‘If I am right in my belief,’ he said, with the air of someone who knew he always was, ‘then you, Old Friend, have been picked for a task which will go down in legend as the most significant event in the history of the animal kingdom. An Honoured Badger indeed; one whose name will live for ever along with the names of the great heroes of Before-Man and whose role in history may be seen perhaps as even greater than theirs.’
‘Stop, stop, for goodness sake,’ the badger said. He had begun to feel extremely alarmed; it was one thing being a Guardian of the Wood who shared responsibility with Warrigal and whose task it was to call the Council together for emergency meetings, but quite another to be told of all this stuff about legend and history and how he would become famous. The owl exaggerated, of course; he took everything seriously and tended to make the simplest of events take on significant proportions. Still he really did look grave.
‘But all I’ve done is rescue a human baby from dying of cold,’ he said, not really unaware of the enormity of that event but trying now to make it less important by talking about it as being less important. ‘Oh dear,’ he said, as Warrigal just stood there, looking at him.
‘Legend tells of an Urkku Saviour who arrives in the way your young friend arrived last night. I know no more than that. Your grandfather, Bruin the Brave, probably also knows of it but it is not a tale that is told often; partly because it is too unbelievable and partly because the ending has become lost in the mists of time. No one knows it,’ he added, remembering with a sigh that sometimes his poetic turns of phrase, of which he was extremely proud, were misunderstood. ‘The Elflord must be told; he, of course, knows of the legend and he will tell us how to proceed. I will see to that. In the meantime we must simply get the Council to agree to his remaining here, unmolested. Don’t breathe a word to anyone, except Tara, of the legend or of the Elflord. We must keep things as quiet and normal as possible, otherwise the Urkku might sense something different about the wood and begin poking around. Leave things to me tonight; I know how to handle the Council. Till Moon-High then,’ he said, and flew silently away.
Brock sat stunned, staring out at the field and thinking. He didn’t want to go back down the sett just yet; he needed time to collect himself. The mention of the Elflord had sent shivers of fear and apprehension down his back. He remembered his strange feelings of destiny and fate when he first saw the baby, but he had never dreamt that it would come to this. The animals all knew, of course, of the Kingdom of the Elves but very few of them had actually seen an elf, let alone spoken to one, and it was frightening to think that his name was to be made known to the Elflord. Warrigal had seemed very nonchalant about telling him, as if he ate with the Elflord every day but Brock didn’t really believe that the owl was that familiar with him. This was in fact the first time that Warrigal had mentioned the elves although, from certain oblique references in conversation, Brock had guessed that there was some contact between them and his friend. Still, it was extremely daunting to actually know of it; like everyone else in the Wood he had an uneasy fear of the elves even though they had never done him any harm. It was said that they had strange powers and could perform magic and that, although they normally used these powers for helping, sometimes they would use them to cause harm to an animal who had displeased them by threatening the stability of the wood. Stories were told of animals who had suddenly disappeared for no reason or who were found dead with no apparent injury. Brock therefore liked to keep these things at the back of his mind, and now, here he was, being brought to the attention of the elves, by what he was beginning to believe was an extremely unfortunate chain of events.
The sun was beginning to move down from the high place it had occupied in the middle of the day and had started to turn pale and watery the way it does on winter afternoons. The clear blue sky had given way to one streaked with wisps of grey cloud, so that now Brock was able to look at the expanse of snow which spread out before him without being dazzled.
The only sound to be heard was the three, evenly spaced ‘Toowitt-Toowoos’ of Warrigal as he glided, silent as a shadow, between the trees. This was the summons to the Council Meeting that night at which the leaders of the woodland animals would discuss tactics for the Killing tomorrow. The trees stood out, stark and black against the pale sky, each branch taking on an identity and character of its own and the twigs looking like the long bony fingers of an old woman. There was a feeling of utter calm in the scene before him which gave him a strength and resolve he had never before ex-perienced; perhaps because he had never needed it. He turned slowly and made his way back through the earthen passage into the familiar sett, with its comforting atmosphere of home.
CHAPTER III
When Brock went through the doorway and saw the baby curled up in a cradle formed by Tara’s two front legs, the gravity of WarrigaPs words seemed far away and the sense of impending adventure which the owl had conveyed to him remote indeed. Tara was fast asleep, lying with her back resting against the smooth dark brown earth of the far wall, and the sight of her sleeping so peacefully made Brock realize how tired he was. He decided to have a rest before breaking the news to the other members of the family who lived in the sett. Then there would be the daunting task of facing the Council, although he was pleased, and relieved, that Warrigal had so readily taken it upon himself to help with this tricky business and he had a rather comforting feeling that his friend would do all the talking. However, at the same time he did not really want the owl to steal any glory that might be going and he felt a little uneasy about the possibility that Warrigal might ‘take over’.
But his deep and refreshing sleep was all too quickly shattered by a violent shaking and the sound of lots of little frantic yelps. He opened his eyes blearily to see Old Bruin standing over him and the two cubs Zinddy and Sinkka, who were now almost three seasons old, jumping around Tara and trying to get her to explain what this strange new animal was doing in the sett and what type of creature it was. So, there was no need to break the news to the other inhabitants, the news had broken by itself. Brock spoke as sternly as he could to the cubs. ‘Come on, you two; settle down and come over here to me and Bruin and I’ll explain everything to you as best I can. ’ They stopped for a second and then began wrestling with each other, rolling over and over on the floor with their bodies locked together in a fighting embrace.
‘Here!’ said Brock sharply and they quickly disengaged themselves and scampered over to where he and Bruin stood. The baby had of course been awoken by all the noise and had begun to cry, but Tara began to nurse him and he soon settled down with his eyes closed and a look of intense concentration on his face.
Bruin stood gravely at Brock’s side as the badger began to tell the three of them about the events that had led up to their finding a baby human curled in Tara’s arms as they were quietly making their way through the front chamber out to the winter evening.