As Sapwood led them the length of the dining hall Mara could stand the tension no longer. The badger maid knew that Urthstripe loved and cared for her, as she did for him, but he was becoming like a dictator to her, ruling her life, saying how she should behave and conduct herself. Now in his usual heavy-pawed way he had insulted her newfound friends. It was too much! Without thinking, Mara suddenly found herself shouting angrily over the hushed assembly at Urthstripe:

“Go on, send my friends away. It’s your mountain. You can do as you like and everybeast has to obey!”

Every hare present jumped in their seats as the badger Lord’s paws crashed forcefully on the tabletop.

“Mara, go to your room!”

But Mara was already up and hurrying from the hall, her mind finally made up as to what she would do. “I won’t go to that room anymore. I’m leaving this mountain to go with my friends, and you can’t stop me!”

Windpaw leaped up to intercept Mara, but Urthstripe shook his head. “Let her go!”

Pikkle dashed after his companion. “Mara, I say, wait, I’m comin’ with you!”

*   *   *

When they had gone, Sapwood returned to his chair. The tough hare gazed imploringly at Urthstripe, whose face was set in a stony stare at Mara’s empty seat. “She’s gone, sir—’er an’ Pikkle. Should I bring ’em back?”

Urthstripe looked away, swiftly brushing a tear from his eye with a heavy paw. “No, I must let her go. She is not happy here anymore.”

Big Oxeye stood up. The huge hare saluted his Lord. “Beggin’ yer leave, sah! With or without permission from you, me an’ old Sappers here are goin’ ter follow ’em. Watch that they don’t get themselves in some bally scrape or other, keep an eye on ’em. Wot?”

Urthstripe grasped both their paws. “Thank you, my friends!”

Snatching a light throwing lance apiece from a weapon rack, Sapwood and Oxeye set off an an easy lope on the track of Mara and Pikkle. Urthstripe went to his forge. All that day the mountain interior resounded with the pounding and banging of his forge hammers, and chunks of red hot metal showered sparks as he battered them as flat as dead leaves.

*   *   *

Hiding among the dunes to the south of Salamandastron, Klitch and Goffa watched Mara and Pikkle getting nearer as they followed the trail.

Klitch nudged his companion. “They’ll be here any moment, so listen. Don’t you say a word—leave the talking to me. My plan has worked well so far.”

Goffa patted the two haversacks of food that lay nearby. “Your father won’t think so. Two bags o’ food isn’t really badger’s treasure, is it?”