Pikkle wiped his bowl with ryebread. “He’s not her father.”

Klitch stole a quick glance up the table at Urthstripe. “Then why does Mara have to do as he says? I wouldn’t, me and Goffa do as we please—nobeast gives us orders!”

Urthstripe sat looking at his untouched breakfast. Mara had not even acknowledged him this morning. One part of him longed to be friends with her, but the other half detested what he was seeing: a fine young badger maid, gossiping with a ferret and a weasel as if they were lifelong friends. The badger Lord caught the weasel stealing a glance at him. The creature had light blue eyes, shining as honest as a newborn infant. Some faraway faint memory was struggling to surface within Urthstripe’s brain, but then it was wiped away as Oxeye nudged him and nodded down the table.

“That chap could charm the bally birds out of the trees with his baby-blue peepers. Still, I’d hate ter be the jolly old bird that fell into his claws. What d’you say, M’lud?”

A deep growl issued from Urthstripe’s cavernous chest. “I once knew a searat who could sing like a lark, beautiful ballads. He used to sing to his victims as he cut them up. Vermin are vermin, no matter what—I’ve learned that much. Sapwood, I cannot stand the sight of those two at my table any longer. Give them provisions and get them clear of my mountain. I’ll feel easier when they’ve gone!”

The hare Sergeant stood up and threw a salute. “Yes, sir. I’ll hescort ’em ter the door pers’nally.”

The forty odd hares who lived at Salamandastron watched in silence as Sapwood made his way down the table. He nodded to Mara and Pikkle before turning to Klitch and Goffa. “Hare you finished with your vittles, you two?”

Klitch sniggered as he did an impression of the Sergeant’s voice. “Yes, we have, hactually!”

The hare kept his face impassive and his voice level. “Right ho, then if you’d hallow me to show you out.”

“Show them out?” Mara placed a paw on Sapwood’s arm. “But these are my friends, Sergeant!”

Sapwood stood stiffly to attention, avoiding her eyes. “Lord Urthstripe says they must leave. Don’t worry, missie, they’ll be given ’aversack rations and sent on their way unharmed. Come on, foller me, you two. Lively now!”

Goffa and Klitch rose, the latter smiling ruefully at Mara. “We’ll be fine, don’t bother your head about us. I wish you luck with Urthstripe. Goodbye, Mara. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”