Gauchee and Kastern sat gazing sadly at a beautiful damson flan topped with crisp thin pastry covered in whiterose cream and decorated with candied mintleaves and nuts. They were poised over it, holding a wooden spoon apiece, sighing regretfully,
"Golly gosh, it does look lovely. Far too nice to eat!"
"Hmm, I agree with you. It'd be a shame to spoil it, really!"
"But some other creature will if we don't."
"True, true. I know, let's do it gently!"
Brome sat next to Buckler, sharing a beetroot and mushroom pastie, an enormous thing, swimming in leek gravy. "Burr, oi c'n feel et doen moi shoulder a power o' gudd!"
"Huh, there's nothing wrong with your other shoulder, it's doing the work of two. Stop shovin' me out of the way, you great hungry beast!"
Trefoil had an apple baked in honey. Each rime she looked away, a piece of it went missing.
Rowanoak winked at the baby Fuffle as he licked honey from his paws. "Good, eh, mate!" Fuffle winked back with both eyes. "Good for Fuffle!"
Old Barkjon accepted a platter of summer fruits from Geum. He picked at them as he gazed at the other revellers. "I don't see my son.
Have you served him with food, Geum?"
"He was hanging around at the edge of the camp before dark," the gossipy old mousewife sniffed. "Never sat down to eat with the rest. I suppose we're not good enough for him!"
Brome left his pastie to Buckler and spoke up in defense of his friend. "Don't you speak about Felldoh like that, old one. If it weren't for him and Keyla, you'd still be a slave!"
Geum bustled off in a huff. Barkjon smiled at the young mouse.
"Well said, Brome. You are a true friend to my son. Have you seen him?"
Brome gathered up some food a wedge of plumcake, a hunk of brown nut cheese, a small fresh baked wheat farl and a jug. "I haven't seen him, sir, but I know where he'll be: doing a lone patrol and keeping watch for foebeasts while we sit here filling our bellies. I'll go and find him with this food. He must be hungry wandering the cliffs by himself."
Felldoh laid his javelins and thrower down. He sat with his back to a rock at the cliff's edge, staring out at the calm sea and the star strewn sky. Though he was savoring freedom, the sturdy young squirrel was fighting down a rage that burned deep inside, against the seasons he and his father had spent in captivity. Hatred of Bad rang and all the Tyrant stood for gnawed at him. The sound of somebeast close by drew his paws swiftly to the weapons on the ground.
"Felldoh, is that you, mate?"
The squirrel sighed as he relaxed his hold on the javelins. "Brome, what are you doing out here?"
The young mouse sat beside him and laid out the food. "Brought you a bite of supper. Are you hungry?"
Felldoh accepted the food gratefully. "Well young Brome," he said thoughtfully,"that was a reckless, foolish thing you did, but no one can deny that you showed great courage. No one can deny that."
"Redcurrant and roseleaf cordial. I hope you like it."
Felldoh balanced the jug on his elbow. "Like it? Does a fish like water!"
They sat together watching the sea and the night sky. Brome sighed and voiced aloud the thought that tormented him constantly, whenever he looked out over the deep waters of the main. "I often look at the sea these days and wonder if Martin, Grumm and my sister made it to land. I'd hate to think of them lying somewhere out there underneath the waves."
"What a silly notion!" Felldoh chuckled as he punched Brome's paw lightly. "Huh, they probably made it to land while we were still floundering about thinking of the idea. Listen, mate, if your sister and Grumm are with Martin, they're safe as a deep rooted oak. That mouse has more warrior spirit in his left ear than most creatures I've ever come across. Why, I wouldn't be surprised to see them come marching across these cliffs right now, with the Noonvale army behind them!"
Brome looked out along the cliffs as if taking Felldoh at his word.
Suddenly he pointed north. "Look, there is somebeast coming. About a dozen of 'em, I'd say!"
The two weasel trackers, Bugpaw and FHnk, knelt to scan the ground in the moonlight. Hisk watched them impatiently. "What's the matter with you two? Surely the two wheel tracks of a loaded cart are clear enough to follow?"
Bugpaw looked up at the Captain. "The cart has been along here more'n once, Hisk. We're lookin' for the freshest set of tracks."
Flink traced the rutted outlines with his paw. "Buggy's right, an' it's double 'ard in the night. We could be follerin' our own tails. Why don't yer knock off an' rest up, it'd be a lot easier trackin' in daylight, Hisk."
There was a concerted murmur of agreement from the others.
The weasel Captain took a pace back and brought his spear up.
"What's all this, a mutiny? Dig the dirt out yer ears an' listen to me.
I'm Lord Badrang's Captain. If you disobey me you're disobeyin' him.
The orders is to follow the cart tracks an' find out where they goes, an'
that's what I intend doin'. Right, does anybeast want to argue it out with Lord Badrang when we get back to Marshank?"
There was a shuffling of paws and some sullen muttering.
"All right, Hisk, you've made yer point," a voice from the group called out. "Let's gerron with it."
Hisk gave a humourless laugh. "I'm glad you see it my way. Oh, and by the way, only Lord Badrang calls me Hisk. It's Captain Hisk to you lot. Remember that!"
Felldoh picked up his javelins. "They're Badrang's creatures. I can't hear what they're saying, but anybeast with half an eye could see that they're tracking the cart, trying to find out where our camp is. Here, take this javelin and follow me, Brome. Keep low and stay quiet."
The two companions headed back south along the clifftop, in the direction of the camp, scurrying on all fours as Felldoh followed the imprint of the cart tracks. Judging that he had gone far enough, Felldoh halted. "Do as I do, Brome. Cover the tracks until I tell you to stop."
Brome did not question his friend. He realized the urgency of the situation. Scuffing and brushing with their paws, they obliterated the twin ruts of the wheel marks from the loose sandy earth.
Felldoh took a quick look around. "Good, that should do. Now take one of these javelins, and hurry!"
Dashing back to the spot where the cart tracks ended, Felldoh set the blunt end of a lance in the ground and began a swerving furrow towards a low hill in an inland direction. Realization of the plan dawned on Brome. They were going to lead the trackers off on a false trail. Scoring the ground with his lance end, he caught up with Felldoh. Away the pair went over the low hill, leaving in their wake two grooves.
Bugpaw halted and stood upright. "Look 'ere, clear as daylight an'
fresh as a daisy. These are good tracks. Looks like they took on extra weight."
Flink sniffed the ground and nodded. "That's right, Captain Hisk. I can't smell badger anywheres near these ruts, and I can sniff badger a mile off. That means the big badger must've hurt its paw and had to ride up on the cart. The tracks are slightly deeper. Look!"
Hisk puffed out his narrow chest, satisfied he was back in control.
"Good work, you two. Keep it up. Come on, let's go!"
The tracks led west, over the low hill and out across some furze land, through a patch of damp sandy flats and into an expanse of reedgrass. Hisk and his soldiers followed diligently, the weasel Captain issuing whispered orders as they dogtrotted across the patchy moonlit landscape.
"Don't forget, silence at all times. When we find the camp we make a note of its position and head right back to Marshank. Lord Badrang'll take care of the rest."
Brome and Felldoh dragged the javelins behind them as they scurried into a heavily bulrushed area. The squirrel's paw squelched deep. He stopped, checking Brome as he did. "Halt, swampland! Let's hide over there, where the rushes are thickest. Here, take some more javelins. I'll cut you a throwing stick while we're waiting on Badrang's vermin. Hisk is their leader. Leave him to me I've got scores to settle with that scumnosed blaggard. He bent many a rod over my back!"