Klitch vanished amid the night-washed dunes, unaware of the two shadowy forms at the side of a hill. Sergeant Sapwood and Big Oxeye had followed him. Though they had not heard what passed between Klitch and Ferahgo, they were not slow in realizing that the large vermin horde camped in the foothills spelled death and destruction. The young weasel loped past the pair, not knowing they were within a hairsbreadth of him. Oxeye hefted the light throwing lance, feeling its balance as he eyed the receding Klitch.

“D’you know, I could pin the filthy little blighter through his neck from here, even though the blinkin’ light’s bad, wot.”

The Sergeant restrained his friend’s throwing paw. “Steady in the ranks, you’d blow the gaff. Now there’s dirty work apaw, we’ve got ter use our brainboxes. I reckons if one o’ us reports back to Lord Urthstripe, the other c’n follow yonder weasel an’ watch out for new hintelligence. You go back ter the mountain, and I’ll foller the weasel.”

“That’s what I like about you, Sarge,” Oxeye chuckled good-humoredly, “always ready to vote on a democratic decision, wot?”

Big Oxeye held up his paws defensively as Sapwood crouched into a sparring position. “Pax! I was only jokin’. You’re quite right, of course. I’ll go back an’ sound the jolly old alarm at Salamandastron, and you stick close to young Pikkle an’ Mara. We both know this country like the backs of our paws; shouldn’t be any bother trackin’ one another if we need to make contact. OK?”

After a silent shake of paws they split up, going their separate ways into the night-shaded dunes.

*   *   *

An early fly landed on Mara’s eyelid. She shooed it off with a dozy paw as she awakened to peachgold dawn stealing softly over the sleeping dunes. The land lay in a pool of calm serenity; the sand, now still and cool, awaited sun-warmed day. Somewhere a lark began trilling as it fluttered its morning ascent into the airy heights.

Pikkle opened one eye and swiftly closed it again. “It’s no use tryin’ ter wake me up, I’m fast a bally sleep.”

The badger maid gathered a double pawful of sand and began trickling it onto the tip of her friend’s nose. He sneezed and sat up straight, his long ears springing to attention. “Is it that late already, by the fur! My old tummy clock tells me there should be brekkers around. Hope it’s something nice, wot!”

Goffa pulled himself upright on his spear haft. “You ate it all last night, greedyguts!”

“Greedyguts y’self, sir.” Pikkle brushed sand from his coat. “I didn’t notice you stintin’ your belly when it came to puttin’ food in it. Matter o’ fact, I began to think you’d had news of a ten-season famine an’ you were packin’ it away just in case.”