Horrified at this exchange, Bracken glanced at Hulver, but only his snout was visible in the moonlight. Even his form merged into the blackness of the beech leaves and stems of the wood ivy in which they were crouched. But to Hulver it was as if they were talking about somemole else, and he was very peaceful—he knew that what he had to do had the blessing of the Stone. There was nothing anymole could do to stop him performing the ritual with all the love and dignity he could muster.
However, he could sense Bracken’s fear. ‘Wait a little longer yet,’ he whispered, ‘for if you start now it will be too early for the ritual to be said. It needs to be said at midnight, or near it.’
To fill in the time and to take Bracken’s mind off his task, Hulver told him to repeat to himself the words he had taught him and to think about their meaning as he did so.
This was so effective that Bracken was surprised when Hulver nudged him gently in the dark and told him it was time. Now Bracken felt cold and frightened. The wood seemed suddenly a very dangerous place. Surely it was somemole else who was slowly rising to his paws so near the three dangerous moles in the clearing. Some other mole who stole away into the night, forgetting to say a word of good luck, or goodbye to Hulver as he left? Not this mole who was utterly alone in the wood, moving through the silent night, afraid of stirring even a beech leaf!
So Bracken began his long, nerve-racking trek round the clearing, down towards the slopes and then turning back again by the route they had originally taken to get to the Stone when they first came up to the Ancient System. He crept from shadow to shadow; he held his breath at each tiny noise he made; and he dearly wished, every inch of the way, that he had been allowed to explore the Ancient System that lay somewhere beneath his paws, so that he might exploit its tunnels now to bring him safely underground to the point on the slopes where he must materialise and start his impersonation of Hulver. Behind him, Hulver watched the three moles by the Stone. The clearest thing about them was the spot of moonlight on their snouts, and from this he saw them occasionally move restlessly in the dark.
Meanwhile, far below, Bracken finally reached a point on the slopes where he could cut across with the contour of the hill and begin his more ostentatious climb up.
He was acutely aware of all the reference points of location about him. As he turned up towards the Stone, the pastures lay some distance away to his right. Far to his left was the void of the chalk escarpment, running right up into the pastures which swung around beyond the clearing. There were a couple of fallen beeches in the wood to his left which he had passed on his way down, and these were useful points to remember. Apart from that, all was the wood, the silence, and his progress up the hill into danger.
Now that he was committed to the task, he found he was icy cool in his thinking. He was nervous, sweating a little, but his mind had never felt more clear.
He proceeded up the hill towards the Stone, as he imagined Mandrake and his henchmoles would have expected Hulver to proceed, with care, slowly, and keeping well hidden. This suited him, because if he was seen even for a moment in the moonlight by one of them, then surely they would realise he was not Hulver. He stopped to listen frequently as Hulver—as anymole—would have done. He kept to the dark patches and slightly off the communal surface pathway—as Hulver would have done. He made just enough noise to be detected, but not too much to be taken for a fool.
At last, off to his right, he sensed what he had taken to be part of a root move. It was only fractional, but roots rarely move even fractionally, not on the surface anyway. After this, he carried on, now totally committed, because a henchmole was now behind him. It made him proceed a little faster because he wanted to get as near to the clearing as possible before he was challenged. That way he would be able to draw off Dogwood, Burrhead and Rune as well as the others. By a movement, the slightest of vibrations, he detected a second mole off to his left, this one lurking in what must be a temporary burrow.
Somewhere, far off below them all, a creature moved heavily in the wood. A badger, a fox, perhaps only a hedgehog. He was getting nearer to the clearing—indeed, he could see the top of the Stone caught beyond two trees ahead of him in the moonlight, just as Burrhead himself had once described it to him. Any moment now, he knew, he would be attacked or stopped. He had to make his move ahead of the challenge. That would give him surprise and a split second’s advantage in time.
Ahead of him lay the two beeches and beyond them, the clearing. There must be one other mole at least by the trees, probably lying among the roots between them, waiting for him to come into sight. He thought he detected a movement behind him, perhaps one of the moles he had passed closing in.
He was beginning to move to the right round the tree ahead, expecting the third mole to come forward and challenge him at any moment, and then—and then he made his move. Realising he was heading into unavoidable moonlight, he swung back sharply to the left, giving him an advantage on anymole who might be waiting for him by the tree and throwing whatever mole was behind him off balance. With a mighty thrust, he pushed narrowly past the beech tree, with the clearing and the Stone to his right, scattering beech leaves behind him.
The uneasy silence of the night suddenly shattered. As he passed the tree, he caught the briefest glimpse of the biggest mole he had ever seen, in the moonlight. His talons were swinging round in the air, his body was arching round as if he had been facing the wrong way, but his snout was already round towards Bracken, huge and horrible. Mandrake!
Bracken deliberately ran close to the clearing before swinging off into the wood, to draw Rune and the others away from Hulver, who was on the far side. It worked. He heard Rune call, some shouts, and then there was a rush of moles from the clearing adding to the noise of Mandrake and the others following behind and on his left. Then he swung away into the wood, taking them all with him and leaving the clearing free for Hulver. He felt alive and full of energy and ran at great speed through the wood, weaving in and out, listening to the confused shouts of the rushing moles behind him. His instinct was to burrow to safety and again he regretted that he had not found a way into the Ancient System. But there were so many moles chasing him that he felt a safety in their confusion. The wood was dark, for the moonlight could not penetrate the thick canopy of beech leaves above them, and there was so much noise that nomole seemed to know where he was going. But Bracken did. He started on a long arc towards the slopes, much the same route he had taken so nervously before.
Behind him, beyond the clearing, old Hulver rose slowly to his paws as the noise of the fleeing Bracken and his pursuers died off into the wood. He approached to the very shadow of the Stone. There he crouched still for a moment or two, for a mole must be calm to say a ritual properly. Then, as if there was all the time in the world, Hulver began the ritual of Midsummer.
Bracken ran on through the night, twisting and weaving among the trees, working his way towards the fallen beech that he had passed on his way up from the slopes with Hulver. He knew the moles about him were confused— indeed, one of them had called forward to him, thinking he was Dogwood, and told him to cut off to the left, which he had obligingly done. He heard Mandrake shouting from time to time, and Rune; and he realised that nomole knew exactly where he was.
It was then that he saw the great dead beech ahead of him and hid in the shadows among its dry branches, his chest heaving with the effort of running. The chase continued around and about him until, one by one, they came to rest in a group on the ground not far from where he lay hidden in the fallen tree.