“That winter, the babes were scarce one season old, the snow was deep and the weather hard. If I had known that Ferahgo was in the area of my son’s home I would never have gone out into the woodland that day to gather snowdrops. But I think that my son had arranged some sort of meeting with Ferahgo. It was Urthound who asked me to go and gather the snowdrops for his wife, though I know now that he only did it to get me out of his home lest I should attack Ferahgo—I was a mighty fighting badger when I was younger. Be that as it may, off I went into the winter woodlands to gather snowdrops.

“When I returned it was to find an awful scene of Ferahgo’s treachery. The beautiful home was wrecked, my son Urthound lay dead, murdered by the blue-eyed one, and his wife Urthrun, too, was terribly slain. Of the two little ones there was only the white one Urthwyte. As for Urthstripe, I never knew what became of him. Did Ferahgo carry him off? Or did he wander away into the woodlands to perish in the winter? I never knew until this day when you came here, Mara. Fate sent you here to let me know that my grandson still lives. I might have known it, he was a tough little thing, more like his grandfather, fierce and warlike. He must have survived somehow.

“Urthwyte is like no other; he can be gentle at times but savage when needs be. I have told him the story of what happened many a time throughout his growing, hoping that someday he might have a chance to avenge the death of his parents. That winter day I fled, taking Urthwyte with me. We wandered the woodlands for many seasons. That is where we met our goodfriend Ashnin—she was the slave of wandering foxes. I fought them off and freed her, then the three of us traveled together, looking for peace and a better life. One summer day many seasons ago we found it here, an island paradise where we lived in safety until now.”

Mara touched the old badger lady’s paw.

“Why don’t you forget the past and stay here, Loambudd?”

“Because you have brought the past walking in through our door and because my grandson and I are both badgers, fighting beasts. Besides, how do you think I could stay here, knowing that kin of mine may be battling for life in the lands by the big sea? When you go, we will go with you, on the day after tomorrow.”

Pikkle looked up from his cherry cordial. “Why the day after tomorrow, marm?”

“Because a great storm is brewing. It will hit the lake tomorrow and nothing will be able to get on or off this island all day.”

Mara rose. “I must go and tell Log-a-log so that he can pull the logboats up to safety.”