Rainbow, Horty, and Martha Darat brought the water back to their friends.
Midmorning found them all trekking once more, following the stream. The further on they went, the louder the sound of flowing water got.
Rainbow stopped to listen. "Sounds like this stream is about to empty out into a river."
Suddenly something shot by her, grazing her cheek and drawing blood. "Rainbow Dash, are you all right?" Scootaloo cried.
"Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little cut. What was it that hit me?"
"It came from over there!" Fenna said, pointing at the opposite bank.
Rainbow looked over and saw a bunch of lizards, newts, toads, and snakes on the other side of the stream. They all had lances made from reeds. It was one of these lances that had cut her. "Looks like those reptiles I dealt with last night have been lying in wait for us. Trouble is, they've brought a pile o' their gang with 'em!"
She picked up a stone from the ground and threw it at the reptiles, but it fell short and landed in the water. Then she and her friends were forced to duck as a half dozen of the sharp thin lances came back at them.
Scootaloo stamped her hoof irritably. "Well, this isn't goin' to get us to Loamhedge. The cold-blooded scum've got us pinned down here!"
"We're in a Latin standoff," said Horty.
"Don't you mean a Mexican standoff?" said Springald.
"Well, we have to be politically correct about this, wot," said Horty.
Fenna lowered her head quickly as more thin sharp reed lances whipped viciously by. "Don't they ever run short of those things?"
As she spoke, there was a whooping warcry from the far bank. "Logalogalogaloooooooooooog!"
A score of shrews had come up behind the reptiles. They commenced attacking the reptiles with clubs. Hissing and squeaking, the reptiles fled.
Rainbow Dash beamed. "Guosim shrews… great!"
Fenna whispered to her, "What's a Guosim shrew?"
Rainbow explained, "That's just the first few letters of their tribename. G-U-O-S-I-M, Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower. They're good friends an' fearsome warriors. I've battled alongside of 'em once or twice."
One of the shrews had overheard her. He shook his head. "We're not the Guosim. We're another tribe called the Guoraf. Stands for Guerilla Union of Roving and Fighting Shrews. My name's Jigger. My father, Briggy, is our Log-a-Log. He and the rest of the tribe are camped downstream. Would you care to join us for lunch?"
Horty nodded. "Sounds like a good idea!"