Issi had thoroughly enjoyed watching the wisewoman do the curse. After all, she’d helped make it happen. She’d risked her life stealing what was needed, and she’d put that little clay frog in the cave, to keep an eye on things for her.

From her hiding place among the rocks, she’d watched the wisewoman feeding the Crows’ things to the curse-fire, and given a silent cheer when it ate Telamon’s hair. Serve you right, you traitor, she’d told him in her head, picturing Lapithos crashing down in flames and the Crows fleeing in terror. Burn, burn! This is for Hylas, wherever he is – and for Scram, and for everyone you’ve killed …

Now the wisewoman and the girl called Pirra were heading down the mountain. Issi’s belly tightened with excitement. Soon, she would make herself known to the girl. The girl knew Hylas – Issi had gathered that from what she’d overheard – so she’d be delighted to see Issi. ‘Issi!’ she would cry. ‘Can it really be you? Hylas will be so happy! He’s never stopped looking for you, let’s go and find him right now!’

That was what Issi wanted to happen; but out of habit, she stayed hidden as she followed them. Careful, Issi, you don’t yet know for sure that you can trust this girl. Remember what’s kept you alive all this time: stay hidden, say nothing, trust no one. Never reveal who you are.

Slipping between the pine trees, she didn’t notice she was being stalked until a powerful blow knocked her legs from under her and sent her sprawling in the bracken. For a moment, she lay winded. Then she broke into a grin.

Havoc stood over her, play-growling and nuzzling her tummy with her furry muzzle. Giggling, Issi pummelled the lioness’ chest with both fists, then squirmed out from under and flung her arms around Havoc’s neck. They rubbed cheeks, the lioness making groany noises which meant she was glad she’d found her new friend again.

Issi was pleased that the gash in Havoc’s shoulder was healing so well that she wouldn’t have to smear on any more of her salve. And clearly the lioness was no longer worried about the falcon: she was ready to play. Remembering something Hylas used to do, Issi cut some switches, swiftly wove them into a rough wicker ball, and tossed it to her.

Havoc loved it, seeming to know at once what it was for, and batting it back with her forepaw. Issi threw it further and they raced for it. Havoc won, and after an uproarious play-fight, they collapsed in a comfortable, panting heap. Havoc flung one huge paw across Issi’s chest, and with a laugh, she struggled to push it off. Her laugh sounded unfamiliar. She hadn’t laughed since the coming of the Crows.

To stop the memories from breaking through, she pressed her face into Havoc’s fur and sniffed her musky lion smell. It didn’t work. She felt as if she wasn’t snuggling against the lioness, but Scram …

The day the Crows attacked, it had been fiercely hot, with clouds piling up over Mount Lykas. ‘Storm on the way,’ Hylas had said as they pitched camp in a cave on the western peak. ‘I’m going to the stream to cool off. Don’t let that squirrel burn!’

Issi rolled her eyes. ‘When have I ever done that?’

‘Day before yesterday.’

‘I did not!’

With a wave of his hand, he headed down towards the stream. ‘It wasn’t burnt!’ she yelled after him, but he only grinned in his infuriating way.

Muttering, Issi wandered off to gather asphodel roots.

Scram’s warning whuff! stopped her in her tracks. The next moment, she heard his frantic barks.

Drawing her knife, she rushed back to camp. She heard men’s voices and ducked into a thicket. She caught a strange, bitter stink of ash.

Scram’s barks cut off. Issi heard a whimper – then silence. She crept forwards. She blinked.

Three goats lay with their throats cut, while seven men bristling with weapons ransacked the camp. They wore black rawhide armour and long black cloaks, and their faces were grey and inhuman with ash. Then she saw Scram. There was a roaring in her ears. She saw his big tough paws and the arrow jutting from his flank.

Her thoughts tumbled over each other. Hylas. He was down at the stream, he didn’t know. ‘Hylas!’ she screamed. ‘Warriors! Run!’

