Gonff and Trimp emerged from the cave yawning. Upon hearing Chugger's cries, Gonff became alert. "What frogs? Who's covered in frogs?"
Trimp shoved the Mousethief playfully. "He means fog. Look out!"
The mist parted and Chugger bowled head over brush into them. Gonff swept him up, tickling the little fellow and swinging him about. "I'll give ye frogs, y'villain!"
Soon the whole party was up and about. Furmo and his shrews lit a fire and began cooking breakfast. Dinny appeared out of the mist, toting a pail of water.
"Hurr, doan't be furr frum ee seashores naow. Lookit all ee frog yurrabouts, Marthen."
Martin climbed halfway up one of the ledges and peered over the mist curtain. "Right, Din. We don't normally get heavy bankmist like this inland. Sea can't be too far off now. Hush! Everybeast be still. I can hear someone coming this way!"
It was the otters, Tungro and his crew. As soon as Martin recognized their voices, he hailed them from the bank. "Morning, friends. Breakfast's almost ready, y'welcome to share it with us!"
Tungro waded ashore, dripping from the stream. "Thankee kindly, goodbeasts, we wouldn't say no to a bite o' brekkist. The crew ain't eaten yet t'day."
Nudging Log a Log Furmo, Gonff raised his eyebrows. "Better git more shrewbread on the hot stones. Here was I, thinkin' I was goin' t'get a nice big peaceful breakfast now it'll be a small noisy one with this lot as guests!"
The rest of Tungro's crew came ashore in a huddle. They had Folgrim with them, a rope lead around his middle and both paws bound by a long hobble, which had allowed him to swim. He winked his one good eye at Trimp. "Good day to ye, missie. 'Ope I finds yer well?"
The hedgehog maid shuddered, though she bobbed him a curtsy and managed a quick smile. "I'm well, thankee, sir."
Tungro drew Martin and Furmo to one side. He seemed slightly embarrassed and hesitant. "Er, I 'opes you'll fergive me, er, bringin' my brother Folgrim to yore camp fer brekkist like this. He ain't a bad beast really, 'tis just that 'is mind's troubled."
Martin nodded understanding^ and patted Tungro's shoulder. "Don't worry, friend. We know a bit about Folgrim and the bad times he's had. He dropped by here yesterday afternoon. There was no trouble, he behaved himself quite well."
Tungro looked relieved. "We caught up with Folgrim just after he'd tracked an' slain a rat. He'd lit a fire, that was 'ow we spotted 'im. Me'n'the crew had t'jump on pore Folgrim a bit, but we managed, tied 'im up an' buried the rat carcass afore he, er, well. . ."
Furmo poured a beaker of pennycloud cordial for the otter. " 'Tis all right, y'don't have to explain. We know from the other rat Folgrim managed t'get his paws on, just over the banktop there. Come on now, get somethin' to eat."
Furmo and his shrews had made a delicious breakfast. There was hot shrewbread, strawberries and a batch of vegetable pasties, with a choice of cordial or hot mint tea to drink. Tungro sat slightly apart with his brother, trying to make him eat a little, but Folgrim kept his mouth firmly shut, refusing the food in silence. Everybeast tried to get on with their meal, but they kept taking secretive glances as Tungro encouraged his brother. "Come on now, Fol, these're prime vittles, made by the best o' Guosim cooks. Try some o' this pasty, me ole mate!" Folgrim merely shook his head stubbornly. Tungro noticed the watchers and shrugged with embarrassment. "Sorry, he won't eat nothin', though there ain't a thing wrong wid yore food, friends. 'Tis the best I ever tasted."
Trimp was trying to hold on to Chugger, but he wriggled out of her grasp and went swiftly on all fours to Folgrim. Smiling up into the otter's scarred face, Chugger grabbed a pasty and lectured him like a mother squirrel. "Eaty all up now, or y'don't grow bigga strong like me. H'i eatim up if'n you don't, silly ole riverdog!"
Suddenly Folgrim burst out laughing at the little squirrel's antics, and took a big bite out of the proffered pasty. "You ain't eatin' all my brekkist up, liddle sir, ho no!"
