Evening crimsoned into purple; on the horizon, a blood-colored sun dipped slowly into the dark, tired sea. Spears with thick rush torches tied to them stood upright in the shore along the tideline. Sunflash the Mace sat with his head buried in both paws; his war weapon lay on the sand beside him. Colonel Sandgall had come down from the mountain; he threaded his way through the exhausted warriors, shaking paws, patting shoulders, and giving credit where it was due.

“Well fought! Good show! Stout feller! Brave gel, wot!”

Sabretache was cleaning off his blade in the sand. He stood smartly to attention, saluting the old Colonel.

Sandgall nodded. “Did any of ’em surrender? Prisoners?”

The hare Captain’s saber pointed to the sea. “None, sah, ’fraid not, it was a no-surrender situation. Most of ’em retreated too far an’ too fast, dragged out by the undercurrent. As for our own, we got off surprisin’ light, sah, though they’re still takin’ count on wounded an’ slain.”

Sunflash joined them. The red light of bloodwrath had faded from his eyes, though they were still dark and troubled. “Sixclaw wasn’t lost in the sea, I’m sure of it, he’s too cunning for that. Swartt has escaped, and he can’t have got very far. It’s my job to go after him and finish what he started!”

Sandgall gave his monocle a quick polish and looked the badger up and down from head to footpaws. “If I may make so bold as t’say, m’Lord, you’re in no fit condition to go chasin’ off anywhere. Head wound, arrow hole in y’left shoulder, spear thrust to footpaw, deep slash across mace paw. How far d’you think you’ll get in that state, eh? Sundew, Ryeback, fetch your box of medical tricks an’ patch this beast up!”

As the hares ministered to his wounds Sunflash protested, “Don’t you see, I must go after Swartt. The more time I spend dawdling here, the farther away he’s escaping!”

But Colonel Sandgall would brook no argument, not even from the Badger Lord of Salamandastron.

“Tomorrow our Long Patrol will pick up the ferret’s trail, then you can face the bounder an’ settle up your score. But if you try to go it alone tonight, sah, then I’m afraid I’ll use our warriors to stop you. It is my duty as Colonel and Senior Offisah at Salamandastron to protect my Badger Lord, beggin’ y’pardon an’ hopin’ you understand. Sah!”

Sunflash nodded. “I understand. Ow—that hurts!”

Sundew chided him as she rethreaded a fish-bone needle with a long hair plucked from the badger’s own back. “Keep the ol’ head still then, Sire, how’s a body supposed to stitch up this head wound if you keep nodding like a woodpecker at an oak?”

When the hares had finished, Sunflash stood up stiffly. Stitched, poulticed, and cleaned, he strode off with a slight limp toward the mountain and his bedchamber.

“Tomorrow, then, Sandgall! I’ll be up at the crack of dawn; have your Long Patrol waiting, ready to travel!”

“If he’s up at crack o’ dawn it’ll only be to sleepwalk,” Ryeback whispered to her friend Sundew. “I gave him enough slumberin’ draught to knock three out!”

*   *   *

With his vixen and about thirty other vermin, Swartt had waded off through the shallows in the thick of the retreat. Striking north and east, he crossed the shore on the mountain’s south side, up into the high hills behind Salamandastron. The ferret knew that making camp or sleeping was out of the question; he had to get far away from Sunflash the Mace. Breasting the first hill, he paused and watched those behind him struggling and panting as they strove to reach the top.

“Move yerselves if you want ter stay alive, y’rotpawed, maggot-backed ditherers!” Swartt berated them. “Step lively or sit’n’weep here ’til the badger an’ those hares track yer down!”

Nightshade brought up the rear. The vixen seer was puzzled. Her dreams and visions all showed Sunflash falling at the battle in front of the mountain, and twice it had almost happened, but at the last moment her visions clouded and Sunflash was replaced by an ancient female badger. The vixen was baffled, because all of her dreams ended with Swartt standing on top of a mountain, laughing and victorious. Wearily she cast all omens aside, banishing dreams from her mind as she followed the leader she felt fated to serve.

*   *   *

Dawn had long dispelled the sea mists, and the sun was already beginning to climb in the sky when Skarlath landed on the windowsill of the badger’s bedchamber. Cocking his head curiously on one side, the kestrel’s keen eye watched the Badger Lord sleeping. The mace still hung from its cord on Sunflash’s paw, and his mighty chest rose and fell to the echo of rumbling snores. Skarlath spread his wings wide and tilted his fierce curved beak upward.

“Kreeeeeh! Does my friend sleep his life away? Kreeeeh!”

The big badger sat bolt upright, pawing at his eyes. “Where, what? I’ve been asleep . . . Skarlath!”

The kestrel swooped in, landing on Sunflash’s shoulder. “So, my gold-striped friend, it must have been a good, hard day’s battle to keep you so long abed this morn. . . .”

The Badger Lord tore at the bandages and poultices restricting his limbs, flinging them from him. “Crack o’ dawn, eh? Well, where are they, the Long Patrol trackers? Swartt escaped. I’ve got to go after him!”

Skarlath flew back to the windowsill. “The hares are down there by the sea, burying their comrades who were slain in battle. I know that Sixclaw got away; I picked up his tracks south of here at dawn. His band numbers three and thirty. He is heading north, taking a wide easterly loop, traveling light with few rest stops.”

Shunning the chain-mail tunic, Sunflash chose an old woven tabard, smiling grimly as he donned it. “So, it all comes full circle. That is about the number he had when we used to hunt one another in younger days. Come on, my hawk, let us go hunting again one last time, just the two of us!”

*   *   *

The burial party had completed their sad task, and they arrived back at the dining hall within the mountain to take lunch. Sundew, who had immediately gone to check on her patient, came bounding downstairs, shouting, “Colonel Sandgall, sah, m’Lord Sunflash is gone!”

Sandgall slammed a flagon of cordial down so hard that it cracked, and the liquid dribbled into his lap. “Fur’n’botheration! I thought you said he’d sleep ’til noontide, marm! Sabretache, how’s the old footpaw, ready to travel? Rockleg, Fleetrunn! Rations’n’weapons for twelve Long Patrol. Pick up the tracks, follow His Lordship, quick’s the word, sharp’s the action. Dismiss!”

Within a remarkably short time, twelve hares of the Long Patrol, headed by Sabretache, had found the distinctive pawprints of Sunflash and set off fast after him.

High in the hills, with the hawk on his shoulder and the mace in his grasp, Sunflash followed the trail of Swartt Sixclaw, the lifelong enemy whom he had sworn long seasons ago to slay.