Within a short while, Bodjev, the tiny fat Chieftain of his pigmy shrew tribe, returned with a large bunch of his warriors, each bearing a pine club, tipped with flint shards, over his shoulder. He threw himself down alongside Alfik, his son, hissing with shock as he caught sight of Tagg.
"Wow wow! Whereja find dat monister? Lookarra size of 'im!"
Alfik wrinkled his long nose in a show of careless bravery. "Ho, I jus' finded d'beast, sleepyin' 'ere. Warra us do now, Daddy?"
Bodjev glared at his son and clipped him a good one on the ear. "You norra Squidjee nomore. Worr I tellya? Chief's name Bodjev, only Daddy when you was likkle. Bodjev now, 'member dat!"
One of the Cavemob tribe called out a warning as Tagg groaned and rolled over in his sleep. "Y'be shushed or d'big fella come awakey!"
Bodjev could not identify the voice, so he satisfied himself by dispensing clipped ears to any shrew within reach. "Who you tella to shushed? Talk t'me like dat! All shushed now, wait for da snakeyfishes to come. Den after dat we catcher d'mousey anna bigga monister!"
Tagg glimpsed the mouse warrior with the beautiful sword, wandering through the corridors of his mind. He pursued him, but, unable to run, he floated helplessly through a warm pink mist, calling out the mouse's name. "Deyna! Deyna!"
The warrior mouse halted and turned, shaking his head and smiling. Touching a paw to his armored breastplate, he spoke one word. "Martin!" Then he disappeared, leaving the sleeping otter mystified. If he was Martin, then who was Deyna?
Further dreams were shattered. Both Tagg and Nimbalo leaped up amid a sea of slithering silver. They slipped and fell flat as the slim shining shapes slid over them. Wild squeaks rent the dawnlight. Pigmy shrews were everywhere, striking wildly at the silvery threadlike mass with small clubs and shouting to one another.
"Dink a dink! Gerra snakeyfishes!"
"Yik yik, chukkem inna water!"
"Dink a dinky dink dink! Plenny snakeyfishes, brudders!"
Tagg grabbed Nimbalo. Kicking his way through the wriggling mass, he made it to the top of a rocky mound and stared in wonder at the scene around him. Nimbalo knew what the glimmering threads were. He had seen them once before on the flatlands.
"Elvers, mate! Those are little tiny eels. They travel on the dewy grass, shoals an' shoals of 'em. They can go fer many a league. But where'd all the baby shrews come from?"
Tagg watched the shrews as they raced about killing the elvers, dispatching each one with a quick blow to the head from their flint-tipped clubs. Dead elvers were tossed into the water and washed away downstream into the mountain caves. As they struck out with their clubs, the shrews squeaked triumphantly.
"Dink! Gorra nudder one!"
"Dink a dink! I gorra two snakeyfishes!"
Expertly they flicked the dead elvers into the water with their clubtips. Tagg shook his head. "They aren't babies. Some of them have grey whiskers. Those are fully grown shrews. I've never seen anything like it!"
Nimbalo was taller than the tallest shrew by more than a head. He stood on tip-paw and puffed out his chest scornfully. "Huh, I knew that, mate. Crowd o' liddle nuisances if y'ask me, wakin' us up jus' so they can stock up their larders with elvers!"
The shrews did not let up their mass kill until a good while later, by which time most of the elvers had passed. They slid away like mobile tinsel, the morning sun reflecting off their packed masses as they glided into the distance. Their countless numbers were scarcely affected by the slaughter.
Alfik and Bodjev approached the mound, clubs at the ready. The Chieftain's son wiggled his nose ferociously at Tagg. "We be's Cavemobs, my daddy a Chief. Who be's you?"
Tagg was about to reply when Bodjev clipped Alfik's ear. "Wot I tellya, nit'ead? My name be's Bodjev!" He shook his head almost apologetically at Tagg. "Norra brains, norra manners. Yik yik, younger shrews dese seasons alla same. No respecks!"
