Ule and Moððe flew through the trees.

“Well?” boomed Montadie, while they were still airborne.

“It is as the cat told,” said Ule. He settled on a snow covered branch, talons first, and shook out his feathers. Moððe fluttered down to a fallen trunk. The gleaming moth was less bright than usual, although that could have been just the lemony glow of dawn fighting against his usual radiance.

“Worse,” said Moððe.

“How could it be worse?” demanded Rotfoot.

“There is an entire sect of demonic rats,” said Ule. The owl spoke slowly, eyes glittering as he gazed down on us, his voice measured. “Taken root beneath the ruins and burrows to the south. For-Molsnian the rat king leads them, as Jenkins said. It is him. There is no doubt. We saw him with our own eyes. He wears a crown of gold and has red gems in place of eyes. He is as hideous as the stories tell, with many tails, each fat and fleshly.”

Montadie shifted, anxiety radiating off her like mist from a morning bog. “Were you able to remain unseen?”

Ule looked at her, unblinking.

“Yes. But For-Molsnian is powerful. If I was to estimate I would say at least a Skyrunner-”

The toads and some of the Awoken gasped and murmured amongst themselves. Montadie looked troubled.

“What’s a Skyrunner?” I whispered to Wuot.

“Late cultivation stage,” she said, her eyes distant. “After Radiant comes Dreamchaser, then Skyrunner then Starwalker…”

I gulped, unable to fathom how powerful such a being would be. What stage was Montadie? “And after Starwalker?” I whispered.

“After Starwalker you Ascend.”

“The rats are confident in their numbers, in their pestilent cultivation,” Ule continued, and the glade hushed once more. “They make no attempt to mask their presence or hide their activities.”

“So what?” shouted Moonsap, hopping in agitation. “Montadie can deal with a pesky nest of rats! We will run them out!”

“I believe there is more?” said Montadie.

“It is not just the rats,” said Moððe, flatly. “For-Molsnian did not lead his hordes to our fair forest by accident. The Heavenly Parasites are mere opportunists, dangerous yes, but…they were drawn to the area by the dark designs of a two-legger necromancer. They feed off his crippled leavings, feasting on the haunted remains, sucking wounded souls dry and twisting them to their own wiles.”

“So I will kill the necromancer,” said Montadie. “Then take care of the rats.”

We all nodded approvingly but Moððe had not finished.

“The necromancer has made a bargain,” he said. “This death mage reeks of Old God. And not just any Old God - the dark god of chaos, the unhinged madness, the bloated parasite made divine, the Whisperman himself. The Whisperer’s influence is in those ruins, and it has taken hold. The evidence is clear.”

Montadie drew in a sharp breath.

“The Whisperer?” I asked into the hushed silence.

“Shhhhhhhhh!” said all of the mean toad girls at once, their eyes bugging out as they looked in all directions at the same time. I looked around but could not see anything but the dawn touching the icy branches with soft fingers of gold.

“Who is it? What is it?”

“The Whisperer is a two-legger god. A powerful one. One of the most ancient,” replied Montadie. “One of the most dangerous, if not the most dangerous. He governs death and madness.”

“He is hungry,” said Moððe.

“He would devour everything,” said Ule. “He would devour us. You. The world. Everything.”

“And For-Molsnian worships him,” squeaked Lavellan. I had never seen the water-vole look so shaken. Her voice was so high-pitched it hurt my ears. “He has invited him here. The necromancer, the god, the rat-king. They are all hungry for what should not be.”

“But are you sure?” said Montadie, her gaze fixing on the winged travellers. “This changes things.”

Moððe and Ule nodded. “We are sure.”

“We saw not only demonic rats but at least one draugr, as well as several unruly spirits,” said Ule. “The necromancer is gathering his power. We dared not go closer.”

“Not that we would have known what we were looking for,” added Moððe. “We were lucky to escape unseen as it was. And Jenkins was lucky to escape with his life.”

Everyone looked at me.

I shrugged. I knew it was not luck but skill. Well maybe a tiny bit of luck, but I was not sure why everyone was acting quite so seriously? The rats had been horrific, and the king squeaker might be powerful, but I could not imagine anyone taking on my teacher and winning? Even backed by a fancy hungry god.

“What’s a draugr?” I asked.

“An unnatural being,” said Ule.

“A dead thing given life,” said Moððe.

Montadie sighed heavily. “A draugr is a creature snatched back from the peace of death to trouble the world once more with its footsteps.” She looked more troubled than I had ever seen her. The twinge of unease settled in my stomach and bloomed into a most uncomfortable feeling. I did not like this.

“These are…heavy tidings,” she continued. “Demonic rats are one thing, for the sanctity of the forest I would fight For-Molsnian but this - this is beyond my strength.”

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“What?” breathed out one of the toads. I did not look to see which one. I did not understand what Montadie meant and it seemed like I was not alone.

Even the small folk on their shrooms were still, eyes wide, for once all play forgotten.

“We must leave at once,” she said.

“But- why?” said Nadders, the little snake looked as confused as I felt. “Even if they are dangerous they are not here?”

“They are far away. Perhaps they will never come?” added Moonsap, hopefully. “If they are not provoked.” She glared at me, as if I had asked to discover them.

“Why should we leave our home?” asked Hangbelly.

“You do not understand,” said Montadie. “Listen to me. They may not come now. They might not come tomorrow, or the next day, or even a year from now. But come they will, and once they come the flood will not be held back. This is bigger than a small sect of demonic rats. Bigger than a pestilent rat king. If such a destructive Old God is involved there is no hope to be gained by staying. No sanity in presenting yourselves as bodies for the slaughter. Listen carefully my students, my loves: to stay is to die. Do you want to be draugr?”

Her words lingered in the stillness of the glade.

“I don’t want to die,” said Skoll.

