Chapter 3

The morning sun settled on the shrouded mist of Mossflower Wood, the ground below untouched by the invading shafts of light from above. A lone figure silhouetted by the fog of the morning appeared mysteriously from among the trees of the forest, as though it were a part of the woods itself. Dodging about trees and shrubbery alike swiftly and quietly, the figure made its way expertly through the forest. It stopped at the foot of a large, old oak tree. A moment later, the woods lay just as undisturbed as it had been a moment before; to the untrained eye it would seem that this dark shadowy figure had suddenly vanished into the fog quickly as it had appeared.

Beneath the roots of the oak tree a black fox returned to the old foxes' den that had been dug there a great many seasons ago. Another fox with the same dark coat as the first appeared a moment later from another part of the den.

"Was it as they said, brother?" The vixen's face was creased in anticipation as she expected the answer to her own question.

"It was as we have been told, Shadowfeather. Vermin are packed as thick as the moss in the forest, and all at the Furgins' home, although I feel those hedgehogs would feel anything but hospitable if they saw what the vermin have done to their little dwelling." A note of disgust could be heard in the fox's voice as he relayed to his sister what he had seen. As they spoke in hushed tones they walked to a nearby room in the den, where they were greeted by another fox. She was a little younger than the other two and did not share the dark fur of her companions, having instead a silvery coat that darkened at the tail.

"What did you see, Poisonleaf? Is it true? Are there really vermin in Mossflower again?" The young fox was clearly full of worry and anxiety, as was her youthful nature a lot of the time.

Poisonleaf Wolfbane, the darker fox who had just returned, simply motioned to her, saying, "Come. Are they asleep?"

"All except old Dangur. He couldn't sleep."

"I don't blame him," Wolfbane muttered as he walked to the room where their guests were staying. The two vixens followed quietly in his stead, stopping at the doorway at a nod from the other fox. Once he was alone, Wolfbane looked on at the sleeping household of Dangur Furgin: half a dozen of the hedgehog brood lay about snoring in the security of the old oak den. They would normally have been ill at ease as guests of a den of foxes, but this was the Skulk of the Silvercoats.

Dangur, a full-grown hedgehog, sat watching his family in the dim light of the room. Wolfbane came and sat alongside his friend with his back against the sodden wall. The two carried their conversation in the stillness of the early morning without turning their heads from the sleeping family.

"They're all there, just as you said," the fox began.

Dangur, who normally would have become indignant at anybeast doubting his word, had only one question on his mind.

"Did you see him?"

Wolfbane, who knew that the hedgehog was referring to his youngest son, took pity on his friend. He had not seen Dangur's son, but did not want to say so. "Yes. He's fine and well." The fox was glad he was not facing his friend so he would not have to look directly into his eyes.

"They shall pay dearly if any one of those vermin harm my son," Dangur said, slowly clenching his fists. Wolfbane noted the grim determination in his voice. "I will not rest until my son is safe and those vermin are driven out of Mossflower Woods forever."

"Nor will I, friend, nor will I. Come, your family is rising. Let us see what food Shadowfeather and Fairgrass have prepared for us, and then we shall talk to Ferrence."

Stikle Furgin slowly came to at the vermin camp in eastern Mossflower Wood. Rubbing his head, Stikle recounted the events that had happened nearby the night before. His family had been on their way back home from a day of fishing on the River Moss, when they ran right into the horde of vermin. Both sides taken completely unawares, pandemonium had set out among the horde. Above the mêlée Stikle and his father Dangur had heard an officious voice shouting that the hedgehog family should be captured. They had immediately gathered up their small family, deciding that it was probably time to leave. Arming themselves with fishing poles to be used as quarterstaves, Dangur and Stikle Furgin had then faced the oncoming horde, their backs to their escaping family. They fought bravely to buy time from the horde, but Dangur soon knew that they could not keep it up against the superior vermin numbers. He had quickly motioned to his son and run into the thickness of the forest where he knew no vermin could catch him. Unfortunately, Stikle Furgin refused to give up when his family was in danger. He had fought on, surrounded by a score or more of weasels, ferrets, stoats, and rats. Suddenly he had found himself caught up in a net that had been laid behind him and was laid out by a blow to his spiked head.

