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thing of nightmares – the very embodiment of her deepest, most secret terror, and it had haunted her for as long as she could remember.
    She was back amongst the trees faster than she believed possible. The path was well worn and easy to follow. She flew along it, her feet hardly touching the ground. Her blond hair streamed out
behind her like a three-dimensional golden flag, and as she ran, she screamed.
    It took at least a minute for Nolita to notice that her throat hurt and her breathing was hampered by her screams. Regaining a small measure of control, she clamped her teeth together in a
determined grimace and forced herself to focus on the path. Details of the beast had burned into her mind and haunted her as she ran. It was hard to concentrate, but she used her fear like a
driving whip, urging speed, and reinforcing the need to put as much distance between her and it as possible.
    It was about half a league to her home village. Although she and Sable had taken their time strolling through the woods, it did not take long for her to retrace her steps, running flat out the
whole way. She raced to the centre of the small cluster of cottages and in through the door of her home.
    ‘That was quick!’ her mother said, looking up in surprise from the table where she was busy mending one of Balard’s tunics. ‘Did you race Sable back?’
    ‘Sable!’ Nolita exclaimed, panting heavily. ‘I . . . I don’t know what happened to her. There was a . . . I was scared. I . . . I ran. I’m so sorry.’
    Tears streamed down Nolita’s face. Her body was shaking uncontrollably and her eyes darted about with anxious anticipation. Emotions flashed and spun through her like a tornado. Horror and
fear twisted into worry and self-loathing only to spin back to horror and fear. How could she have left her sister to face it alone? She should have at least urged Sable to follow. But she
hadn’t. Did that make her a bad person? Had it got Sable? Oh, gods! What if it had? How could she live with that?
    ‘Calm down, Nolita. Take a deep breath. Now start again slowly. What happened? What scared you?’
    ‘No!
I must wash. I have to. Please, let me wash first.’
    Her mother sighed. Nolita’s obsession with washing her hands had become progressively worse over the last year. It appeared to be her instinctive response to a growing number of
circumstances. Other little signs of ritualistic activities were creeping into her behaviour as well. It was worrying to see her daughter trapped in such a cycle, but she felt powerless to help
break Nolita free of her obsession. She could not deny that the washing did help calm Nolita when she was stressed.
    ‘Very well,’ she agreed, ‘but talk to me as you wash. If Sable’s in trouble, we should send help immediately.’
    ‘Y-yes, M-mother.’
    Nolita grabbed one of the hand bowls, leaned out through the window and dipped it into the water butt outside, half filling it with water. She shook as she crossed to the table, spilling a trail
of water across the floor, but she could not even think about pausing to mop it up. Her soap was in its usual place. As soon as she had it in her hands a calming sensation began to spread through
her.
    ‘It . . . it was horrible,’ she began. ‘Huge. Terrible. All horns and teeth and wings.’
    ‘You met this thing?’ her mother asked, her brows drawing into a frown. ‘Where?’
    ‘We had just reached the clearing on the other side of the woods. I think it must have flown over us as we were on our way. I felt it go by. I . . . I think . . .’
    ‘What? What do you think, Nolita?’
    ‘I think it was looking for me,’ she said in a rush, tears dripping into the bowl.
    ‘Hush now! That’s nonsense and you know it. From what you’ve said, I would say you saw a dragon. Is that right?’
    Nolita scrubbed furiously at her hands. She did not look up at her mother, but nodded quickly.
    ‘Why on Areth would a dragon come looking for you, Nolita?