‘I knew I couldn’t make them accept me, but I could make themfearme.’ Fox shrugs. ‘And that’s what I did. Little did I know I was playing right into my uncle’s hands. What I’d done, who I became – it was all by his design.’
My gaze flickers upward, latching on to his.
‘I’m going to kill him,’ he says quietly. ‘I’m not going to stop until I’ve made him pay for what he did. To the Council, to my sister, to me.’
I nod. I’d guessed as much. ‘So that’s why you’re still in Ostacre – to find the Eye?’
‘Yes,’ Fox admits. Then he adds softly, ‘But that’s not the only reason.’
I feel it in my chest: fragile roots that begin to spread, a seed that sprouts into something gentle and curious,unfurling like flower petals in the sun. I have no name for it, the feeling. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever known. And for a moment, as I look into a pair of eyes the colour of spring, I’m torn between ripping it out or letting it bloom.
Fox moves forward, or perhaps it’s me. I can’t be sure. All I know is that suddenly he’s close enough for me to see the tiny freckle at the corner of his mouth. His eyes scour my face, as though searching for a sign, something to tell him what I want. Only the trouble is, I don’t know what I want. Or maybe it’s that I do know, and I just won’t admit it.
All at once, something small and coppery-red comes darting into the clearing. I scramble backwards in fright, but Cedar tosses his mane happily and Fox’s face lights up. I stare, nonplussed, as the creature curls up in his lap, its beady green-gold eyes fixed on me.
‘Storm Weaver, meet Scout.’
‘Thisis Scout?’ Laughter bubbles up my throat as I try, and fail, to hide the amusement in my voice. ‘Of courseyou would have a pet fox.’
Fox grins. ‘Too subtle?’
‘A little on the nose, perhaps,’ I reply, echoing what he said about Silverclaw.
‘Then tell me,’ he says, smirking, ‘because I’ve been desperate to know. What did you name that kitten I gave you?’
I clamp my mouth shut.
Fox looks jubilant. ‘Let’s hear it.’
‘Mouse,’ I mutter under my breath, blushing crimson.
He cups a hand to his ear. ‘Speak up, Storm Weaver.’
‘Mouse.’
Fox tips his head back and laughs.
‘What?’ I say haughtily. ‘She’s scared of mice. I thought it was sweet.’
He only laughs harder. I fold my arms across my chest defiantly, but can’t suppress the smile tugging at my lips.
I feel it then, unexpected yet unmistakable –warmth, as well as heat. And in that moment, the Earth Cleaver just became a thousand times more dangerous.
29
Flint
After what feels like several decades, Spinner, Sheen and I reach the foot of a small hill near the border between the moorland and the Greenwood. I’ve heard stories about this particular forest. Many believe it’s haunted, swarming with unfriendly spirits – something I’ve chosen to ignore, given that it’s a shortcut to the Waterlands.
Besides, it’ll take more than a bunch of ghost stories to stop me from finding my sister.
A village sits at the top of the hill. I let out a triumphant whoop, elbowing past Sheen to get a better look. ‘Thank theGods. I’m starving.’
‘Me too,’ says Spinner.
But Sheen shakes his head. ‘No. We said no detours. No stopping off anywhere you might be recognized.’
‘Oh, comeon,’ I say exasperatedly. ‘I may be something of a socialite, I grant you, but I can’t claim to have had many dealings with a bunch of sheep farmers from …’
