The twins glance at each other, nervously. They get the feeling Luther is mocking them, a little, but the word he used is achingly familiar in a way they can't grasp. The pink peacock shakes her head in confusion, but the blue peacock gasps and laughs and catches up to Luther to thump him on the back.

"No, darling, no," he says. "The spirits ride. The ... the masters."

He shudders and looks up at the moon.

"They're rather worse than wolves, I'm afraid."