It was all well and good saying that they could follow the path together but they would have to find it again first. The domed webbing nest where they had fought the beasts was all the same on every side with no openings to be seen anywhere. Even the small tunnel which Rowan and the others had come from seemed to have disappeared.

"Brother Hanan," Rowan said. "Which way do we go? I don't have a feeling anymore."

"Well, your aura was drawing you towards your grandfather and, now that we've found him, you don't know what you're looking for. Henry, on the other hand." Brother Hanan turned to Rowan's grandpa. "If I'm not mistaken, your aura is still leading you onward. Yes?"

"I…I don't know what you mean." Henry looked confused.

"Close your eyes, Henry," Hanan told him gently. "Focus on your core, your heart. Do you feel that?"

"…Yes, I think I do."

"Now, where is it taking you? Keep your eyes closed and turn towards it."

Rowan watched as his grandpa turned very slowly, with eyes shut tight. He stopped then, twisting his grey head just a little.

"There."

"Open your eyes."

Henry did, pointing and staring at a certain part of the dome to Rowan's right. To Rowan, it looked no different to the rest of this bleak, blank prison. If anything, the webbing there seemed slightly brighter but that might just have meant it was thicker.

"There's nothing there," Rowan said.

"We'll see, shall we? Have you still got the knife?" Hanan asked him.

Yes, it was still in his hand, shining somehow amid the dimness of the hollow.

"Why don't you try cutting through it, m'lad?" Grandpa suggested.

Rowan approached, unsure what his little knife could do against such a thick mesh of sticky web. "Alright."

He slashed at the place where Grandpa had pointed and, to his surprise, the web gave way, snapping back to either side like a broken rubber-band. There was more webbing behind it so Rowan slashed at this too. It snapped aside again, revealing yet another layer. Again he cut at it with the blade but there was still another layer beneath it.

"It's no use." Rowan's arm hung loose at his side.

"Don't give up just yet, m'lad," said his grandpa.

"You've got to have a little patience, Rowan," Hanan said.

"Can't you do it?" Rowan asked the monk.

"I'm not the one with the knife. Come on, now. Keep going."

And Rowan did, somewhat reluctantly, cutting and slicing a way gradually yet surely through, until there seemed to be only one thin layer left. With a last effort, Rowan put his knife to it and the way was open, tall and wide enough for each of them to fit through in turn.

Out they all came then, back into the forest. It was different now though, with no blinding mists or spooky webs to be seen ahead – just dark, gnarled tree trunks with bare branches above and a narrow, rocky path to be followed.

"There we are," said Hanan. "And there we must go. Follow the path now."

They did so, Grandpa leading cautiously with Rowan walking beside and Hanan and striker behind them. And before they had gone far, the air around them grew cool and fresh, and the darkness seemed to brighten. Now with each step, while before it had felt like the path was just getting longer and longer, Rowan felt that the end was getting closer and closer. There was even a growing fuzzy excitement in his belly which reminded him of birthday mornings, knowing there was a present to be opened and cake to be eaten.

Then, after a short while, he began to see green shoots on the hanging branches above and even poking up out of the forest floor and the path. And now, with each step the shoots sprouted into small leaves that grew and grew until they were the size of his hands or bigger. Then flowers appeared – first yellow ones, then blue, then red and orange with white-tipped petals – and, alongside the flowers there came the hum of many bugs, buzzing as they flitted to-and-fro among the lively colours of the forest floor. Rowan couldn't help but smile with a new wonder and, looking around, he found that each of the others was smiling too. Even Striker, his brown eyes wide, was whipping his little green and yellow head this way and that, with his tongue sticking out to taste the freshness of the air.

Seeing all the new greenery and Striker's excitement, a thought suddenly came to Rowan. "Grandpa, where's Penn?"

"Penn? I'm not sure."

"I saw her with you in the farmyard."

"Did you now? The farmyard…" Grandpa seemed confused again, perhaps clutching at thoughts which weren't quite there. "Did I lose her somewhere?"

"Perhaps she went on ahead of you, Henry." Hanan gave a look to Rowan which the boy didn't understand. It wasn't a stern look, just a firm one. "I shouldn't worry. Come now, we're almost there."

Certainly, they were, as now the woods were as cheerful as summer day and green as a late spring meadow. Through the leaves above, Rowan could see bright blue sky with swift, white clouds and ahead of them the trees were thinning. The path beneath their feet was now so overgrown with grass and flowers that it was hard to tell whether they were still on it. But, what did it matter now? They had come to the edge of the forest and before them the trees gave way to a lush, open pasture.

At the trunks of the last trees, they stopped, looking out over the land ahead. The pasture sloped down and away into a vast, wild country with many meadows, bushes and trees, and pleasant woodlands with little clearings, and streams and fruiting trees all about. Behind all this, the land rose to become great brown and purple moors, then up and beyond to bright, snowy mountain peaks whose summits played at the clouds streaming by, like someone's fingers in a deep pool.

"This is it," Hanan said to Henry, solemnly. "Rowan, the pup and I can go no further, but you must."

"Yes, I certainly must," Henry agreed, turning a kind smile and sad eyes to Rowan.

"Can't you come back with us?" Rowan already knew the answer.

"No, lad, I can't." The old farmer knelt in front of Rowan and the two of them threw their arms firmly around each other. Warm tears seeped from their eyes and their shoulders trembled together. "As I said before, it's time for me to go. You'll look after them all, won't you – especially your dad?"

Rowan could only nod and cry, holding onto his grandpa for as long as he could. Then they released each other with more tears and brave smiles and Grandpa picked up his staff.

"Looks like there's quite the adventure before you, Henry," Hanan said.

"Yes, quite the adventure indeed," he agreed, and with a deep breath, a smile and a nod, Henry turned and strode down over the meadow and into the wilderness beyond.

Rowan was left at the woodland edge with Brother Hanan and Striker, sniffling and watching the dear old man disappear from view.

"We can let go now, Rowan. We did it," Hanan said.

"But we didn't save him." Rowan began feeling dizzy and sleepy. The forest seemed to be disappearing all around them.

"No, well, perhaps we did in some way." Hanan gave the boy a kind smile and rubbed a hand on his shoulder. "You did well, you know, and things wouldn't have been the same without your help, I'm sure of it. Let go now though, with your hand and your mind. Let go."

_

When Rowan next woke up, he was back in his own bed again, but not in his pyjamas. Had he dreamt it all? Striker was sleeping beside him on the bed, his short, green legs twitching, and Mum was sitting in a dining chair beside him.

"You're awake," said Mum, putting a soft, cool hand to his face. "How do you feel?"

"I hurt all over." He did, especially his head which felt very heavy and ached, but not unbearably. "What happened? Did it work? Is Grandpa ok?"

His mum bit her lip and her eyes told it all. "No, Grandpa's gone, but you did all that you could for him and I'm so proud of you for trying."