The trolls had changed their minds, two of them firing from the upper floor of the house as the fleeing figures disappeared into the darkness. The group had almost reached the end of the road when Geraint drew up with a yelp of pain. He clutched the back of his leg just below the hip, but kept on going, limping around the corner as best he could. He’d taken a bullet, and when he took his hand away it was smeared with blood.