Dizzy and bruised, Doogy managed to sit upright, so that his head stuck out above the loam. He spat out a few dried leaves. “Ach, ye fiddle-pawed fool, why didn’t ye leggo of mah paw?”
The head of Yoofus emerged, with a crown of rotten leaves wreathing it. “Ah, give over, ye fur-tailed fibber. ’Twas yoreself that tripped, not me. Sure I only kept ahold of yore paw to try an’ stop ye fallin’. An’ that’s all the thanks I get? You squirrels are mis’rable ould things, sure enough. Whups, duck yore head quick!”
He pulled Doogy beneath the leaves as the vermin thundered past, yelling and shouting. When the sounds receded, they both sat up again. Doogy spat out more leaves. “Ah’m thinkin’ we’ve been dropped from Tam’s plan, eh?”
Yoofus sighed with relief. “Ah well, thank goodness for that! There’s an end to all that runnin’ like a madbeast.”
Doogy stood up but immediately had to sit down again, groaning in pain. “Agh! Ah think ah’ve broken mah footpaw!”
The water vole scrambled out of the ditch. He hauled his friend up and inspected the damaged limb. “Sure that’s never broken, ’tis only an ould pawsprain. An’ ye’ve chipped a claw. I can fix that up for ye!”
The Highlander sat there bemoaning his fate. “Ah’ve mised a braw fight, an’ we’re lost, an’ mah paw is achin’ fit tae beat the band!”
Yoofus smeared the paw with mud, laid dockleaves on and bound it firmly with ivy vines. “Will ye lissen to yoreself! Lost? I’m never lost in Mossflower. An’ as for missin’ any fightin’, what good would ye be with a wounded paw? Give yore ould gob a rest, mate. We’ll make out just fine!”
Doogy laughed mirthlessly. “Doin’ what?”
The thief wrinkled his nose mischievously. “Did ye not notice? The vermin left their camp to chase after us in a grand ould hurry. ’Twill be unguarded now an’ full of little gifts, just for me’n you, me ould tatercake!”
Doogy shook his head at the volethief’s audacity. “Och, ye don’t miss a trick, do ye? I like the idea o’ lootin’ the vermin camp. Yer a canny wee rascal, Yoofus!”
The water vole danced a little jig, rubbing his paws at the prospect. “Ah sure, there’s nothin’ grander than thievin’ from thieves. Lend me yore big knife now, an’ I’ll cut ye a crutch to stump along on.”
Passing over his beloved claymore, Doogy warned Yoofus, “Mind ye now, ah want that back!”
The thief’s face was the picture of injured innocence. “Ooh, pickle yore tongue, Doogy Plumm. Fancy sayin’ somethin’ like that to a friend like me!”
The Highlander watched Yoofus cutting a yew staff. “Rakkety Tam MacBurl’s the only true friend ah’ve ever had. Ah hope his plan’s workin’ out well for him right now.”
Tam noticed that the woodlands were not as dense and that the ground underpaw had become sandy. Oneshrew pointed through the thinning trees as they ran. “Ye can see the pines up yonder, look.”
Beyond the trees, a stretch of heathland spread up to a gentle rise, atop of which was a sizable area of pine trees. Tam, however, could see no rooks or crows hovering about them. He mentioned this to his Guosim guides. “I don’t see any of the black birds around those pines.”
Twoshrew assured him, “Don’t let that fool ye, sir. The villains are there, sure enough.”
Oneshrew agreed with her sister. “Aye, you just try enterin’ the trees, an’ you’ll see ’em alright!”
Corporal Butty Wopscutt cast a backward glance. “Birds or not, we’ll have t’go forward pretty sharpish, old chap. The foebeasts’ll be right on our tails in a few ticks. So what’s the plan, eh?”
