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“Sithee, Midge, look out!”

Rockjaw flung himself in a flying tackle, bulling into Midge and knocking him sideways. The spear took Rockjaw

through his side.

Hatred welled up in Tammo. He heaved his own spear straight at Rinkul. It struck the ferret through his middle,

snapping off as he fell and rolled downhill toward them.

Rockjaw brushed Midge and Fourdun aside as they tried to lift him. Close to a dozen vermin were dashing down

upon them now. The big hare unslung his bow, crying, “Get goin’, I’ll hold’em off!”

The lifeless carcass of Rinkul the ferret halted its downhill roll in front of Rockjaw. He forced the hardwood stick

from its death grip and tossed it to Tammo. “Good throw, young ’un. Russa woulda been proud o’ ye. Now leave me

an’ run fer it, I’m bad hit!”

Fourdun ducked an arrow as he inspected Rockjaw’s side. He looked up, shaking his head at Tammo. “’Twould

kill him to pull the spear out!”

The big hare sat up and sent two arrows in quick succession at the vermin. Notching another shaft to his bow, he

glared angrily at the two friends standing either side of him. “Sithee,

‘tis not yore night to die. Now get out o’ here an’ don’t stand there wastin’ my time. Leave me t’my work!”

Ignoring them completely, he fired the arrow and selected another.

Fourdun tugged at their paws, whispering urgently, “Can’t y’see he’s dyin’? If we stay here we’ll ail be slain. That

beast doesn’t want or need yore ’elp. Come on!”

Attracted by the shouts of their comrades, the vermin from the camp edges near the hilltop appeared. Rockjaw

laughed wildly. “Hohoho! Come t’the party, buckoes, the more the merrier! Tammo, Midge, tell the Major I took a few

wid me. Good fortune, pals—run straight’n’true an’ remember me!”

Tammo, Midge, and Fourdun had to run for it before the Rapscallions encircled them. They ran like the wind into

the night, shouting, “Give ’em blood’n’vinegar, Rock!” Soon they were lost among the groves and knolls, charging

headlong across darkened country until there was no sound save the thrumming of their paws against the earth.

Rockjaw Grang sat on with his back against a jutting boul-..; der, the arrow quivers of two dead vermin beside

him, his sling and stones ready for when he ran out of shafts. Completely surrounded, and wounded in four places, he

fought on.

“Come on, thee cowardly scum. Ah’ll wager nobeast warned ye about Goodwife Grang’s eldest son.

Eulaliaaaaaa!” As the foebeasts closed in on him, Rockjaw drew the spear from his side and hurled himself upon them

like a creature taken by the Bloodwrath.

“‘S death on the wind! Eulalia! Eulalia! Eulaliaaaaaaa!” He bought the time for his friends to escape safely, for

even within sight of Dark Forest gates, Rockjaw Grang was a perilous hare.

Lady Cregga Rose Eyes sat bolt upright from the bed of grass and soft mosses she had been laid upon for a day

and a night. It was but a few hours to dawn as the great badger roared out, “Eulaliaaaa!”

Corporal Ellbrig and Sergeant Clubrush, wakened from their sleep, rushed to her side.

“Lady Cregga, what is it?”

Her strange eyes looked all ’round before settling on Clubrush. “A bad dream, Sergeant, a very bad dream!”

She rose and stared over his shoulder in a northwesterly direction. The Drill Sergeant was very concerned. He

watched Cregga’s eyes carefully, though it was still too dark to see them clearly.

“Are you all right, marm?”

She moved to the nearest fire, nodding to reassure him. “I’m fine, Sergeant, but very hungry. How long to

breakfast?”

Corporal Ellbrig busied himself at the fire. “Right now if y’like, marm, you h’aint eaten in two days.”

Deodar and Algador had just finished their sentry watch, so they joined the trio at the fire. Young hares are always

willing to eat an early breakfast when they smell it being cooked. Lady Cregga seemed in a rather mild, thoughtful

mood, which was unusual for her. She passed scones and honey to Deodar, followed by a beaker of hot mint and

dandelion tea.

“Breakfast tastes good after being on sentry, eh?”

Through a mouthful of scone, the young hare sipped her tea. “Rather, marm, ’specially when you can have an

hour’s sleep before reveille an’ join the jolly old queue for more.”

Lady Cregga smiled at Deodar’s honesty. “Tell me, young ’un, do you ever have dreams?”

“Dreams, marm? Well, yes, I s’pose I do.”

The badger stared down at her huge paws. “I had a dream just now, and I believe it to be true.”

Algador paused from ladling honey onto a hot scone. “Really, marm? May I ask what it was about?”

The Sergeant was about to upbraid Algador, when Cregga spoke. “I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you the parts that aren’t

clear, but I know a brave creature died. I shouted Eulalia with him as he went down. Somewhere over there to the

northwest. And the more I think of it, the more certain I am. That is where the army of Rapscallions is at this very

moment. I can feel it!”

The two young hares exchanged puzzled glances with the Corporal and Sergeant until Lady Cregga caught their

attention once more. “When the sun is up and my hares are fed, we will go there.”

Trowbaggs spooned hot oatmeal in at a furious rate, eyeing a last scone that lay between him and Furgale. “Well

lucky old us, it’s heigh-ho for the northwest on the strength of a bally dream, wot! I think I’ll dream tonight that I’ve

been sent back to Salamandastron to take up the blinkin’ job of head food-taster. D’you think it’ll work?”

Drill Sergeant Clubrush tweaked the cheeky recruit’s ear. “Strange y’should say that, young sir. HTve just ’ad a

dream that you was on pot-washin’ duty an’ you volunteered to carry my pack all day. Wot d’you say to that, young

Trowbaggs?”

“Er, haha, silly beastly things dreams are, Sarge, er, that is unless Lady Cregga dreams ’em up, wot!”

The Sergeant’s pace stick tapped Trowbaggs’s shoulder lightly. “Right y’are, bucko, an’ don’t you forget it!”

The Long Patrol hares assembled after breakfast for their final orders before marching. Lady Cregga and Corporal

Ell-brig looked on from the sidelines as Drill Sergeant Clubrush lectured them.

“Listen carefully now. From this moment we march silent an’ quick. An’ when I say silent—Trowbaggs an’ some

o’ you other young rips—I means it! Foolish an’ thoughtless noise or playactin’ could get us all ambushed or slain.

Shangle Widepad, you an’ the other seasoned veterans keep an eye on our recruits, ’tis yore duty to show ’em the

ropes. Everybeast, make sure yore weapons are in good order—slings, javelins, swords, bows’n’quivers. Soon we’ll be

in enemy territory an’ you may need ’em. Right, that’s all. Unless you got anythin’ t’say to ’em, Lady Cregga, marm?”

For the first time, the Badger Warrior addressed the five hundred hares who formed her traveling army. “So far you

have all proved worthy and well, my thanks to you. Soon we will be facing Rapscallions in battle. Make no mistake

about them—vermin they may be, but they are trained killers. To bring peace to these lands we must slay them, or be

slain. From this moment you are hunters and warriors, and there will be no marching songs, Eutalias, or campfires.

That is all.”

They marched then. No commands were called; a nod, the wave of a pace stick, or a signal from the Sergeant’s

paw was all that they required. They kept to grassland, ferns, and rocky terrain wherever possible, so that a tell-tale