Twixt earth and sky where birds can fly,
I look below to see
A place of wood with plumage green
That breezes move like sea.
Behind me as the dawn breaks clear,
Woodpigeons come awake,
See brown dust roll, twixt green and gold,
Unwinding like a snake.
So fly and sing, the wildgoose is King.
O’er golden acres far below,
Our wings beat strong and true,
Where deep and wet, see flowing yet,
Another snake of blue.
Across the earth is changing shape,
With form and color deep,
Afar the teeth of land rise up,
To bite the wool of sheep.
So fly and sing, the wildgoose is King.
Beyond this, much is lost in mist,
But here and there I see
The treachery of muddy gray,
’Tis no place for the free.
O feathered brethren of the air,
Fly straight and do not fall,
Onward cross the wet gold flat,
Where seabirds wheel and call.
So fly and sing, the wildgoose is King.
The skies are growing darker, see
Our beacon shining bright.
Go high across the single fang
That burns into the night.
We leave you now as we wing on,
Our journey then must be
Where sky and water meet in line,
And suns drown in the sea.
So fly and sing, the wildgoose is King.

Gonff came across and stared at the scroll. “Well, old wotsisname Skyfurrow was nearly as good a bard as me. Bet he wasn’t half as clever a thief, though, matey.”

Martin shook his head. “It’s certainly a strange route to follow, given in goose song, written in ancient badger, and translated into common woodland. Do you think we’ve missed anything, Bella?”

The badger looked indignant. “Certainly not. It’s all there, word for word. I’ll have you know that female badgers are great scholars, though I must say it all looks very cryptic to me.”

Young Dinny clambered out of the armchair and squinted at Martin’s neat writing.

“Urr, triptick, wot be that? Stan’ on moi tunnel, it be wurse’n maken ’oles in watter, ho urr.”

Gonff stifled a giggle. “You certainly have a way with words, Din. Ah well, let’s get our thinking caps on and imagine we’re all Skyfurrows.”

Martin clicked his paws together. “Right! That’s exactly what we have to do. Imagine the ground from up above as if we were birds.”

* * *

Tsarmina stood watching the dawn break over Mossflower from her chamber window. Mist rose in wisps from the treetops as the sun climbed higher in a pale blue cloudless sky. The wildcat Queen was highly pleased with her latest plan; the woodlanders must have realized the two baby hedgehogs were missing, and they would send out search parties. Tsarmina detailed Cludd and another weasel named Scratch, acting as his deputy, to patrol the woods, along with a picked group of twenty or so. They would travel light, unhampered by the usual Kotir armor. They could act as a guerilla force, lying in wait to capture any woodlanders they came across and sabotaging resistance wherever they encountered it.