Obediently the big badger drained the cup and shambled off out of the cave. When he had gone, Loambudd seized Mara’s paw.

“Urthstripe—you mentioned Urthstripe. Is he alive?”

Mara looked puzzled. “Yes, of course he is. Urthstripe is the badger Lord of Salamandastron. He is a great warrior, and also a stern old guardian. That’s why I left Salamandastron.”

Loambudd sat back in her chair, shaking her head as she wiped away tears with a distracted paw.

“Urthstripe alive! So, that little striped babe escaped the Assassin somehow. Tell me about him. What does he look like? Is he as big as his brother? Wait, tell me everything, all about my grandson and about yourself, too, young one.”

The badger maid related the story of her life and all she recalled of the badger Lord, from the time she became the adopted daughter of the mountain, up until the time she landed with the shrews at the island.

31

Three long shrew logboats shot out into the waters of the Great South Stream. The dawn was gray and overcast with a warm blustery wind coming out of the northeast. In the prow of the lead boat Samkim, Arula and Spriggat sat with their paddles shipped. There was little need for paddling in the fast-flowing current with the wind astern of the vessels.

Arula chuckled with excitement as the sturdy craft skimmed and bobbed over the rushing waters. “Huhurr, boaten beats walken boi arf a season’s march!”

Now and then Spriggat would lean to one side and snap at the odd passing winged insect. “Huh, goin’ too fast fer an ’og to catch a bite.”

Samkim crouched in the prow with Alfoh. Together they scanned ahead for signs of Dethbrush and his five trackers. Spray blew up into the young squirrel’s nostrils. It was his first time on a shrew logboat and he found it very exhilarating. Winking across at Alfoh, he called over the rushing stream noise, “This is the life, eh? Makes me wish I was a shrew!”

The elder nodded as he shouted back, “You like it? Good! Your fox would have had to come this way because of the speedy current. We can follow this way until we get below the rapids!”

“Rapids?” Spriggat gave a squeak of dismay. “You never said anythin’ about rapids. Where are they?”

“Up there a piece.” Alfoh nodded ahead. “Don’t worry, they’ll come soon enough. I’ll pass you the word when they do.”

Frequently the shrews would use their paddles to negotiate a rock or ward off floating driftwood, but the pace was becoming faster all the time and the banks shot by in a blur of green and brown as Alfoh roared out directions and warnings.

“Duck your heads, overhangin’ willows comin’ up!”

Arula barely made it, receiving a smart clip from a branch.

“Rock to port! Get those paddles lined up!”