Nimbalo bristled at the father's treatment of his son. "No need t'be whackin' 'is lug like that, mate!"
This gave Tagg an idea. Very gently he kicked Nimbalo's bottom and rolled his eyes expressively at the pigmy shrew Chieftain. "I know exactly what you mean, sir. They're always speaking when they're not spoken to. Put a latch on your lip, young Nimbalo!"
Bodjev held his fat stomach as he chuckled. "Yikyikyikyik! Go make playplay, yew two's. I be's Bodjev. Wot be's your name?"
Tagg held out his paw courteously. "Pleased to meet you, Bodjev, sir. My name's Tagg."
Bodjev grinned as he looked the otter up and down. "Tagg? Yikyik, be's a likkle name for a big fella. So, Tagg, you an' your son be likin' snakeyfish pie?"
Tagg kept a polite smile on his face as he shook the shrew's paw. "Never tasted it, sir, but I'm sure 'tis delicious!"
Bodjev put his head on one side as he tried to pronounce delicious. "Lishus! Lishus! Yikyik, good, eh? You come a me, bring de likkle son, we alla 'ave snakeyfish pie. Plenny good!"
Tagg waded through the shallows, with Nimbalo on his shoulders. The harvest mouse was boiling with ill-concealed temper at the treatment he had been shown. "Yore son? That flap-'eaded wiggle-snouted pudden-bellied beast thinks I'm yore son? An' another thing. Wot did you think y'were doin', kickin' me tail like that? Who gave you the right"
Tagg's paw stifled any further remarks. "Safety first, mate. I was only protecting us by making friends with the Chief. Look, I know they're only tiny shrews, but there must be thousands of them, all carrying stone-tipped clubs. We might get a lot of them in a fight, but they'd bring us down in the end, just by their weight of numbers!"
Nimbalo yanked Tagg's paw from his mouth, unappeased. "So ye let 'im whack his son an' yer kicked me tail, just t'make friends. That's very nice, izzenit? We could've battled our way through, betcha an acorn to an oak we could. I remember one time when I fought me way outta a nestful of crows. Hah, slew a good few of them I did, an' I got away safe!"
The otter turned his face to Nimbalo, a no-nonsense look in his eyes. "Where's the point in fighting and slaying if you can make a friend out of anybeast instead of a foe? From now on, while we're the guests of these creatures, we might have to do a few things we don't like. But that's the way it is, mate, and I'll hear no more argument about it. Now straighten your face and smile. You look like a beetle with a bruised brow!"
The harvest mouse kept a grin pasted on his face as he replied, "An' you look like a blackbird with a boiled behind!"
Tagg smiled sweetly, answering from between clenched teeth, "And you look like duck with a webful of custard!"
"Well, you look like a stoat with a stink up 'is nose!"
"In that case you look like a bumblebee with a boil!"
"Hoho, well, you look like a ... a ... a hedgehog with a head h'ache!"
"A head h'ache?"
The two friends burst out laughing.
They skirted a small pool, with a little stream from up in the mountains spilling into it, the cascade hiding the entrance to the pigmy shrews' cave. Dodging through the miniature waterfall, Tagg and Nimbalo emerged into what appeared to be a cathedral-like cavern. It was lit by scores of firefly lanterns and torches and populated by literally thousands of pigmy shrews. The stream continued into the cavern, where it ran into a central lake. Halfway down the stream a net had been stretched under and above the water. Shrews dipped sievelike paddles in and pulled out the dead elvers. These were taken away on a small cart to the kitchen, which was merely lots of cooking fires under wide rock ledges. The cooks there were busy doing all manner of things with the young eels: stewing, baking, roasting and frying. All activity ceased at the sight of Tagg. Every pigmy shrew stood gaping wordlessly at the giant who had entered their domain. Bodjev waddled over to the cooking fires and began boxing ears left, right and center.