The Siege of White Deer Park (7 page)

Friendly had three young foxes in particular who looked up to him. There was his own son Pace, so called because of his speed; and there were two of his nephews. One was the son of Bold, known as Husky, who had his dead father’s stout appearance. The other was Charmer’s son, Rusty. Friendly’s endearing qualities which had given him his name had attracted these youngsters and they were easily led by him. There were others, too, who had ties of one sort or another: Ranger, Charmer’s mate; and a cousin of Ranger’s, called Trip. Many of the vixens were fully occupied just then with their new litters, but Friendly had managed to gather together these five males – a substantial group – to join him on his expedition against the stranger who still threatened the peace of the entire Reserve.

He lost no time in leading them to the stream where the Beast had at last been seen in the open. None of these foxes knew anything of Adder’s narrow escape, for that had happened while they were gathering.

Friendly soon noticed the Beast’s spoor in the damp, soft ground at the edge of the stream. Working from there, he detected a scent and began to follow it along. The others ran behind. The youngest of them were both excited and frightened. Friendly had told them they were to track the stranger to its lair. He had not enlarged on what then was to be their purpose, but they were happy to be on an adventure and eager to prove themselves. Ranger and Trip brought up the rear of the party. They were about the same age as Friendly and of a cooler temperament.

The trail led through vegetation and then seemed to take a direction away from the water. The scent was fainter but Friendly was still certain of it, and it led them eventually into a wooded area.

‘Now we must go very, very carefully,’ he said. ‘There’s plenty of cover here and any scrub or undergrowth could be a hiding-place.’

A greenish light pervaded the enclosure. The young, newly-opened leaves made a thick screen which filtered the sun’s rays. Last year’s dead leaves and fallen twigs snapped and rustled underfoot, despite the animals’ cautious movements. After a while Friendly lifted his head to listen, twitching his ears. He could find no unrecognized sound and bent his wet nose once more to the ground. He lost the scent and circled for a while before he picked it up again.

‘Over here,’ he called softly to the others, who had waited where they stood.

Friendly was moving slowly towards a mass of bramble which surrounded the base of an ancient hawthorn. Ranger had a sudden premonition.

‘Take care!’ he barked.

Friendly turned at the sharp sound and, as he did so, something stirred in front of him in the depths of the undergrowth. There was a muffled snarl and then the thing was gone, through some bolt-hole known only to itself, and with just the slightest disturbance of the low-lying foliage on the briars.

Friendly plunged after it, without stopping to think of the consequences. The other foxes hovered nervously, trying to peer in amongst the brambles. But they could see nothing. They could only hear their companion as he crashed through the undergrowth.

Now the youngsters turned to Ranger. ‘What shall we do?’ they asked. Pace said, ‘Shouldn’t we follow him? He’s put himself in danger.’

‘No. Stay together,’ Ranger advised tensely. ‘We’re safer in a group and we might have to fight. We can’t risk being picked off separately.’

‘But what about Friendly?’ asked Rusty.

Ranger did not answer.

The young foxes looked hesitantly from one to the other. They looked at Ranger and Trip who seemed uncertain of themselves. Without Friendly around, none of them had much confidence. The moments passed. A silence had fallen on the wood. The quietness seemed to them to be sinister.

‘Sh – shall we wait a bit longer?’ stammered Husky. It was obvious the way his mind was working.

‘Yes. I think so,’ Ranger answered, trying to sound calm. But their thoughts were all taking the same direction.

‘I – er – don’t see the point . . .’ Trip began, and then his voice petered out. He had caught a sound in the distance – a mere whisper, as of a brushed leaf. There was a soft swish of vegetation, nearer this time. The foxes’ legs quivered. They were on the verge of scattering.

Then they heard Friendly’s voice. ‘It’s no good – we missed him this time,’ he called. They saw him approaching, but from another corner of the wood.

