Pikkle looked about. Brushing rainwater from his eyes, he grinned. “What ho, here’s a bit of a chance. See that high straight dune yonder? Look, there’s a sort of a thingummy, a tiny scoop-out like a cave at the top. See, that one with the long grass hangin’ down over it!” Exerting all his strength, he pulled Mara upright. “Nothin’ t’ lose, old badgerbonce. Come on!”

They skirted the hill and climbed it from the opposite side where it was not so sheer. The rain lashed and battered at the pair as they crawled over the top and swung down into the small hole at the top of the dune, little more than a ledge with a grass fringe hanging in front of it. Quickly they scooped it deeper until they were able to lie flat and regain their breath, while peering out through the grass curtain in front of them. The deluge had washed out all trace of their pawprints, and night was gathering. Soon they could make out shapes and hear the voices of their hunters as they scoured the ground below.

“Did yer see ’em go this way, Sickear?”

“’Course I did. I told yer.”

“Well, where are they now?”

“Search me. This rain’s messed everythin’ up.”

“Ferahgo’s goin’ to be mad if we go back without ’em.”

“Don’t remind me. Come on, you lot. Spread out an’ get lookin’.”

“I’m soaked through!”

“Aaahh, pore ol’ you. An’ I suppose we’re all bone dry? Idiot!”

“Couldn’t we make torches to search with? It’s dark now.”

“What’re you goin’ to make torches with, nit’ead? Soakin’ wet grass, an’ who’s got tinder an’ flint? Not me!”

“Look, why don’t you two stop jawin’ like ol’ frog-wives an’ start searchin’?”

In their hide-out the two fugitives were snug and dry.

Pikkle yawned quietly and whispered to Mara. “Well, they won’t find us tonight. I’m goin’ to take forty winks. Wake me later an’ I’ll keep sentry. All right?”

Mara nodded and settled down to watch Ferahgo’s creatures.

After a while they moved away, rebuking Sickear for bad eyesight and false information. Mara listened to their voices as they faded into the dark and rain of the night.

“Hey, Migroo, they might’ve gone this way.”

“Yah, it’s too dark ’n’ wet to find anythin’ tonight.”

“Tell that to the Assassin or that sly little whelp ’e calls son. Just keep searchin’, Dewnose. Them’s the orders!”

*   *   *

The rumbling of Pikkle Ffolger’s stomach wakened him, and he adjusted cramped limbs as he peered through the overhanging grass fringe into the blackness.

“By the fur, I’m famished. Have they gone yet?”

Mara plucked a blade of grass and nibbled on it. “They’re well gone. Why don’t you try to forget your appetite and go back to sleep? There’s not much else we can do in our present position.”