“Stay close together when we have to move. Try not to turn your backs on the painted tribe. Right, Jess, let their chief free. They’re releasing Cheek.”

The young otter scrambled free of the rope and made a hasty decent. Bumping and tripping, he half fell, half climbed, out of the tree.

Jess gave the leader a slight push and vaulted neatly down, returning the sword to Matthias.

There was a pause as the maddened creatures bunched to attack.

“Logalogalogalog!”

The shrew leader leapt forward with a blazing pinewood torch in either paw, grinning and showing his teeth. He made as if to touch the heavy pines that oozed resin all round him.

For the first time, the painted ones showed fear. They chattered and screeched wildly, bounding high into the trees at the sight of fire. Log-a-Log shook the torches in their direction.

“Haha! Desperate measures call for desperate remedies, my friends,” he called. “You’re frightened of the flames, aren’t you? One move, and I’ll burn your forest and you with it.”

Matthias, Orlando and Basil started the column marching south.

“Come on, Log-a-Log,” Matthias urged. “I think they understand what we mean. Jabez, Cheek, get those extra torches from the Guosim and stay close to Log-a-Log. Don’t let the fire go out.”

*   *   *

Backing and shuffling, they made their way southeast through the dark pinewoods, grateful for the light of the torches. Progress was slow. Matthias could not see the painted ones, but he knew they were in the trees above, following every step of the way.

Night had fallen by the time they had made their way out of the pines, to the shores of a great river. There was plenty of wood about at the forest edge, so Log-a-Log and his shrews made a huge bonfire, laying in a good supply of wood to last until dawn. The strange tribe of painted ones had retreated back into their pine forest, but Matthias took no chances. Sentries were posted. A meal was prepared, then they sat about on the bank, discussing the day’s events, while deciding how to cross the river the next day.

*   *   *

Further south down the river, Mattimeo and his friends sat at the center of a huge log raft surrounded by slavers. Two thick ropes connected the ferry to the far shore.

Slagar watched them rise and dip in the waters. “Your rats pull strong and well, Stonefleck. We will soon be across.”

The deadpan expression did not leave Stonefleck’s face.

“I have more fighters at my command than leaves on the trees, fox. Look behind you, on the shore over there. Your pursuers have made it through the pinewoods. They must be brave and resourceful. We will see just how brave on the morrow. My army could do with a bit of fun.”

Slagar gazed into the darkened waters. “That’s if they make it across the river!”

*   *   *