The next morning Toklo bounded out of his den, determined to get on with his digging, but his paws were sore, and the muscles on his shoulders felt as if they were on fire. When he started to scrape at the earth again he found it was much harder to make progress. He kept coming up against roots and had to push his snout into the hole and bite them through.

I’m fed up with this! he thought, backing out of the den with a long, gnarled root in his jaws. He dropped it and pawed at his mouth to try to get rid of some of the dirt. I’m going to take a break and explore some more.

He set off up the mountain, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees and warming his fur. Before long he came upon a deer trail, the scent strong and recent, and further on he picked up traces of ground squirrels.

When he reached the top of the ridge the forest was denser, the trees mostly the same dark pines as where Toklo had made his den. Sometimes he had to push his way through undergrowth, making a path for himself. The air was quiet and hushed, with few birds calling. Toklo found that he was looking around for the woodpecker.

Bee-brain! he scolded himself. It’s only a stupid bird.

There was a bitter chill in the air in spite of the sunlight, and where the rays didn’t penetrate, the earth beneath Toklo’s paws crunched with frost. Beginning to feel thirsty, he looked for a stream, but he couldn’t find one or hear the sound of running water anywhere.

I don’t want this part of the forest in my territory, he decided.

Leaving scratches on a few trees, he headed back towards his den, padding along the ridge to descend by a different path. Further along, he followed the scents of grass and clear air and emerged in an open meadow. Rabbits were feeding a few bearlengths away.

Toklo tried to creep up on them, but his sore paws made him clumsy. The rabbits started up and fled, their white tails bobbing through the grass. Toklo gave chase, but his muscles ached so much that they easily outdistanced him.

Huffing in annoyance, Toklo gave up and padded back towards the trees. Before he reached them, he almost tripped over the body of a ground squirrel. Its pelt was slashed as if a hawk had killed it and then dropped it. Toklo sniffed it warily; it smelled fresh, and he tore into it.

‘It’s not as good as prey I caught myself,’ he mumbled around a mouthful. ‘But it’s better than nothing.’ And it shows this is a good territory, he added to himself. There’s plenty of prey here to feed me.