“And this will make him angry!” Flyn said over his shoulder. “He will grouse and do nothing! Like he always does!”

Pocket opened his mouth to protest further, but the squire had already reached the road, tail feathers bouncing jauntily as he quickened his pace. Pocket frowned after him, but made no move to follow. He had learned his lesson, even if Bantam Flyn had not. So he waited, and he watched.

It was not long before movement in the hills caught his eye and he looked, expecting to see Sir Corc returning with the others. He hoped Flyn would be with them. He did not want to have to explain to the knight that the squire had run off again, but at least this time he would not have to make excuses for his own behavior.

But it was not Sir Corc.

Pocket crept to the edge of the copse, heart beginning to quicken as he watched a large group crest one of the hills and he got a good view of some forty goblins, each wearing that unmistakable hat. They were heading for the road. Rosheen said the four Red Caps at the wagon looked as if they were waiting, waiting on the main group to return! They might catch Sir Corc unawares or spot them as they returned. They would be caught out in the open, Pocket had to warn them!

Even if he ran down the road, he might not make it in time and he did not know where the others had hid themselves. Besides, the Red Caps would see him coming. But he could not just stand here and do nothing while his friends were unknowingly trapped. He had to move fast. Leading Backbone would be slow, but he would not leave him behind. The mule was Pocket’s charge, and he would not disappoint Sir Corc again. They would have to go together.

His decision made, Pocket snatched a good stick off the ground and led the mule out of the copse and back out onto the road. The Red Caps were still some distance away and had not yet gained the road themselves. Hoping they had not yet seen him, Pocket took Backbone’s guide rope in his teeth and grabbed hold of the lines securing their supplies to the mule’s back. He jumped, using his arms to haul himself and clambered up to settle amongst the loads. Backbone whined in complaint and took several awkward sidling steps in response to the new weight. Pocket took the rope from his teeth and bent low over the mule’s neck, before reaching back with his stick and giving him a solid swat.