Free The Golden Flight by Michael Tod Page A

short hairs of its summer coat. As they tumbled over its rump, they grasped at the tail and hung on as the frightened animal raced across the field, followed by its puzzled companion, the piebald mare.
    Rosebay and Willowherb were swung from side to side as the tail was switched violently in an attempt to dislodge them. When the hedge loomed up in front of it, the chestnut turned, rearing and plunging, its frightened whinnying showing its distress.
    ‘Jump,’ called Rowan, ‘Jump now!’ and one grey and five red squirrels leapt from the horse’s neck for the safety of the hedgerow. Rosebay and Willowherb dropped from its tail and, dodging the flying hooves of the black and white mare as it raced by, they scampered for the hedge to join the others.
    ‘That’ll break our scent trail,’ Rowan said, exhilaration in his voice as they stood together, composing themselves after their ride. ‘Meadowsweet-mate, that was a brilliant idea!’
     
     
     

CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    Lord Malachite was watching Obsidian and Silica to see how they would react to his assumption of command. It was a daring move on his part, he was thinking, appropriate to a born leader. Often the best way – act positively and other lesser squirrels will follow meekly. The more confident you sound the less likely they are to challenge.
    Now the lesser squirrels seemed bemused, waiting for his next move. He must keep the initiative – reinforce his position.
    Where was Sitka? He was the other one to watch. If that traitor Hickory was off with those native Reds, Sitka might go too. They had both had many moons of that poisonous, corrupting Red influence. Ah, there he was, ready to obey. That was better.
    ‘Right, this is the situation.’ He stood up as tall as he could. ‘A group of natives has infiltrated their way into this precinct under the guise of teaching us Silver Squirrels their nasty native ways. We will not tolerate this indignity. The two males we held in the Warren Ash tricked their guards – who have been dealt with in an appropriate way – and have escaped. No doubt they have joined their pretty little females. Worst of all, Hickory, rot his name, appears to have joined them. Probably fancies a bit of red-tail. We will hunt them down and dispose of the problem once and for all. Never trust a native with their sneaky, underpaw ways. Follow me.’
    He led off towards the Little Pool, followed by a posse of Greys, with Sitka behind them and Obsidian and Silica bringing up the rear and grumbling at the effort.
    Malachite halted the column before they reached the Deepend area. He was breathing hard.
    ‘We will pause here,’ he said. ‘We must not alert the enemy by rushing out and letting them get away.’
    ‘Lord Obsidian,’ Malachite called across. ‘Take a party and circle round to the east. Lord Silica – do the same to the west. Sitka will go right round and cut off their retreat. When you are in position I will advance from here. Don’t let any escape. Kill on capture. Death to all Reds – and all traitors.’ He scowled a warning at Sitka.
    Sitka, with a dozen Greys at his heels, ran from tree to tree to get behind his teachers and erstwhile friends as if to cut off any way of escape. He was surprised that Hickory had abandoned both his own kind and any hope of challenging for the position of Great Lord Silver. Hickory had, at one time, been as keen on this as any Grey male. But what a fool this Malachite was. Still, it was best to go along with him for the time being, he didn’t want to lose his tail and there may be a way to help the Reds without compromising his own position.
    When Sitka’s posse was beyond the Little Pool they picked up the clear scent of the Reds, with Hickory’s among them, leading away towards the Hazel Copse. The enemy had gone. The trap, if one could call it that, was empty.
    Sitka contemplated following the trail at once but decided it would be wiser not to risk the anger of their new