The Ragwitch by Garth Nix

foot, and Paul went flying over into theleaf-littered ground. Aleyne checked in mid-stride, and turned to face their pursuers, his pitiful dagger at the ready.
    Paul quickly rolled over and looked back to see Aleyne silhouetted above him, the starlight reflecting on his blade. And there, in front of him, loomed a larger shadow, over two meters tall, with grossly overlong arms, and talons as long as knives, that seemed to crawl with shadows.
    “Ornware!” shouted Aleyne, drawing his dagger across his thumb, and then plunging it into the trunk of the nearest tree. “Ornware! Blood of mine, and Blood of Tree, on Ornware’s Road to Summon Thee!”
    Nothing happened, and their pursuer loped forward, making small grunting sounds. Aleyne stepped back before it, aware that it could kill him whenever it chose. Paul kept his eyes on the creature, and started to slip back under the trees.
    “Gwarulch,” whispered Aleyne, as the monster crept forward, stalking its prey.
    As he spoke, the Gwarulch struck, an arm swinging across at throat level, talons extended for a killing slash. But Aleyne saw it coming. Ducking under the blow, he threw himself sideways under Paul’s tree, as the Gwarulch leapt forward.
    “You should have thrown the dagger at it!” shouted Paul, stumbling away as the Gwarulch burst through the branches. Aleyne didn’t answer, for the creature struck at him again—this timesuccessfully, tearing open the front of his tunic and shallowly slicing his chest. He tried to dodge again, but the Gwarulch was too quick, backhanding him across the head. With the crack of branches, Aleyne fell to the forest floor, in front of Paul’s horrified gaze.
    The Gwarulch looked at Paul with deep-set, piggy eyes—and pounced, talons extended. But his small size was to his advantage amongst the thick foliage; he slid between two large branches, and the talons raked bark instead of flesh.
    Despite this, Paul knew the Gwarulch would get him eventually. He desperately looked around for a branch or a stone, or any sort of weapon—and then, he saw Aleyne’s dagger, still protruding from the tree. He leapt for it, as the Gwarulch leapt at him.
    Paul’s hand fastened around the hilt, and he half-turned, to draw and throw it, as the Gwarulch emerged from under the tree. Out of the tree-shadow, it was a hideous sight. Vaguely ape-like, its upper jaw protruded to show ripping fangs, and its eyes were piggy and lit with an evil intelligence. It eyed Paul with something like amusement, and licked its lips in a very human gesture.
    Paul vainly tugged at the dagger as the Gwarulch advanced, still licking its lips with a bluish, forked tongue. It reached out a taloned hand, and gripping Paul’s hand in its own, pulled the dagger out of the tree.
    With his free hand, Paul punched the Gwarulch in the stomach, almost breaking his fingers on the thick, leathery flesh. It hurt him so much, he thought it couldn’t possibly have harmed the huge creature—when it gave a surprised sort of yelp, and sank to its knees. Dragged down with it, Paul looked into its fading eyes as it toppled over, letting go of his hand.
    Then he saw what had really killed it. A wooden spear-shaft projected from its back, a thick spear of dark wood, engraved with runes that seemed to dance along its length.
    In between the trees, Paul saw another silhouette. Instinctively, he knew it was the thrower of the wooden spear. Although man-like, the figure’s head seemed strange, and Paul had to look twice before he saw that the man, if man it was, had a full set of antlers.
    “Who calls Ornware?” said the antlered man. “When Gwarulch walk among his trees?”
    Paul gulped, and tried to sit up. Aleyne had called out to Ornware, but Aleyne was lying over by a tree, unconscious, if not…dead.
    “We did,” he whispered, not daring to look up. Dawn was closer now, and the first cast of light was just allowing real shadows to creep out from the pale star-lit imitations. And