Beside the bodies of Shorebuck and Windpaw, Lord Urthstripe stood waiting in the well-lit chamber. He was unarmed, save for a wet strip of linen that had been knotted at one end. Farran’s pale eyes watched him warily as the Long Patrol crowded in the cave entrance, blocking any possible way out. The badger Lord pointed to the two lifeless creatures laid out either side of him.

“See how you have murdered my friends, fox? Now the time for reckoning has come. You must face me. Sapwood, provide this vermin with any weapons he needs, then stand back, all of you. Nobeast is to lay paw upon the fox. . . . Nobeast, save me!”

25

As night fell, Thrugg began piling up pebbles. The otter moved stiffly, his whole body aching from the fight earlier that evening. Out on the open land the crows were beginning to stir in the cool night air. One or two were trying out desultory hops and caws.

Rocangus glanced over the bank edge of the dried-out streambed, his fierce eyes watching them keenly. “Och, yon birds are startin’ tae work theyselves up again.”

Dumble had fallen asleep. He muttered to himself and turned over.

A full moon rose like a dull gold platter. As Thrugg looked up at it, a dark winged shape swooped low out of the night. Grabbing his sling, the otter launched a hasty stone at the bird. It banked and circled, shrilling out angrily, “Ach, ye great lump-haided riverdog, can ye no see Ah’m a falcon?”

Rocangus cocked his head on one side. “Is that ye, Tammbeak?”

The other falcon landed smoothly atop the haversack. “Aye, ’tis. Whit ha’ ye done tae yer wing?”

Thrugg stood to one side, listening to the falcons conversing in their quaint northland accent.

“Never ye mind mah wing, Tamm. Will ye lookit yon crows, mah cronies an’ mahsel’ are sair troubled by them. Are any of oor clan aboot tae lend a talon here?”

“Nae bother. Bide ye here a wee bit. Ah’ll bring ye help.” Tammbeak shot off into the night sky, screeching at intervals as he flew in a high wide circle.

“Krrreeeekah! Gather ye tae me! Krrreeekah!”

Rocangus watched him. “Och, it’s a braw thing tae be flyin’. Dinna ye fret, Thrugg, yon crows’ll soon be sorry they messed wi’ the son of the Laird Mactalon.”

The cawing and hopping from the crows had increased. They appeared to be working themselves up into a frenzy. Out on the open moonlit land they hobjigged and sang raucously. Thrugg covered the still sleeping Dumble with his jerkin as he watched them anxiously.

“Rocangus, matey, I ’opes yer pals gets here afore those birds charge us. We won’t stand a butterfly’s chance agin that mob!”

As if on cue, six falcons dropped out of the sky into the streambed.

Thrugg gave a startled jump. “Phew, that was quick!”