newfound friends to keep up with him. Everyone watched
the surrounding woods. But it was Roseroar’s ears they
relied on most.
“Stayin’ carefully upwind of us, but I can heah them
movin’ faster. They’re still behind us, though. Must think
we’re still in the camp.”
“Wait a minute!” Jon-Tom called a halt. “Where’s
Mudge?”
Roseroar cursed under her breath. “Damn that ottah! Ah
knew ah should’ve kept a closer watch on him. He’s gone
back fo some of that meat. Yoah friend is a creature of base
instincts.”
“Yes, but he’s not stupid. Here he comes.”
Mudge appeared, laboring beneath a section of roast
nearly as big as himself. “Sorry, mates. I worked all day
on this bloody banquet, and I’m damned if I was goin’ to
leave it all for those bastards.”
“You’re damned anyway,” snapped Jon-Tom. “How
are you going to keep up, hauling that on your back?”
The otter swung the heavy, pungent load off his shoulders.
“Roseroar?”
“Not me, ottah. Yo stew in yoah own stew.”
“We’re wasting time,” said Drom. “Here.” He dipped
his head forward. “Hold it still.”
A quick jab and the roast was impaled on the spiral
horn. “Now let’s be away from here before they discover
ourflight.” He turned and resumed his walk. “Disgusting.”
“What is?” Jon-Tom asked as he jogged alongside.
“The smell of cooked flesh, the odiferous thought of
consuming the body of another living creature, the miasma
of carbonized protein, what else?”
Suddenly Jon-Tom wasn’t so hungry anymore.
Creepers and vines strangled the entrance to the ancient
structure. Roseroar was reluctant to enter. The strangely