The badger maid sighed and closed her eyes. "All those stories we told, Pikklelies, the whole lot. I wish it had been like that back at Salamandastron. I'd never have left. Ah well, let's get some sleep. Goodnight, Pikkle."
Pikkle watched as a single teardrop oozed from his friend's closed eyelid.
"I say, steady on. Maybe we did tell a blinkin' pack of fibs, but it certainly calmed down those shrew chappies. Look,
they're fast asleep, the lot o'them, just like we should be. G'night Mara ol' gel, happy dreams, wot?"
Log-a-log roused them as he threw more wood on the fire. It had been light for nearly three hours. "Come on, you lot. Roll me log, are you going to doze there all day?"
Breakfast was a hasty affair of meager rations. Preparations for the day were mapped out by the shrew leader. Log-a-log elected to go with Nordo and the foraging party, saying he would search for logboat repairing materials while they gathered what food the island had to offer. Six shrews were to remain behind on the ledge to guard the boats and keep the fire going.
Mara and Pikkle studiously avoided mentioning the nature of their quest, so as not to upset the others. Arming themselves with rapiers and slings, and accompanied by Tubgutt, as promised, they climbed up the cliffs to the woodlands above and struck out for the center of the island, leaving the Guosssom to their chores.
It was a thickly wooded island. Small birds twittered in the foliage, sunlight shafted through the leaves of beech, elm, oak, ash, sycamore and cedar, tracing patterns of light and shade on the pretty forest flowers carpeting the ground. Pikkle found a cherry tree in full fruit and they sat beneath it, eating the softest dark red cherries. Apples and pears too grew in profusion.
Pikkle flicked a cherry stone in the air. "I say, this is all rather nice, chaps. A body could get used to this, the blinkin' place is a paradise. Look, there's a sweet-chestnut tree-beech and hazelnut as well. Flop my ears, if a ghost does live here he must be a blinkin' well-fed old spook. Yowch! Go easy with those cherry stones, Mara!"
"What are you gabbling on about, Ffolger?" The badger maid looked at him quizzically.
"GabblhV? I'm not gabblin', m'dear gel. Just quit chuckin' Jolly ol' cherry stones at me, that's all."
Mara indicated a small heap of cherry pits at her side. "I've
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not thrown a one. Mine are heresee?''
Pikkle clapped a paw to his eye. "Yowch! Now listen, old Tubthing, throw one more cherry stone at me an' I'll squidge a cherry right on your bally nose!"
Tubgutt was a serious shrew, not given to practical jokes. "I don't throw pips at other creatures, Pikkle. Don't blame
me!"
"Yowch! Well, who theow! There goes another one!"
Mara looked up swiftly and caught a glance of a fleeting grayish creature flitting through the treetops. "Aha! There's somebeast up there. Come on. It went that way!"
Dashing between the close-growing trunks, they chased after the shadowy figure, but it was a pointless exercise; whatever it was had them easily outdistanced. The three friends stopped in a small clearing, panting from the hard run. A pool of crystal-clear water provided them with a refreshing drink.
As they drank, Pikkle watched the treetops reflected in the surface of the water. Leaning close to Mara, he whispered, "It's back again. The bally thing's watchin' us from the top of that beech tree yonder. What'11 we do?"
Mara kept her face down and her paws cupped as she drank water. "Ah yes, I see it now. Pay no attention. We'll let its own curiosity get the better of it. Look, it's coming lower."
Traveling in small jerky runs, the creature was moving down the beech trunk toward the ground. Tubgutt watched the reflection in the pool with Mara and Pikkle.
"What do you suggest we do now, Mara? It's down on the grass."
Now Mara had lost the reflected picture, she took a quick glance over her shoulder. The creature had started moving across the clearing behind them.
"It's a squirrel!" the badger maid hissed to her friends. ' 'When I give the word we must move fast, cut it off from the trees and surround it in this clearing. Pikkle, you're the fastestget behind it. Tubgutt, go to the left. I'll go to the right. That way the only place it will have left to run will be straight into this pool. Ready ... Go!"
The plan worked neatly. Dashing out, they had the squirrel
boxed in. As they moved closer, it backed toward the pool. It was a female, incredibly small and thin, traces of its former red showing beneath the fur that was heavily grayed with age. She stood with her back to the water, baring toothless gums at them. Mara held out her paws in a sign of peace.
"I am Mara, this is Pikkle, and Tubgutt. We mean you no harm. Why were you throwing cherry stones at us? I could understand if you were a young playful squirrel, but one of your seasons .. . You surprise me with your infantile behavior."
The ancient creature did not reply. She swayed from side to side, seeking a chance to dash off, but there was no escape likely.
Pikkle stepped closer, wagging a paw at her. "How would you like it if I aimed cherry stones at your bonce, marm? What I mean is, hang it all, can't a chap scoff cherries in peace in this island?"
The squirrel opened her mouth wide and let out a long shrill call.
"Eulaliaaaaaa!"
There followed a silence. Pikkle shook his head disapprovingly. "Is that all you've got to say for yourself, old lady? Dearie me, I can see this conversation's goin' nowhere fast, wot?"
There was a rustling in the woodland at their backs. The squirrel nodjjed with satisfaction before speaking.
"You'll be sorry you came to this island. It's you who are surrounded now, not me."
A heavy crashing in the undergrowth caused the three friends to turn round. Two badgers came thundering out of the woods, one a female as old as the squirrel, but the other was a huge male, white as driven snow and whirling a big knotted oak club. They roared as they burst into the clearing.
"Eulaliaaaaaa!"
Pikkle and Tubgutt stood openmouthed with shock, but Mara stood forward, a tiny shrew rapier in one paw, twirling a loaded sling in the other. The battle light shone in her eyes.
"I am Mara of Salamandastron! Stay out of the way, old
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mother. You, white one, come a step closer and I'll slay you!"
The white badger looked for a moment as if he were going to charge forward, but Mara noted the fierceness dim suddenly from his face, and his massive paws quivered as he stood undecided.
"Get in there and fight, Urthwyte!" The old female badger stamped her paw down angrily. "Go on, she's a mere puppy compared to you. Flatten her!"
Mara came forward lightly, poised on ready pawpads, her neckfur bristling, fangs bared. "Aye, come on, Urthwyte. You're a fine big beast. Let's see if you fight as good as you growl!"
Pikkle and Tubgutt stood to one side, out of the whole thing. The confrontation was between two badgers; to get in the way meant certain death. Pikkle, however, noticed as Mara did that the white badger, for all his size and muscle, seemed unwilling to offer battle. The young hare called encouragement to his friend.