When Brock had turned the corner of the yard he had waited until Nab was at his side and then they had both run without looking back until they reached the edge of Near Wood at the side of the field and they waited there, at the same tree where the animals had gathered on their way to rescue Nab, until Sam and Perryfoot joined them. There was no sign of Bruin or Warrigal. They waited, huddled up against the oak tree for shelter from the biting wind, but as time went on their hearts began to get heavy with the awful realization that something terrible had happened. Eventually out of the darkness they could see, to their relief, the shadow of the owl gliding towards them. He flew down and perched on a low branch.

‘They killed him,’ he said simply, as the animals looked up at him. ‘I stayed behind on one of the roofs in the dark where they couldn’t see me and saw everything. He died so we could escape.’ Warrigal told them what had happened by the farm door and in the yard. When he had finished they all remained silent for a long time, nursing their grief until Warrigal roused them out of their state of shock by reminding them that they were still far from home and much too close to the farm for safety when dawn arrived. Wearily the animals started to walk along the side of the wood, back the way they had come earlier that night when Bruin had been with them. Contact with the Urkku had left them all emotionally shocked and the loss of Bruin had been the final horror. Brock, of course, felt his grandfather’s loss more keenly than the others but he had been an extremely popular and highly respected member of the wood and none of them could grasp the fact that he was dead. And Rufus, killed as well, two of the most important members of the Council lost in the space of a day. As the animals trudged slowly homeward each became lost in a fitful daydream in which confused visions of Rufus, Bruin, the farmhouse, the doors and the Urkku all became jumbled together into a waking nightmare. Brock, Nab and Sam were also badly injured; Brock from his pads which were now so numb he could hardly feel them except for the fact that the blood made them stick to the grass as he walked, Sam from the blow on his head which was now throbbing painfully in the cold wind, and Nab whose arms and shoulders had great open cuts in them. For Nab, the joy he felt at seeing the animals again and his immense relief at being free were overshadowed with sorrow at the loss of Rufus and Bruin, both of whom, he realized, had died for him. As the sun began to rise in the grey wintry sky they were by the pond: they could see the familiar trees of Silver Wood and they began to realize that, despite the death of Bruin, they had been successful in a venture that had seemed almost impossible when they set out. Soon they were crossing the field, which was covered in a sprinkling of frost, and when they had crawled under the fence into the wood, they gathered outside Brock’s earth under the Great Beech. Warrigal said that he must go off and tell Wythen but that the others should get some rest. They would meet again at dawn the following day.

‘Where shall I stay?’ asked Sam. They had forgotten that it would be quite impossible now for him to go back with the Urkku; he would have to remain in the wood. It was decided that the best place for him, at least temporarily, was in Nab’s rhododendron bush. The animals then dispersed; Warrigal to the Great Oak, Perryfoot out to the hedge in the field, Sam and Nab to the rhododendron and Brock down the earth to face Tara with the sad news of Bruin’s death but also to give her the good news of Nab’s safe return. When he told her of the boy’s injuries, she took Brock back up with her and the two badgers joined the boy and the dog. While Nab was sleeping she licked his wounds clean and then carried on licking so that they would heal more quickly.

The animals slept all that day and all the following night and, as they still showed no signs of waking at the appointed time, Warrigal, who had gone into the bush to see where they were, let them sleep on until the evening, by which time Brock and Sam were awake and stretching themselves to try and ease their aching limbs of the stiffness which had come over them. Sam’s head and Brock’s paws still hurt but now that they were refreshed after their delicious sleep they felt far more able to cope with their injuries. Just then Perryfoot came in to join them and Brock went over and licked Nab’s face. The boy sprang up in fear but when he realized where he was he almost cried with joy and he went round greeting all the animals in turn and thanking them for rescuing him, for he realized he had not had time before. He told them everything that had happened from the time he and Rufus had spotted the Urkku in the wood until he’d heard the knocking on the window and opened the curtains to see, to his amazement and relief, Warrigal perched outside.

‘I have called an emergency Council Meeting for tonight,’ said the owl when everyone had settled down. The wood must be told of events; rumours are going round already of a mass slaughter of all the Council leaders. No Urkku have been seen near the wood since we got back so it would seem that, for the time being at any rate, you are safe here, Nab. Wythen has been to see the Elflord and he has indicated that the time has now come for you to meet him. Brock will go with you and I will take you there. I have been once before, as is the custom when an owl reaches his maturity, and my father feels that, as he is getting older, I should make myself better acquainted with the Elflord. We will set out immediately after the Council Meeting.’

So, thought Brock, this was the time he had been dreading ever since Warrigal had told him that the Elflord was involved. In fact it came as something of a relief in a way, that the moment had finally come. Nab was extremely excited at the prospect although he also felt little butterflies of fear fluttering in his stomach, not so much at the prospect of meeting the Elflord but at the thought of what might be revealed to him about his future. Ever since he could remember veiled references and allusions had been made about his part in the destiny of the animals and how he was the fulfilment of a legend. Now perhaps he would learn what they all meant.

Warrigal interrupted their thoughts.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s time to go.’

Most of the animals had already arrived at the familiar semi-circle on the far side of the little stream, eager to learn the true story of what had happened two nights ago for fantastic tales had already begun to circulate about the rescue. The Council were all sitting in their places along the far side of the old fallen tree trunk although the vacant places at the end of the log where Bruin and Rufus usually sat made it painfully obvious that the events of that night had been fatal to two of the most respected members of the wood.

Everywhere was covered with a silver coating of ground frost which winked and sparkled in the moonlight and made the dead bracken on the ground hard and crunchy so that as Brock, Tara, Sam, Perryfoot and, last of all, Nab, walked into the meeting the sound of their footsteps made all eyes turn towards them and a sudden murmur of conversation rippled among the animals. Feeling very embarrassed, the animals sat down just to the left of the entrance in a space hurriedly vacated for them by some rabbits at a sign from Pictor. Warrigal had flown into the clearing over the top of the bushes and was perched on a silver birch branch to the right of the log. Wythen’s head turned slowly round until he saw his son and then he looked back at the semi-circle where all the woodland animals were now waiting expectantly for him to open the meeting.