THE BEGINNING
It was a very fine day, until something tried to eat him.
It was a black dog-like creature, but it was not like any dog he had ever seen. It had teeth as long as his arm, and claws that could tear apart an oak tree.
It says, therefore, a great deal in Christopher Forrester’s favour that he refused – with speed and cunning and courage – to be eaten.
THE BEGINNING, ELSEWHERE
It was a very fine day, until somebody tried to kill her.
Mal had returned home from her journey, flying back from the forest with arms outstretched and coat flapping, buffeted by the wind.
Mal Arvorian could fly only when the wind blew. The weather that day was perfect – a westerly breeze that smelt of the sea – and she was sky-spinning, twisting in the cold air. Her flying coat was thick, and too big for her, and she wore it with the sleeves rolled up four times. When the wind was up – it didn’t need to be strong, but some wind was necessary – she could catch at the corners and open it, like wings, and feel the breeze lift her off her feet.
That day she had flown over treetops, her shoes brushing -1 the tips of their branches, and swooped low, causing a herd of 0x unicorns to scatter.
In the kitchen, her Great-Aunt Leonor had grumbled at her cold hands, and given her a cup of hot cordial, when there was a knock on the door.
It was the murderer.
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