Chugger nodded his head in agreement. "Good h'otter, now Chugg getcher sh'ewbread an' minty tea!"
Folgrim gobbled another mouthful of pasty. "Why thankee, mate, though I likes cordial better'n mint tea. Mebbe you could fetch me a couple o' them strawberries, too. They look nice!"
Tungro shook his head in amazement at the sight of Chugger feeding breakfast to his brother, both of them chatting away amiably, as if they were old friends.
"Well wallop me rudder, will y'look at that? Folgrim never was the most civil o' beastsback at the holt 'e spoke to nobody, much less smile an' chat like that. I reckon my brother's took a shine to yore lid die squirrel!"
Trimp was slightly apprehensive. She confided her fears to Dinny in a whisper that only he could hear. "I'm not so sure I like Chugger being around Folgrim. He's an otter who's eaten his enemies and is troubled in his mind. Who can tell what he'd do if the mood took him?"
The mole put aside his food, watching Folgrim and Chugger. "Oi doan't think ee gotten much t'wurry o'er, missie. Hurr, jus' you'm looka yon h'otter. Whoi, ee'm loik an ole molemum wi' 'er h'infant molebabe. Wuddent 'arm an 'air o' maister Chugg's liddle 'ead, burr no!"
Trimp watched as Chugger fed Folgrim some shrew-bread. The little squirrel was talking to the otter as if he were a naughty Dibbun.
"Now if'n you don't eat alia sh'ewbread up, I won't not let you 'ave no st'awbees, mista Fol!"
The hedgehog maid nodded in agreement with her molefriend. "I think you're right, Din. They're firm friends!"
When the meal was over, Martin and his group struck camp. Warm summer sun had lifted all the mist and the broad stream glistened invitingly. Tungro hailed them as they were packing supplies aboard.
"My 'earty thanks to ye, friends. We've got t'go now. Safe journey to you'n'yore mates, Martin, an' fair weather attend ye to the north coast!"
However, it was not that simple. Folgrim refused to go with his brother. Digging himself into the banksand, he resisted all their attempts to move him. Tungro stroked his strange brother's head coaxingly.
"C'mon, Fol, let's go back 'ome together, matey. Yore ole bed's waitin' for ye, an' everybeast's wantin' to give you a great welcome. Wot d'you say, eh?"
Chugger leaped from the raft and threw himself upon Folgrim, hugging the scarred otter and wailing piteously. "Waahaah! Don't take mista Fol 'way. Waahaahaa!"
As if this were not sad enough, Folgrim joined in, tears streaming from his one eye. "Buhurr! Don't take me away from me liddle pal. I wants t'go with 'im. Buhuhurr!"
Tungro was greatly moved. Dashing a paw across his eyes, he appealed to Martin. "Tell me, mate, wot do I do?"
The Warrior leaped ashore. Two swift slices of his sword set Folgrim free from the ropes at his waist and paws. "There's only one thing to do, friend. Let your brother come with us. We'll deliver him safe to your holt on the return journey, I promise."
Folgrim jumped up. With Chugger perched on his shoulders, he boarded the raft, both of them grinning from ear to ear. Tungro shook Martin's paw fervently.
"I know my brother'U be safe with goodbeasts like you'n'yore friends, sir. Mayhap 'twill be good for 'im."
They sailed off downstream, waving goodbyes to the otters standing on the banks.
"See you sometime about autumn!"
"Aye, we'll be waitin', with a potful of shrimp'n'hotroot soup to welcome ye!"
"Good, we'll be lookin' forward to it!"
"Watch out for Folgrim at night. He's a terrible snorer!"
"Hurr hurr, if'n ee can outsnore this lot, zurr, ee must be a good 'un!"
"You speak for yourself, Dinny mole. I don't snore!"
"Ho yuss ee do, miz Trimp. Don't 'er, zurr Gonff?"
"I wouldn't know, Din. When you're snorin', it drowns out every thin', even thunderstorms!"