No more bad dreams bothered him, and he awoke
refreshed and at ease. Fallen leaves had made a comfort-
able, springy bed. They were now back into deciduous
forest, having left most of the evergreen woods behind.
He pushed his cape aside. A few wisps of smoke still
202
rose from the remains of last night’s fire. Roseroar snored
softly on the far side of the embers while Mudge dozed
nearby. That in itself was unusual. Normally the otter
woke first.
Jon-Tom scanned the rest of the camp and sat up fast.
“Jalwar? Folly!”
The woods did not answer, nor did anyone else.
He climbed to his feet, called again. His shouts roused
Mudge and Roseroar.
“Wot’s amiss, mate?”
Jon-Tom gestured at the campsite. “See for yourself.”
Mudge inspected the places where the missing pair had
slept. “They aren’t off ‘untin’ for breakfast berries. All
their gear’s gone.”
“Could they have been carried off?” Jon-Tom muttered.
“Why would anybody bother to sneak in softly and steal
that pair away while leavin’ us snug and in dreamland?”
Roseroar said. “Makes no sense.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t. So they left on their own, and
with a stealthiness that implies premeditation.”
“What?” she growled in confusion.
“Sorry. My legal training talking. It means they planned
to sneak out. Don’t ask me why.”
“Which way would they go?”
“Maybe there’s a town nearby. I’ll check the map.” He
reached into his pocket, grasped air. A frantic, brief search
proved that the map was well and truly gone.
“Mudge, did you… ?”
The otter shook his head, his whiskers bristling in anger.