The evening chorus of birdsong fell sweetly upon Martin’s ears as he strolled along through the woodlands with Skipper and Gonff, reveling in his new-found freedom after the long winter in Kotir prison. The otters were never still; they were playful as puppies, bounding and cavorting through the trees and bushes. Skipper was instructing Martin in the art of the slingshot. He was delighted to have such a keen pupil and took every opportunity of amazing the warrior mouse with his expertise. Casting a pebble high into the air, Skipper reslung a second pebble and shot it, hitting the first one before it had time to fall to earth. The otter shrugged modestly. “It’s only tricks, me hearty. I can teach you them anytime. Ha, I’ll bet afore the summer’s through you’ll be able to sling a pebble across any villain’s bows.”

Gonff was great friends with the otters. He wholeheartedly shared their recklessness and sense of madcap fun. The little thief imitated their nautical mode of speech perfectly, telling Martin that he was, “As likely a cove as ever pirated vittles from Kotir’s galley.”

Martin enjoyed himself. Having been a solitary warrior for so long, he found it a pleasant change to be in the company of such gregarious friends. Skipper presented him with his own personal sling and pouch of throwing pebbles. He accepted the gift gratefully. The otters were naturally curious about the broken sword hilt Martin kept strung about his neck, so he told them the story, and was taken aback by their hatred of Tsarmina. Though, as Skipper remarked, “Wildcats never bothered us. Once our crew is together, there ain’t nothin’ on land or afloat that’ll trouble otterfolk.”

Looking about, Martin could quite believe it. Gonff danced on ahead with two otters who did a hornpipe as he sang.

I’m a mouse with a very long tail,
With a heart and voice to match.
I’ve escaped from the pussycats gaol.
They’ll find me hard to catch.
So, away, through the grass, the flow’rs and leaves,
Like smoke on the breeze, the Prince of Thieves.
Let’s cheer for the day when we will see
The Mossflower country safe and free.

Martin was tapping the happy tune from paw to paw when he saw that Skipper had dropped back a few paces. The otter was standing with an air of intense concentration, swaying from side to side, sniffing the breeze. At a sign from him, Gonff stopped singing and the entire crew grew silent.

Skipper said in a gruff whisper, “Some beast’s a-comin’, mates. Not from astern, mind. Over yonder there. Birds stopped singin’ over that way first. Ha, I’ll wager it’s the cat.” Skipper pointed. They could soon make out shapes moving from tree to tree. As the intruders drew nearer, it was plain to see they were Kotir soldiers in full armor, led by Tsarmina, a barbaric figure wearing a splendid cloak and a helmet that covered her head completely except for slitted eye, ear and mouth apertures.

At Skipper’s growl of command, the otter crew spread themselves out in fighting formation, faces grim, weapons at the ready. Skipper stood fearlessly out in the open where Tsarmina could see him, paws folded across his chest, a sling hanging from the right one, loaded and ready. Tsarmina halted a short distance away. She stretched out a paw, letting a wickedly sharp claw spring dramatically forth to point at Martin and Gonff.

“The mice are mine, otter. I will take them from you.”

Skipper’s voice was hard as flint. “Back off, cat. You’re on my quarterdeck now. This is Mossflower, not Kotir.”

“All the land belongs to me.” Tsarmina said imperiously. “I am Tsarmina, Queen of Kotir and Mossflower. These mice are escaped prisoners. Give them to me now, and I will not punish you. Your creatures will be allowed to go unharmed.”

A thin smile played about Skipper’s mouth. “Go and chase your mangy tail, pussycat!”

The breath hissed from between Tsarmina’s teeth at the otter’s fearless impudence. She raised a paw to her soldiers, who began fitting arrows to bowstrings. As they did, some sixth sense tingled through the wildcat and she looked up. Lady Amber stood in a tall elm, in her paw a light javelin poised for throwing. Reacting instinctively, Tsarmina grabbed the nearest soldier to her—a ferret.

There was a swish and a thud. She felt the impact as the luckless soldier took the javelin that was intended for her.

The squirrel Queen concealed her disappointment at the lost opportunity by aiming another javelin and calling out, “Unstring those bows quick, all of you. She can’t hold him in front of her for long, and this next one will get her between the eyes if you don’t obey me right now!”

Tsarmina, still holding the ferret with the spear protruding from his lifeless form, said urgently out of the side of her mouth, “Do as the squirrel says.”

They obeyed instantly.

