Unfortunately Samkim was awake by the first light of day. He could not remain in bed with the thought of the previous evening’s events; he had to see the sword again to reassure himself he had not been dreaming. Arula was still snoring as he tip-pawed from the dormitory and made his way downstairs. Samkim was in such a hurry that he stumbled over Brother Hal’s body and fell. With a cry of horror he rolled over and leapt to his feet, only to trip and fall again. The bowstring had become tangled in his footpaws. He extricated himself and stood up, holding the bow.

Friar Bellows was up at his usual time to start preparing breakfast for the Abbey dwellers. He came bustling down the stairs and froze to a stop on the bottom step, his plump face a mask of horror. Standing in front of him was Samkim with a bow in his paws, and close by lay Brother Hal with an arrow through his throat. The Friar sat down on the stairs with a bump, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “Samkim, what have you done?”

12

Windpaw bound Sapwood’s injured paw with a poultice of soothing herbs and a woven ryegrass wrapper. Urthstripe strode up and down the forge cavern like a demented beast. Though the Sergeant had told his tale several times, the badger Lord kept roaring out a steady stream of questions.

“Did they capture Mara or didn’t they?”

“I don’t think so, sir. I gave ’em the old runabout so’s young Mara an’ Pikkle could hescape ’em.”

“Can’t you give me a straight answer, Sergeant? Did they or didn’t they! Who was their leader? How many of them are there?”

Sapwood shook his head despairingly as he glanced at Windpaw, Catkin, Starbob, Seawood and Big Oxeye. All the hares knew that Urthstripe had thrown reason to the winds. Oxeye stood between Sapwood and Urthstripe.

“Milord, I suggest y’ leave Sapwood alone. Like me, he’s told you all he jolly well can. Workin’ yourself into a tizzy ain’t goin’ to help, if y’ don’t mind me sayin’ so. We all know that before the season’s much older there’s goin’ to be a vermin horde knockin’ on our front door. Worryin’ over Mara an’ shoutin’ at Sapwood ain’t goin’ to solve that, no sir.”

Urthstripe stopped pacing and faced Oxeye. Big as he was, the fighting hare quailed slightly under the brooding gaze of Urthstripe the Strong. But he had no need to worry—the badger Lord patted his paw lightly.

“Thank you, Oxeye. You are right. Sapwood old friend, how’s your paw coming along?”

“Bandage or no bandage, Hi can still punch me weight, sir.”