Tam drew the sword of Martin. “We group together in a tight bunch. Everybeast with sword, spear or lance, hold your weapons point up. But only when I give the command, Up Arms! I want us to go in there like one giant hedgehog. Go slow across the heathland. I want Gulo an’ his vermin to see us, so they’ll speed up. The moment we’re in the pines, we’ll have to run twice as fast as the vermin. But remember, stay close together, keep your points up an’ charge right through that pine grove like a bolt o’ lightnin’. You shrews, stay out of the trees. Circle to the left, get to your Log a Log at the river an’ tell him to make the boats ready, ’cos we’ll be comin’.”
Wopscutt gripped his sword hilt as he gave the order. “Long Patrol—blades, spears’n’javelins at the ready! Advance in close order at a jog. . . .”
The younger hares were looking nervously over their shoulders. Behind them the roar of vermin was growing in volume. Catching sight of a white flash among the trees, Ferdimond knew that the foebeasts were not too far off. He was relieved to hear the corporal complete his command.
“Steady at the rear there! Long Patrol will advance!”
26
Gulo was making heavy going of the chase. Slowing down, he fell to the back of the pack, panting hoarsely.
A slender ermine runner with patched fur dropped back from the front to report, “Mighty One, they are in sight!”
The wolverine wiped foaming slobber from his gaping mouth. “We must catch them. . . . Can ye see my brother Askor?”
The ermine moved sideways a pace, wisely out of Gulo’s immediate reach. “Sire, ’tis hard to tell. They are bunched up and the trees are in the way, but I am sure thy brother is with them. Methinks we have outrun them, sire. They have slowed down to little more than a trot.”
Wild hope surged through Gulo’s huge muscular body as he bounded forward with a burst of renewed energy. “Get them! Kill them! Kiiiiilll!”
Drawing curved swords, axes, spears and knives, the foxes and ermine dashed forward with their chieftain, howling as they broke out onto the heathland, “Gulo! Gulo! Gulo! Kill! Kill!”
Harsh, raucous cries began echoing through the pines as great, dark shapes visibly flapped about amid the branches. Tam and the hares were mere paces away from the forbidding darkness of the groves. The vermin were roaring across the heath toward them.
Tam MacBurl’s face was fixed in a tight, dangerous smile as he spoke calmly to the younger Patrol hares. “Eyes front now, steady in the ranks. Don’t run yet, nice steady pace now. That’s the ticket! Don’t look back.”
Ferdimond felt his fur rise like wire at Tam’s shout.
“Up arms! Charge! Haway Braaaaaaaw!”
A sea of spear, sword and javelin points bristled upward. The hares charged into the pines, bellowing the Long Patrol war cry into the dim, green-cast gloom. “Eulaliiiiiaaaaaaa!”
Then the air became thick with huge black birds—crows and rooks—winging down to attack the trespassers. A madness had fallen upon both birds and beasts. Weapons flashed upward as beaks and talons slashed downward. Tam took a big rook through its open beak as it dived to peck at his eyes. He swung it from his sword and parried at another with his dirk. Yelling out war cries like madbeasts, Ferdimond and Butty whipped away at the dark-feathered masses. Both warriors covered their eyes with a paw as they thundered ahead toward a glimmer of sunlight that pierced the dim grove. Alongside Tam, a hare stumbled, her ear half torn off by cruel, raking bird talons. By grabbing on to the hare’s homespun tunic, Tam was able to drag her up and along with him. Then, thrusting his dirk into her weaponless grasp, the Borderer urged her on. “Keep goin’, me pretty. We’re nearly there. Haway Braaaaaaaw!”
The light from the outside grew brighter, dispersing the darkness and illuminating the flashing of steel. Paws pounded the thick floor of dead pine needles, scattering them broadcast. Ragged, dark shapes squawked; beaks pecked; and glistening talons ripped savagely at fur, eyes, paws—even at naked steel blades.
Then they were out!
The Long Patrol broke forth into the high, bright midday—sobbing, cheering, weeping, laughing and still shouting war cries.
Butty Wopscutt made sure the last hare was out. Never forgetting his duty, the gallant corporal rapped out orders to all and sundry. “Straighten y’selves up now! Form ranks and keep those weapons drawn. Face to the trees—it ain’t over yet, buckoes. Never mind y’wounds, stay on the alert!”