Quest for the Faradawn - страница 13

The owl turned towards Sam as the dog stood up and began to relate all that he had heard his human saying to the Mistress in their kitchen yesterday morning. The main target was to be pheasants and there would be a large number of Urkku from the village involved. There would also be beaters, men with sticks who would walk through the wood from the back, hitting the undergrowth and making strange shouting and whistling noises. This was intended to force the animals to fly up or run away towards the front of the wood where the Urkku with their death sticks would be waiting for them. It was a standard procedure for the big killings and was greatly feared by the animals as, unlike the situation where there were just two or three Urkku walking through the wood, there was nowhere for them to run and hide. Although the main victims were the pheasants, no animal was safe and, if seen, would almost certainly be shot at.

When Sam had finished he was thanked by Wythen and he lay down again next to Brock. He was shaking all over from nerves and panting heavily, little drops of saliva running down his chin. ‘Well done,’ whispered Brock, who himself hated public speaking and knew how his friend felt; particularly as in Sam’s case there were still a number of animals who mistrusted him and would seize any opportunity to criticize.

‘The Killing tomorrow is then one of the most dangerous and none of us is safe,’ said Wythen in a stern and angry voice, remembering the time five seasons ago when one of his sons had been shot. It was not common for owls to be killed but by no stretch of the imagination could they be called safe and it was only an extremely unwise owl who would let himself be seen by the Urkku. ‘You must all organize yourselves as best you can; now we have foreknowledge we at least have a chance of diminishing our losses. Sterndale, you must once again attempt to impress upon your flock the importance of not moving and of staying on the ground as much as possible and explain to them the folly of calling out when frightened. Thirkelow, your pigeons have more chance in the air than the pheasants but the best plan is still to use ground cover. Pictor, you must tell your rabbits to go in their burrows and stay there, and your hares, Perryfoot, would do well to stay under cover where they are and only to risk a bolt for it if they are a good distance away from the Urkku and out of range of their death sticks. Rufus, you and the foxes must stay in your holes; if Sam’s information is correct there will be no hounds, nor will they be using the gas on any of the animals; but still both you and Bruin’s family would do best to remain well hidden. You know what the Urkku are like on these mass slaughters of theirs; anything moves and they’ll try and kill it. This of course applies to all the rest of you animals. We’ll have the usual signalling system; my son Warrigal will be roosting on one of the trees by the pond: as soon as he spots the Urkku he’ll call out four or five times and that will be the signal for everyone to get out of sight and stay quiet.’

There was dead silence in the snowy glade; the moon, shining down bright and silvery, showed all the intent, anxious and fearful faces of the animals as they tried to absorb the instructions given by Wythen. Little clouds of breath froze in the cold air and Brock could hear the frightened panting of the rabbits next to him. ‘Whose turn will it be?’ they were wondering, and through their minds flashed pictures of those they had seen in the past shot and killed or, worse still, injured and left to die with their back legs in pieces. And over all their fear, the eternal question which none could answer, not even Wythen – Why?

‘And now,’ broke in the owl, realizing that he must bring the minds of the meeting back to the second item for discussion, ‘there is another matter to which I would like to draw your attention. I already know something about it as my son Warrigal has had a talk to me, but I would like to hear the matter from the beginning, first hand.’ Brock’s heart missed a beat; he looked for Warrigal and saw him perched low down on an elder branch to his right. The owl looked back and shrugged his shoulders.