The Guosim chieftain gave his estimate. "Slings'n'stones
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aplenty, an' everybeast's carryin' a blade. There's a few spears we picked up from the vermin, an' few spare pikes an' axes. Oh, an' we've got almost a score o' bows, but not so many arrows. Apart from Gorath's great pitchfork, that's about it!"
Maudie began pacing slowly, back and forth. "More important right now, what's the position on food an' drink?"
Salixa interrupted. "Food and drink, why is that more important than weapons?"
Maudie was back into thinking like a Long Patrol hare now, she gave Salixa a quick salute. "Stan' corrected, miz, I should've said food'n'drink is as important as weapons, allow me to explain myself. Never underestimate the foe-beast, y'see. Vermin are crafty blighters, wot! They're down below, where they can jolly well forage for vittles in the woodlands, and of course there's always water, streams an' such, down there. Meanwhile, here's poor old us, stuck on flippin' top of a stretch o' bare rock. Osbil, old scout, have ye sorted out how much fodder we've got, eh?"
Osbil beckoned to one of the Guosim cooks, who answered glumly. "Nothin' much, a few apples, two wheat-loaves, a hunk o' hard cheese, an' three canteens, two of water, an' one o' shrewbeer. That's all. I didn't think we was goin' t'be away from the Abbey for too long."
Maudie carried on with her summary to Salixa. "So there you have it, miz, virtually no rations at all. If those vermin cads down there happen t'make an educated guess, we're deadbeasts. They can lay siege to this plateau, which means do nothin' really, just lay about, eatin' an' drinkin'. They'll fire off the odd stone, or arrow, to keep our heads low. But in the end they'll starve us down. Either that, or wait'll we're too weak to fight back, then we'll be overrun an' slaughtered by the bounders. Pretty grim, wot?"
Rangval rubbed his stomach. "Grim, y'say, it sounds awful. Shure, I'm startin' t'feel hungry right now, an' I could do with an ould drop to wet me lips. 'Tis goin' t'get hot up here!"
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Salixa tweaked the rogue squirrel's ear lightly. "Well, that sort of talk isn't doing anybeast a bit of good. The more we forget food, the less hungry we're likely to be!"
Rangval was forced to agree. "The very thought that just leapt into me own foolish ould mind, miz. But wot in the name o' seasons do we do, just sit up here an' wait t'get starved or slayed t'death? I'm not the one t'be doin' that in a hurry!"
Maudie knew she was clutching at straws, but a faint idea had formed in her mind. "I say, chaps, suppose we take the battle to the vermin from up here? What I mean is, we keep our heads well down, whilst keepin' a strong eye peeled on the villains, an' pick 'em off one by flippin' one, wot!"
Osbil unwound the sling from about his waist. "Let's do that, 'tis better'n sittin' up here twiddlin' our paws. Guosim, split up into four groups. Rigril, take yours to the rear. Teagle an' Frenna, you take your crews either side, t'the north an' south. I'll stay here at the front with my lot. HowTl that do for ye, Maudie?"
Lying down flat, the haremaid peered over the rim to the woodlands below. "Aye, mate, let's see how much damage we can cause. Use slingstones an' bows, but go easy with the arrows, we're a bit short of shafts."
Lying alongside Maudie, Osbil shielded his eyes, peering intently at the scene below. "Wot's goin' on down there, between those two black poplars? Looks like some sort o' meetin', can't see 'em properly. You take a peek."
Maudie watched carefully, though her view, like Osbil's, was obscured by the dense poplar foliage. "Hmm, looks like Brownrats an' some o' the other vermin t'me. Let's wait an' see if they show their scruffy faces a bit clearer, wot!"
Vizka Longtooth was still silently enjoying Stringle's embarrassment, though he hid it well. Crouching down with
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his back to the poplar trunk, he feigned a yawn. "Where's dis boss o' yores gotten to, huh? I'm growin' old, hangin' round waitin' fer 'im."
