Morwenna followed Binkie down toward the river. Tail held high, Binkie tiptoed over the ice-crusted snow while Morwenna sank down so deep that the snow fell into the tops of her boots. As they drew closer to their quarry, Morwenna was shocked to see that the potential Wendron Witch Princess was wearing a Port Witch Coven cloak. She had heard a rumor that Jenna had kidnapped the Coven’s youngest witch and stolen a cloak—and it looked like it might be true. Morwenna smiled. This Princess was going to be worth having.

As Jenna walked below the trees that led to the Dragon Field, her cloak was doing what Witch cloaks do best—blending in with the shadows—and Morwenna could no longer see her. Horrified at losing sight of the Wendrons’ Princess, Morwenna made a decision. She would have to do some FootFollowing.

FootFollowing is an ancient witch skill. It involves following a quarry by stepping into their exact footprint. Once a witch has FootFollowed three consecutive footsteps she knows that her prey can never escape, wherever they go: through the densest forest, up the tallest mountain, under the deepest river. Always, the witch will be Following in their footsteps. Like most witch Magyk, it has both advantages and disadvantages. The advantage is that the witch is sure to find her victim. The disadvantage is that she has no choice but to do so. She must FootFollow in every footstep until she reaches her target. It can at times be dangerous: for example, if the FootFollowed happens to fall off a cliff, the FootFollower will have no choice but to do the same. Morwenna was aware it was not something to be undertaken lightly, but Jenna’s Witch cloak had worried her—there was more to this Princess than she had realized. She must take no chances.

Finding three consecutive footprints was not as easy as Morwenna had expected, because the Witch cloak was doing its job well. As Jenna moved through the snow it had brushed across her footprints, blending them together—as Witch cloaks are meant to do. But Jenna had then stopped to open a gate, and Morwenna got lucky—three perfect Princess footprints planted in the snow. The witch whispered the FootFollow and set off. This, she thought, was going to be a pushover.

It probably would have been a pushover if Morwenna had not been encroaching on dragon territory. While Spit Fyre was perfectly happy to allow Jenna to walk through his Dragon Field—Witch cloak and all—he felt very differently about a real witch.

When one is FootFollowing it is not possible to look up from the footprints. Morwenna’s brilliant blue witchy eyes were fixed firmly on the ground, so she got quite a shock when she suddenly saw planted in front of her two huge green dragon feet with very large claws indeed. (No one cut Spit Fyre’s toenails anymore. Even Billy Pot, the dragon keeper, had given up—they blunted his hacksaw.)

Morwenna said a very rude Forest curse and slowed down—but she could not stop. Her feet were FootFollowing and she was heading straight for the underbelly of a nasty-looking dragon. This was not what she had planned. It was not what Binkie had planned either—tail puffed out like a bottlebrush, the cat shot off into the night.

Spit Fyre snorted threateningly. A tendril of dragon dribble landed on Morwenna’s winter fur cloak and scorched a trail of holes. A nasty smell of burning wolverine hit Morwenna’s nostrils, but she had no choice but to keep on going. With some difficulty, she squeezed beneath Spit Fyre’s tummy and headed for his frighteningly spiky back legs. Morwenna began to feel scared—those spikes were sword sharp. She would be cut to pieces.

After his recent fight with the Darke Dragon, Spit Fyre had grown his adult leg spurs. He was very proud of them, but although they were extremely sharp they were also soft and new, and Spit Fyre did not want a witch anywhere near them. And so, to Morwenna’s surprise and great relief, the dragon carefully lifted his feet and stepped aside. Morwenna was out of the Dragon Field as fast as she could go—but not before a well-aimed stream of dragon spit had hit her squarely on the back. Spit Fyre watched the witch go in disgust, then he took off for the boatyard, where he had taken to spending every night keeping the Dragon Boat company.

Morwenna moved fast and silent along the dark footpath that ran along the riverbank. The moonlight showed nothing more than shifting shadows as she went, her Forest Witch cloak merging with both the snow and the river beyond. She was now walking along a well-trodden path and was pleased she had chosen to FootFollow—the Princess could be anywhere. As Morwenna came to a bend she was surprised to find that her feet took her away from the path and through a gap in the hedge. She pushed through the snowy leaves and stepped silently onto the old jetty. The witch smiled. How very convenient, she thought. Earlier that evening, she had tied up her coracle to the mooring post at the end of that very jetty.