‘There was just a glimpse,’ he said as he came up. He was panting. ‘A tail, I think.’ He looked exhilarated. ‘Anyway, we found its hideout – or one of them.’

‘I don’t think that’s much help now,’ Ranger said to him. ‘Whatever was in there won’t use it again, now it’s known. The Beast is far too subtle for that.’

‘
Was
it the Beast?’ asked Pace in a whisper.

‘Oh yes, I’m sure of it,’ answered Friendly. He turned to Ranger. ‘You’re quite right, of course,’ he said. ‘No good looking here again. But the significant thing is – the creature ran! It didn’t care to face all of us.’

The young foxes looked very pleased at this. They felt proud that Friendly had included them in the achievement, although they had not actually done anything definite.

‘We can foil this beast,’ Friendly continued confidently. ‘We can drive it away from here.’

‘Maybe we can,’ said Ranger. ‘But how do we ever get close to it? It’s vanished again now, so I suppose we must start our search anew?’

Friendly considered for a moment. ‘We could at least stay around this area for a while,’ he said. ‘It might not have gone far.’

The foxes stationed themselves at widely-spaced points so that they could cover quite a stretch of that part of the Park. They settled down for a long wait.

It was while they were waiting that the stranger killed its third deer. It was another fawn: only a few days old. The kill was sudden, silent and swift, just as before. Once again it seemed the Great Stag and all the adults of the herd were powerless to prevent it.

The meal was devoured in quite another corner of the Reserve and, by nightfall, the foxes themselves were feeling hungry. Ranger left his place and moved over to Friendly.

‘I think we might as well call it a day,’ he suggested.

‘But it’s the night when we should have the best chance,’ Friendly replied. ‘That’s when this beast is most active.’

‘Think of the youngsters,’ said Ranger. ‘Do they have the endurance? It could be a trial of nerves.’

‘We shall be nearby – and Trip too,’ returned Friendly. ‘But perhaps I am expecting too much,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘I’m sure they must be famished,’ Ranger remarked, ‘if they feel anything like me.’

‘Yes, very well. Let them refresh themselves,’ said Friendly. ‘But we’ll wait on – shall we?’

Ranger looked glum, but his expression was hidden by
the dark. He kept his feelings out of his voice. ‘Of course, if you think it will do any good.’

‘It’s worth a try,’ answered Friendly. ‘Will you tell the others then? And when they’ve fed they can come back. I have a feeling that, between us, we might be able to do something really worthwhile tonight.’

Fox and Vixen wondered what trouble Friendly and his followers could be getting themselves into. Then they discussed what, if there were to be trouble,
they
would be able to do about it. It did not take long for them to accept that there was nothing they – Fox and Vixen –
could
do. Friendly was no young cub to be reprimanded by seniors. He was a mature male into his third season who had strong ideas of his own and who, although he might listen politely to advice, would not necessarily act upon it. As for the younger foxes of a later generation, they were so remote in age from the elders that they might not even be prepared to listen.

‘They must go their own way,’ Vixen summed up.

‘Yes,’ said Badger who had remained with his old friends. ‘Our day is done. All
I
hope for is sufficient peace and quiet to last me out.’

‘I’m afraid we can’t look forward to much of that at present, the way things are,’ Fox said realistically. ‘The Beast is still very much in evidence, as the latest deer killing shows. And Adder says it was done in daylight, so now there’s a new dimension. The creature grows bolder. It seems to think nothing of stealing what it requires from under the nose of the Warden.’

‘The problem does seem insoluble,’ Badger agreed. ‘But we know quite well humans are not fools. This brave hunter is likely to go one step too far.’

This notion comforted them all a little. Adder had left them to take advantage of Toad’s proffered couch of moss. He had, so far, been the only surviving victim of an attack by the feared stranger. The others stayed talking a while, but Fox and Vixen were all on edge. They waited only for one of the younger foxes to put in an appearance. Eventually Badger went on his way. No fox came near.

