“Hohohoh! That I can, young feller m’lad. Here’s yer tucker bags.” Spriggat materialized out of the woods and tossed the two haversacks upon the bank. He was picking wasp wings from his teeth again. “I been back yonder ’mid the lupins and found these. Mmmtk! Found that broken waspnest too. I’m full as a stuffed duck. There’s nothin’ in all the woodlands like a good feed o’ buzzers, no sir.”

Samkim and Arula checked their supplies. Most of the food was intact. They thanked him and sat down to share a small flask of October ale with their newfound friend.

Spriggat swigged at the flask, a slow smile spreading across his snout. “Hoho, this be prime stuff. ’Tober ale, ye call it. An ’og could get use to a drink like this, I tell ye! Oh, by the by, young uns, I picked up the tracks of that stoat with your sword—not too far from ’ere, travelin’ south an’ west. If you feels up to it we can start trackin’ right away.”

No further encouragement was needed. The two friends shouldered their haversacks and weapons. Spriggat was not a fast traveler; he was slow but exceedingly thorough.

“Not too long till dusk now. See ’ere? Swordpoint’s been stuck in the ground—usin’ it as a walkin’ stick, the rascal is. Look, this is a smear of blood from a wound on the bole of this elm.”

Samkin watched the hedgehog carefully. He was a master of trail and woodcraft, and without him it would have been nigh on impossible to follow Dingeye’s track. His wisdom and experience were proving invaluable in their search.

Spriggat noticed their wonderment and laughed good-naturedly. “Hohohoh. Never fret, I’ll learn ye, young uns. ’Tis no disgrace to be shown a trick or two. I had t’ learn the ’ard way. . . .” He paused to pluck a dragonfly from mid-flight and gobble it up. “Hmm, that’n were a longways from his stream. Tasty though. Now what were I sayin’? Oh aye, yew tew watch an’ take notice, an’ soon you’ll ’ave young ’eads on old shoulders.”

“Doant’ee mean owd ’eads on young shoulders, zurr?” Arula corrected him.

“Hohohoh, so I do. You’re a bright un, Arula. A quick learner, eh!”

*   *   *

In the depths of the woodlands, dusk overtook the trackers swiftly, the sunset in the west casting darkness between the haphazard columns of trees.

Spriggat held up a cautionary paw. “Camp yonder beneath that three-topped oak. Mind now, no fire tonight—we be dangerous close to your enemy. I can smell somethin’ I don’t likes on th’ breeze. Yew tew bide by the oak and get supper ready. I won’t be gone long.”