The wind picked up, catching on the trees, whose shadows snatched like talons and teeth.
Leo moved to stand beside Ottilie, cutlass in hand. ‘What do you mean someone?’ he said, peering ahead.
The light from their glow sticks didn’t reach beyond the clearing.
‘I saw someone between the trees,’ said Ottilie, her bow still raised. She had a horrible feeling that the mysterious hooded figure she had seen twice before was now watching them, only a few yards away.
‘It’s happened before,’ she said. ‘That day, with the kappabak.’ She hadn’t told Leo back then. She didn’t know why she was telling him now. Maybe just because he was there to bear witness. People listened to Leo. If he reported the sighting, no-one would question it, or suspect he was just a frightened little girl.
Maestro stared ahead, his ears tipped forwards.
‘He can see something,’ said Leo, taking a step.
There was a flash – was it lightning? No. It was wrong: not bright but the opposite, a flash like blackness in the already night-heavy trees. Ottilie shook her head. She was just thinking she must have imagined it when there was a great swishing sound, followed by the swooping of wings and a bloodcurdling squawk to rival the call of a squail. They braced, but the creature didn’t attack, and she heard the beating of its wings growing faint in the distance.
‘It was just a dredretch,’ said Leo, patting Maestro, who was growling quietly, ears flattened to his skull.
‘I don’t think it was – look at him, he’s upset,’ said Ottilie.
‘He’s not upset, are you, mate?’ Leo rubbed the top of his head and frowned. Maestro relaxed at his touch. ‘Unsettled maybe.’ He looked at her. ‘You saw someone that day?’
She nodded, still prickling with nerves. Her darting eyes found the husk of a stump to her left. Something drew her gaze, a single drip of thick black liquid trailing from a crack in the dried-out wood. It was hard to see, but it looked familiar, like the oily black gloop that dribbled down the leaves in the Withering Wood.
She frowned. That wasn’t possible. The withering sickness spread outwards from the heart of the Withering Wood. It didn’t show up in isolated patches. She shifted her weight to step closer, but then realised what it must have been. It was just dredretch blood. Someone had probably felled one nearby and the blood had spattered. Her fear was fuelling her imagination.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘I didn’t know what I could say and who I could trust. A lot was happening at once.’
She thought she caught a streak of hurt cross his face, but he turned away. ‘Come on, you can go up front.’
‘Why?’ she asked, surprised. Ever since Leo’s leg had improved, Ottilie had been relegated to the back of the saddle.
‘Because I said I was taking you to hunt knopoes to cheer you up, so you can take the lead.’ He paused, then turned back to Maestro. ‘Fine – if you don’t want to …’ He moved to climb up front.
‘No, I want to!’ She hurried forwards and leapt into the saddle, bracing herself for adventure.
They flew north, towards Jungle Bay. Ottilie remembered her first glimpse of the sea. She and Leo had been flying through the mountains south of Fiory, and between the peaks she had seen it – an endless stretch of deepest blue, scattered with specks of sunlight. She remembered losing her breath and feeling very small, in the most wonderful way.
Ahead of them now, a hooked peninsula scooped Jungle Bay out of the darkened ocean, like a greedy arm of cliffs and caves. Maestro flew low over the giant dewy leaves and fat tree trunks. The trees, linked by thick vines, spread all the way down to the edge of the water, which mirrored the night sky.
Maestro touched down on a pad of damp rock, beneath the canopy.
‘Hear that?’ said Leo.
Ottilie couldn’t hear anything beyond the gentle lapping of water against tree trunks.
‘Jungle Bay used to be full of birds and frogs and insects. All the noisy things,’ he said. ‘I knew something new had moved in, because everything else has moved out.’
‘Where are the knopoes?’ She looked around, her pulse quickening.
‘That’s the really crazy part,’ he said, pointing across the water. ‘They’re out there. Go slow, I’ll show you why.’
