Not far from the knoll where they had camped a big gnarled crack willow overhung part of the stream. Janglur Swifteye climbed it with surprising speed and grace for a squirrel of his size and weight. Skipping nimbly out along one of the main limbs that bent over the water, he tested it for firmness. Two more logboats had passed beneath the willow, their occupants unaware of the presence of a squirrel overhead. Janglur looped his tail and footpaws firmly around the sturdy bough, hanging downward almost as if he were part of the tree. Another logboat bobbed past on the turbulent waters. He let it sail by beneath him, noting that all the vessels were packed with water rats, but the only Marlfoxes were the two in the lead boat. Unwinding the sling from his waist, Janglur readied himself as the final craft shot toward the willow, a foaming bow wave curling either side as it plied the water. Three rats in the stern were bailing busily. As the logboat sped past beneath the watching Janglur, the hindmost rat bent to scoop up a bowlful of water. Suddenly, a noose settled around his neck and a paw clamped round his mouth like a vise. The rat’s footpaws were hauled swiftly clear of the scuppers and the logboat shot on without him, his companions not even noticing his departure.

Janglur flopped the water rat up over the willow limb like a landed fish, dealing him a sharp blow between ear and jawside. Working efficiently, he sat him on the branch, whipped the sling from the stunned rodent’s neck and bound his middle to the tree. A soft moan escaped the rat’s lips as he began to come around. Janglur patted his cheek playfully. “Hush a bye now, me ole cully, you sit there awhile until yore ready an’ willin’ t’do a bit o’ talkin’!”

Song watched her father emerge out of the sheeting rain. He was carrying a bundle and whistling cheerfully between his two front teeth. One of the lazy hooded eyes winked slyly at her as he ducked to enter the shelter.

“Found some nice dry pinewood back there. Must be the only bit o’ timber left in Mossflower that ain’t wet this evenin’.”

Song unearthed the knife and took tinder and flint from their pack. Striking the flint against the spine of the blade, she blew softly on the bright sparks that fell on the dry mossy tinder. A thin blue column of smoke rewarded her efforts, followed by a glow and a tiny flame. Janglur began adding pine splinters until they had sufficient fire going to pile on some of the pine billets. Wakened by the smell of wood smoke, Rimrose held her paws out to the flame gratefully.

“A nice fire. Would you two like somethin’ to eat?”