She darted back into the thicket with the warriors crashing after her. They were bigger than her, they couldn’t get through. Somehow, she worked her way around and slipped between the rocks into the back of the cave: they’d already searched in here, they wouldn’t search again …

Then she saw Hylas. He was on the other side of camp, crouching behind a juniper bush. He felt her gaze, and for an instant that burnt into her memory, their eyes locked. She knew what he was telling her: Don’t move. Stay hidden. Then with terrifying purposefulness, he stepped into the open and yelled at the Crows: ‘Over here!’

Seven ash-grey faces turned towards him. In horror, Issi saw arrows nocked to bows, swords and spears brandished as the warriors went thundering after him.

The last she’d ever seen of her brother, he’d been racing down the slope with the Crows in pursuit, their long black cloaks flying like wings …

Havoc grunted in her sleep and rolled on to her back, with all four paws flopping outwards. Issi snuggled closer against her furry flank.

Hylas had been an infuriating older brother and they’d squabbled all the time, but she’d always known that he would look after her. If you ever get lost, he used to say, stay where you are and wait. I will find you. And he always had.

But not this time.

Issi didn’t remember much of what had happened right after the attack. She’d waited for ages, then left a message for Hylas at the rock at the top of the pass. She’d caught sight of the Sea far below, and the vast green marshes.

There’ll be frogs down there, she’d thought numbly. And no dogs. After what had happened to Scram, she couldn’t bear to be anywhere near dogs.

As she’d made her way down, she’d seen terrible things. The Crows were hunting Outsiders. That was why they were after her and Hylas. When she’d reached the marshes, she’d smeared herself in mud and stolen some fishskin to hide her fair hair, she’d tied a brown band round her forehead: there. Now she was no longer Issi the Outsider, she was a Marsh Dweller boy.

The Marsh Dwellers had given her food and shelter, but she hadn’t trusted them. Since the Crows had attacked, she hadn’t spoken to anyone, and now she found that she couldn’t, her voice no longer worked. She didn’t care. It was better that way.

The only times she’d felt safe were when she was by herself, listening to the frogs, or watching the fishes sliding through the green water. And the one thing she’d never doubted was that Hylas was still alive and still looking for her. All through two winters, and that terrible spring when the Sun was blotted out, she’d told herself: He will come back. He will find me. Until he does, I must stay alive and do what I can to fight the Crows.

And she had. When the wisewoman came to the marshes, Issi had liked her, because she lived only to destroy the Crows. Issi hadn’t let down her guard, not even with her, yet when the wisewoman left the marshes, she’d followed, and helped her steal things for the curse. But when the wisewoman had caked herself in clay, and couldn’t get the curse to work, Issi had left her and returned to the coast.

Then a few days ago, everything had changed. At the edge of the marshes, she’d encountered a stranger, a girl with a scar on her cheek, a falcon on her wrist and a lioness at her side.

Issi wasn’t afraid of any wild creature, but even she had been surprised at how easily she’d made friends with the lioness. They’d been drawn to each other, maybe because the lioness was miserable, and Issi knew what that was like.

The day after they’d met, Issi had hidden among the reeds and watched the girl kneel beside the lioness. ‘I know, Havoc,’ the girl had said sadly. ‘You miss Hylas, and so do I.’

Issi had been stunned. It was the first time in two summers that she’d heard her brother’s name. The joy was so sharp she felt as if her chest had split open. Hylas is alive and this girl knows him …

Issi had wanted to burst from her hiding place and race over to her: ‘Where is he? Where is he?’ But long habits of caution had kept her hidden. And to her consternation, she’d gathered that Hylas had been here, in the marshes – and had only just left. Issi had been in despair. She had missed her brother by a whisker.

But she hadn’t waited for him all this time to give up now. Follow this girl, she’d told herself. Follow this girl and you will find him.

Again, Havoc rolled over and flung one heavy forepaw across Issi’s body. Issi stroked the huge rough pad, and felt the lioness’ hot, sawing breath on her face. She knew she could trust Havoc as surely as she trusted her brother, but she wasn’t so certain about Pirra. And trusting no one had saved her life.

In that first awful time after the Crows attacked the camp, she’d gone in search of Telamon. Telamon was their friend, he would know what to do.

