Duncton Stone by William Horwood Read Free Book Online

muttered wryly. “How can I ever find it? Where do I look?”
    But there was no answer, not in the whispering breeze in the grass about them, nor in the wind that fretted at the branches of the trees in the wood they had passed through. Nor any at all from the distant vale below.
    “I want it all to stop,” Privet continued in her thoughts, “to be at peace, as moles should be. Moledom is so beautiful, so perfect, if moles could but see it. We are but part of something far greater and grander than ourselves, which is of the Stone’s making. Why cannot moles see it and stop their rushing, and fighting, and dissatisfactions? Really... really Whillan and Rooster are no better than the Newborns in all their anger and confusion. I wish I could just rest! I am tired, but I shouldn’t be, after all that time over-wintering at Hobsley Coppice: but I am!”
    She stayed where she was on the surface for a long time, trying to rid her mind of her worries and doubts and feeling very detached from the three moles traveling with her. She was vaguely aware that on the slopes below Madoc had made a move towards Whillan and the two eventually made up, if that was what young moles did, and found a place below ground to rest until dusk. Then Privet was out on the surface alone, blissfully so, and she watched the progress of the spring day all around and above her as if each tiny gradual change – a cloud moving, a blade of grass quivering, a brief moment of birdsong – was part of a change in her. For a time she found a strange peace. There would be time to tell Rooster and Whillan what they needed to know – what Weeth had told her. Time...
    It was only in mid-afternoon that she was roused from her waking stupor by the sudden emergence of Rooster from his temporary burrow some way above her. He set off downslope immediately, passing her by without a glance, and only stopping finally a good way below to stare as she had, and as Whillan had before, at the vale below.
    His passing by her brought about a complete change of mood in Privet; she felt uneasy, restless, for there was something about his appearance that meant... meant something. She could not quite decide what. As she puzzled about this she was interrupted by the sudden emergence of Whillan alone from the burrow in which he had been resting with Madoc. Looking for a moment like a startled squirrel as he peered about the surface – Privet could not tell whether he had seen Rooster – he finally fixed his gaze on her and came hurrying up.
    “There you are!” he exclaimed irritably, in the voice of one who feels the other has gone missing deliberately. Then more reasonably, “I felt suddenly uneasy; I hadn’t seen you... we should have been watching over you... I think we should move on.”
    As Privet smiled and protested that she could perfectly well watch over herself, Whillan looked up and about as if he scented something in the air.
    “What is it, my dear?”
    “I... don’t... know,” he whispered, moving round her and upslope towards where Rooster had been below ground, as if following a trail.
    “That’s where Rooster was...” she began. He set off for the place.
    “No, Whillan, don’t go there!” Now her voice was urgent.
    “No...”
    For she guessed now what Rooster had been doing, and realized why his appearance had seemed odd. His talons had been dirty with soil, his face and his fur dusty and besmirched. He had been delving!
    He had been delving. Though Stone knew at what.
    “Whillan, you mustn’t go down there!” she cried out, running upslope after him and trying to restrain him from venturing down where Rooster had been. But it was too late, Whillan was already on the way down, and despite her protests, continued until he was out of sight.
    Why she was so fearful of his finding what Rooster had done she did not know, but she dithered in a state of dismay and trepidation, looking first downslope towards where Rooster stanced so still, then at