen anyone so afraid before.

Out in the meadow, Hazar continued to sight along the barrel of his rifle, holding the weapon perfectly still. He was like a statue.

When Patu’s breathing began to settle, he straightened up and smiled to himself, unable to believe that he had actually managed to get away. He shook his head and risked a peek around the tree at Hazar, catching sight of me lying in the undergrowth. At first he didn’t know what he was seeing. A mess of green and brown, with two eyes looking up at him. Then it registered that he was seeing a person, and he opened his mouth to say something.

I lifted a finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet, but at that exact moment, the tremendous CRACK! of a gunshot rang out from the meadow, and splinters of wood and bark exploded into the air around me. My instant reaction was to close my eyes and protect my head as the fragments peppered my face, stinging my cheeks and battering against my hand.

There was a sudden flurry of excitement in the forest as the wildlife dashed for cover, and a rain of pine needles scattered through the branches. Then the echoes of the gunshot receded, and everything became quiet once more.

When I opened my eyes, the tree that Patu had been hiding behind had a massive gouge right through one side of it, and Hazar was standing in the meadow, lowering his rifle, but there was no sign of Patu.

When I turned around, though, I saw him lying twisted in the undergrowth, shot through the head.

I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t help it. The sight of him filled me with horror — his staring, dead eyes, the blood that ran from the wound — but for some reason I couldn’t tear my eyes away. It was so unreal, like I was in a trance, or it was happening to someone else, or wasn’t even happening at all.

Move! a voice screamed in my head. Move!

A surge of panic welled up inside me and snapped me out of the trance. It was like being suddenly woken from a nightmare and I scrambled backward as fast as I could, breathless and desperate to get away. I pushed through the ferns until I was deep enough into the forest to risk getting to my feet, then I turned and ran for my life. My muscles were stiff from lying down for so long, but there was more than enough fear in me to get them moving.

I hardly even thought about what I was doing as I sprinted through the trees. All I wanted was to get to safety. Back to the Place of Skulls; back to my dad.