Snakefish spoke.

“One day I will find my way out of here, then I will taste the toadflesh again.”

Dinny saluted with his digging claw. “Let’s ’ope ’ee do, zurr. You’m scoff a few for uz. ’Spect you’m passen fond of ’ee toaden.”

Snakefish clouded his eyes dreamily. “Aaaaahhhh meeeee. There’s nothing so tasty as a brace of plump toads. Unless it’s two brace.”

Log-a-Log shifted his paws nervously. “Er, right first time, sir. Look at us, all string and fur. Ugh! Why don’t you slip out for a toad supper?”

Snakefish reared up, pushing his coils against the smooth walls of Screamhole. There was no purchase for the great eel. He slid back into the water.

“See, I have given up trying,” he said sadly. “Each attempt only makes these walls more smooth and slippery. Strength alone is useless down here.”

Martin had the glimmer of an idea forming in his mind. He decided to risk broaching the matter.

“Listen, Snakefish, I have a proposition to put to you. Supposing we helped you out of here, would you leave us to go our way in peace without harming us?”

The great head submerged momentarily, emerging again beneath the hole. Martin felt that if Snakefish really tried he could reach them. The eel slid back a little to reassure them.

“If you could free me, I would leave you to go at liberty where you will,” the eel promised. “I would rather eat toad than mouse. Besides, I need to take my revenge on the tribe of Marshgreen. But you had better decide quickly; before the passing of another day I will need to eat. Do you understand me?”

The warrior mouse replied for them all.

“We understand perfectly, Snakefish. Now, will you leave us alone while we formulate a plan. I’ll give you a call the moment we are ready.”

The sinister giant slid noiselessly back into the murky waters.

Gonff giggled nervously. “Right, mateys. Thinking caps on, or it’s mouse, shrew and mole pie for dinner tomorrow.”

* * *

Kotir was deserted. The entire garrison had been mobilized to pursue the woodlanders.

Abbess Germaine and Foremole stood at the window of Tsarmina’s high chamber, looking out over the forest.

They had discovered little. Kotir was as grim and mean as any self-respecting woodlander could imagine it—damp and oppressive, riddled with dank crumbling rooms and passages where feeble torches guttered fitfully against fungus and moss-clad masonry. As to supplies, it was useful to know that they were at a low ebb in the fortress.

Foremole tugged his snout reflectively. “Hurr, marm. Baint even wurth a-carryen off they mangeful vittles.”

Moles and mice had searched the stronghold thoroughly; it was an empty carrion nest.

* * *

Columbine wandered through the deserted armory with Old Dinny. All the weapons had been taken off by the soldiers of Tsarmina.

The Loamhedge mouse curled her lip in disgust. “Oh, what’s the point of wandering around a filthy evil jumble like this?”