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movement he snapped its neck, pulled off a wing and stuffed it into his mouth. A slow, stupid grin, decorated with black feathers, crept over his face.

    When you’re running away from one road you’re always running towards another. Tamrin was surprised to see how close they were to the road Winny had been travelling when the creatures had appeared.
    “This is mine,” said Winny.
    She dragged a handcart out from behind the hedgerow.
    “Those things were so stupid they either didn’t see it or didn’t bother about it,” she said.
    Tamrin gave her a hand.
    “What is it?”
    “What does it look like?”
    It looked like a handcart, half-laden with old pans and kettles, iron hinges, a wheel rim, part of a harrow, the door from a kitchen range, and smaller bits of iron and other metals.
    “It looks like rubbish,” said Tamrin.
    “That’s what it is. It’s rubbish. Unless you’ve got a use for it. Then it’s something.”
    The cart was back on the road now and Winny grabbed the handles.
    “Right,” she said. “Your college is that way.”
    “Is it?”
    “It is. I’ve just come from Canterstock. That’s where I got this old oven door. So, you don’t want to go back that way?”
    “No.”
    Tamrin made her fight-you face. The one she used a lot at the college.
    “Steady on,” laughed Winny. “I’m not taking you anywhere you don’t want to go. You can just walk off on your own, can’t you?”
    “Sorry. Yes.”
    “Right. This tailor of yours, the one who came for you. What do you know about him?”
    “Nothing.”
    “But you want to find him?”
    Tamrin had told her story, or part of it. She had not told Winny about the aching need she had to find out who she was and where she had come from. She had not told her how much she missed Vengeabil.
    “I’m curious,” she said.
    “Then let’s find him.”
    “How can we do that?”
    “You learn a lot when you’re pushing a cart, taking away scrap metal. You see a lot. You hear a lot. You know what I mean?”
    Tamrin bit her lip.
    “You mean you know him? You know where he lives?”
    Winny began to push the cart along the road towards Canterstock. Tamrin didn’t follow. An unpleasant, sick sensation in her throat stopped her. She wanted to stay with the woman, but she wouldn’t follow her to Canterstock.
    “I know the direction he came from,” she called. “There’s a fork in the road up ahead. One way to Canterstock, the other towards wherever he came from. That’s where I’m going. Want to come with me?”
    Tamrin sprinted after her and took hold of one of the handles of the cart.
    “That’s the way,” Winny smiled. ||

A crow circled the high walls
    of the Castle of Boolat. It was tired and wanted to land. It was hungry and wanted to eat. It was fearful and wanted to fly off again. Slanting down with the sun at its back it made a last, large circle and found a perch on the rough stone above the main gate. It lowered its glossy black head, listened and watched.
    A woman, slim and tall, ghost-grey in a flowing gown, shouted orders.
    “Try harder. Get further.”
    The crow couldn’t see clearly. It flapped aching wings and resettled in the courtyard above their heads.
    The woman was prodding a stick at an ugly figure. If Tamrin had seen it she would have thought it very like the creatures who had sniffed at her hiding place. This one, though, was bigger, bumpier, smellier, and where they had spoken with short grunts and coughs this one rattled and clattered.
    “It hurts,” it rattled.
    The woman prodded again and a spark arced across the stick.
    “Ow. No.”
    “Move, you lump. Get through there.”
    The creature, driven by the pain of the prod, tried to get through the great gate. It winced as it passed under the arch, then staggered forward, took a few lame steps across the drawbridge and screamed out in pain. The woman didn’t follow.
    “Go on,” she shouted. “Further.”
    Her face was lit with smiles. She hugged herself with