A second volley of stones flew thick and fast into the confused soldiers.
Now Tsarmina was forced back into her own ranks. Furiously she began snarling
out orders.
"One rank crouching, one rank standing. Give me a wall of shields to the front
and carry on advancing. Poke spears out between the gaps in the shields.
Quick, fools. Foitunata, group archers at the rear. Tell them to fire over our
heads into the woodlanders. Hurry!"
Realization that they were in danger of being under serious attack galvanized
the Kotir troops into action.
Ben Stickle and Columbine were crawling about, whispering to the
noncombatants,
"Friends, help the wounded. Go with them quickly and quietly around the back
of this tree. Foremole has arrived with help."
They slid away, with Skipper's crew masking their retreat.
The soldiers were firing arrows now. They rattled off tree trunks and stuck
into the earth, some finding their mark among the woodlanders. The
shield-fronted advance moved slowly but steadily forward.
Skipper and Amber had coordinated their firepower. After the otters loosed
stone and javelin, the squirrels shot their arrows, each giving the other a
chance to reload, while keeping up continuous fire.
"Slings away!"
"Archers, fire!"
Brush and Birch were two big competent squirrels. Following Lady Amber's
directions, they swung off toward Kotir's
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furthest side, carrying as many ration packs between them as possible. Chibb
flew with them. All three were silent, and unseen by those in the fray below.
Cludd's bellow urged the soldiers forward. "Come on, you lot. Stir your
stumps, you laggards. Keep pushing on. We'll have 'em soon. You can have an
otter apiece shortly."
A stoat winced as a rock bounced off his spearshaft, sending shocks of pain
through his claws. "Huh, I'll have a mouse or a wounded hedgehog, mate. Let
Cludd and the Queen tackle those big otters."
His companion, a weasel, nodded agreement. "Aye, let them have the glory.
We'll be satisfied with the pickings."
Seconds later he was silenced by an arrow.
Lady Amber was beginning to get worried. She called down to Skipper, "We're
almost out of arrows up here, Skip. There's too many of 'em. We can't stop
their advance; it looks as if we've had it."
Skipper's tongue was lolling as he tore off two large rocks from his sling.
"There's nothing for it, marm. We'll just have to see how many of 'em we can
take with us."
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21
Early morning was enveloped in white mist. It clung to tree and bush like a
gossamer shawl, sparkling with dewdrops in the promise of a hot sunny day
ahead.
Eager to be on their way, the three friends broke fast as they traveled.
Martin unpacked scones for them, Gonff doled out a russet apple apiece, and
Dinny vanished into the mist, reappearing with a canteen of fresh spring
water.
Limbs loosened as the night stiffness receded. They stepped out at a brisk
pace to Gonff's latest marching cttant.
Sala-manda-stron, look out here we come, A thief, a warrior and a mole. Though
the quest may take its toll, We'll march until we reach our goal,
Sala-manda-stron.
The flood of morning sun penetrated the mists, melting them into a yellowy
haze. Martin and Gonff struggled to keep straight faces, listening to Dinny
chanting the marching verse in mole tongue.
"Salad-anna-sconn, lookit yurr'ee come."
Still in fine fettle, they reached the outskirts of Mossflower Woods. Pushing
on through the fringes, they found themselves facing a brown dirt road, which
curved and bent like a snake. Beyond it lay the far dim expanses of the
flatlands
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shimmering in the heat. Between the path and the flatlands was a deep ditch,
though because of the dry weather it contained only the merest trickle of
water.
The companions kept silent, remembering that Scratch and his aides might well
be somewhere nearby.
Gonff went back to the woods and returned with a long stout branch. Taking his
knife, the mousetnief trimmed off the twigs.
Martin watched with interest. "What are you up to, matey?" he asked, keeping
his voice low.
Young Dinny knew. "Ee'm maken a powl t'jump ditcher. Squirrelbeast do et iffen
they baint no tree to swing offen."
Martin took the pole and felt its balance. "Oh, I see. A vaulting pole. Good
idea, Gonff.''
Making sure his grip was firm on the pole near its top, Gonff leveled it in
front of him.
"Me first, Dinny next, then you, matey. Watch me and see how it's done. I'm a
prince of vaulters, y'know."
Gonff broke into a fast trot. With the pole held straight out, he sped across
the road, then dipping the pole into the ditch he levered upward and out.
Martin saw the pole bend, carrying Gonff high into the air. The momentum swung
him easily across the ditch. He landed lightly on his paws and pushed the pole
back to the mole.
Dinny held it gingerly, whispering to Martin, "Murrsey, oi 'ates a leaven owd
earth, 'tis on'y burds be so fool'ardy. Art well, yurr oi goo."
Dinny performed a waddling little shuffle, jabbed the pole into the ditch and
rose slowly into the air. The impetus was not sufficient to carry him across;
he wavered in the air and began dropping back. Martin made a mad dash.
Catching the pole low down, he thrust against it and whipped back with all his
force. Dinny was catapulted away from the pole across the ditch. He hit the
far bank near the top and was grabbed by Gonff, who helped him to scrabble
out. Dinny lay kissing the grass, thankful to be back on firm ground.
Martin's strength and fearlessness helped him to make the crossing with ease.
He quite enjoyed the sensation of flying through the air. When Dinny was fully
recovered, they commenced their journey into the flatlands.
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They were not long gone when Blacktooth yawned and stretched himself in the
ditch. The trackers had camped a short distance south of the vaulting area.
Splitnose rolled over in his sleep and slid from the narrow strip of dry
bottom into the slimy shallow water.
"Yaauugghhh! You lousy vermin! Who did that? Come on, own up!"
"Heeheehee! You did it yourself, puddenhead. It's a wonder you never carried
on snoring."
"What, me, snoring? Have you ever heard yourself? Sounds like a goose
gargling."
"Rubbish. I never slept a wink. Oh, I dropped off for a moment or two a while
back. Funny, though. I dreamed I saw a mouse, just up that way apiece. Guess
what? He flew across the ditch,"
"Heeheehee oh ahaharr! He wasn't followed by Cludd pretending to be a swallow,
was he?"
"Ha, you can laugh, fatty. But it was almost as if I was awake. The mouse
flew, I tell you."
"Fatty yourself. That's what you get for hogging all those rations last night.
It was a nightmare brought on by pure greed."
"It was not. It was more like a daymare brought on by the hunger. I'm
starving."
Scratch ignored their arguing. Pulling himself from the ditch, he took a chunk
of bread from his pack and began munching it.
Splitnose and Blacktooth stopped fighting to complain.
"Oi, that's not fair. You're supposed to be the leader. It's up to you to see
we're properly fed."
"That's right. I've only got a stingy little bit of crust and it's sopping wet
from that stinking ditch water."
Contemptuously Scratch threw a crust on the bank edge. "There you are. First
out gets it."
The ferret and the stoat fought tooth and claw. They kicked each other down in