They emerged from the tunnel and, when Eska eventually plucked up the courage to peek out from the cape and glance over her shoulder, she saw the dark shapes of the Tusk guards spreading out over the Driftlands in the opposite direction. Relief rinsed through her and, as she slipped back beneath the blanket, she felt her pulse unwind. With every stride the dogs took, she was moving further and further away from the woman who had held her captive for so long.

The wooden sled creaked as it rushed over the ice and the cold air funnelling through the cape stiffened the muscles in Eska’s face, but, for the first time since being locked inside the Ice Queen’s music box, Eska smiled. Because she had escaped – finally – and the landscape she had watched in silence for so long was now alive all around her. Her heart fluttered at the freedom of it all and she wiggled her hands in front of her chest.

‘What are you doing?’ Flint hissed.

Eska did a little circle with her elbow. ‘Getting used to my body again.’

‘Well, don’t,’ Flint spat. ‘It’s distracting. Sit still.’

Eska stared ahead for a few minutes and tried her best not to be annoying. Then, very quietly, she began tracing her fingers over her arms and legs for a mark from the Sky Gods that might show she was cursed. But she found nothing and so she went back to very subtly circling her elbows instead.

‘Snow clouds are gathering,’ Flint whispered to himself. ‘Our tracks will be covered by morning.’

Eska stole a look at the night sky and as she watched the darkness closing in she tried to work out whether Flint’s words were an opening to a conversation or not. She had no reason to trust him – after all, he hadn’t planned to rescue her: it had just sort of happened. But, without Flint, she’d still be trapped inside Winterfang, and though she didn’t want to irritate him she was longing to talk to someone after so many months of silence. She had to know more about the Fur and Feather Tribe children. Where were they hiding? Might they bend their rules and offer her shelter and protection? Could she team up with them to fight back against the Ice Queen? And, her deepest desire of all, would they know who she really was?

She tucked the music-box key into her pocket, hoping that now she had it the Ice Queen would not be able to use the music box again. For her or anybody else.

‘Tell me about those in hiding from the Ice Queen,’ Eska said quietly.

‘That sounds dangerously like a conversation to me,’ Flint replied, urging his dogs on.

There were no fences or roads on the Driftlands, at least none that Eska could see beyond the gap in the cape, and the moonlight was almost completely swallowed by the clouds now, but it seemed Flint knew this wide and lonely landscape – somehow its shapes and rhythms were locked in his skull – and he swerved the sled through a scattering of trees, then down a shallow bank until it skidded out on to a frozen river coated in snow.

‘Please tell me,’ Eska whispered. ‘Because, if you’re planning to leave me, I’ll need more information than I have now to survive.’

‘Why does the Ice Queen think your voice is so important?’ Flint muttered. ‘It’s not like other voices – I’ll give you that – but it’s feeble all the same. And you don’t even know anything.’

Eska was almost afraid of the answer, of the darkness that the Ice Queen said her voice was capable of, but she had the boy’s attention now and she wanted to keep it.

‘The Ice Queen is feeding on her prisoners’ voices.’ Eska watched the river race beneath the dogs’ paws. ‘And, if she can swallow every voice in Erkenwald before the midnight sun rises, she’ll become immortal and will rule this kingdom for ever.’

Eska heard the squeak of mittens tightening round the wooden bar behind her, but when Flint spoke his voice betrayed no emotion. ‘What’s that got to do with you? Why is your voice any more important than her other prisoners’?’

Eska took a deep breath. ‘The Ice Queen told me that the Sky Gods placed a curse on my voice to make it capable of terrible things. She promised to help me – she said she would take away my cursed voice and use it to summon the outlawed tribes, then tear down the Sky Gods so that they could never harm Erkenwald again.’

Flint didn’t reply, and as Eska listened to the near-silent sound of snow pattering against the cape she wondered what he was thinking. Could he sense the shame in her voice at the idea that she might be cursed? Was he planning to tip her off the sled and leave her for dead because of it?

The silence was broken by a snigger. ‘No one believes in the Sky Gods or their magic any more . . . Not after the northern lights stopped and—’

Eska saw her chance. ‘But you still believe – in their magic at least.’ She paused. ‘Back at the palace I saw a lot of dark magic, but what if there’s another kind of magic out there? One that could be used for good? One that could be harnessed to make secret capes?’ She bit her lip. ‘Because that’s what you did, didn’t you? You used magic to outwit the Ice Queen.’

Flint shifted behind her.

‘I can’t remember anything about my past,’ Eska went on. ‘The Ice Queen stole my memories. But I get feelings about things – deep in my gut – and somehow I never believed her when she blamed the Gods for the tribes hating each other. I reckon that was her doing.’ She paused. ‘I think the Sky Gods are still up there and their magic might be something we can trust, after all.’

