From his hiding spot behind the bins, Flame saw different Scythemen shouting to each other. Footsteps were everywhere, allowing an icy chill to reach into body and clutch on to his heart. Without warning, another group of Scythemen yelled over the fences. Through the darkness, the young cub could make out fox tails hanging from everything; their belts, their carts, the horses’ bridles. Suddenly, there was a flash of steel and cries of terror and rage ran out across the fields. Flame closed his eyes and covered his ears to shut it all out. He lay there, waiting for it to all be over. 

When he opened his eyes, there was a silence. Bodies were motionless as they lay dead. After gathering food, Flame raced up to the hayloft to alert his siblings. They were being hunted. So it was that later that day, they left the creaky building and escaped to Hangman’s Forest where they would have refuge. After they had dug a small hole, they settled down a little. They collected as many dry twigs as possible and lit a small fire. Outside, an icy wind crept in from the nearby moors. Inside, Amber and Obar roasted meat, carrots and onions over the flames. Later, as they lay there, cosy and no longer hungry, they read a letter Prickly had given them from their mother. Ember read it aloud quietly. She had told them that their father had died in this forest, not by the Scythemen, but by people far more terrible: hunters. They would have to be careful. Just as they were about to sleep, they heard a thunderous bang. Rough hands reached in and grabbed the scruff of their necks, before lifting them up. They were taking to a place full of horrifying weapons – the hunting ground.