Greed turned to apprehension on the Captains’ faces, but Ferahgo had them like clay in his paws.

“Have you ever seen the treasure of the badger Lords? I know for a fact that the center of that mountain is packed with gold, silver, jewels, armor, swords, encrusted shields and all manner of wonderful weapons. Just think, if you owned a fifth part of all that, every creature in the land would be bowing their heads and fighting to kiss your footpaws. Once the badger and his hares are dead, all that stands in our way is the greedy one, Farran. Now I think that between five warriors like ourselves we could manage to slip a dagger in his ribs while we’re congratulating him on a job well done. So it’s either get rid of the black fox, or back to the life of an ordinary horde soldier.”

Four paws touched that of Ferahgo’s. “We’re with you, Master!”

The Assassin watched them as they went back to their duties as Captains of his horde. He threw back his head, eyes reflecting the summer blue sky as he laughed aloud.

“Hahahaha! Fools!”

*   *   *

The body of Windpaw lay alongside that of Shorebuck. Big Oxeye gripped his javelin tightly.

“Found her in the top corridors, sah! Slain by a different type of poison. The filthy scum stuck somethin’ in her neck—see the mark? Only a tiny wound, but by the swellin’ it looks like poison.”

Urthstripe’s eyes were red-rimmed from tears and wrath. “First it was young Shorebuck. I watched him during the battle—he would have made a great warrior had he lived. Now it is Windpaw, often pretending to be stern, but with a heart as soft as a summer dawn. She always took good care of my Mara. But now she’s gone. Gone! And there’s some dirty, low vermin going to pay for this, I promise you!”

A party of Long Patrol hares carried the bodies down to the lower caves, where they could lie until such times as proper burial could be given on the shoreline where tide meets land.

*   *   *

Urthstripe sat with Seawood in the empty dining hall. The hare turned out a kerchief containing dead ants.

“Poisoned, all of them—some from the kitchens, some from the foodstore, these two here from the base of the water barrels.”

The badger Lord brushed them away with a heavy paw. “Is there none of our food or drink that has not been contaminated with poison, Seawood?”

“None, sir—or at least none that we know of. Who’s goin’ to trust any of our supplies? I wouldn’t. We’re facin’ starvation!”