‘They’ll find you if you stay here! They know where I live!’ Mellantha wheezed, hobbling over to the door and bolting it fast.
Moll looked down at the bowl and noticed that the bone fragments were now nowhere to be seen.
‘Pull back the crates on the far wall. The slats of wood behind are broken and you can crawl out through the gorse bushes and trees behind the hut! They’ll hide you until you reach the bottom of the hill.’ Mellantha gripped Moll’s hand. ‘And then run – run like the wind! You’re the only person who can stop the madness of the Shadowmasks!’
The howls were louder now, slicing the night to slivers. Moll could feel her body shaking as she and Alfie grappled with the wood, tearing it back to reveal a hole.
Mellantha seized another tiny phial of black liquid from a shelf. ‘T-take this,’ she stammered, thrusting it into Moll’s hands. ‘You’ll need it when they’re fighting for your mind. There’s still so much you should know.’ She pointed to the rag she’d given Moll earlier. ‘But there’s no time now. Think about the letters, the word. It’s all there.’ Her eyes were half crazed with fear. ‘Go – go!’ she cried, pushing Moll towards the hole.
There was a pummelling at the door as the hounds drummed against it with ominous thuds.
‘But you – aren’t you—’ Moll began.
Mellantha shook her head. ‘It was written in the Oracle Bones; I knew when I saw your pa’s bone reading. In my dreams, I see a place where one day I’ll rest from all this pain. The place is on a hill, Molly – only it’s bigger, taller and safer than my one here and it’s not covered in darkness; it’s covered in glittering dew. DEW HILL MAIDEN: the Oracle Bones have come to take me home.’
‘No!’ Moll cried. ‘We didn’t know!’
More thuds crashed against the hovel door.
‘It’s time, Molly, and I’ve outlived their curse at least.’ Mellantha smiled sadly. ‘Hounds, you say? I can bear that pain more than being haunted by the dark magic of the others.’
Alfie seized Moll’s arm and dragged her towards the hole. ‘Come on!’
But it was Gryff who finally tore her away, wrenching at her dress with his teeth. They pushed through the hole, into the undergrowth, a tangle of mellanthas, brambles and overgrown gorse. The sun was rising above the horizon on the sea and a wind had gathered, rushing across the heath below them like a tormented breath. Above them clouds loomed, swelling across the unsettled sky. Heads down, the two children raced through the undergrowth, blind to the gorse bushes tearing at their skin.
There was a loud thud behind them and then the hovel was a frenzy of noise: crashing objects, gnashing teeth and Mellantha’s whimpered cries. The wind moaned with Mellantha in desolate gusts, but soon her cries were drowned and once again the hounds wailed.
And then suddenly their cries subsided and a voice pierced the groaning wind. ‘There’s a hole at the back,’ came Gobbler’s unmistakable snarl.
As if in response, the hounds growled together, then pounding feet thundered into the undergrowth behind Moll, Gryff and Alfie.
‘They’re getting closer!’ Moll cried, her eyes wide with terror.
The wind raged on, whipping their hair from their faces and gusting through the gorse. At last, the undergrowth and trees pulled back to reveal a ragged track across the heath. Boggy marshes swamped the track, but the three of them charged on through, water spraying their faces. Moll could feel the wind spirit’s strength, urging them on, away from the hounds.
Alfie seized Moll’s wrist. ‘Faster! We can make the forest, we can make it!’
The wind grew wilder, catching their heels and whirling them on. They could see the trees now, green giants rearing up before them. Gryff pounded on beside Moll, never breaking from her for an instant.
Another voice came from behind, calling into the darkness – cold and hollow. ‘Keep the hounds on her scent, Gobbler!’
Skull.
Moll threw a glance over her shoulder and what met her eyes chilled her. Some way behind them on the track, four huge hounds were craning their necks towards them, their yellow eyes glowing, their mouths foaming. And behind them were Skull, Gobbler and the boys, mounted on cobs. Moll turned back and fled on towards the forest.
Suddenly, from the shadows of the forest, a line of cobs burst out on to the heath. Moll’s eyes widened. Her heart thundered.
‘Oak!’ she screamed. ‘Oak!’
‘Don’t cry out!’ Alfie panted.
Moll screamed again, unable to stop herself. ‘Oak!’
Gryff tugged at her dress with his teeth. No, Moll, no, he seemed to say.
The cobs rushed forward: Oak, his sons and Siddy’s father, Jesse. They’d come for her – despite what Skull had made her think – because ‘Oak’s camp never leave a man behind’.
Moll sped along the path between Gryff and Alfie, her heart surging. ‘Oak!’
And then Oak answered. ‘Keep running!’ His shout was loud, louder than the wailing wind, and Moll rushed towards it.
She turned her head. Behind them, the hounds edged closer. And yet there was something strange about them. Their necks weren’t craned towards her; their eyes weren’t even fixed on her. They were hunting someone else entirely.
She glanced to her side. Alfie. They were hunting Alfie.
‘Oak!’ Moll cried again as the hounds shrieked behind her.
‘Moll!’ Oak roared.
His cry lingered in a gust of wind. And from behind them came Skull’s terrible laugh, twisting above the pounding hooves of his cob.
Moll raced on, blotting out the sounds from behind her as she realised something with sickening dread. Alfie had tried to warn her. Gryff had tried to warn her. But still she’d called out. And Oak would have always answered.
They’d handed Skull the last piece of the Dream Snatch. Her name.
Moments later, Oak was among them, yanking Moll up from the ground on to the back of his cob and spurring them both away. Moll leant into Oak’s body for a second, glimpsed Gryff racing along beside them, but, when she searched for Alfie, he was nowhere to be seen.
She craned her neck back and there, some metres behind them now, Alfie was cowering among the knotted gorse to the side of the track, his face white, his eyes wide. The hounds were prowling close to him, their ears flattened to their heads, saliva hanging from their fangs in drooling chains. Moll watched him, her breath caught in her throat, as Oak’s cob carried her further and further away. Alfie had given Skull the scrap from her dress, so why had the hounds tracked him? She glanced down at her dress and felt suddenly weak. There was no scrap missing; her frock was untorn.
She leant into Oak. ‘We need to go back for Alfie! He – he . . .’ What was she saying? She didn’t need him any more. She knew where the amulets were and she had only needed him to help her escape. Why did she feel responsible for him?
Oak hauled his cob to a halt.
‘Keep going!’ roared Wisdom. ‘Or the hounds’ll attack like before!’
Only then did Moll notice Wisdom’s hand was bandaged up tight and Jesse’s ankle was bound. So Skull’s hounds had caught them that night.
Oak urged his cob further down the track, away from Alfie and the hounds.
‘But . . .’ Moll started. Her lips quivered as she watched a hound scratch back the undergrowth where Alfie crouched.
Gobbler hurried closer and grabbed Alfie by the collar, spitting into his face. Alfie’s eyes were fierce, but Moll could see his body trembling.
Oak started back towards them, but Skull reached into his robes and drew out a pistol.
‘Ride!’ Oak roared. ‘Ride!’
There was a loud crack. Oak’s cob stumbled slightly as blood ran down its piebald leg, then it galloped on towards the forest, speeding Oak and Moll with it.
And, with her stomach churning, Moll kept her head turned and watched Alfie’s body disappear as the hounds closed in.