It had been sheer chance that she’d seen him before he’d seen her. She’d been plodding along a goat trail, footsore, hungry and frightened, when she’d caught the stink of ash on the wind, and flung herself behind a thorn bush.

She remembered hearing the creak of leather as the pounding feet came nearer, then a nightmare of black armour and weapons had swept into view. Their leader was a monster of darkness. His armour wasn’t rawhide, but some metal that gleamed like copper – only darker and angrier. Bronze, she’d thought. That must be bronze.

He’d been level with her hiding place when he’d called a halt. She hadn’t been able to see his face, just an eye-slit between his bronze throat-guard that masked nose and mouth and his boar’s-tusk helmet, crested with black horsetail. Only his hair, in a warrior’s snake-like braids, had shown that he was human.

‘Clear the mountains,’ he’d said in a hollow voice which had made her think of cold places that never saw the Sun. ‘No Outsider must remain alive.’ Then he’d turned to someone behind him. ‘I can count on you. Yes?’

‘… Yes, uncle,’ a voice had replied. Then Telamon – Telamon – had moved into view.

Issi had felt sick. Telamon is one of them. Telamon is a Crow …

Havoc yawned cavernously and heaved herself to her feet, and nose-nudged Issi’s belly. Issi pushed the great muzzle away. She felt shaky inside. The memories were bitter in her mouth.

Havoc snuffed the air, threw Issi a friendly glance, then ambled off through the trees.

She’s going to find Pirra, thought Issi.

Slowly, she retrieved her waterskin and axe, and checked that she still had her knife, strike-fire and slingshot. Then she headed after the lioness.

On that day two summers ago when she’d seen Telamon, she’d learnt something that had kept her alive ever since: People lie. You can’t trust them.

She would follow Pirra, because Pirra might lead her to Hylas. But it was not yet time to reveal herself to her.

Pirra and the wisewoman had camped beside a stream that splashed noisily over rocks. The wisewoman was waking a fire, and Pirra was feeding the falcon scraps of meat. Creeping nearer, Issi caught snatches of talk above the chatter of the stream.

‘… if you feel like that,’ said the wisewoman wryly, ‘why did you leave him?’

Issi’s heart quickened. Were they talking about Hylas?

‘I didn’t,’ said Pirra. ‘He wanted us to split up because …’ She turned her head, and her words were drowned by the stream. ‘… not only that,’ she said, turning back. ‘Ever since Thalakrea, he’s been having visions.’

The wisewoman stopped what she was doing. ‘What kind of visions?’ she said sharply.

‘Ghosts, spirits. It first happened last spring, when we were on Keftiu, then in Egypt they got stronger, now he even sees gods.’ She frowned. ‘Hylas is convinced that he’s become dangerous to be with. I think that’s why he sent me away, to keep the three of us safe.’

‘Are you a mated pair?’ said the wisewoman.

Pirra flushed. ‘That’s nothing to do with you!’

The wisewoman snorted. ‘But you’d like to be.’

Pirra’s flush deepened. ‘Of course I would. I think he feels the same way … No, I don’t think, I know. In Egypt he would have given his life to save me. But he’s never said anything!’ she burst out, ‘and now I don’t know where he is, and I might never see him again!’

There was a booming in Issi’s head. This girl had been with Hylas for ages – in places called Keftiu, and Thalakrea, and Egypt – where he would have given his life for her …

Until now, Issi had never felt truly alone: she’d always had the thought of Hylas to keep her company, and the belief that one day they would be together again, the two of them against the world, just as it was before. Now, with brutal suddenness, that was gone. Even if she found him, this girl, Pirra, would be in the way. She would come between them. Nothing would be as it was before.

‘Havoc!’ called the girl. ‘Havoc, where are you?’

The lioness pushed past Issi and bounded towards the camp. Numbly, Issi watched her go. The pain in her chest was so bad she could hardly breathe. The three of us, Pirra had said: girl, falcon and lion. Hylas had a new family now. How could Issi fit into that?

The lioness paused and glanced back at her: Aren’t you coming too?

Slowly, Issi shook her head. She backed away. Then she turned and ran.