Badger Lord Urthstripe stood on the shore outside Salamandastron. He scanned the horizon, searching for his daughter Mara. But there was no sign of her. He heaved a heavy sigh.

A lone hare exited the door that led inside the mountain. He loped over to Urthstripe, hitting out at the air with his paws all the while, as if he were boxing an invisible opponent.

"You a-comin' in for summat to eat?" he asked Urthstripe. "There's wild oatcakes, bilberry tart, an' cold cider. You hain't touched vittles since yesterday morn."

Urthstripe turned to face the hare. "I can't eat, Sapwood. Not until I know Mara is safe."

Sapwood was about to reply when a shadow came over the sky. He looked up in surprise and saw a Pegasus and a dragon flying in the sky! "I say, it's Rainbow Dash and Dragon Lord Ember!" he exclaimed.

"Well, that's nice," said Urthstripe. "We haven't had a visit from them in a while." Rainbow Dash and Ember had both been friends of Salamandastron for a long time.

Rainbow Dash landed and skidded to a stop in front of them. "Sup, guys?" she asked. "Everything okay here?"

"Well, I guess," said Urthstripe. "Except my daughter hasn't been home for two nights."

"I didn't know you had a daughter," said Ember.

"She's not really my daughter, but I adopted her five seasons ago," the Badger Lord explained. "We used to be best buddies, but now we're not. She's become sullen and rebellious. And she has a new friend, a hare named Pickle Folger. He's far too wild and erratic; Mara will never grow up to be a proper badger lady running around with that mischief maker."

"Being a parent can be hard," Lord Ember sympathized.

"She's been missing for two days? You think she's all right?" Rainbow asked.

"Oh, don't worry about her," said Sapwood. "This ain't the first time she's done this. Like I keep telling Urthstripe, she'll come trottin' back wi' young Pickle as soon as they're hungered enough." Abruptly he shot his fist out inches from Rainbow's face. "C'mon, let's see you try t'put one on me button! Try yer luck!"

Rainbow Dash responded by clipping Sapwood under the chin with her hoof, with what she judged to be a light tap. But the hare was bowled over, knocked flat on his back.

Instantly they were all standing over him, concern on their faces.

"Sap, are you all right?" Urthstripe demanded.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Rainbow Dash wanted to know.

Sapwood jumped up. "Bless your 'eart, Dash, I'm as fine as rain, never saw that'n comin', though. Good job you never punched your weight, or you'd 'ave knocked me block clean off. Just like old times, innit?"

The four friends entered Salamandastron, chatting and chuckling about old fights and bygone battles.

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Farrago the Assassin was the meanest weasel that ever lived. He was born evil. As a baby he killed a priest. As a child he burned down a village. In high school at Mossflower High School he seduced and killed female students. He was pure evil incarnate. He lived and breathed evil. Instead of cells, his body was made up of viruses.

And Farrago was making plans to destroy Salamandastron.

He was hiding in the hills to the south with the Corpsemakers, his evil army of weasels, stoats, ferrets, rats, and foxes. He stood apart from the rest of the vermin, pawing at the gold medallion around his neck with a picture of a badger on it. He scanned the horizon, searching for his son Klitch. But there was no sign of him. He heaved a heavy sigh.

A stoat named Migroo came up to him. "You gonna eat summat, Chief?" he asked Farrago. "We've got wild oatcakes, bilberry tart, an' cold cider. You ain't touched vittles since yesterday morn."

Farrago turned to face the stoat. "I can't eat, Migroo. Not until I know where Klitch is. He's been missing for two days. We used to be so close, but lately he's become rebellious. I'm worried that he might be planning to betray me and take over the horde. And I don't trust that ferret Goffa either. He's a bad influence on Klitch."

"Being a parent is hard," Migroo sympathized. "But don't worry about Klitch. Like I keep telling you, he'll come trottin' back wi' young Goffa as soon as they're hungered enough. C'mon, let's see you try to hit that grasshopper with your knife! Try yer luck!"

Farrago flicked his knife expertly at the grasshopper Migroo had indicated, which was about to leap. His aim was good: the keen-eyed blade sliced the insect in two.

"That's one grasshopper won't jump anymore," Farrago chuckled.

Migroo nodded vigorously. "Aye, Chief, 'twas a grand throw!"