Flax yelped with fright when Rose left the ground. The wind beat about her ears, and she clung to the pup and kept her eyes tightly shut until a jolt told her they had landed.

And there was the Floating Forest, all around her, mossy and green. There were the great trees towering so high that they hid most of the sky. There were the little paths, the rotting logs, the rocks and insects.

Flax slid from Rose’s back, feeling better than she’d felt for days. Because she was home again.

Feeling worse than she’d felt for days. Because home was not the place it used to be.

Some of the magic that held the Floating Forest together was gone.

And in its place was fear.

Flax could feel it.

The trees were afraid. So were the horned globs. And the owls, and the little brown mice, and the bats and bees and minch-wiggins.

Even the sketters were frightened.

Even the mor-kits.

‘What now?’ asked the pup, leaping down beside her.

‘Now you and Rose keep an eye on the witch,’ said Flax. ‘I’m going to fetch an army.’

And with that astonishing statement, she hurried away with her sword in her hand.

‘Where are we going?’ demanded the sword. ‘And what’s this about an army? I won’t have anything to do with guns. I’m very sensitive to loud noises.’

‘No guns,’ said Flax.

But she refused to say anything more. Mainly because she wasn’t at all sure her plan would work.

Or that she would come out of it alive.

It is easy to be brave when you are a dragon.

But Flax, trotting through the Floating Forest, showed more courage than I ever have.

She was afraid, but she kept going. She thought she would probably end up dead, but she kept going.

Great strength does not lie in invasions and brute force.

It lies in the heart of a small, frightened minch-wiggin who loves her home.