Spitting soil and grit, they climbed out into the sunlit afternoon and sat blinking in the unaccustomed warmth and brightness. Behind them the mountain reared, high and forbidding; below was a woodland with a broad stream running through it.

Dippler pounded Dann’s back, raising a cloud of dust from him. “We did it, matey, we did it! Now fer some vittles. I’ll stake me name there’ll be fruit an’ berries growin’ aplenty amid those trees down there. Wot d’you say, Burb?”

“Oh yiss yiss, an’ they’ll still be there while we’re sittin’ about on our tails up ’ere lookin’ at ’em. Come on, let’s eat!”

Stumbling, rolling and scooting on all fours, they bumbled their way down from the lower mountain slope into the peaceful green canopy of quiet woodland. Dann made a little camp on the streambank. He found flint in the soil and used dried moss with his steel swordblade to get a small fire going. Dippler and Burble were soon foraging about.

“Haha! Apples an’ blackberries, loads of ’em!”

“Yiss yiss, I’ve found wild strawberries an’ a plum tree too!”

They bathed in the warm stream shallows, getting all the dust and dirt of their ordeal out of their fur, drying off around the fire. Dippler shouted out with the sheer joy of being alive, his cheeks swollen with a great mouthful of apple and plum.

“Good ole Mother Nature. Thanks for the feast, marm!”

With the fire in front of them and the summer sun on their backs they gorged themselves shamelessly on sweet ripe fruit. Soon eyelids began drooping, and they tossed the mess of apple cores and plum stones into the stream and lay down gratefully.

“Dann mate, I’m glad you never died an’ yore still talkin’ t’me,” murmured Dippler.

“Oh, are you, Dipp? Well, that’s nice. But let’s remember there’s someone missing. Poor Song. Will we ever see her again?”

For a moment the two friends were silent. Eventually, Dippler put his arm around Dann. “Don’t worry. She’s a real warrior, that’n. I wouldn’t be surprised if one bright morning she doesn’t just come strolling by . . .”

Just then they were rudely interrupted. “Will youse both be quiet. Yiss yiss. An’ if y’don’t go to sleep I’ll kill the two of yer an’ never talk to either of you again.”

Lying on their backs in the peaceful noontide the three weary travelers snored uproariously. It was the snores that betrayed their presence to a creature roaming the woods. Fenno!

*