“The cold. Can you not feel the cold?” Granny Earwax said. Her
eyes staring at something nobody else could see, she lifted a white-knuckled hand from the walking stick and pointed a gnarled finger at Sylvalla. Her voice rose to a shriek. “It is unseen and creeps into your very bones. Awake!”

The court erupted, the clamour so loud nobody heard Sylvalla exclaim, “Not another
one.”