They walked like that for a long time while the others watched them, miserable and lost, from the mess that had been the wood. Finally when the sense of unreality and the shock of death had given way to anger, the boy and the badger came slowly back to join their friends. Gone now from their eyes was despair and in its place the others could see a towering rage. Hatred emanated from them like heat from a fire; hatred for the obscenity of what had been done to their home and hatred for the revolting death of Tara. Brock was unable to go down and see her for when he put his nose into the entrance the gases flung him back coughing and choking; and this was the final indignity, that she should be down there twisted and broken and alone. He imagined her lying amongst the meadowsweet, strewn around in panic as she fought for breath, with her lips drawn back against her teeth in that hideous half-smile, half-snarl that is the mark of death by poison. At that moment the words of Wychnor came back to him, ‘. and Dréagg planted the seed of cruelty deep within the Urkku so that they were cruel in their ways towards the animals, for Man had been made as an instrument of revenge.’ Nab also thought of these words and they were a help in that at least now they knew the reason for their suffering.
They stood by the stump of the Great Beech for a long time, huddled together in the cold, lost in misery and not knowing what to do. Then they heard a noise in the field and looking up saw an animal moving slowly towards them in the moonlight. It was Perryfoot. As he got closer they could see that he, like Sam, had been wounded. He dragged his back leg behind him leaving a trail of red in the snow and movement appeared to be painful. But they were immensely pleased and relieved to see him, as he was to see them.
‘You’ve been a long time,’ he said, and they smiled ruefully at him and the fact that even at this, their most desperate hour, he could produce some spark of his old self, filled them with new hope. Then he saw Beth standing behind them looking at him with gentleness in her eyes and he recognized her as the little girl before whom he had performed that spring day with Brock and Nab. Warrigal then attempted to explain to both Sam and Perryfoot that the Elflord had told them that she was a part of their mission and would be with them on a long journey they were all to go on.
‘There is much to explain to you,' he said, ‘but we shall tell you later. Suffice it to say that she is not of the Urkku but of the Eldron and that therefore she is a friend.’
Beth did not know what they were saying but guessed that they were talking about her from the way that the dog and the hare, which she thought she recognized from somewhere, were both looking at her as the owl seemed to be talking to them. She went forward and, kneeling down, began to stroke Sam’s head with one hand and Perryfoot’s with the other. At first they were tense and wary but soon, as she continued to stroke them and talk to them gently, they gained confidence in her and relaxed. She looked at their wounds; they really needed a good wash before she would be able to tell how bad they were. She did not know what their plans were nor whether this awful destruction of their homes had changed them but if they were staying she could perhaps find a little stream.
While these thoughts were going through her head she suddenly became aware of a dark shadow swooping down out of the sky and, looking up, saw another brown owl landing on the stump of the tree and starting to speak to them.
The animals were relieved to see Wythen still alive. He explained to them as best he could what had happened since they had left but even he, who was normally so dispassionate and objective, found it hard at times to relate the atrocities he had witnessed and he had to stop frequently and swallow hard before carrying on. He told them how Sam had been shot charging at the Urkku who were putting the long tube down the sett and how even though he was wounded he had got one of them on the ground before the other one knocked him out and left him for dead; that was what had caused the gash on his head.
The owl then recounted how Perryfoot, to try and draw the attention of some of the Urkku with guns away from the wood, had brushed up against their legs and then run slowly out into the field, so that they followed him. He had led them right to the pond, running in a zigzag so that they were unable to get a good shot at him, but then an Urkku had suddenly appeared in front so that he had momentarily stopped. That had been enough and he had been shot in the back leg; he had then crawled away and taken cover in the hedge and the Urkku had been so afraid of missing good sport back at the wood that they had not bothered to look for him.
Wythen told the other animals these two stories because, although in normal times they would have been told by Sam and Perryfoot themselves, he knew that at the present time of grief and sadness they would be too modest, and stories like that must be told and remembered.
He went on sadly. ‘Very few of the other animals have survived. Pictor was gassed after herding his rabbits down their warrens during the shooting; I don’t think any of the rabbits are left. Thirkelow was shot on the wing while trying to urge the other pigeons faster away from the wood, and Sterndale, having failed again to keep his pheasants from flying up, was shot while attacking one of the Urkku; he is still alive though barely and I am staying with him on this, the last night he will see. He sends you all good fortune; I have told him your mission and he will die happy, confident of your success. Digit, Cawdor and Remus are all dead and Bibbington has left the wood. All the other survivors have fled although there is nowhere for them to go. I shall stay while there is a tree left for me to roost in although that will not be for much longer.’
There was a pause as the old owl looked down at the ground and when he looked up his huge round eyes were full of sadness; yet when he spoke again there was no despair in his voice.
‘But now there is hope,’ he said. ‘You have been to the Lord Wychnor and know all there is to know. You have the girl from the Eldron; your mission has started well but there is one thing I would say to you. Let not your anger and hatred at what you have seen this night interfere with your resolve, for if you do it will cloud your judgement. I understand well enough how you must feel; yet channel your hatred into determination for success in what you must do, for that will lead to the ultimate victory. Now I wish to see you go, for you cannot stay here any longer. It is for the far hills that you head; I will stay here watching until you are out of sight.’
The travellers filed past him singly and as each one walked by he looked them deeply in the eyes as if to transmit some part of his enormous wisdom to them, and indeed, as they left his gaze and walked out into the field, they did feel somehow different. They turned to their left when they were out of the wood and walked along the front of their ravaged home. When they reached the corner they stopped and looked back. Wythen was still there, perched on the stump, looking at them with the breeze ruffling his brown feathers and his head upright and proud. Then they turned away and without looking back again struck off across the frozen fields with Wythen watching them until they went behind a hedge in the middle distance and were finally out of sight. He remained perched on the stump for a long while, thinking, but his head now was bowed and he looked old for he had called upon his last reserves of strength and energy to fill them with courage for their journey. Now there was no need and the scenes of carnage he had witnessed and the destruction of his home bore down upon him once more so that his shoulders dropped and his eyes clouded over with sorrow. Finally he gathered himself together and took off from the stump to fly back to the hollow in the bracken where he had left Sterndale dying. As he dropped down by his friend the midnight bells were ringing in Christmas and the sound echoed over the fields and into the desolate wood. Sterndale heard it through the mists of pain which submerged him from the wound in his chest and was thankful that he would not be alive to witness the final destruction of the few surviving animals at the big killing which the bells always foretold.