Although Flint said nothing, Eska could feel his thoughts whirring close to hers. Theirs was a kingdom that had given up on magic and yet here on this sled were two people who believed in its power, even if one was too proud to admit it.

‘If the Ice Queen lied about the Sky Gods,’ Eska said, ‘then maybe she lied about my voice, too. Not about it being important – otherwise she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to steal it – but what if it’s not cursed? What if I could use my voice for good?’ Her words were gathering pace now. ‘I didn’t give in to the Ice Queen because I thought that perhaps, if I escaped, I could somehow use my voice – and a little bit of magic – to fight back against her and to free all those prisoners.’

Flint snorted. ‘I’ve heard powerful voices before – warrior battle cries and chief’s speeches – but yours? It’s odd and unlikely. There’s no way it could destroy the Ice Queen.’ He paused. ‘And, as for using magic, good luck convincing an entire kingdom that it’s something they should believe in again.’

Eska found herself looking at the Camouflage Cape. If she knew one thing about magic from her time in Winterfang, it was that it was an unpredictable sort of business that required a good deal of faith to get it going in the first place.

‘Not all brilliant ideas start off ordinary and likely,’ she said.

Flint drove on without speaking, but Eska could sense by his silence that her words had hit home and she let the quiet linger for a while before pressing Flint in a different direction. ‘I pieced together bits about the kingdom’s landscape from eavesdropping on the Tusk guards, but what about the children in hiding? Tell me about them.’

‘Fine,’ Flint replied after a while. ‘But only because I can’t drive the rest of this journey with Pebble biting me on the ear until I’ve answered your questions.’ The fox pup leapt down on to the sled and busied himself between Eska’s ankles. ‘The Feather Tribe are somewhere in the Never Cliffs,’ Flint began, ‘though I’ve not seen them since before the battle last summer. We used to share food around campfires if we crossed paths on hunting trips and once a Feather boy lent me a quiver of arrows when my own was swept downriver, but everything changed when the Tusk Chief was murdered.’ He paused. ‘We don’t speak to the Feather Tribe now – and certainly not to the Tusks. Outlaws keep to their own kind.’

Eska frowned. ‘Then how do you learn new things?’

‘We’ve learnt them already,’ Flint snapped.

‘But if the Feather and Fur Tribes turn their backs on each other then you can’t swap ideas or make plans together to free the Ice Queen’s prisoners.’

Flint bristled. ‘The Fur Tribe have made plans. Lots of them. Just not with the Feathers. They can’t be trusted.’

Eska watched the dark speed by. The kingdom she had been longing to explore from the music box was nothing like the place she found herself in now. She had been hoping for friends and answers, but here was discord and secrets. It was a bleaker, colder world than the one she had imagined and she hugged her coat tighter around her.

‘And your parents,’ Eska asked. ‘Do you believe they’re trapped in the ice towers at Winterfang?’

Flint’s voice seemed tighter suddenly. ‘I know my ma is because every morning I hear her voice trail out over Erkenwald. But my pa . . .’ His words faltered. ‘He was the Chief of the Fur Tribe – the best warrior we’ve ever seen – but the Ice Queen used dark magic to fight him and he died on the ice during the battle last summer.’ Flint fell silent and Pebble scrambled up towards him and pawed at his neck. ‘My brother, Tomkin, is Chief now.’

Eska nodded. ‘And what will he say when you return without your ma?’

Flint pulled off the Camouflage Cape and tossed it on to Eska’s lap. The snow-filled night surrounded them and Eska could make out the dark outlines of trees either side of the river now and, further downstream, a waterfall shrouded in ice.

Flint stared straight ahead. ‘He doesn’t know I left.’

And even Eska could tell that the conversation had come to an end then.

The dogs ran on and on and as the hours slipped by Eska felt her eyes begin to close. A sharp nudge from behind jolted her awake.

‘Keep your eyes open,’ Flint muttered. ‘Close them in this cold and they’ll freeze shut.’

Eska looked ahead to where the river widened, then turned left. Nestled inside the bend there was a small wooden hut surrounded by trees. The larch trunks it had been made from were shelved with snow, but Eska could make out a door and Flint guided his dogs on to the riverbank and pulled them to a stop before it.

‘Stand on the brake,’ he ordered Eska. ‘Properly this time.’

She scurried round to the back of the sled while Flint untied the huskies and tethered them inside a small outhouse to the side of the hut.

‘The dogs need a rest,’ he said. ‘It’s another few hours to the Fur Tribe hideout and we’re a safe distance from Winterfang now. We’ll leave again at first light.’

Eska squinted through the driving snow. ‘You mean you’re taking me to see your tribe?’ The possibility of being welcomed and looked after by others made her heart flutter. She had been abandoned at Winterfang – no one had come forward to rescue her or even say they knew her – but now there was an opening, a chance for friendship.

