‘Yes, Rune, sir, thank you, sir,’ said Bracken, adding with the effusiveness of a mole who has been let off the talon, ‘thank you, sir, I will go straight back now. Thank you, sir.’ And he dashed away, up into the fresh air.
There he found himself shaking and sweating and running all at the same time, desperate to get away from Rune, who put the fear of diseased darkness into his soul. He had never been so frightened in his life, not by Root, not by the wildest noises on the surface out of reach of a tunnel entrance, not even by Burrhead.
Only when he was down below the slopes again and well into the oaks did he pause to think. He couldn’t go back to the Westside, because he would almost certainly be killed by Burrhead or Root; he couldn’t hang about around Hulver’s tunnels. So he didn’t know where to go. Having reached this cul-de-sac he moved on to thinking about Hulver.
If Rune was here and Rune was an elder, the elder meeting must be over. Which meant that Hulver must also be on his way back. Hulver would be able to tell him what to do or where to go, so he turned away from the route back to the Westside, cutting off towards the Eastside, contouring round the slopes. He would try to locate the main tunnel Hulver had headed down when he had gone to Barrow Vale and which, presumably, Rune had come up. With luck he might reach it before Hulver passed by on up to his burrow—and Rune. Rune! It occurred to Bracken only then, after running so far and fearing so much, that Rune was the danger Hulver must have sensed would come. Rune had come to kill Hulver.
An urgency now came to his progress through the wood, for he speeded up, not bothering to run from cover to cover and shadow to shadow as any sensible creature normally does. No time. Not bothering to avoid the dry leaves because of the noise they made. No time. Dashing, running, scampering along the contour. Against time. His fear of Rune was replaced by an urgent desire to reach Hulver and warn him.
Strangely, as he ran through the wood, aware of direction, aware of scent, feeling the dangers, head clear as air after rainfall, an excitement he had never felt before crept over him. He felt more in control of himself than he had ever felt. All the skills he had added to his basic gift for orientation and exploration were now working together, taking him towards the tunnel he knew must be there to find. Probably no other Duncton mole but Rune and one or two of the Marshenders could have found their way across the system to the communal tunnel with the concentration and skill that Bracken, still a youngster, was able to muster. He knew where he was going. And he found the tunnel as surely as a wasp finds its nest or an owl its prey. He knew it by temperature change, by smell, and by location; he knew by instinct. He lay above the tunnel for a moment or two and then ran up it towards the slopes, realising that if he went down towards Barrow Vale it was just possible that Hulver might pass him. So he ran back up towards Hulver’s burrow and the danger of Rune until he found an old, barely discernible entrance, and went down it. He crouched low and silent. There was no vibration in the tunnel at all, not a mole for miles. If Hulver had passed by, he was now far on and there was no chance of catching him. So he waited, snout on his paws, just as Hulver sometimes lay in the wood, eyes closed. Above, on the surface, the midday sun shone down poised for its downward arc to the west.
Not long afterwards Bracken felt vibrations and the briefest rush of air as a mole approached. He waited trembling, for if it wasn’t Hulver he would have to do some fast talking. He decided to claim that Rune had sent him down this way on his way back to the Westside. As the mole approached, Bracken decided to save time by announcing himself.
‘Hello! I’m Bracken!’
The mole stopped, and Bracken heard a gentle laugh.
‘Are you, indeed! Always finding your way into tunnels you shouldn’t be in!’ It was Hulver, and Bracken felt relief rush over him. ‘There’s little time, Bracken, very little,’ said Hulver quickly, ‘and there is a great deal to do. I assume that Rune found you in my burrow and sent you packing?’
Bracken nodded. ‘Whether he has gone there to kill me or simply to warn me for a final (and fruitless) time, I cannot say,’ said Hulver. ‘But I’m not going to risk going back now that you are safe here with me. There are nine days left before Midsummer Night. We cannot return to my tunnels and so must hide somewhere else. I think the best thing is to head up towards the Stone and rely on its shadow to hide us for the days that remain. You have much to learn, more than you can know.’
Bracken felt, or thought he felt, alien vibrations far down in the tunnel. Hard to say, but he wanted to get away as fast as possible.
