are. We can’t remain unaffected.’
‘Didn’t you always believe animals can get along together if they … if they …’ Young Badger groped for the words.
‘If they respect each other? Yes,’ Kindly Badger mumbled. He was feeling drowsy. ‘But it doesn’t always work out that way. You can’t respect a creature who is’ – he yawned widely – ‘taking the food from your mouth.’
Farthing Wood warmed itself in the spring sunshine. The night creatures had gone to their rest. Nervous Squirrel called to his family, ‘S-strangers in the Wood! Take care!’ as he always did when humans approached. The squirrels leapt through the tree-tops, pausing to squint down at the two people who were bending over the remains of Smooth Otter.
‘Four,’ one man said to his companion. ‘What’s been happening here?’ His distress was unmistakable. The other human shook her head and the two trudged on, systematically searching the Wood bottom.
‘Slaughter!’ Jay screeched at them but the startled bird was ignored.
By the stream-side the naturalists loitered, vainly waiting for a reassuring appearance of a bobbing head and whiskers in the water or a frisky somersault amongst the reeds. They stared long and hard, never talking and barely shifting their limbs. There was no comfort here. The stream was barren except for askulking moorhen or two. They walked along its banks, then the woman grabbed the man’s arm and pointed at the muddy ground. Fresh tracks, otter tracks, made by several animals led away from the stream and away from Farthing Wood itself. They followed them where they could, but the tracks were soon lost amongst rank grass. Even so the naturalists were left in no doubt that some serious misfortune had overtaken the protected animals. It was now their prime objective to discover their fate.
Seven animals, including Sleek Otter, had fled the foxes’ wrath. At first they had run in a blind panic. Then, with distance behind them, they eased up and listened for sounds of pursuit.
‘It’s quiet,’ Sleek Otter whispered.
‘Shall we go back?’ another female suggested, gazing forlornly across the grassland.
‘To certain death,’ Slow Otter told her bluntly. ‘The big dog otter, the smooth one, brought havoc among us. He courted danger and thought himself invincible. But he put the foxes in a frenzy.’
‘Where shall we go then?’
‘Why ask me? My world, like yours, was small. I know nothing else.’
‘We should head for a waterway,’ said Sleek Otter. ‘Our stream wasn’t isolated. It must empty into another.’
‘But where?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We should search for other otters,’ another animal urged.
‘There are no other otters,’ she was told. ‘We’re thelast for miles and miles. We grew up knowing that. How can you have forgotten?’
‘I hadn’t forgotten. But – but – what else can we do?’
‘Go on until we find somewhere bearable,’ said Sleek Otter, ‘or … or … die in the attempt.’
They ran on, close-knit, not daring to stray. The grassland gave way to empty fields, then roads, the smell of smoke, moving lights and frightening sounds.
‘We’re lost,’ shrilled a youngster.
‘Of course we’re lost,’ said Slow Otter. ‘From now on, we’ll always be lost.’
It became apparent eventually to the inhabitants of Farthing Wood that the otters had vanished. There were few regrets but some misgivings.
‘What will it mean?’ Wily Stoat asked her mate.
‘Only that there’s more food for everyone,’ Sly Stoat answered cynically.
‘But they were always full of such tales.’
‘Tales of their own importance, yes. Well, we can get along without them. All in all they were a tiresome bunch.’
The wise hedgehog was troubled by more dreams. Once again the vision of the white deer disturbed his daytime sleep, now with more urgency. The deer had advanced and seemed larger and more distinct. Sage Hedgehog knew then that it fell to him to impress