Martin muttered through a mouthful of cake and milk, “In the name of mice, I’d have been a cook and not a warrior if I knew food could taste this good.”

Gonff grinned, trying to answer through a face crammed with chestnut, honey and strawberry juice. “Mmmfff, shoulden talk wiff y’mouff full.”

Bella sat with the Corim leaders. As they ate they talked. “I think for the future we should all live together here in Brockhall—at least all those that can’t climb trees and swim rivers. They’d be caught by Tsarmina and her army sooner or later.”

“Aye, marm, good idea.” Skipper agreed. “They can’t be found out here; the cat knows nothing of Brockhall. But that doesn’t mean my crew and Lady Amber’s band. We don’t strike our colors and run at the first sign of trouble.”

“Nobody doubts your courage, Skipper,” Abbess Germaine interrupted. “But maybe we’re jumping ahead a bit. With all the woodlanders hiding out here, the cat will have little to do except sit on her tail. Why not form a good spy network and see what she is up to? Maybe then we can form a plan of action. What do you think, Martin? You’re a seasoned warrior?”

Martin had been listening. He cleared his mouth. “I think all your ideas are good and sensible. Let’s try them. But peace is not found like a pawful of nuts or an apple. The wildcat is here, and Kotir won’t go away if we close our eyes. Sooner or later we will have to fight to rid the land of them. Only then can we talk of building and peace.”

Skipper and Amber both clapped him on the back.

“Let us attend to one thing at a time,” Bella advised. “First, we need a good spy to keep us informed. If we know our enemies, we will know their weaknesses.”

Ferdy and Coggs marched up, trying to look warlike yet secretive at the same time. “We’ve heard you’re looking for two good spies, Miss Bella.”

Before any laughter could start, Skipper was up and marching around inspecting them. They stood stiffly to attention, knowing a good officer when they saw one. Skipper eyed them up and down.

“Ho yes, I remember you coves—two of the fiercest fellers as ever stood guard at the Stickle place. I heard weasels and ferrets was a-shakin’ in their skins at the thought you might attack Kotir. Shall we let ’em be spies, Lady Amber?”

The squirrel looked serious, shaking her head. “Spying is too tame for these old wardogs. I think that with the good job they did at Stickle’s we should promote them to Captains of the Home Guard at Brockhall.”

The two little hedgehogs nearly burst with pride. They set off to make themselves badges of office.

Gonff threw in a suggestion. “The best spy I know is Chibb.”

Objections flooded in.

“Chibb’s not one of us.”

“He’s a bird.”

“He’ll want payment.”

“I wouldn’t trust a robin.”