The evening chorus of birdsong fell sweetly upon Martin's ears as he strolled along through the woodlands with Skipper and Bugs, reveling in his newfound freedom after the long winter in Kotir prison. The otters were never still, they were as 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 re-slung 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 any time. Ha, I'll bet afore the summer's through you'll be able to sling a pebble across any villain's brows."

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 otter folk."

Looking around at the strong, fierce otters, Martin could quite believe it.

They had come to a river now. "Take a good breath, messmate. We're goin' for a swim!" Skipper said.

"What…?" Without warning, Skipper grabbed Martin and dived into the river. Another otter named Root did the same to Bugs.

The whole world was black, icy cold, airless, and wet.

Martin concentrated on holding his breath. When he ventured to open his eyes, everything was a murky dark gray, but he could sometimes make out shapes moving around him. He began to wish he were anywhere but beneath a river- even back in his cell at Kotir. At least there had been air to breathe there.

Skipper's strong paws gripped him relentlessly by the scruff of his neck. Water rushed by them, roaring in his ears as the powerful swimming otter dragged him along.

Fresh air, just one breath, he wished, one lungful of good clean air.

Skipper held Martin tighter as he began to wriggle in panic. Bubbles of air were escaping from his mouth; an iron band was crushing his skull. Why was Skipper drowning him? Martin opened his mouth to shout, but the water came pouring in.

Next thing he knew, he was lying on some sand. "Here, he's comin' around now," a voice said. Martin coughed, and a fountain of water came spurting out of his mouth.

Skipper was pumping on Martin's chest, while Bugs stood over him concernedly. "Are you okay, Doc?"

Martin stood up. "I am now."

"Bless yer life, of course you are," Skipper chuckled. "Little thief, stealin' our river water like that."

"I bet ya lowered the water level by a foot or two," Bugs agreed. "Well, Martin, how d'ya like Camp Willow?"

Martin had not looked at his surroundings. Now that the danger was past, he took stock of where they had beached. They were standing on an underground bank. Phosphorescent roots above them illuminated the scene. Martin could see tunnels branching off in all directions. All around him otters were whooshing playfully in and out of the water, ducking one another and generally behaving as if the whole thing were a great lark.

Skipper watched proudly as Martin gazed about. "You won't find no better 'ccomodation for an otter anywhere, Martin. Camp Willow was built by otter paws."

Martin nodded shrewdly. "A right fine job they did of it too, Skipper."

Skipper swelled out his barrel like chest. "'Andsome of you to say so, mate, but belay awhile and I'll call muster."

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Tsarmina and Fortunata went down to the deepest, darkest dungeon in Kotir, accompanied by two weasels named Brogg and Scratt. They were going to fetch the Tasmanian Devil, a vicious beast who would eat anything that moved. Verdauga had captured Taz in Australia long ago and brought him back to Kotir.

Brogg opened the door of Taz's cell. Taz was chained to the wall in there. He was a squat brown marsupial with a heavy jaw and razor-sharp claws and teeth. He snarled and spat at the animals entering his cell, flailing his legs wildly. "Taz hungry!" he growled.

Tsarmina approached Taz. She had the broken blade of Martin's sword, and she held it in front of the monster's nose. She spoke almost tenderly. "Well, we're going to get you some food right now."

Taz sniffed the blade. It had Martin's scent all over it. "Taz smell mouse. Taz like mouse!"

"All right, then you can go out and get that mouse," Tsarmina said. "Does that sound good, boy?"

"She treats this monster better than anyone else," Fortunata thought to herself as she stepped forward with a leash in her paw. Gingerly she unfastened the manacles that held the Tasmanian Devil's arms to the wall. As soon as she did, Taz leaped on her and pinned her to the ground. The vixen screamed as his sharp teeth snapped just above her face.

But Brogg and Scratt pulled him off of her, and she managed to slip the collar around his neck. Then Taz was off like a shot, bounding out the door and up the stairs, dragging Fortunata behind him. She felt like her arm was being wrenched out of the socket.

Tsarmina hurried along after them. "So now the game begins!"