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Skarlath the kestrel fledged later than his brothers and sisters; the autumn was almost over when he left the nest never to return. This is the way with hawks. They are fierce and independent, free spirits who love to soar high.

So it was with Skarlath, but being young and reckless he flew north and was trapped by winter. Howling gales from the very edges of the world bore him away. The young kestrel was held captive by a whirling mass of snow that swept him over hill, dale and forest. Shrieking winds drove him along, a bundle of wet feathers in a tight cocoon of damp white flakes that built on to his plumage in small drifts. Helpless, Skarlath was shot like an arrow into a forest. His body smashed against the trunk of an old hornbeam. Relentlessly the storm plunged onward, keening a wild dirge, leaving in its wake the unconscious young kestrel.

Skarlath regained his senses slowly. It was night, still, with not a breeze about the forest. The cold was bitter and intense, and frost glittered and twinkled on snow-laden tree boughs. Somewhere close he could see the glow of a fire, but could not feel its heat. Voices and raucous laughter came from the lighted area, drawing him, but when he tried to move, the young kestrel squawked aloud in pain. His whole body was pinioned by ice; he was frozen tight, spreadeagled to the trunk of the hornbeam.

Swartt Sixclaw sat closest to the fire. He was a young ferret, but obviously the leader of the threescore vermin who made up the band. Tall, vidous and sinewy, Swartt had made himself Chieftain, because he was quicker and stronger than any who dared challenge him. He was a fearsome sight to friend and foe alike, his face striped with a sloping pattern of purple and green dye, teeth stained glistening red. Round his neck hung the teeth and claws of dead enemies. His left forepaw bore six claws - it rested on the hilt of a long curved sword thrust through a snakeskin belt.

The kestrel's agonized cries brought Swartt upright. Kicking a nearby stoat, he snarled, Trattak, go and see what's makin' that noise.'

The stoat scuttled obediently off into the snow-laden trees. It did not take him long to find Skarlath. 'Over 'ere, some stupid bird got itself froze to a tree!' he called out.

Swartt smiled wickedly at a young badger, tied to a log by a halter. It was a creature about the same age as himself, painfully hobbled and muzzled with rawhide strips. On its head was a broad, golden-coloured stripe. Drawing his sword, the ferret touched its point to the rare-coloured stripe. 'Get up, Scumtripe, and give your master a ride over there,' he said.

The vermin crowding round the flames jeered and laughed, as Swartt sat upon the badger's back and goaded it forward, raking with his claws and slapping it with the flat of his swordblade. Hobbled close, the young creature could only take small stumbling steps. Anguished growls issued from its bound mouth as it fumbled through the snow.

Swartt thought it no end of a joke, shouting aloud for the benefit of his band, 'Giddy up, Scumtripe, y'great lazy stripedog, move!'

Skarlath eyed the ferret fearfully, as Swartt brought his face dose, leering and licking his lips. 'Well now, what 'ave we 'ere? A kestrel, not as tasty as quail or woodpigeon, but young and tender I'll wager. Stuck fast by the ice are ye, bird? That'll keep y'nice' an' fresh until you join me at breakfast!'

Then, dragging the badger cruelly up, he tied the halter attached to its muzzle to an overhanging limb of the hornbeam. 'Here's a good job for ye, Scumtripe -guard my breakfast until mornin'! Yer gettin' too fat'n'lazy lyin' by the fire.' Swartt Sixclaw strode off chuckling to rejoin his band round the flames, leaving the unfortunate pair fastened to the tree.

An hour passed, when all that could be heard was the crackling of pine logs as flames devoured them; the vermin camp was silenced in sleep. Suddenly, in one swift, silent movement, the badger flung his body close against the kestrel, trapping the bird between himself and the bark. At first me young kestrel thought he was to be smothered, but the warmth from the soft fur of the badger's chest started to melt the ice. Slowly, Skarlath felt the blood begin to stir in his veins. Although the badger was tethered and muzzled he clung on tightly with all his strength until at last Skarlath was able to move his head and wings. Skarlath jerked his head around until he found himself looking into the dark eyes of the golden-striped creature. Both young ones stared at each other, communicating in silence. Then the badger held still as the hawk's beak went to work. With short, savage movements Skarlath tore into the rawhide muzzle strips that bound the badger until they were ripped to shreds. The badger clenched and undendied his teeth, testing his jaws, then bowing his great gold-striped head he devoured the rawhide hobbles that bound his paws, chewing and swallowing the strips in his hunger. They were both free!

'Come, friend, we go, escape, get away!' said Skarlath, keeping his voice to a hoarse whisper.

But the badger acted as if he had not heard his com�panion. Fierce anger bumed in his eyes. Stretching his powerful young limbs, the badger seized a bough of the hornbeam and snapped it from the tree with a single wrench. Smashing the bough against the treetrunk, he broke it in two then, casting aside the thin end, he grip�ped me heavier piece with both paws. It was about half his own height, thicker at one end than the other, like some huge rough dub. Roaring out his challenge, he charged the unwary vermin around the fire.

'Eeulaliaaaaaa!'

The camp came to life instantly. Two vermin fell under me dub as the badger threw himself at Swartt. Before the ferret had half drawn his sword the badger's dub thudded hard against his foe's sixdawed paw. Swartt screeched and fell back injured, yelling to his creatures, 'Stop him! Kill him!'

Skarlath saw the badger disappear under a crowd of vermin as they tried to bring him down, and he hurtled in, ripping and stabbing with beak and talons. Though '!� the badger was weighted by foebeasts, none could fell him. He stood like a mighty young oak, flailing the dub, his deep-throated warcry ringing through the forest.

'Eeulaliaaaaa!'

Skarlath dedded then that his friend was totally mad. The vermin numbers would tell soon and the badger would be brought down to be slain. Fighting his way through, the kestrel landed upon the badger's shoulder and cried into his ear, 'Come away or we'll both be killed. Escape!'

The badger struggled to the fire's edge and, using his dub, he scattered the blazing logs into the ranks of his enemies. Flames whirred and sparks showered as