Flint shrugged. ‘I’m taking you to see my brother – briefly. Then I’m leaving you to fend for yourself.’

Eska’s heart sank. This wasn’t a promise of safety, after all. But she tried to hide her disappointment. It was a small step in the right direction and after Winterfang that counted for everything.

She glanced at Flint. ‘You’re interested in my voice, aren’t you? You think that your brother should know about me?’

‘I’m mildly curious,’ Flint replied. ‘There’s a difference. But you’ll need to speak to Tomkin first. He’s in charge and, if he thinks your voice will help with his battle plans, he’ll use it.’

Eska flinched. ‘Your tribe are going to fight the Ice Queen?’

Flint held his head high. ‘One day – yes. We’re not staying at home like last time when our parents made us promise to hide until they returned.’ He straightened up. ‘And it’ll be Tomkin who leads us. He’s the best warrior in the tribe now Pa isn’t around.’

Eska bit her lip. ‘You won’t win. I know the Ice Queen. It’ll take more than spears and shields to force her back.’

‘You don’t know Tomkin. If anyone can take on the Ice Queen, it’s him.’ Flint hefted his rucksack on to his back and pulled open the door of the hut.

Eska stood, shivering, by the sled. ‘Is – is it safe in there?’

Flint nodded. ‘It’s an old Fur Tribe food store – there are lots of them dotted all over Erkenwald, if you know where to look.’

He disappeared inside with Pebble, and Eska followed nervously, closing the door against the flurries of snow. It was pitch-black within.

‘Keep still, Pebble!’ Flint muttered. ‘I need to find the caribou tallow and the heather so that we can see what’s what.’

Eska squinted into the dark. ‘Can I help?’

Flint grunted.

Eska tried again. ‘Tell me what I’m looking for, at least?’

‘First rule of the wild – know how to make fire. You’re looking for a stone dish filled with hardened caribou fat,’ Flint said, ‘and a wick of heather. That’s a plant that grows out on the tundra, in case you don’t know.’

Eska felt her way around the wooden walls, nearly tripping over two large wooden objects tucked into the corners of the hut, then her palms met with a stone dish set between these objects.

‘Here!’ she cried. ‘I think it’s here.’

Flint fumbled towards her, then stooped to touch the dish. He rummaged in his pocket and drew out two small rocks and for several minutes the hut was filled with the quiet scuffing of metal. Then sparks appeared and he set them to the heather wick and, within seconds, a soft light flickered.

The wooden objects Eska had stumbled on were beds laden with blankets made from the furs of snow hares and Eska looked around to see clumps of moss had been stuffed into the walls to block the cracks in the timber. There was a table beneath the lamp and above it hooks made from antlers.

They sat down on the beds and Flint turned his Anything Knife over in his hands. He said nothing but Eska could tell, when he kicked his boot against the bed leg and Pebble leapt up into his lap, that he was angry at not returning with his ma.

She picked at her nails. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t free your ma.’

Flint didn’t look up.

‘One day I’ll repay you for rescuing me from the palace though,’ Eska added.

‘I doubt that very much.’

Eska glanced at the knife in Flint’s hands. The handle was made of bone and slotted into the hilt was a blue gem which shimmered mischievously. ‘That knife,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s built using magic again, just like your cape . . .’ She leant forward. ‘You’re an inventor, aren’t you?’

Flint’s face hardened. ‘I’m a warrior, like the rest of my tribe.’

But the more time Eska spent with Flint, the more she felt that he wasn’t like the rest of his tribe at all. From what he had said, the Fur Tribe didn’t believe in Erkenwald’s magic and yet he clearly did. And while none of them seemed keen to welcome strangers, Flint, despite his reservations, had. To Eska, Flint seemed a strange kind of warrior and she wondered whether she wasn’t the only one who felt like an outsider. Maybe Flint felt different from everyone else, too. But his guard was up so she offered her next words as a truce.

‘You’re a warrior who believes in magic and I think that’s the best way to be – because you won’t defeat the Ice Queen with weapons alone.’

Flint cocked his head. ‘Isn’t it time you stopped talking?’

He stood up and walked over to the corner of the room where a spear carved from caribou antler had been stashed. Grabbing it, he headed for the door.

‘Get some sleep,’ he muttered. ‘You look like you need it. And now that the light has returned to the kingdom, you won’t get long before dawn is up.’

‘Where are you going?’

Flint opened the door. ‘To get food – and I’m going alone.’

But Eska didn’t roll over and go to sleep. She hurried to the wall facing the river, pulled out a clump of moss and peered through.

She watched intently as Flint carved a hole in the iced-up river with his spear and then sat down beside it, his back against the rush of snow. Eska waited. And, though her hands ached from the climb down the palace wall and her throat burned from speaking after so many months of silence, she did not turn away. She needed to learn the ways of the wild – fast – and, if there was one thing she was good at, it was watching the world from a distance.