* * *

Tsarmina’s determination was unabated. She pushed her forces ruthlessly forward.

“Come on. Can’t you see they aren’t sending over as many arrows or stones? Keep going. We’ve got them.”

Fortunata’s ear throbbed unmercifully. The vixen was lucky that the arrow had not struck a bit lower, or it would have been her skull. Clamping a pawful of her own herbs to the wound, she looked up dismally as a large squirrel swung in laden with quivers of arrows. The fox dropped back a few paces, muttering beneath her breath, “If you think you’ve got ’em, Milady, then go and get them yourself.”

* * *

Two of Skipper’s crew were driving long sharp stakes into the ground at the base of the elm trunk. Earth had been piled around the stakes and leafy branches scattered on top. From a distance it looked for all the world like a crew of otters lying in wait, armed with spears.

The newly arrived arrows drove the Kotir soldiers back a short distance, despite Tsarmina’s threats and blandishments. Lady Amber checked to see that the moles had got away with their charges.

“Is it ready, Skip?”

Skipper held up a paw. “As ready as it’ll ever be, marm.”

“Good. We’ll fire a last couple of heavy salvos while you slip off with the crew. See you back at Brockhall.”

“Aye. Good huntin”, marm. Come on, crew.”

Once again Amber’s tail stood up straight. “Archers, fire!”

* * *

Tsarmina and Cludd heard the command.

“Down flat, keep your heads down, shields up,” Cludd bellowed to the soldiers.

When the invaders lifted their heads, the otters were gone. There followed an eerie silence, broken only by the rustle of the treetops. Tsarmina knew this was the squirrels retreating. She straightened up and ventured a pace forward. Cludd joined her.

“Ha, bunch of cowards, eh, Milady. Looks like they’ve run away.”

Tsarmina peered toward the mound at the base of the elm. “Maybe, maybe not. I think they might have set up some sort of trap, or is that a crew of otters armed with spears? Take ten soldiers and investigate it, Cludd. Go on, we’re here to back you up.”

Reluctantly Cludd selected ten creatures and set off gingerly for the enemy lines. He ducked once or twice when someone stepped on a twig. Finally he arrived at the mound. Knowing the danger had passed, Cludd kicked at a leafy bough, and prodded the mound with his spear.

“All clear, Milady. It was only a stupid trick to make us think they were still here.”

“What about the squirrels, Cludd?” Fortunata sounded cautious.

The weasel Captain peered upward into the elm branches then hurled his spear straight up. Several soldiers dodged out of the way as it landed back, point up in the mound. A small amount of twigs and leaves fell with it.

“Not a hide nor hair of the lily-livered bunch!” Cludd puffed his chest out as he retrieved his spear.