Adder had barely made himself comfortable, after following Toad’s directions, when he caught the vibrations of another creature moving along the ground nearby. His forked tongue flickered from his mouth as he tried to detect what sort of scent was given off. He was hoping for a tasty titbit in the shape of a frog, or maybe a shrew. His empty stomach felt like a cavern inside him. The leaves disturbed by the creature’s progress crackled faintly. It was evident that it was something not very large. Adder was philosophical. Snails or large earthworms were all grist to the mill when you had not eaten for days.

The one thing he had not expected to come into view was another snake. But that was exactly what it was – and
another adder, too. The snake came up quite close, slithering smoothly over the moss with an air of preoccupation. It did not speak to him.

Adder wondered if it meant to slide on past without appearing to notice him. For some reason, of which he was not quite sure, he felt indignant.

‘I am alive,’ he said sarcastically, ‘not just part of the leaf litter.’ Then he wondered why he had said it.

The other snake stopped and looked at him with the unwavering stare of their kind.

‘Oh – yes. I see you are,’ it replied phlegmatically. ‘Have you been in a fight?’

‘Well, I have. You’re very observant.’ Adder had not realized his scars were so obvious. Then he remembered his blunt tail. ‘It’s an old wound,’ he added. ‘It doesn’t bother me.’ He was a little surprised to discover that he was addressing a female.

‘You’re an old warrior, it seems,’ returned the she-viper. ‘There are scratches all over your body.’

Adder suddenly felt proud of his scars. For the life of him he did not know why. ‘You’re not often in this neck of the woods?’ he ventured to enquire.

‘Not very often. I’ve been looking for frogs. This is a good terrain for them when they’re not in the water. But I was about to rest.’

‘I’m doing the same myself,’ said Adder. ‘I can recommend this spot for comfort.’ (What
was
he saying?)

‘Well, since you recommend it, then,’ said the female, ‘I suppose I’d be a fool to ignore you.’

Adder did not know what to say next. He was quite unaccustomed to making pleasantries.

‘There’s been an abundance of frogs about this season,’ the female went on. ‘I’ve found them in all sorts of places.’

‘Yes,’ said Adder. ‘And there’s a reason for it.’

‘A reason? Oh, I suppose you mean there was a glut of tadpoles last spring?’

‘No, I don’t mean that,’ Adder hissed at her confidentially. ‘It’s a reason to do with a change of habitat.’

The other snake did not know what he was talking about and did not seem to be especially interested anyway. She made no reply.

Adder waited in vain. He was disappointed. He had been hoping to show off the depth of his knowledge. At length he said: ‘You see, they took to the land at a time when they should have been in the water.’ (He had an inkling this sounded rather foolish.)

‘Really? Do tell me more,’ came the toneless reply. It was obvious the she-viper was quite bored by the topic.

‘You see, they were forced to leave the pond by a strange and powerful hunter.’ Adder drew the words out slowly to heighten the dramatic effect.

‘You mean the Big Cat? Oh yes, I know about that,’ said the female. ‘Have you only just heard the news? I should have thought every beast and bird in the Park would know by now.’

Adder was taken aback and, indeed, a little affronted. She had made him feel small and he did not think she was trying particularly hard to be polite.

‘Er – yes,’ he muttered. ‘But how do
you
know about it being like a cat?’

‘What a funny question,’ she commented. ‘Because I’ve seen it, of course!’

Her manner really was very abrupt, Adder decided. He did not know why he was bothering with her. Politeness was not something he normally cared very much about, one way or the other. He was preparing himself for one of his most sarcastic retorts when the
female snake spoke again.

‘I’ve just had a thought,’ she hissed. ‘Those scratches of yours. They couldn’t be –’

‘Yes!’ Adder cried triumphantly. His attitude changed at once. ‘I was mauled by the “Big Cat”, as you call it.’

‘I guessed as much,’ she returned. ‘You must have been very careless to have got in its way. It couldn’t have been chasing you, because it doesn’t feed off snakes!’