At the vermin camp, Stikle felt the bump on the back of his head. He carefully surveyed his situation: he was bound paw and foot, with his arms around a small fir tree. All around him were sleeping vermin despite the coming morning sun. A stoat walked up to the hedgehog prisoner and kicked his footpaw. "What're you lookin' at, spikeback?"

Stikle simply answered by slowly drawing back his foot as he spoke, and kicking out at the stoat at the last word. "Oh, nothing that concerns you-- stoat!" The stoat, enraged by the bold action of the young prisoner, began kicking savagely at Stikle.

The stoat was suddenly bowled over by a large rat, who dealt him a blow with the flat of his sword. "On yer feet, Tangler! The chief says that the prisoner's not t'be 'armed, and the next time I catch yew disobeyin' orders yer a dead stoat!" As Tangler scrambled off to the smoldering campfire, the rat, accompanied by a weasel, turned to the prisoner. He motioned to the weasel, who then untied Stikle's bonds. "C'mon, 'edge'og, follow me, but remember-- a false move's yer last."

"Why? Where are we going?" Stikle couldn't help but wonder.

"Skarliff Krigg wants t'talk to ye."

Skarliff Krigg was the great ferret Warlord of the Northwest. He considered himself as great as the ancient ferret leader Swartt Sixclaw, except Skarliff Krigg had gathered his entire horde by reputation, not by poisoning other horde leaders. He was fearless and cruel, especially among his own horde.

Skarliff was waiting in the Furgins' hedgehog home, which he had declared his headquarters, when a knock sounded on the battered door.

"Somebeast's at the door, Chief," Skarliff's weasel guard said shakily to his master.

"Well, by all means, Drigsno, let's answer it like a good gentlebeast, shall we?"

Drigsno slowly opened the door to the small thatched hut. The rat and other weasel appeared with the hedgehog Stikle Furgin. "Good, good, the prisoner. You have done well, Longtooth. You may leave now, all three of you." Longtooth the rat and his weasel charge, along with Drigsno, exited the hut and closed the door silently.

Stikle looked about him; it was the same hut he and his family had lived in their whole life, except for the dim lighting which Skarliff Krigg preferred when indoors. There was also a foul smell which pervaded the room from some unseen source. Skarliff stopped his eyes wandering any further by suddenly breaking the silence. "Come, sit down," he said simply, beckoning towards a chair. He himself was seating in a large covered seat. Stikle recognized it; it was his father's favorite eating chair.

The young hedgehog seating himself cautiously in the smaller seat, never once taking his eyes off the ferret. "You are ill at ease, friend?" Skarliff asked cordially when his prisoner was seated.

"It is simple for one to be ill at ease when he is the prisoner of vermin," he said, then added coldly, "friend."

The Warlord pretended not to notice the contempt put into Stikle's last word. "Your point carries much weight, my prisoner. No doubt you know why you have been brought here?"

"Not yet. Tell me why."

"I am a ruthless leader, a Warlord from the North. I have captured entire villages, sometimes plundering them and sometimes putting them to the torch." Skarliff Krigg paced the room as he spoke. "For many seasons my horde has found plenty and left nothing in their wake. Yes, we have seen many things, dealt with many brave fools, seen victory at every turn." Skarliff had stopped beside hi prisoner's chair, the ceased pacing and paused oration giving wake to complete silence as he looked over the hedgehog. "And what can you do for me?" He drew so close to Stikle's face that his breath stirred the hedgehog's quills. Stikle tried hard to cover up the chills that went down his back. "What can you do for me? We have traveled far and wide in places such as these, and what can you do for me?" he repeated. "It is simple. Just tell us where we can find a nice large shelter, a place of plenty. In exchange, we give you your freedom." Silence once again prevailed in the small hut, save for the sounds of the rousing horde outside. After a moment had passed, the impatient Warlord asked, "Well? What is your answer?"

The prisoner had not turned his face, spoken, or moved a muscle the entire time Skarliff Krigg had spoken. Now, without a sideways glance, Stikle Furgin the hedgehog had only one word to say.

"No."

Immediately, as if set off by some trigger, Skarliff changed the tone of the conversation, and at the same time ended it. "Longtooth, Knobear! Take this prisoner back to his tree. Farewell for now, my friend. After a whole day with no food, we shall see just how willing you are to defy the will of Skarliff Krigg!"