"It's nothing," Mathias says, even as little buds appear on the vine, then open, blooming into beautiful flowers the colour of blood. The leaves unfurl into something vaguely like the shape of a hand and they rustle. In that rustle, he hears the sound of laughter.

"I just thought I saw something in the trees," he says, forcing himself to look at Julie. The vine cannot be there. It's not there. "But I think it might have just been a bird."