By the time they came to the outskirts of town, Flax had a plan.

‘The dragon lives north of here?’ she asked.

It was still night-time, and the empty road stretched ahead of them, with hedges on either side. The few remaining houses were in darkness. The moon was sinking slowly in the west.

‘Yes,’ said Rose.

‘How do we get there?’

‘We follow this road until it crosses the Darting River. And then we – um – actually, it’s a bit complicated. I’ll have to show you.’

Flax didn’t believe for a moment that it was complicated. Rose was just making sure they didn’t leave her behind.

‘The road doesn’t go directly north,’ she said, squinting at the black stone.

‘No, I think it winds a bit,’ said Rose.

‘We haven’t got time for winding roads,’ said Flax. ‘We’ll go across country and get there quicker.’

The pup wagged his tail and bounced a couple of times. ‘Quicker is good.’

But Rose said, ‘What if we get lost?’

‘Flax won’t get lost,’ said the pup. ‘Minch-wiggins are famous for their sense of direction.’

‘Minch-wiggins? What’s a minch-wiggin?’

‘Just another name for pixies,’ Flax said firmly. ‘Now, are you coming?’

She climbed through a gap in the fence and set off at a very slight angle to the road. She wriggled under a hedge, then made her way through long grass and past a dark house, with Rose and the pup following her.

At first, she went directly north. But before long, she veered a little bit to one side.

Rose and the pup were too busy bombarding each other with questions to notice.

‘What was that?’ asked the pup, looking back towards the road.

‘An automobile,’ said Rose.

‘Not a dragon?’

‘No, automobiles are nothing like dragons. Why didn’t those people in town stare at you?’

‘They couldn’t see us,’ said the pup.

Flax veered a bit more. Ahead of them, sleepy white shapes loomed out of the darkness.

‘What are they?’ asked the pup.

‘Sheep. Why couldn’t those people see you?’

‘Because of the mag—’

‘Because they couldn’t see very well in the dark,’ interrupted Flax.

‘But I can see you perfectly well,’ said Rose.

Which is strange, thought Flax. I don’t understand it. I don’t like it.

Another hedge. Another fence. Another house. Flax veered a bit more … and a bit more … and a bit more … until they were going due east instead of north.

By then, they were all yawning. So when they came to a clump of trees and hedges with no houses nearby, Flax stopped and said, ‘We should get some sleep.’

The pup immediately turned in a circle, flopped down with his nose tucked under his paws and began to snore.

Rose peered around the trunk of the biggest tree as if she was looking for something. ‘Where are the beds?’

Flax didn’t answer. She was climbing into the lower branches, looking for a nice spot to curl up.

We’ll get a couple of hours’ sleep and set off again just after dawn, she thought.

And she closed her eyes.

Have you ever noticed that important things often happen just before dawn?

That silver-grey hour is one of the edges of the day.

It is when armies attack. When witches are at their most powerful. When wild creatures with sharp teeth are on the hunt.

Remember the edges.

Remember that some are more perilous than others.