Kyp blinked. A blaze of light hurt his eyes.

‘Thank goodness,’ said the snake. ‘I’ve been so worried. You must have hit your head when I pulled you to safety.’

Kyp jumped to his feet. Brown, brittle Christmas trees surrounded him in dense thickets, their dead, dry branches hanging with scraps of tinsel and sad-looking decorations. The ground crackled with pine needles. The tremendous light came from thousands of lamps amassed in clumps about him, their fringed shades in different shapes, colours and patterns. Electrical cables sprouted from their bases, curled together like roots.

‘It’s all right,’ said the snake. ‘You’re safe. For now...'