With the dagger between his teeth, Ferahgo inched quietly forward, his murderous blue eyes shining with joy as he sighted the unprotected back of the creature at the opening. When it came to silent death Ferahgo the Assassin was the acknowledged master. Throwing a paw round the creature’s throat from behind, he locked off the windpipe and slid the blade expertly between its ribs. Pulling back in one swift movement, he threw the body to his Captains.

“Finish him off quickly, then follow me!”

Doghead pushed forward, spear in one paw, flaming torch in the other. He turned the creature over to stab it—and screamed. Ferahgo turned, he took one look, gave a strangled sob of horror and shot through the packed ranks for the open beach, kicking and slashing as he went. The body of Farran the Poisoner lay on the tunnel floor, the face a twisted mask of fright, the mouth wedged open wide by the adderskin belt with its poison bags that Urthstripe had forced down the Poisoner’s throat. Thus had the badger Lord dealt with the murderer of his two hares.

*   *   *

The poisoned drinking water was standing by the entrance Ferahgo had made, lined up in cauldrons, boiling hot. As they were wheeled by, Urthstripe tipped each one with his spearbutt, sending scalding water rushing into the tunnel as he roared at the top of his voice:

“Eulaliaaaaaa!”

The hordebeasts packed inside the tunnel fought each other madly in a vain bid to escape the contents of the cauldrons. Spears, swords, pikes and other weaponry hindered them in the darkness as the blistering hot stream gushed out, welling up into a steaming wave. Screams were drowned amid the boiling torrent. Smashed against the rocky walls, the bodies hurtled the length of the narrow aperture to be spewed out on to the beach.

*   *   *

Moonpaw, Starbob, Catkin, Thistle and Seawood climbed back into Salamandastron’s east side, throwing the sacks of dandelions, apples, berries and roots ahead of them. Sapwood helped each one in as they clambered through an unblocked window hole. Seawood and Thistle came last, cautioning the Sergeant, “Careful with those two sacks. There’s six canteens of fresh water there, Sap.”

Sapwood chuckled, patting their backs. “Bless yer ears, mates. Where’d you come by all this lot?”

Thistle nudged him in the ribs and gave a broad wink. “Fancy askin’ a Long Patrol Hare a question like that, Sergeant. Did you never have to survive off the land on a long scout?”

Sapwood began blocking the window hole up. “’Course I did. Silly ol’ me. Hey, Seawood, the diversion worked a treat. You should’ve seen Urthstripe. ’Is Nibs was like a liddle bunny on ’oliday, roarin’ an’ a-shoutin’. By the fur, the Boss gave those vermints an ’ot old time an’ no mistake.”

*   *   *