“Hahahaha! Dearie me, I tell you, fellers, Barty was the only one among us who’d never look at vegetable soup again. He’s eaten nothin’ but jolly old porridge from that day t’ this. If ever you ask him to tell you the tale. . . . Hahahaha! Shall I tell y’ wot he says . . . ? Heeheehee! He says, ‘Don’t mention the tale—it was cooked to a turn!’ Ohohoho! Tail, tale, cooked to a turn—get it?”

Reciting stories and telling jokes, the two friends continued into the night until the incident was all but forgotten. Log-a-log posted sentries on the rock ledge, the fire was stoked up higher and gradually the shrews dozed off one by one. Mara lay watching the fire; Pikkle lay some distance away, though he could still see his friend’s face in the firelight. She looked sad. Softly the young hare called across to her, “I say, old gel, what’s up? Y’ look like a wet wallflower on a windy day.”

The badger maid sighed and closed her eyes. “All those stories we told, Pikkle—lies, the whole lot. I wish it had been like that back at Salamandastron. I’d never have left. Ah well, let’s get some sleep. Goodnight, Pikkle.”

Pikkle watched as a single teardrop oozed from his friend’s closed eyelid.

“I say, steady on. Maybe we did tell a blinkin’ pack of fibs, but it certainly calmed down those shrew chappies. Look, they’re fast asleep, the lot o’ them, just like we should be. G’night Mara ol’ gel, happy dreams, wot?”

*   *   *

Log-a-log roused them as he threw more wood on the fire. It had been light for nearly three hours. “Come on, you lot. Roll me log, are you going to doze there all day?”

Breakfast was a hasty affair of meager rations. Preparations for the day were mapped out by the shrew leader. Log-a-log elected to go with Nordo and the foraging party, saying he would search for logboat repairing materials while they gathered what food the island had to offer. Six shrews were to remain behind on the ledge to guard the boats and keep the fire going.

Mara and Pikkle studiously avoided mentioning the nature of their quest, so as not to upset the others. Arming themselves with rapiers and slings, and accompanied by Tubgutt, as promised, they climbed up the cliffs to the woodlands above and struck out for the center of the island, leaving the Guosssom to their chores.

*   *   *

It was a thickly wooded island. Small birds twittered in the foliage, sunlight shafted through the leaves of beech, elm, oak, ash, sycamore and cedar, tracing patterns of light and shade on the pretty forest flowers carpeting the ground. Pikkle found a cherry tree in full fruit and they sat beneath it, eating the softest dark red cherries. Apples and pears too grew in profusion.