As night drew on the strange pair sat by the stream telling each other their life stories. When Song had told Megraw about the quest she and her friends were on, he perked up immediately. It turned out that the osprey was a wanderer. A lone, wide-ranging eagle, he had come down from the far northeast. In his travels he had discovered a big inland lake, where the fish were plentiful. All pike, but that made little difference to him, he was very partial to a big pike. But one night, when Megraw was resting in a partially constructed nest he was building on the lakeshore, he was ambushed by a mob of magpies. The birds took him completely by surprise and thrashed him. The osprey managed to escape with three things: his life, a broken wing, and a massively injured pride. He had traveled far from the lake, finally settling on the falls as a place where other creatures could not bother him. Megraw stared at the stream, his wild eyes glittering with the light of vengeance.

“Ah swear on mah mother’s egg, ah’ll find that lake again. Aye, someday ah’ll gang back there an meet wi’ yon maggypies tae settle mah score with them. Mark mah words, Song, they’ll wish they’d ne’er been hatched when the wrath o’ Mighty Megraw descends on ’em! Ach, but whit can a bird do wi’ a broke wing? Can ye tell me that, Song?”

The squirrelmaid stroked Megraw’s wing, which flopped uselessly at his side. She had come to like the big osprey immensely in the short time she had known him; he was fierce but well mannered, a true warrior. Also she loved the way he pronounced her name as Sawng.

“Well, you could come with me and my friends when we get together. We’re searching for the lake too, you know. How would you like that, Megraw?”

The osprey blew out his chest to alarming proportions and winked slyly at his new friend. “Ah’d like that fine, lass!”

*

Burble, Dippler and Dann did not rest that night. Each of them was convinced that Song was dead. Just one look at the mighty waterfall was enough. Nobeast could go over its edge and live, but none would admit it, so they kept up brave faces, reassuring each other. Now that Dann had snapped out of his despairing mood he was acting like a confident leader.

“Right, y’know what mister Florian would say, there’s only one bally thing for it, chaps, wot wot! We’ll scale down the cliff side, lower the jolly old boat on what’s left of our rope, an’ get to the bottom sharpish!”

Though Burble and Dippler felt as if leaden weights had been implanted in their chests at the loss of Song, they agreed with a great show of false optimism.