Had he noticed something moving, something flying overhead? Or was it just another illusion, another cruel trick of the watery light? ‘Father,’ he cried out. ‘Is that you?’ ‘You … you … you…’ the woods cried back. Twig shuddered miserably. There was nobody there – there was never anybody there. The mocking faces that he saw, sneering and jeering at him out of the corners of his eyes, vanished each time he turned to confront them. Nothing remained but wraith-like twists of mist. He was alone. Quite alone. And yet, as he turned back and continued on his solitary journey, the feeling of being watched persisted. It gnawed at his mind relentlessly. ‘Over here,’ someone or something whispered. ‘Here! Here!’ Or was it just the sound of the rising breeze, warm and oily, lapping at the ancient trees? Twig felt dizzy, disorientated, unable to trust what his ears or his eyes were telling him.
