The rest of the animals had also gone to sleep; Sam, Brock and Perryfoot together in a little hollow behind a boulder just beneath Nab and Beth, and Warrigal perched on an old root of heather which he had found on one side of the hollow. They slept all the rest of Christmas Day and all that night, finally waking up the following dawn feeling marvellously refreshed; the cloud of sorrow which they had carried with them from Silver Wood seemed to have been blown away in the wind, leaving them with sad memories but freeing them from the claustrophobia of their earlier misery. Now they felt ready and eager to press on; they got up from the warmth of their sleeping places and, looking back fondly at their first home of the journey, they began to make their way back down from the rocks.
They had just reached the bottom of the belt of trees and were about to emerge on to the heather covered slope at the base of the little hill when, ahead of them, Warrigal stopped and, perching on a low branch moved his wings slowly up and down. That was the signal to wait and, an instant later, they saw a line of Urkku come into sight walking slowly along the flat stretch of moors at the bottom of the hill beneath them. They all held guns resting in the crooks of their arms so that they pointed out from their bodies and down to the ground. They were just like the organized slaughterers that the animals had seen coming through Silver Wood and they made those same funny shouting and whooping noises to frighten the animals into showing themselves. Nab and the others froze where they were and then sank down slowly behind the trees; Beth felt her wrist gripped tightly and she responded as quietly and carefully as she was able to the boy’s gestures. The line slowly passed by them, hardly looking to left or right, and to the relief of the animals not turning and coming towards them up the hill as they had dreaded. Soon all that could be seen was a row of backs retreating into the distance but then they heard the rapid frightened chatter of some grouse and, a second later, the cracks of the guns as the morning yielded up its toll of death. Then Perryfoot, lying at Nab’s side, saw to his horror a large mountain hare suddenly jump up from its night time resting place and race off in front of the guns. The shots, as they were fired, seemed to jerk the hare back as if there was a length of string attached to its neck which had suddenly run out and pulled it up short. They watched as it lay twitching and crying on the ground until one of the Urkku came up to it, kicked it over with his foot and then beat it over the head with the butt of his gun. Perryfoot was whimpering and shivering uncontrollably with fear at the sight of what had so nearly happened to him and at the other side of him Nab could feel Beth trying to free her hand and get up. She was not yet used to sights such as this, as were the others, and the anger in her burnt fierce and keen like a flame which has just burst into life. Nab motioned to her to get down and stop pulling but she took no heed. However she was no match for the iron grip of the boy and soon she gave up and began to sob quietly. Nab and the others found to their surprise that Wythen’s parting words enabled them to control their emotions; ‘… yet channel your hatred into determination for success in what you must do, for that will lead to the ultimate victory.’ So their anger became submerged in their overall purpose; they were fighting the Urkku now in the pursuit of their wider goal. This was merely a battle; they were fighting the war. What they had just seen, and would doubtless see again many times before the end, merely strengthened their resolve to succeed.
And yet, watching the magnificent creature that a second ago had been vibrant with life and grace being clubbed to death slowly over the head, it was impossible to remain totally detached and objective and Nab felt tears start from the corners of his eyes and trickle down his face.
Eventually the Urkku vanished into the far distance and the animals felt able to relax again. Warrigal flew back to them where they lay amongst the trees and they all decided to stay where they were until after Sun-High to give the Urkku plenty of time to get clear.
‘We shall rest here, then, until mid-afternoon,’ said Warrigal, ‘and then we shall have to travel through the night.’ This of course suited him and Brock but Sam and Perryfoot felt more at home in the daylight. Nab did not mind travelling by day or night as he was equally comfortable in either, but on balance it was agreed by them all that it was generally safer in the evening and at night as there were less likely to be Urkku abroad. The sky was still bright and clear and the mid-morning sun was quite warm in any shelter they could find from the cold wind. So once again they settled down behind clumps of heather and tree trunks and were soon lightly sleeping with the warmth of the sun on their eyelids.
Sam was the first to wake up in the afternoon and he roused the others. It was quite a different day to the one they had closed their eyes on. The sky was full of large ominous black clouds and the wind had died down slightly and changed direction so that it was also warmer.
‘Rain,’ said Brock as he lifted his nose and sniffed at the air, and just as they left the trees the first large wet spots began to fall. Beth put up the hood of her cloak and felt grateful for its cover as she heard the rain pattering down on it. They headed out over the stretch of moors through which the Urkku had walked that morning with Warrigal once again in the lead. However, he had to keep stopping now and conferring with Nab for it was the boy who was able to feel most strongly the currents in the earth which told them the way to follow. The rain soon began to turn the hard crisp surface of the snow into a wet soft slush and the going became more difficult as they departed from the route along which the shoot had gone and headed into an area of bog where the green spongy surface of moss and rushes squelched beneath their feet and Beth found her wellingtons sinking in almost to the top. Perryfoot, although he was much better, was still unable to keep pace with the others so he was being carried again by Nab but Sam was having great difficulty behind them as his legs kept sinking in the mulch and Brock had to help him out.
Fortunately they were soon clear of the bog and now they began to descend through the foothills. It was less sharp and craggy here; instead gentle green slopes and soft valleys surrounded them and here and there they saw flocks of sheep grazing, seemingly oblivious to the weather. Soon they were walking through a particularly deep valley with a rushing stream on one side and they were completely hidden from view by the steep banks on either side which were covered with gorse bushes, thorn trees and the strewn remains of last year’s bracken, standing out dark brown with the wet. The sky ahead was full of the pinks and crimsons of sunset and the dark clouds had broken up allowing shafts of cold winter sunlight to break through. The rain had stopped but with its departure the cold wind had returned adding to the discomfort they all felt at still being soaked from the rain. In a way the sunlight made them feel worse as it gave the illusion of warmth and made them even more aware of how cold and damp they were. Wearily they trudged on through the valley along a muddy path that ran next to the stream. Sam’s wounds had begun to ache badly again and he and Brock were falling further and further behind until, as dusk drew in, the others had to keep stopping to let them catch up or they would have been out of sight. Gone now was the magic euphoria of the Scyttel when the power of the rocks and the wind had filled them with a feeling of limitless energy and invincibility. Now the thought of plodding on through the night filled them with unutterable despair. To make matters worse the rain had started to fall heavily again and it was so cold that the drops were coming down as hail, stinging their faces and necks and making them smart with soreness where they hit. And they were hungry. The animals had not really stopped to eat since they had left Ellmondrill so long ago and Beth had not eaten since lunchtime two days ago. Strangely she had not realized it until now and was only at this moment beginning to feel hungry; the excitement of everything had allowed her no room for thoughts of food; but now she became scared as her stomach began to rumble and feel hollow and empty. ‘What am I going to eat?’ she thought to herself. She would have to eat what the boy ate, whatever that was. She wondered when they would stop for food, if ever, and, gripping Nab’s hand tightly to make him look at her, she pointed a finger to her open mouth. To her relief he nodded and stopped.