“It'll be all right,” he assured her. “Really, it will.”
Blackeye put his arm round Mouse and hugged her. “When do we hit them?”
“Tomorrow,” said Snowbone. “At dawn. They'll be sleeping. Won't see us coming.”
“We could go tonight,” said Fudge.
Snowbone shook her head. She was thinking about her eyesight. How shapes became blurry in the dark. “No,” she said. “We want to see what we're doing. It'll all be over in an hour. Back in time for breakfast!” She grinned. “We mustn't forget to raid their stores. Two Teeth, you can be in charge of that.”
Two Teeth saluted her. Snowbone's grin was as wide as a slice of melon.
“Tomorrow will be a great day,” she said, rising to her full height. “Friends, remember who we are fighting and why. Remember the fate that awaited us in the Nova Land. Remember our brothers and sisters, sold into slavery. Remember the ashen trees, toppled by ax and saw. Remember this moment. Remember we are right, and know this: because we are right, the Ancients will protect us.”
She punched her fist in the air and the tiddlins roared till the roof beams rattled.
“A cheer for Snowbone!” shouted Tigermane. “Hip, hip—”
“Hooray!”
Snowbone was swept from her feet and bounced around the barn on strong wooden shoulders. Everyone was delirious with excitement. Waiting, marching, searching: all these things were over. Tomorrow would bring revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.
No one noticed Mouse slipping outside. She walked across the grass to a bench and sat down.
Why am I finding this so hard?
she thought.
Snowbone's right. Slavers bring nothing but death and misery to our people. So why do I feel so bad about tomorrow?
She gazed back at the barn and thought of Blackeye.
If anything happens to him … No! I won't think that way.
Then Mouse noticed something. The grass was freckled with tiny white flowers. They were so small, she hadn't seen them when she walked to the bench and she had crushed them underfoot. Dozens of broken petals marked her path.
Mouse, pained beyond measure, hung her head and cried.
Chapter 37
awn, the next day.
Snowbone crouched behind an oak tree and assessed the situation. To her left, Blackeye. To her right, Figgis. Beyond them, the other tiddlins—Mouse included— watching, waiting.
Snowbone was holding a long rush torch, soaked in oil. She turned to Blackeye and nodded. He reached into his bag and pulled out a metal pot. Carefully, he placed it on the ground before her and lifted the lid. Inside lay smoldering embers, red as dragon's eyes. Snowbone thrust the torch into the embers and instantly it was ablaze. She winced. Working with fire was terrifying, but it had to be done.
Figgis too had an oil-soaked torch. Snowbone used her own to light it and then Figgis passed the flame on. Down the line it went, until thirty torches had been lit. Then Snowbone raised her hand high in the air and the raid began.
Snowbone ran to the cabin and threw her torch onto the thatched roof. It landed with a dull thud and instantly beganits work. Following her lead, tiddlins were all over the camp now, hurtling torches, running for cover, taking up firing positions. The cabin roof was blazing. The bunkhouse roof was smoldering. The air was surrendering to smoke.
Then someone started ringing a bell. Shouts tumbled through the morning. The cabin door opened and—
poom!—
Snowbone's pistol exploded. The blue-eyed lad fell against the door frame, blood pouring from a wound in his arm. He staggered back inside. Slammed the door hard behind him.
Snowbone whooped in triumph. Figgis saw her eyes: wild, ferocious, cat-bright.
The cabin door opened again. A hand threw something out.
Boof!
Choking yellow smoke poured from an exploded smoke bomb. The tiddlins couldn't see a thing.
Boof!
A second bomb. Green smoke joined the yellow. The camp was disappearing.
The tiddlins were thrown into confusion. They looked for Snowbone, Blackeye, Figgis. But
Blackeye put his arm round Mouse and hugged her. “When do we hit them?”
“Tomorrow,” said Snowbone. “At dawn. They'll be sleeping. Won't see us coming.”
“We could go tonight,” said Fudge.
Snowbone shook her head. She was thinking about her eyesight. How shapes became blurry in the dark. “No,” she said. “We want to see what we're doing. It'll all be over in an hour. Back in time for breakfast!” She grinned. “We mustn't forget to raid their stores. Two Teeth, you can be in charge of that.”
Two Teeth saluted her. Snowbone's grin was as wide as a slice of melon.
“Tomorrow will be a great day,” she said, rising to her full height. “Friends, remember who we are fighting and why. Remember the fate that awaited us in the Nova Land. Remember our brothers and sisters, sold into slavery. Remember the ashen trees, toppled by ax and saw. Remember this moment. Remember we are right, and know this: because we are right, the Ancients will protect us.”
She punched her fist in the air and the tiddlins roared till the roof beams rattled.
“A cheer for Snowbone!” shouted Tigermane. “Hip, hip—”
“Hooray!”
Snowbone was swept from her feet and bounced around the barn on strong wooden shoulders. Everyone was delirious with excitement. Waiting, marching, searching: all these things were over. Tomorrow would bring revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge.
No one noticed Mouse slipping outside. She walked across the grass to a bench and sat down.
Why am I finding this so hard?
she thought.
Snowbone's right. Slavers bring nothing but death and misery to our people. So why do I feel so bad about tomorrow?
She gazed back at the barn and thought of Blackeye.
If anything happens to him … No! I won't think that way.
Then Mouse noticed something. The grass was freckled with tiny white flowers. They were so small, she hadn't seen them when she walked to the bench and she had crushed them underfoot. Dozens of broken petals marked her path.
Mouse, pained beyond measure, hung her head and cried.
Chapter 37
awn, the next day.
Snowbone crouched behind an oak tree and assessed the situation. To her left, Blackeye. To her right, Figgis. Beyond them, the other tiddlins—Mouse included— watching, waiting.
Snowbone was holding a long rush torch, soaked in oil. She turned to Blackeye and nodded. He reached into his bag and pulled out a metal pot. Carefully, he placed it on the ground before her and lifted the lid. Inside lay smoldering embers, red as dragon's eyes. Snowbone thrust the torch into the embers and instantly it was ablaze. She winced. Working with fire was terrifying, but it had to be done.
Figgis too had an oil-soaked torch. Snowbone used her own to light it and then Figgis passed the flame on. Down the line it went, until thirty torches had been lit. Then Snowbone raised her hand high in the air and the raid began.
Snowbone ran to the cabin and threw her torch onto the thatched roof. It landed with a dull thud and instantly beganits work. Following her lead, tiddlins were all over the camp now, hurtling torches, running for cover, taking up firing positions. The cabin roof was blazing. The bunkhouse roof was smoldering. The air was surrendering to smoke.
Then someone started ringing a bell. Shouts tumbled through the morning. The cabin door opened and—
poom!—
Snowbone's pistol exploded. The blue-eyed lad fell against the door frame, blood pouring from a wound in his arm. He staggered back inside. Slammed the door hard behind him.
Snowbone whooped in triumph. Figgis saw her eyes: wild, ferocious, cat-bright.
The cabin door opened again. A hand threw something out.
Boof!
Choking yellow smoke poured from an exploded smoke bomb. The tiddlins couldn't see a thing.
Boof!
A second bomb. Green smoke joined the yellow. The camp was disappearing.
The tiddlins were thrown into confusion. They looked for Snowbone, Blackeye, Figgis. But
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