Klitch sighed as he drew patterns in the sand with a spearpoint, his face the picture of boredom. “So this is it, the grand attack plan: chuck a few fire arrows at the mountain then sit about and snipe at each other all season. You’ve really outdone yourself this time, old one.”

Ferahgo watched the fire arrows hissing through the air. “Have you got any better ideas, clever snout?”

“At least I got to stick the big badger with my sword!” The young weasel curled his lip contemptuously.

“So you did, Klitch, so you did. Now you’re short one pretty little sword. Urthstripe pulled it out of himself as if it was a sewing needle and snapped it in half. What a clever young weasel. Brilliant strategy on your part, eh? Now why don’t you leave things to your elders and betters?”

Klitch kept the spear ready lest the Assassin’s paws should stray to the long knives strapped across his chest. “You may be my elder, but you’ll never be my better. Come on, let’s hear about your brilliant strategy, Father.”

Having run out of arrows, Goffa decided to stand in the rear awhile with Klitch. He was crossing the beach, exactly in line with Ferahgo, when a huge arrow hit him like a thunderbolt, sending his body crashing into the two weasels. Quickly they leapt up and ran farther back, scrambling behind an outcrop of rocks.

Ferahgo laughed, his blue eyes shining merrily at the narrow escape. “Hellsteeth and Darkgates! That thing was meant for me! Pity about your friend Goffa.”

Klitch peered out at the dreadful sight. The arrow had gone through Goffa a full half-length into the sand. Keeping his bored look, Klitch leaned back against the rocks.

“Friend? That dim-witted idiot? He was only my lackey, though I’d never have ordered him to save your skin. Come on, tell me how you plan to conquer this mountain.”

*   *   *

Some of the more venturesome members of the vermin horde were slowly advancing closer to the mountain, under the hail of burning arrows. Big Oxeye watched them from the top of the crater. Seawood and Pennybright were with him, and all three leaned on a wooden prop which held back a pile of boulders. Oxeye pointed a paw straight down, closing one eye as he sighted along it.

“Hmmm, about two spearlengths more should do the trick. Come on, you idle vermin, move y’selves. Righto, chaps, that’s it, all paws to the log now!”

The three hares leaned down heavily on the wood.