Germaine drew loaves from the oven on a long paddle. “Where is your son, Sunflash? He must be quite big now.”

Bella paused as she laid the bread to cool. “While I was ill and grieving for Barkstripe, our son stole out of here one night. They say he went to Kotir to avenge his father’s death, but he was far too young. Sunflash has never been seen or heard of since. Many, many seasons have gone by since then, so I think that one way or another my son ended up at the gates of Dark Forest with his father.”

* * *

Outside in Mossflower the afternoon shadows began to lengthen over the trees that were budding and leafing, promising a thick emerald foliage for the summer. In another part of Mossflower not far from Kotir, a mailed tunic and tabard bearing the Thousand Eye device slipped carelessly from a high spruce branch and landed in a crumpled heap on the forest floor. Argulor shifted from claw to claw as he preened his pinions, carefully arranging his long wing feathers. A good fat stoat would be extremely welcome, but pine marten . . . ah, that was a delight he had yet to savor. Argulor would wait. His time would come; a marten with a wooden leg could only run so fast in any direction. The eagle snuggled down into his plumage, glad that the spring nights were kind to young and old alike. It was good to visit old hunting grounds again.

The evening chorus of birdsong fell sweetly upon Martin’s ears as he strolled along through the woodlands with Skipper and Gonff, reveling in his new-found freedom after the long winter in Kotir prison. The otters were never still; they were playful as puppies, bounding and cavorting through the trees and bushes. Skipper was instructing Martin in the art of the slingshot. He was delighted to have such a keen pupil and took every opportunity of amazing the warrior mouse with his expertise. Casting a pebble high into the air, Skipper reslung a second pebble and shot it, hitting the first one before it had time to fall to earth. The otter shrugged modestly. “It’s only tricks, me hearty. I can teach you them anytime. Ha, I’ll bet afore the summer’s through you’ll be able to sling a pebble across any villain’s bows.”

Gonff was great friends with the otters. He wholeheartedly shared their recklessness and sense of madcap fun. The little thief imitated their nautical mode of speech perfectly, telling Martin that he was, “As likely a cove as ever pirated vittles from Kotir’s galley.”

Martin enjoyed himself. Having been a solitary warrior for so long, he found it a pleasant change to be in the company of such gregarious friends. Skipper presented him with his own personal sling and pouch of throwing pebbles. He accepted the gift gratefully. The otters were naturally curious about the broken sword hilt Martin kept strung about his neck, so he told them the story, and was taken aback by their hatred of Tsarmina. Though, as Skipper remarked, “Wildcats never bothered us. Once our crew is together, there ain’t nothin’ on land or afloat that’ll trouble otterfolk.”