Still traveling south, the squirrel took him to the top of the next rise and pointed with her stick. “Little patch of
woodland yonder, we should make it at twilight.”
The going was much easier for Tammo. He enjoyed the sight of new places and fresh scenery, learning from his
experienced traveling companion all the time. Russa seemed to come out of her normally taciturn self and was much
more verbose than usual.
“Skirt ’round this patch, Tamm, don’t want to disturb that curlew sittin’ on ’er nest, do we?”
“Of course not, jolly thoughtful of you. Leave the poor bird in peace to sit on her eggs, wot?”
“Nothin’ of the sort. If’n we crossed there that’d upset ’er, and she’d fly up kickin’ a racket to warn us off. That’d
give our position away to anybeast who was trackin’ us.”
“Oh, right. I say, d’you suppose there is somebeast after us?”
Russa’s reply was cryptic. “I dunno, what d’you think?”
The squirrel was as good as her word. Long shadows were gone and twilight was shading the skies as they arrived
at the woodland patch, which was considerably bigger than it had seemed from afar. Russa allowed Tammo to pick
their campsite, and he chose an ancient fallen beech with part of its vast root system poking into the air.
Russa nodded approval. “Hmm, this looks all right. Want a fire?”
Tammo shrugged off his belt and weapon. “If you say so. Spring nights can be jolly cold, and besides, I’d like to
have a hot supper, if y’have no objections.”
Russa shook her head vigorously. “None at all, matey. There’s plenty o’ deadwood an’ dry bark about. I’ll see t’the
fire, you unpack the vittles.”
Flint and steel from Russa’s pouch soon had dry tinder alight. Clearing a firespace around it, she added fragrant
dead pine twigs, old brown ferns, and some stout billets of beech. Tammo found a flagon of elderberry wine in the
pack. He warmed pancakes before spreading them with honey, and set two moist-looking chunks of plum cake near
the flames to heat through. They sat with their backs against the beech, pleasantly tired, eating, drinking, and chatting.
Russa picked up Tammo’s dirk and inspected it closely. “This is a rare weapon, mate. Is it your father’s?”
“No, it was my mother’s. She was a Long Patrol fighter, y’know. She said a Badger Lord made it for her in the
forge at Salamandastron, the great mountain fortress. Can you tell me anythin’ of the mountain, Russa? I’ve never seen
it.”
Reflectively the squirrel balanced the blade in her paw, then she threw it skillfully. It whizzed across the clearing
and thudded point first into a sycamore trunk.
“Sometimes a thrown blade can save your life,” she said. “I’ll teach you how to sling it properly before long.”
Tammo had to tug hard to pull the dirk from the tree trunk. “I’d be rather obliged if y’did. Now what about
Salamandastron?”
Russa took a sip of wine and settled back comfortably. “Oh, that place, hmm, let me see. Welt, a mountain’s a
mountain, much like any other, but I can give you the chant I heard the Long Patrol hares sayin’ last time I was over
that way.”
Tammo piled a bit more wood on the fire. “You know the Long Patrol hares? Tell me, what do they chant?”
The squirrel closed her eyes. “Far as I can recall it went somethin’ like this:
“O vermin if you dare, come and visit us someday, Bring all your friends and weapons with you too. You’ll find a
good warm welcome, let nobeast living say That cold steel was never good enough for you.
You won’t find poor helpless beasts all undefended, Like the old ones, babes, and mothers that you’ve slain, And
you’ll find that when your pleasant visit’s ended, You’ll never ever leave our shores again.
All you cowards of the land and you flotsam of the sea, Who murder, pillage, loot whene’er you please, There’s a
Long Patrol a waitin’, we’ll greet you cheerfully, You’ll hear us cry ‘Eulalia’ on the breeze.
“’Tis a welcome to the bullies who slay without a care,
All those good and peaceful creatures who can’t fight,
But perilous and dangerous the beast they call the hare,
Who stands for nought but honor and the right.
Eulalia! Eulalia! Come bring your vermin horde,
The Long Patrol awaits you, led by a Badger Lord!”
Tammo shook his head in admiration. “By golly, that’s some chant! Are they really that brave and fearless, these
Long Patrol hares?”
Russa threw a burning log end back into the fire. “Ruthless, they can be, but they keep the shores defended and the
land safe fer peaceful creatures t’live in. C’mon now, mate, y’need yore sleep for tomorrow’s trekkin’. Stow y’self
over there in the dark, away from the flames.”
Tammo pulled a wry face at this suggestion. “But I’m nice’n’warm here, why’ve I got to move?”
The squirrel’s face grew stern. “Because I says so, now stop askin’ silly questions an’ shift!”
Tammo retreated into the surrounding bushes, muttering, “Nice warm fire an’ I’ve got t’sleep back here, a chap
could catch his death o’ cold on a night like this, ’taint fair!”
Sometime during the night, Tammo was awakened by a bloodcurdling scream. He leapt up, grabbing for his dirk,
which he had left within paw’s reach. It was not there.
He stood in the firelight and looked around. His friend was missing too. Cupping paws around his mouth, the
young hare yelled into the night-darkened woodlands, “Russa, where are you?”
With a bound the squirrel cleared the fallen beech trunk and was at his side, wiping the dirk blade on the grass.
“I’m here. Keep y’voice down an’ get back under cover!”
Together they crouched in the bushes. Tammo was bursting to question Russa, but he held his silence, watching the
squirrel’s eyes flick back and forth as she craned her head forward, listening.
From somewhere in the midst of the trees there came a shriek of rage. Russa stood erect and shouted in the
direction whence it had come, “Yore mate’s dead, ferret! Take warnin’ an’ clear off, ’cos I’m comin’ after you next
an’ I don’t take prisoners!”
Skulka’s answering call came back, thick with rage: “It ain’t over, old one, we’ll get you an’ yer liddle pal! Jus’
wait’n’see!”
This was followed by the sound of Skulka crashing off through the ferns. Then there was silence. Russa gave
Tammo back his dirk, saying, “It was those two ferrets we tangled with earlier today, mate. I knew they’d be back,
’specially after they saw you take our ’avvysack o’ vittles out o’ the bushes back there.”
Tammo felt weak with shock. “Russa, I’m sorry. If I hadn’t let them see the haversack they would’ve gone off
none the wiser.”
The wily squirrel shook her head. “Wrong, matey, they would’ve tried to get us whether or not. I knew they was
followin’ us all day. ’Twas logical they’d make their move tonight when they thought we’d be asleep. So I took off
into the trees wid yore blade an’ bumped straight into the one called Gromal, armed wid a long sharpened stake, if
y’please. So I had to finish it then an’ there, ’twas him or me. But I’m a bit worried, Tamm.”
Tammo was puzzled by this statement. “What’s worryin’ you, Russa?”
“Well, did y’hear the other ferret shoutin’, she said we’ll get you. We. It’s like I thought, there must be a band of
’em somewheres about. I had a feeling I knowed them two from long ago, they always run with a robber band.”
Tammo gripped his blade resolutely. “Right, mate, what’s t’be done?”