Mara’s quick temper rose. She dealt the lizard a blow that sent it spinning head over claw and flung its tail after it. “Don’t you dare spit at me, you filthy reptile! And just call me stripedog once more and I’ll give you a few stripes to think about. Who in the name of fur do you think you are?”

The lizard sat up, exposing its bright yellow stomach. Its bottom lip began to quiver as it picked up its severed tail. “Kksss! Kaahaa! Just looka that, me bestest tail I’ve ever growed. Kksss! Tooka me seasins t’ grow that. Now looka wotcha did. Kaahaakkssss!”

Neither Mara nor Pikkle could feel any sympathy for the lizard.

Pikkle wagged a stern paw at it. “Serves y’ right, bally ol’ butterbelly. Frightenin’ us out of our cave like that!”

Tears popped from the reptile’s eyes as it shook the severed tail at them. “Jawot? Kksss, thatsa mine cave. I duggen it. Kksss! Who said a rabbit anna stripe . . . badgerer could use it? Kksss!”

Pikkle advanced a pace, his ears indignantly erect. “Less of the rabbit, chum, or I’ll show you what a doubleback harekick looks like!”

Mara intervened to prevent further grappling. “Look, I’m sorry, we didn’t know the cave was yours. We only intended spending the night there to shake off our pursuers. You probably saw them searching for us. You should be grateful really, we dug it around a bit and widened it out for you. By the way, my name is Mara and this is Pikkle Ffolger.”

The sand lizard sat sulking, rubbing its tail stump. “Call-a me Swinkee. Not pleaseter meetcher tho’. Kkssss! Ruint me cave—’s far too big fer me now. Kaahaa!”

Pikkle sat down alongside the reptile. “Oh, stop blubberin’, Stinkee, or whatever y’ name is. We’ll make the cave smaller if that’ll please you, old lad. I say, you don’t happen to have a bite of breakfast around, do you?”

Swinkee began scooping out a hollow to bury his beloved tail, all the time muttering and hissing, “Kssss! Breffist be a fatchance round ’ere, kaahaa. Take me seasins an’ seasins ter grow more tail likea that one. Kssss!”

Mara tried reasoning with him. “Look, we’re completely lost. Do you know Salamandastron, the big badger mountain on the shore? If you do and you could guide us there, we’ll give you as much breakfast as you like.”

“Kksssss, swampflies, marshworms, good breffist for Swinkee.” The sand lizard shot his tongue in and out several times. “Kkssss, I take-a you there for lotsa those. I know mountain.”

Pikkle nudged Mara as he addressed the lizard confidently: “Good enough, old sport, wot? We’ve got loads of jolly old marshflies an’ swampworms at the mountain. I expect we could rustle you up a sackful or two. How d’you like ’em, Stinkee—fried, boiled or done up in a salad with lettuce an’ whatnot?”