One particularly stupid ferret grinned hopefully. “Oh, that would be nice.”

Fortunata was about to give him something painful to think about when she heard the noise once more.

“Ssshhh! There it is again, coming right toward us. Right, this is your chance to carry out the mission properly. I want you all out of sight. You lot, get behind those trees. You others, hide in the bushes. When I give the signal, come out whacking. Use your spear handles, shields, branches—anything. I want them taken alive. Here they come! Hide quickly.”

As the soldiers dropped out of sight, a cloud obscured the moonlight. At that moment a band of dark shapes came into view.

The vixen ran out shouting, “Now, up and at ’em, troops!”

Spurred on by Fortunata, the soldiers dashed from hiding. They charged with a roar into the midst of the intruders, dealing out heavy blows, kicking, biting, scratching and pounding away at the enemy. The air was rent with blows, screams, thuds and yells of pain.

Exulting in the chaos of the ambush, Fortunata seized the nearest figure and thrashed it unmercifully with her staff.

Thwack, bang, crack!

“Yeeow, aargh, oo mercy, help!”

It was only when she kicked out savagely and splintered the wooden leg that the vixen realized she was close to slaying Ashleg.

“Stoppit! Halt! Pack it in, you fools. We’re fighting our own!” Fortunata yelled at the top of her lungs.

When the clouds moved, moonlight illuminated a sorry scene. The soldiers of Kotir sat about on the grass, moaning pitifully. Broken and fractured limbs, collective bumps, bruises, sprains, missing teeth, blackened eyes, contusions and some very nasty scratches were much in evidence.

Ashleg sat on the ground, nursing his wrecked wooden leg. “You booby, you knothead, you nincompoop of a fox, you, you . . .!”

“Er, sorry, Ashleg. But how were we to know? Why didn’t you signal that you were coming?”

“Signal, you brush-tailed blockhead! I’ll give you a signal!” The marten flung his broken wooden leg, catching Fortunata square on the tip of her nose.

“Yowch! You twisted little monster, there was no call for that. We thought you were woodlanders; it was a genuine mistake.”

Ashleg rubbed a swollen ear. “Woodlanders! Don’t talk to me about that lot! We’ve patrolled this forest until our paws are sore. Not a solitary mouse, not so much as the hair off a squirrel’s tail or the damp from an otter’s back.”

The vixen slumped down glumly beside him. “Same here. Where d’you suppose they’ve vanished to?”

“Huh, search me. Tsarmina will skin us alive when we get back.”

Scratt threw down his spear and sat with them. “Aye, you’re right there. Ah well, maybe we’ll have more luck when it gets light. We may as well camp here. At least we can search around for roots and berries.”

Fortunata and Ashleg looked at each other.

“Roots and berries . . . Yuk!”

* * *

Chibb the robin circled the crenellations of Kotir in the dawn light. There was not a lot to interest the little spy; the garrison was still asleep. He noted each window and what was inside: snoring ferrets, slumbering weasels, dozy stoats, even Tsarmina in her upper chamber, stretched out in splendor upon a heap of furs. The wildcat Queen was dreaming troubled dreams of water, muttering to herself, pushing the air as if it were water enveloping her. Chibb flew down and lighted on the parade ground near the wall. Keeping a watch for the eagle, he set about breakfast. From a small bag slung about his neck he selected a candied chestnut; not one of the big smooth ones, but a small wrinkled nut that had lots of sugar in the cracks. Chibb liked them better that way.