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and hacked the Plainsmen to pieces.
    Mergan realised he was gritting his teeth too hard and tightening his fists. He tried to relax. One of the Unwoven noticed him watching, and came up to the window to squint in at him.
    Such strength
, hethought, staring into the creature’s eyes.
Such honesty.
    The Unwoven frowned, crinkling up a scar on his forehead, and said something Mergan couldn’t hear.
    Mergan pointed at his ears. ‘I can’t hear you!’ Then he laughed – if he couldn’t hear Scarbrow, then how could Scarbrow hear him?
    Scarbrow cocked his head as if in recognition. He turned and shouted something to his companion, pointing at the window. The companion strode up, raising his sword, and Mergan withdrew. There came no sound of shattering glass, however. Peeping out again, Mergan saw Scarbrow gripping his companion’s sword arm and shaking his head.
    A little girl ran past in the background, and the companion took off after her, as easily distracted as a kitten after a ball of string.
    Scarbrow turned to stare through the window again. Then he cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted, and in the dense house Mergan could just make out the muffled words:
    ‘Do you want me to let you out?’
    Mergan didn’t really know what to make of that.
    He cupped a hand to his own mouth. ‘Not right now, thank you.’
    The Unwoven seemed surprised for some reason. ‘I will come back in a while,’ he shouted, and took off.
    Mergan moved to see if he could track him, but Scarbrow had gone somewhere out of reach of the windows. Meanwhile, a general ruckus sounded from all around as the fighting continued.
    A woman appearedacross the street and dashed towards the house, fear shining in her eyes. It was his great love from the tavern, Mergan realised, who had looked at him with disgust and shaken him off. She gestured in panic at the front door – she wanted to get into his house? Mergan wasn’t sure if he could unseal the door quickly enough to get her safely inside and, as her eyes pleaded with him, he felt his own turn cold.
    Never done anything for me
, he thought.
    She glanced around, gave a cry he couldn’t hear, and tried to flee. A sword spun after her, sending her face forward into the dirt. An Unwoven strode past, smoothly retrieving his quivering blade from her back.
    Mergan went into the kitchen to see if there was any tea. He found some, but unfortunately there was no fire in the fireplace. There was some bread and fruit, so he sat down at the kitchen table and began to munch on that. For a while he sat in a happy bubble, not even hearing the screams outside. All too soon he was finished – there had been quite a lot of food, so how long had it taken him? The sounds from outside had died down, he realised, and he rose, uncomfortable with his predicament. Did he dare to leave? It seemed he spent his whole life trapped inside small dwellings.
    A knock sounded at the door, surprising him. He went back into the living room and there, at the window, was Scarbrow, blood smattered all over his face. As Mergan appeared he grew excited, and rapped his fist on the glass. There were others with him, and they pointed as they spoke to each other. Mergan wondered if he would meet his end, finally, in this compacted little house. Did he mind? Maybe death would be a release. Certainly he had once desired it.
    A small pieceof berry lodged in his teeth fell sweetly onto his tongue.
    Of course he minded!
    Scarbrow shouted at him and he strained his ears to hear.
    ‘Spirit! Do you wish us to release you?’
    Mergan did indeed want to get out of the house, but he wasn’t quite sure what awaited him outside. Oh well – he didn’t have many choices.
    ‘Yes!’ he called.
    Scarbrow nodded and disappeared. A hacking started at the door, more than one sword working away. It would be hard work, Mergan knew, even with Unwoven strength behind the blows. He could always waggle a finger and part the door like a curtain, but somehow he