‘I saw you coming across the fields and called Brock,’ said the owl gravely.
The dog flopped down panting beside Brock and looked at Warrigal. The rain had now stopped but he was too exhausted even to be bothered to shake the wet off and he was trying desperately to get his breath back. His mouth hung wide open and little drops of saliva dripped down from his tongue on to the ground; his body shook with the effort of breathing. Brock put his paw on the dog’s shoulder.
‘All right Sam, take it steady,’ he said. The dog was not getting any younger and whereas once he could have recovered from a run like this in a matter of seconds, now it took some time. ‘We know that Rufus and Nab are missing,’ Brock said. ‘I saw them go off together in the afternoon and the boy at least should have been back by now. And Warrigal tells me he heard a shot in this part of the wood and the most terrible shouting going on; I must have been in the sett. By the time he had flown over he could see nothing.’
‘A terrible commotion and I can almost be sure one of the voices I heard belonged to Nab,’ added the owl, looking down unblinkingly at Sam.
Between pants the dog told all that he knew. Neither Brock nor Warrigal interrupted him and when he had finished they remained silent, each looking down at the woodland floor.
Finally Warrigal spoke. ‘It’s worse than I thought. Rufus is dead and not only do the Urkku know about Nab, they’ve actually captured him. Well, there’s no doubt as to what to do; he must be rescued immediately – tonight. Brock. ’ he called to the badger. ‘Brock,’ he said again more loudly.
The badger was sunk in despondency. He had let everyone down; the wood, Bruin, Tara and, worst of all, Nab himself. He had been appointed as the boy’s guardian and he had failed in his task. And how would the Elflord react? What a terrible night; he wished desperately that it was all just a bad dream and he would wake up and find everything normal and Nab safely back in his rhododendron bush. Even if they managed to rescue him, the damage had been done; the Urkku knew about the boy. What would they do with him? And if he escaped, he wouldn’t be safe in Silver Wood; where could he live?
‘Brock,’ shouted Warrigal for the third time. The badger looked up slowly into the great round eyes of the owl. ‘You must not blame yourself,’ he said. ‘It was not your fault, you could do no more than you did to look after him. It was impossible for you to be with him the whole time.’ The owl leaned forward on the branch. ‘As he got older he had to have more freedom.’
Warrigal saw from the expression in the misty eyes of the badger that he was not to be consoled and that the only thing to do now was to begin to take steps at once to bring the boy back.
‘I’ll fly over and inform Wythen of what has happened and ask him to call an emergency Council Meeting so that the others know. You, Brock, go across the field and find Perryfoot; we shall need him with us. Sam, you stay here and get your breath back, you’ve earned a rest. We’ll all meet back here as soon as we can.’ He blinked slowly at them both and then, moving his brown wings gracefully, he glided quietly back into the wood.
Without looking at Sam the badger padded despondently across to the old fence and, lowering his back slightly to get under the bottom wire, walked out into the field. When he got to the middle he gave a little bark. Perryfoot never stayed in one form for more than a night and at about this time in the late evening he could well be out feeding somewhere. There was no reply. Brock moved on a bit towards the pond. This time the hare heard Brock’s call and came bounding across from a little hollow where he’d found some tasty grasses.
‘What’s up, old friend? I spotted Sam racing like a mad thing over to the wood earlier this evening and wondered. That’s why I hadn’t gone too far from the wood when you called.’
He sat squatting with his ears flat along his back and silently chewed while Brock related the events of the night to him. When he’d finished, the hare, subdued for once, made his way to the wood alongside the badger. They found Sam where he’d been left and Warrigal just flying down to land on a low branch.
‘What did Wythen say?’ asked the badger anxiously.
‘Well, he wasn’t as surprised or worried as I thought he might be. Still, he very rarely gets ruffled so it’s not always easy to tell what he’s really thinking. But the Elflord must be told, and Wythen is flying off tonight to Dark Wood as soon as he’s told the rest of the Council leaders. However, he asked me to put your mind at rest, Brock; no one else blames you and you mustn’t blame yourself. Now, enough time has been wasted already; we must get moving. You three should not walk together in case you’re seen so leave quite a bit of space between you. Perryfoot, you lead off in front and, if you spot any Urkku, just stop where you are. I’ll fly ahead and if there’s any danger, I’ll give the alarm call.’
So the animals set off with the hare in front, followed by Sam and with Brock some way behind. Ahead of them the owl flew slowly at hedge height. All four were lost in their own private thoughts; Brock felt slightly better after Warrigal’s report of what Wythen had said but now he was worried at the confirmation of the fact that the Elflord would have to be told. Sam was thinking about the part he had played that night and about what they would do when they got to the farm. The formation of a plan would be largely left to him as he was the only one with any knowledge of the layout of the house. Perryfoot’s mind was on that glorious day the previous spring when he, Brock and the boy had gone down to the stream; that had been a happy time, so different from the way they all felt now.
They were just passing the pond on their left and making their way through the gate into the next field when Brock became aware of some animal following them. As soon as he had got through the gate he suddenly turned to his right to hide behind the trunk of a large oak that stood at the side. After a few seconds he heard the sound of soft breathing and the gentle thudding of paw-steps on the ground. When he judged that they were level with the gate he suddenly sprang out and found himself, to his immense surprise, face to face with Bruin. The old badger stopped dead in his tracks and his hair bristled with shock.
‘Young’un,’ he said, ‘don’t do that again; you’ll kill me! When Wythen told me what had happened I thought you might need some help so I followed you and I’ve been trying to catch up. But you go too fast for me. Now come on, or the others will wonder where you’ve got to.’
‘You shouldn’t have come, it could be very dangerous,’ Brock said when he’d recovered from his surprise, but he couldn’t disguise the pleasure he felt at seeing his grandfather. His confidence had been severely shaken by the events of that night and he was grateful for the fact that this experienced old warrior would be with them. They set off together quickly up the slope from the gate and soon caught sight of Sam and, some way ahead, Perryfoot and Warrigal. Many of the clouds had now broken up and gone and the fields and Near Wood on their left were bathed in moonlight but there was an icy wind that blew across from the hills and seemed to get into their bones. They were now running along the side of the wood, back the way Sam had come earlier that night in the rain, and soon they caught sight of the farm buildings in the distance. Warrigal flew down and perched on the low branch of a large oak whose boughs hung over into the field and as the others came up to it they gathered round the branch and the owl addressed them.
‘We’re pleased to have you, Bruin,’ he said. 'We shall need your experience and courage.’ Technically Bruin the Brave, full member of the Council, should have assumed leadership of the expedition now that he was here but Warrigal was known for his wisdom and tactical expertise and the old badger was happy to be led by him.
