Kysandra stared at the woodland on the other side of the river. But the trees were an impenetrable tangle, webbed with tenacious vines. Her ex-sight certainly couldn’t reach that far.

What do I do? Should I run?

It had to be some kind of Faller. A huge one. That boat-bird shape had been as big as the farmhouse. She couldn’t imagine the horror it would unleash upon the county. Worse than being married to Akstan, even.

She didn’t dare go outside and walk down to the river to see what had crashed into the trees, nor did she have the courage to make a break for the town, for she’d have to leave her mother, which she realized she couldn’t actually do. Getting the mod-dwarfs to help haul her narnik-saturated mother out to the buggy and then harnessing their one remaining mod-horse to it would take forever. The new Fallers would be able to overwhelm them before they even started racing down the road.

By law, each farm was supposed to have a Faller fire beacon, a pile of wood ready to light at a moment’s notice, sending a warning blaze shooting up, visible for miles around should they catch sight of an egg Falling. Her father had built one just outside the compound – a marvellous pyramid of branches standing over four metres high at the apex, built in a clever lattice allowing air to be sucked though and help accelerate the flames.

That had been before he left, and the wood had been exposed to many years of rainfall since. Mildew and fungus had gnawed at the sturdy branches, reducing them to crumbling fibres swamped by vines.

It would never catch light now, anyway, she thought.

Kysandra stared at the dark mass of the wood beyond the water. Still nothing moved. She used her ’path to order the mod-dwarfs to fetch her the shotgun from its place in the cabinet downstairs. While she was at it, she added an instruction to bring the remainder of the bread from the kitchen. And some milk.

With her stomach mollified slightly, and the weight of the cold metal gun resting reassuringly against her side, she settled down to begin her vigil.

*

‘Wake up, you idle girl!’

Kysandra’s body jolted painfully. She opened her eyes to see her mother framed by her bedroom door, holding the shotgun with a wary expression marring her thin, lined face. It was daylight outside, well into the morning if she was any judge.

‘What were you going to do with this, then?’ Sarara demanded, her grip tightening on the shotgun as she held it up. ‘Shoot me in my sleep?’

‘I saw something,’ Kysandra said defensively. She turned to stare out of the window. The wood on the other side of the river was almost as dark in the morning sun as it was at midnight. There was no hint of anything awry, no dread invading army of Faller creatures marching out of the trees. No massive shape taking flight.

‘What?’ her mother sneered.

It was that tone, the one which always made Kysandra’s shoulders hunch in reflex, annoyance and contempt contracting her muscles. ‘I don’t know.’ She thought about how to explain what she’d seen.

‘Get yourself ready. Julias is here.’

‘What?’ Kysandra hated Julias. He was one of Akstan’s brothers, an even bigger slob than her intended groom. Ma Ulvon had him running one of the abattoirs in Adeone, yet another of the family businesses over which she ruled with supreme authority. ‘Why is he here?’ she asked in surprise.

‘I must have dropped you on your head more than once when you were a baby. You’re to be married tomorrow, remember? All our lives are going to get better then.’

‘I’m not getting married!’ Kysandra snarled. ‘Not to him.’

‘Now you listen, and you listen good, you ungrateful little bitch. We owe Ma Ulvon a lot of money. How do you think I’ve supported us for the last few years? This farm isn’t worth crud without someone working it. And I couldn’t do that, not with you running round like a wild bussalore all day.’

Kysandra’s anger drained away into shock. ‘We owe Ma Ulvon?’ She couldn’t believe it. You had to be crazy to take a loan from Ma Ulvon – everybody knew that. Interest payments never ended, and Ma’s sons and grandsons and nephews were punctual and forceful when it came to collection time. ‘Why?’ she demanded, suddenly suspicious. ‘What did you buy? We’ve grown enough food for ourselves. Always have.’

‘The farm needs plenty of things that don’t grow on trees, and your father spent every coin we earned on those stupid books when he should have invested it properly. Now, pack your bag and get ready. Julias and I will drag you out of here if we have to, make no mistake about that.’

‘Narnik!’ Kysandra cried in horror. ‘You’ve been buying your narnik from her, haven’t you?’

‘Don’t you judge me,’ Sarara shouted back. ‘You don’t know how I’ve suffered, not since your father left.’

‘He’s coming back.’

‘He was fucking eaten by a Faller, you stupid girl. When will you ever get that into your dopey cloud-filled head? He’s dead! He’s not coming back. Not ever. His soul wasn’t even strong enough to come visit us after. So he didn’t love you that much, after all. Did he?’

Kysandra screamed incoherently at her diabolical tormentor. Her teekay lifted the empty milk bottle and shoved it forward through the air, aimed directly at her mother’s head. Sarara swung the shotgun round and pulled the trigger – completely missing the bottle.

The shotgun blasted a hole in the ceiling. Long splinters exploded out of the planks. Kysandra’s shell was barely strong enough to ward them off. She twisted round, diving for cover. Two slivers of sharp wood cut through her dress along her ribs, slashing hotly at her skin.

There was no pain, not immediately. Kysandra stared down at the slim rents in the fabric. Blood began to stain the cloth.

Sarara had a nasty red graze on her forehead where the bottle had struck her. She dabbed at it while she peered in dismay at Kysandra’s wounds, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The two of them looked at each other wordlessly for a long moment.

‘Wash and dress those cuts,’ Sarara said flatly. ‘Don’t let them get infected. I’ll get our things into the cart.’ She turned on her heel and rushed out. Kysandra heard her sobbing as she stumbled down the stairs.

And there was nothing else left to be done.

*

Normally Kysandra enjoyed visiting Adeone. The town with its big solid buildings and busy docks and bustling streets was always a welcome break from the farm, and the Shanty outside was small enough not to worry her. But this time when the cart rolled in, she wished it dead and ruined. She cursed its people. Everyone who saw the cart (and they all quickly looked away again) knew she was being brought to the town hall as payment to Ma Ulvon. None of them protested. They didn’t even dare offer her any sympathy.

Once they were in the centre where the roads were paved, the ride became a lot smoother. She’d spent most of the time wincing at every jolt. But the pain from the splinter cuts was nothing to the one in her head. They crossed a junction. The road on one side led to the central square, where the town hall with its bright red brick walls and white stone-outlined windows stood two storeys higher than all the rest of the buildings. The place where they’d take her tomorrow and sign her up for a life of suffering – if they had their way. She knew damn well the county registrar wouldn’t help her. The ceremony would go ahead, no matter how many times she said no.

‘You’ve turned me into a whore,’ she told her mother stonily. ‘Are you proud?’

‘You know,’ Julias said from the front of the cart where he was directing the mod-horse with ’path instructions, ‘it seems to me you should show some respect when you talk to your mother. Some gratitude to Ma would be welcome, too. She’s doing you a favour.’

Kysandra glared at the back of the obese oaf, seeing the way the seams on his red and black checked shirt strained to contain his great rolls of flesh. She allowed all the hatred to shine through her shell. ‘You’re going to die,’ she told him triumphantly. ‘You’re going to die pissing your pants while your soul screams as it’s consumed by Uracus. And I want you to know, here and now, that I played my part in making that happen.’ She was never going to tell them about the huge new Faller in the forest beyond the farm. Not now. Never going to warn the town and all its passive compliant people. The arseholes deserved to be eaten for what they’d allowed to take control of them. Ma’s family was worse than any Faller nest.