I can see that now,’ Sitka hissed back.
‘You won’t do that with Malachite in charge. His head is full of punkwood. Come and join us.’
‘I can’t do that, you’re outnumbered many times. You’ll all be zapped by nightfall.’
‘We’ve got a Woodstock,’ hissed Hickory. I don’t think old Punkhead knows what that is. Come and join us.’
‘Get on with it, damn you both!’ Malachite’s voice came from the bank behind Sitka. ‘Or are you rabbits?’
They ignored the insult and went on with the charade.
‘Are you a Sun-squirrel?’ Hickory asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You never told me.’
‘You never asked. Are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You never told me.’
‘You never asked.’
A small pine cone splashed in the water beside them as a gruff voice called down, ‘Get on with it.’
‘I’ll go and ask Malachite to give you all safe passage,’ Sitka said, while going through the motions of stamping and arching his back again.
Hickory made the same movements, advancing towards Sitka who moved backwards.
‘Not a chance, the old fool is using this, and you, as a step towards the Oval Drey. He fancies himself as Great Lord Silver.’
Hickory moved backwards to allow Sitka to make a forward feint.
‘I’ve got to give it a try. We Sun-squirrels have to do what we think is right.’
Hickory stood to his full height, saluted with his right paw diagonally across his chest. Sitka, facing him, did the same and then they embraced briefly as a shower of cones flew around them, bouncing off the bridge and dropping into the water.
Sitka turned and, tail high, went up the bank to where Lord Malachite sat glowering down at him. Sitka lowered his tail, remembering the Request Kernel he had been taught by Rowan, though forgetting for the moment that Malachite would not know this.
A submissive stance
And a request, presumes help –
Give it if you can .
‘Lord Malachite. These are good squirrels, all friends of mine, please let them pass safely.’
‘They are natives and traitors, as you are showing yourself to be. A cowardly one at that. Your body will hang in a tree as an example to others. Zap him!’ he ordered and a group of Greys leapt on to Sitka, biting and scratching.
The Reds on the island, and Hickory on the bridge, watched, unable to see clearly what was happening in the melee at the top of the bank. Then they saw a limp grey body being hauled up a pine trunk and dragged out along a branch where it was suspended, with its neck jammed in a fork. The tail moved slowly in a slight breeze.
Hickory saluted again.
‘Come back here, Hickory-Friend,’ Rowan called, and the Grey turned and slowly climbed the gentle slope of the island to where the Reds were clustered around the Woodstock. Bluebell moved over to crouch beside him.
‘They will attack soon,’ said Rowan, ‘but we are ready for them.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Malachite looked down at the island and was about to order ‘Attack’. He had decided to stay up on the bank and direct from there, rather than get involved himself. ‘Only fair to give these youngsters a chance to prove themselves,’ he was telling himself. ‘Wouldn’t do to get injured myself when I am about to make the journey to Woburn and challenge the Great Lord Silver. Must keep myself fit for that.’
There was something about the way the natives on the island were clustered together. Not in terror or in panic as he would have expected, but confidently, as though they knew something he didn’t. Were there reinforcements on the way? Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder, them realised that there were no other natives in the area. It couldn’t be that.
The nearby Silvers were all looking to him for leadership, waiting for the order to pour across the bridge and dispose of the quarry. He looked again at the natives. There was something on the ground in front of them. He rubbed his eyes – just lately he found he could not see distant
‘You won’t do that with Malachite in charge. His head is full of punkwood. Come and join us.’
‘I can’t do that, you’re outnumbered many times. You’ll all be zapped by nightfall.’
‘We’ve got a Woodstock,’ hissed Hickory. I don’t think old Punkhead knows what that is. Come and join us.’
‘Get on with it, damn you both!’ Malachite’s voice came from the bank behind Sitka. ‘Or are you rabbits?’
They ignored the insult and went on with the charade.
‘Are you a Sun-squirrel?’ Hickory asked.
‘Yes.’
‘You never told me.’
‘You never asked. Are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You never told me.’
‘You never asked.’
A small pine cone splashed in the water beside them as a gruff voice called down, ‘Get on with it.’
‘I’ll go and ask Malachite to give you all safe passage,’ Sitka said, while going through the motions of stamping and arching his back again.
Hickory made the same movements, advancing towards Sitka who moved backwards.
‘Not a chance, the old fool is using this, and you, as a step towards the Oval Drey. He fancies himself as Great Lord Silver.’
Hickory moved backwards to allow Sitka to make a forward feint.
‘I’ve got to give it a try. We Sun-squirrels have to do what we think is right.’
Hickory stood to his full height, saluted with his right paw diagonally across his chest. Sitka, facing him, did the same and then they embraced briefly as a shower of cones flew around them, bouncing off the bridge and dropping into the water.
Sitka turned and, tail high, went up the bank to where Lord Malachite sat glowering down at him. Sitka lowered his tail, remembering the Request Kernel he had been taught by Rowan, though forgetting for the moment that Malachite would not know this.
A submissive stance
And a request, presumes help –
Give it if you can .
‘Lord Malachite. These are good squirrels, all friends of mine, please let them pass safely.’
‘They are natives and traitors, as you are showing yourself to be. A cowardly one at that. Your body will hang in a tree as an example to others. Zap him!’ he ordered and a group of Greys leapt on to Sitka, biting and scratching.
The Reds on the island, and Hickory on the bridge, watched, unable to see clearly what was happening in the melee at the top of the bank. Then they saw a limp grey body being hauled up a pine trunk and dragged out along a branch where it was suspended, with its neck jammed in a fork. The tail moved slowly in a slight breeze.
Hickory saluted again.
‘Come back here, Hickory-Friend,’ Rowan called, and the Grey turned and slowly climbed the gentle slope of the island to where the Reds were clustered around the Woodstock. Bluebell moved over to crouch beside him.
‘They will attack soon,’ said Rowan, ‘but we are ready for them.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Malachite looked down at the island and was about to order ‘Attack’. He had decided to stay up on the bank and direct from there, rather than get involved himself. ‘Only fair to give these youngsters a chance to prove themselves,’ he was telling himself. ‘Wouldn’t do to get injured myself when I am about to make the journey to Woburn and challenge the Great Lord Silver. Must keep myself fit for that.’
There was something about the way the natives on the island were clustered together. Not in terror or in panic as he would have expected, but confidently, as though they knew something he didn’t. Were there reinforcements on the way? Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder, them realised that there were no other natives in the area. It couldn’t be that.
The nearby Silvers were all looking to him for leadership, waiting for the order to pour across the bridge and dispose of the quarry. He looked again at the natives. There was something on the ground in front of them. He rubbed his eyes – just lately he found he could not see distant
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