Hush patted him with an understanding paw. My little sister looked equally distraught.

“Then that is why we must leave,” said Montadie, looking around at us all, the frowning toads, the anxious Awoken. “Do you understand? There is nothing to be gained by staying here.”

Far off, in the treetops some birds were singing as the weak rays of winter sun pierced the frosty canopy. The sound seemed weirdly merry and normal. Almost uncouth.

Montadie breathed out, her voice gentling as she looked at us all. “All is not lost. We will find new homes, find sanctuary elsewhere. The world is big. This is just one tiny corner of it.”

“I don’t want to go though,” said Skoll. He looked so confused I actually felt sorry for the wolf pup. Although he was less pup now and half wolf. My own mind was racing.

“But-” Wuot’s voice cracked.

“This place is doomed. Accept that. But you will all survive. The heart of this place beats in you all. You are what make it special, and this we will save and we will continue our lessons. We will mourn, and then we will move on with our lives. All that is left behind can be made anew. We will rebuild. We will cultivate. All will be well, you will see. The future awaits us, in another place. Now go and prepare.”

Nobody moved, everyone just staring at her.

“I am so sorry my students.”

“There must be something,” said Lavellan. “You are powerful, you are strong.”

“What level is she?” I asked the air.

“Skyrunner,” said Moonsap.

“There must be something you can do,” Lavellan was saying. “That we can do? We can all fight, all of us together, to protect our forest!”

“If it was just For-Solnian.” Montadie shrugged, her enormous eyes shimmering.

“I do not fear death,” I declared, puffing out my chest. And it was true. I knew death was not the end, I had died before and knew I would again.

“You might not fear death,” said Montadie, severely. “but you should. You are young Jenkins. You do not understand what you face. Death by itself is a sadness, to be mourned but this is no normal death. This is absolute death, the destruction of your soul, your spirit. Death at the hands of a Whisperer’s servant takes your soul out of the natural cycle of reincarnation. They feed on souls like an energy source. It is painful, it is destruction, it is the corruption of your very essence. No. We cannot risk it. We are leaving this place immediately. I cannot protect you here, but I will protect you as best I can by helping you leave.”

She looked around at our shocked faces.

“Go home,” she said. “Immediately. Find your families. Find your friends. Explain. Tell them they need to leave. Meet me here at dawn tomorrow and we will travel together away from here. And we will find new homes, I will make sure of it. I have somewhere in mind, but I too must spread the word-”

This last was spoken absentmindedly.

We all continued to stare at her. I know I had not fully processed her words. I had arrived with what I knew was bad news, but now-

“What are you waiting for? Go! Go!”

We scattered.

I met my siblings in the trees.

“I will tell Mother,” we all said together.

“And the others,” added Thimble.

That decided, we set off towards our respective homes.

Worry chased me through marshes, through my forest and over River’s frozen banks. My unhealed wounds continued to bother me, one of the cuts opening again as I leapt, but the pain was an unimportant distraction at the back of my mind.

As I arrived within sight of my cottage and its puffing crooked chimney, it started snowing once more.

I sprinted up the garden path, passing the snow covered lumps of flower beds, and comfortably buried murder man, the quiet hives, and the little lean-to barn. My heart ached. I did not want to leave my cottage. My garden. My forest. It was mine. MINE! And yet… I remembered the crushing strength of the demonic rats and I was afraid. Brosnod was not even the rat king. He was just a lackey.

The house was shuttered up tightly against the cold so I yowled on the doorstep till Maud let me in. Once she had properly welcomed me I sat and watched her as she worked over a steaming cauldron. She was doing witchy things again. I quite liked it when she did witchy things, it made the cottage smell interesting, like puffs of spring and autumn even though it was snowing outside.

Today she was making interesting coloured smoke and the occasional popping bang. Okay I did not like the popping bangs that much but it was all still part and parcel of my life with my Maud. My Maud. Mine. My Maud.

I ran over to her, latched my teeth into her skirt and gave it a tug.

“Jenkins what are you doing?”

“We need to leave,” I said. “There’s horrible rats, and a mad god, and my teacher says if we don’t leave we are all going to die.”

She patted my head, and tickled me behind one ear.

“What’s got you all riled up, my love?”

“The rats,” I said. “Montadie says she has a new place. Pack your things. Make sure you take the wool basket.”

“Now, now, is your paw sore? Or do you have a sore tummy? Have you been fighting again?”

She pulled me onto her lap, plopped me upside down and started inspecting my stomach. I bit her hand to make her stop. “Don’t you understand? Aren’t you listening?”

She wasn’t listening. Or she wasn’t capable of understanding.

I had never known frustration like it before.

Always before I had been able to communicate my needs. I jumped off her lap and led her over to the wool basket. “Get your things,” I said again, as loudly as I could. “Pick it up and follow me. Bring the Very Nice Wool that I like to sleep with as well.”

“Do you want to play?” she said, picking up a skein of wool. “Is that what you want? I’ll play with you after supper Jenkins.”

My heart broke.

My Maud would not be leaving; she did not understand me.

I cried then, yowling into the rafters as I cursed the stupidity of humans.

“Jenkins! My love, are you ill? What’s wrong?”

She scooped me up into her arms and comforted me and I cried into her hair, digging my claws into her shoulders. She smelled like home. How could I leave my Maud? She would not survive without me, she couldn’t even catch her own mice! If I left her I might as well be killing her myself. She would not manage. She would not be happy. How could she possibly be happy apart from me?

I cried and cried, and Maud held me, stroking my head and muttering loving things at me. Each one was a knife blade in my heart. It ached and broke and ached some more and eventually I fell asleep, exhausted and unhappy in her arms. Worried thoughts and demonic rats chased themselves round and round my head.

When I woke I knew what I had to do.