and broken hearts, of mental anguish and crumbling self-
esteem. Jon-Tom countered with appropriate verses by
Queen and the Stones, by Pat Benatar and Fleetwood Mac.
Charrok’s clashing chords smashed violently against Jon-
Tom’s chords by the Clash. The mockingbird even resorted
to calling up the defeated warriors of the Plated Folk, and
Jon-Tom had to think fast to fight back with the pounding,
sensual New Wave of Adam Ant.
As the two singers did battle, Mudge struggled to get a
clear shot at Zancresta. The wizard had witnessed several
demonstrations of the otter’s prowess with the longbow,
however, and was careful not to provide him with a decent
target.
Jon-Tom was finally forced to pause, no matter the
consequences. He was panting hard and his fingers were
numb and bloody from nonstop strumming. Worse, his
throat stung like cracked suede and he feared creeping
hoarseness.
But the arduous duel had taken its toll on his opponent
as well. Charrok no longer fluffed out his feathers proudly
between songs, nor did he appear quite as confident as he
had when the battle had begun.
At which point Jon-Tom thought to try another line of
attack entirely.
“That last tune, the one about the drunken elephant with
the knife? That was pretty sharp. You got some good riffs
in there. I couldn’t do that.”
“Sometimes,” Charrok croaked, “it’s harder with fin-
gers than with feathers.” He held up his right wing and
wiggled the flexible tips for emphasis. “You’re not doing
too badly yourself, though. What was that bit about dirty