Stringle paced back and forth, wracked by indecision. "Well, there ain't nothin' for it, Cap'n Longtooth, I've got me orders from Gruntan Kurdly 'isself, an' I've got t'wait on 'is word for any change in plans."
Vizka toyed with the pommel stone of his beautiful sword. "Well said, Cap'n Stringle, but I can't wait ferever. Wot were dese orders Kurdly gave ya?"
Stringle explained. "To slay those stripe'ounds, an' bring their 'eads back to the boss, on spearpoints."
The golden fox replied in a cheery tone, "Der very t'ing I wuz plannin' t'do! Lissen, mate, t'wouldn't do no harm fer us t'join forces an' get der job done. I'm sure ya boss'd be pleased, eh?"
However, Stringle continued hesitating, walking to and fro, trying to put Vizka off until the arrival of Kurdly.
On the rim of the plateau, Osbil peered down, his voice rising with excitement. "That's the Brownrat's officer, Stringle. Look, there he is now, wanderin' in an' out o' the poplars!"
Maudie could see the Brownrat down below, moving in and out of the covering foliage. "Indeed, that'll be the very blighter. But why's he so jolly important?"
Osbil gritted his teeth. "'Cos he's the one who was leadin' the gang wot chased ye that night, you'n liddle Yik, an' our ole Log a Log. That scum must be the one who was responsible for my father's death. My Guosim told me Gruntan Kurdly didn't arrive at the south wall 'til long after you'n Yik made it inside the Abbey. Aye, he's the one who has to pay, gimme a bow, somebeast, an' a good, straight shaft!"
An older shrew passed Osbil his bow. "Try mine, Chief, 'tis the best bow in our tribe. Wait whilst I find ye a decent
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arrow." Sorting through his quiver, he selected one. Holding it to his eye, the older shrew sighted along the shaft, checking it. "Aye, this is a good 'un, straight'n'true. I made it meself out o' sessile oak, fletched it with a white gull feather, tipped it with best flint."
As Osbil set the shaft on the bowstring, Salixa joined him and Maudie, judging the target. "If you don't mind me saying, that will be a very hard shot to make. I know a little archery, would you like me to try?"
Osbil shook his head stubbornly. "No, miz, I won't be indebted to anybeast, 'tis my shot!"
Maudie whispered to Salixa, "Family honour an' all that, y'know, touchy types, these Guosim chaps, wot!"
They held their breath as Osbil hauled back on his bowstring. He sighted a moment, then dropped his paws with a snort of frustration. "Blood'n'fur, he's moved back into the trees. I'll have to wait for him to show himself agin!"
Salixa knelt by Osbil's side, advising him calmly, "Loosen up a little, you're too tense. That's better! Now, don't wait until the rat's right out in the open. Wait until you see him show, then fire your shaft slightly ahead of his position, aim at the spot where his next pace will place him. Now, pull back your bowstring in one movement, smoothly. That's right.... Fire!"
Vizka was beginning to lose patience with Stringle, who was still dithering over a decision, afraid to commit himself. "If'n 'twas up to me, I'd join ye right away, Cap'n Longtooth, but I've got to wait fer Grunt..." The Brownrat gave a strange gurgle and sat down. He swayed for a moment, then slumped forward, still in the sitting position.
Vizka had witnessed sudden death many times, he immediately dropped flat, calling to his crew, who were waiting nearby. "Git down, we're bein' fired on!"
Everybeast hugged the ground, waiting. After awhile it became apparent that no attack was being mounted. On his
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captain's command, the stoat, Patchy, crawled across to inspect Stringle.
"Deader'n a cold stone, Cap'n, de arrer went right atwixt 'is eyes. Dat's a fair birra shootin' from atop o' dose rocks!"
The golden fox spat at Stringle's carcass. "Saved me a job, I was gonna slay 'im meself. Dat fool was holdin' t'ings up. Right, Patchy, Dogleg, Ragchin an' Jungo! Git round to dose Brownrats, tell 'em Cap'n Stringle wants a werd wid dem."