We easily caught up with the rest of the Alderheart forces following Crispin’s augury. The trail through the forest was littered with stolen goods, dropped by the bandits as they hurried away with their spoils.

We were resting for the night in hammocks in Eliza’s shop when shouts and ringing alarms roused us from our sleep. Crispin’s eyes shot open. He ran to the window to see flashes of torchlight and members of the Perch Guard rushing around and buckling armour.

Alderheart was just as majestic as the druids back home had described. The great tree stretched upwards, its branches opened to the heavens. All manner of Birdfolk and Humblefolk could be seen from the dark creeping roots, on platforms and rope bridges through the branches, all the way up to the top of the canopy. It was truly a sight to behold.

“So we killed her and burned the cottage down,” Olive finished with a flourish. “Dead witches tell no tales.”

I sat with Crispin and Olive in the magistrate’s office and fumed. I tried my best to keep my beak shut as I heard Walden Crane’s deal slip through our claws, but I just couldn’t help myself.