The old Abbess tucked her paws into the long sleeves of her habit. “Let us hope that both parties are successful.”

Goody Stickle blinked back a tear. “Let’s ’ope my Ferdy and Coggs gets their proper nourishment.”

Bella watched the last of the party vanishing into the thicknesses of Mossflower.

“Aye, and let us hope that Martin can bring back my father, Boar the Fighter, to save us all and free us from the vermin of Kotir.”

* * *

It was close to midday. Scratch and Cludd lay beneath an old hornbeam. All around the troops lay hidden, most of them sleeping soundly. Cludd had spotted one or two soldiers and was about to recall them to duty with his spearbutt, when Scratch suddenly put a claw to his lips for silence and pointed to a break in the trees.

The woodlanders marched by the sleeping soldiers, unaware that they were being watched. Skipper strode boldly in the lead, twirling his sling. Some of the otters had relieved the carriers of their loads. They strolled along, conversing with the Loamhedge mice. In the middle terraces of sycamore, plane and elm, Lady Amber swung from bough to limb with her archers.

Scratch and Cludd watched the passage of the curious band in silence. Cludd hoped that none of the soldiers would waken noisily; he could practically taste reward and promotion. Rubbing his paws together in excitement, he nudged his companion.

“By the claw, that lot can only be headed to one place—Kotir. Wait’ll the Queen hears about this, eh, Scratch.”

As he rose, Scratch shoved him roughly back down. “Ssshh! Look over there.”

Coming through the trees in a slightly different direction, Martin, Dinny and Gonff marched along a path that would take them due west, skirting Kotir on its south side. Columbine had walked with Gonff, but now their paths were to part and she hurried away to join the others. As Cludd watched he made a mental note to pay Scratch back for banging his nose down into the dirt. Unaware of his Captain’s displeasure, Scratch listened to the strains of Gonff singing his farewell to Columbine as she waved to him with a kerchief.

Goodbye, Columbine.
Now your path and mine
Must part in the woods of Mossflow’r.
Keep a lookout each day,
For I’ll be back this way,
In the noontide or cool evening hour.

Scratch cackled. Fluttering his eyelids, he picked a daisy and sniffed it gustily. “Aaahh, isn’t that romantic, now? The young mouse singing farewell to his sweet-hear . . . ouch!”

Cludd rapped him smartly between the ears with the flat of his spearblade. “Shut your trap, nitwit. D’you want the whole forest to hear you? Those three aren’t going to Kotir. Oh no, they’re bound for somewhere else. Now listen, greasy ears, here’s what I want you to do. Take two others and follow them. Don’t let them out of your sight. Find out where they’re going and why, then report back to me.”