The Skraelings knew that Inardle had changed. The knowledge rippled through the entire congregation in a painful shockwave of realisation.

While they had been sitting here debating and complaining and remaining utterly, utterly indecisive, Inardle, a Lealfast, had changed.

Inardle was now a River Angel.

“How could she have done that!” a Skraeling cried. “How?”

“What if all the other Lealfast choose to change?” another said.

“What if we miss out?” said yet another, getting right to the crux of the matter.

“We have not yet made a decision!” Ozll shouted into the confusion. “We have not decided whether or not we want to —”

“We think we do!” came back a roar of tens of thousands of Skraeling voices.

“Why,” Ozll shouted, far louder this time, trying to get control of the situation, “don’t we talk to Inardle and see what she has made of herself. Then we can decide if we, too, want to go the same way. She can be our guide. If we like what she is, then we, too, shall . . . take the plunge.”

It was an unfortunate metaphor, reminding the Skraelings that the only way to return to their River Angel forms was to drown themselves.

“At least we know Isaiah wasn’t lying,” Ozll said, his voice milder now the hubbub had died down. “At least we know the return to River Angel form is possible.”

This statement reassured the Skraelings and they nodded their heads, prepared to listen once more to Ozll’s guidance.

“I suggest,” Ozll said, “that we find Inardle. We examine her and we make our decision on what she has become.”

“Good idea,” Graq said, and Ozll smiled at her and thought it strange he’d never truly noticed her before.

As the Skraeling herd rose and began drifting northward, Ozll gravitated to Graq’s side.

She risked a small smile at him, although with her great jaws and fangs it displayed more as a snarl than anything else.

“Do you think,” she said, “drowning would hurt?”