Ottilie pulled her bow from her back and nudged Maestro into the air. Nearing the curve of the cape, she could just make out great columns of rock. Some stood independently, like ancient towers stretching up out of the sea. Others were still joined to the cliff in part, bridged by lines of jagged rock.
‘We call them the Sea Spears,’ said Leo. ‘The knopoes are in the caves, on the cape just behind them.’
Approaching the caves, they were greeted with jarring hoots and ear-splitting screams. In the light of the glow sticks, Ottilie saw a knopo, twice the size of Wrangler Morse, lumbering out of a cave. It had matted fur and long, uneven fangs. Standing on its short legs, the knopo waved its elongated arms threateningly, and beat its melon-sized fists against the rock.
Circling, Ottilie glimpsed animal carcasses scattered around the edge of the cliff. Her breath caught and she felt a swoop of sorrow. She pointed to a rocky crag above the water, and the rotting skeleton of what might have been a large sea lion.
‘How did that get up there?’ said Leo, over the knopoes’ screams.
‘I think they must have dragged it,’ she said. ‘Look – they’ve been killing animals. There are so many!’
‘Doesn’t make sense,’ he muttered.
Ottilie stared down at the remains of the coastal creatures and felt a burning behind her eyes. She nocked an arrow and aimed at the huge knopo. It lunged and the arrow bounced off the cliff wall. Three more appeared from the caves, all significantly smaller than the first. Fangs bared, they screamed like phantom apes.
Ottilie hit one, piercing its sloping shoulder. The knopo stumbled sideways, the beginnings of salt paralysis affecting its balance. She had missed the heart, but at least they knew the salt blades still worked.
There was a moment of stillness. Then they became frenzied, hooting and shrieking and dancing around – wilder, if possible, than before.
In an attempt to get closer to their attackers, one knopo leapt heedlessly onto the rocks that, like rows of teeth, stretched out to the Sea Spears. Leo shot it down and it plunged into the inky water with a great splash.
One by one the other knopoes leapt onto the rocks, clambering towards the Sea Spears. The first one to reach them hung off the edge, hooting and screaming. Maestro wove between the towering columns, tipping and tilting, dodging swinging arms and razor-sharp claws.
With an almighty shriek, a knopo sprang from its perch on the rock right above their heads. Maestro rolled so suddenly that Leo gasped. Both of them grabbed hold of the saddle, and Ottilie clenched her jaw so tight she hurt her teeth, as the knopo missed its mark and Maestro righted himself in the air.
She took a deep breath. Leo managed a shaky laugh, reaching forwards to ruffle the wingerslink’s fur. Maestro made a rumbling noise in response and continued sweeping and soaring in spirals until Ottilie and Leo had shot every one of the foul monsters into the sea.
Their work done, Maestro landed on the cliff by the caves. There were carcasses everywhere, in varying stages of decomposition.
‘They shouldn’t have been here,’ said Leo, his brow creasing. ‘If they killed that sea lion …’ He shook his head slowly. ‘That thing would have been covered in salt. They shouldn’t have been able to touch it.’
Ottilie shivered. ‘They shouldn’t have even wanted to try,’ she said, staring sadly at the carcass of what might have been a mudcat. ‘Voilies said dredretches don’t bother with natural beasts. Not unless they threaten them, or get in their way …’
‘That’s normally true,’ said Leo. ‘And the salt blades still affected them …’ He glanced at the curved scrap of light, high in the sky. ‘We need to get back – we should report this.’ He gestured at the carcasses.
Ottilie wasn’t used to Leo looking worried. It made her feel unstable somehow, as if the cliff was rocking and cracking beneath them. She pushed Maestro into the air. They rose higher and higher until the trees were bristly shadows below. She let the flight calm her and, for a little while, felt there was no land or sea, no world beneath them, just wings and sky and starlight.
Fiory came into view, shining silver on the hilltop. Ottilie felt Maestro tense and hesitate. Moments later she heard the sounds that must have reached him first – a cacophony of bells ringing out from the station, the howls of the shepherds and, as they drew closer, the shouts from within.