Tsarmina let the ferret fall, twisting the body as she let go of it. Skipper was backing off into the bushes with his crew. He waved up to Amber. “Thankee kindly, marm. D’you mind keepin’ a weather eye clapped on ’em while we push off?”

Suddenly the wildcat plucked the javelin from the fallen soldier and flung it up at Lady Amber.

“Cut and run crew!” Skipper shouted as he bolted off with the rest. Amber had momentarily relaxed the javelin in her paw; she ducked in the nick of time as her weapon came hurtling back at her. Tsarmina did not wait to see if she had scored a hit but took off after Skipper and the crew, yelling, “This way! Cut them off through the bushes!”

Martin and Gonff ran with the otters, Skipper urging them on as they pounded through the undergrowth. “Hurry now, crew. Amber can’t hold ’em off forever—there’s too many of ’em. Hark, they’re back on to us.”

Tsarmina was no fool; she had sensed the direction they would take. Accordingly, she retreated then came back at a tangent to cut down the distance on an angle. Suddenly Martin and Gonff found themselves on the banks of a broad fast-flowing river with steep grassy sides. Skipper stamped his paws and sighed. “Belay, we nearly made it. Too late, here they come!”

Tsarmina and her troops broke through the trees and came hurrying along the bank toward them.

Martin could see there would be no talking this time. He drew his sling, as did the otters around him. They let fly the first volley before their foes had time to notch arrows or raise spears. The hail of stone caught the enemy head-on. Rock clattered on armor as Tsarmina threw herself flat yelling at her soldiers, “Down, get down and return fire!”

Martin saw two otters felled by heavy spears. Now Skipper’s crew was trapped between the open stretch of bank and the river. The otter crew rattled off another salvo of rocks.

This time Tsarmina had anticipated it; she had the front rank take the stones on their shields, while another rank behind hurled their spears over the tops of the shield-bearers. Some of the spears went too far, but one found its mark: an otter standing up with a whirling sling dropped back, killed by a well-aimed throw.

Reinforcements arrived, with Lady Amber bringing squirrel archers through the trees to fire at the Kotir troops from behind.

Skipper saw Tsarmina’s forces turn to face the new foe. He seized his chance. Martin found himself grabbed by the otter leader, while Gonff was clasped by a big otter named Root. “Take a good breath, messmate. We’re goin’ for a swim!”

The entire otter crew took a short bounding run and dived into the river with a loud splash.

Tsarmina was facing the squirrels with an arrow notched to a bow. She spun round and loosed the shaft, catching the last otter in the back before it hit the water. Despite this, the otter still managed to submerge and get away.

Lady Amber found that she was losing troops. She decided on a quick withdrawal now that the otters had escaped. Ducking the arrows and spears, the squirrels took off through the trees.

Tsarmina howled her victory to the sky. Running to the water’s edge, she called a halt to those soldiers who were aiming weapons into the river. “Enough! Cease fire! They’re gone. Stand still, everyone.”

The troops stood fast as the wildcat peered into the depths. They watched Tsarmina draw back from the river’s edge. She was scratching at her fur as if trying to dry herself, shuddering as she muttered, “Urgh! Dark, damp, wet—water everywhere, swirling, swirling. Ugh!” When she was away from the water, Tsarmina recovered her composure. Throwing off her helmet and cloak, she slumped moodily at the foot of a beech tree. Night had crept up unawares. The soldiers stood watching, puzzled at their Queen’s strange behavior. Tsarmina stared back. “Well, what are you all gawping at? Brogg, Scratt, listen carefully. I want you to go back to Kotir, see Fortunata, and tell her to bring the Gloomer to me. I want you back before dawn. Get going, the pair of you!”

Brogg and Scratt stood rooted; terror loosened their tongues. “The Gloomer, Milady? Surely you don’t mean . . .”

“Lady, he’s completely mad!”

Tsarmina rolled herself in her cloak and settled down beneath the tree. “I know he is, idiots. But I’ll get a sight madder if you don’t move yourselves. Now be off! Guards, set up a sentry on river watch. If anything happens, let me know straightaway. Otherwise I’m not to be disturbed until Fortunata arrives with the Gloomer. If Brogg and Scratt are still here, give them a good whipping with bowstrings for idling.” Tsarmina settled down to sleep, lulled by the sounds of the two ferrets crashing and blundering off through the undergrowth.

Nothing could escape the Gloomer in the water. The wildcat Queen had tasted victory that day. She was not about to let it all slip away because of incompetent soldiers. The Gloomer must be brought here quickly to consolidate her triumph.