Dann fetched a good glob of mud from the shallows. Song knelt by the stoat, who was wounded deep in his right side. She tore off a strip of his tunic, slapped the mud on his injury and placed the torn tunic in a pad on top of it. “There, you’ll live. Tomorrow you can free your friend—he’s tied to an ash back there. Listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you, stoat.”

The stoat sneered and cleared his throat as if he were about to spit at Song. She gave him a quick hard cuff to the face. “Spit at me and I’ll leave you to my Guosim friend. You heard his rule about enemies. From now on you’ll have to learn to live with yourself. No more bullying, stealing or villainy for you, stoat. With that wound you’ll probably limp or walk bent for the rest of your days. My advice to you is to build yourself a home, grow your own food, or harvest it from the woodlands, fish, do what you will, but learn to lead a quiet honest life.”

When Song arose the stoat lay sneering at her. “Leave me alone, squirrel. I knows ’ow t’lead me own life, see!”

Dann tugged her away from the wounded vermin. “Leave him. Somebeasts never learn. He’ll be an idiot all his life an’ end up a dead fool!”

It was not wise to stay any longer where they had camped. The four friends paddled off downstream and chose a campsite on the opposite bank. Too weary to do anything further, they dragged the Swallow onshore, overturned the boat and slept under it for the short remaining time until dawn.

Morning brought with it another bright summer day. Eager to be off, the travelers breakfasted hastily. Soon they were paddling along in the center of the wide stream. Sitting behind Burble, the young squirrelmaid could not help but notice the dark bruise at the base of his neck. “Take a rest if you need it, Burb. We’ll do the paddling.”

“No need fer that, thank ye, missie. I’m all right. Us River’ead voles are tough as ould oak trees. Yiss yiss, that’s a fact!”

Dann shipped his paddle. “No need for any of us to paddle, matey,” he called back to Song. “See ’ow fast this current’s runnin’. May’s well sit back an’ rest. We’ll only need paddles to steer round rocks’n’things.”

By midmorning the green tunnel of overhanging tree branches was showing signs of thinning out. When noon arrived they were sorry the shade had been lost, for there was little respite from the blazing sun as the Swallow shot along on the swift stream. Dry arid scrub and rockstrewn banks, with little shrubbery growing in the dusty brown earth, stretched before them on both sides.