Though this was the first snow of winter, it fell thick and fast, as it will in Scotia, in great wet flakes that flurried and swirled in the air. Soon the hinds could hardly see where they were going and the pace became desperately slow. But the blizzard also brought a blessing, for it meant that when news reached Drail of a group of deer who had taken their calves and abandoned the herd, the Draila could not act for a full day. Scouts were sent to the brow of each hill, but they could see nothing in this weather and they soon returned to wait until the skies cleared. When they were finally able to travel, a full sun later, Drail had no idea where the hinds had left from or where they were going. He sent out four parties of deer to scour the hills and others to warn the neighboring herds to look for a calf with a white leaf on its brow.

The hinds spent the first morning out of the valley resting on the edge of a small copse, huddled together and shivering in the bitter cold. The fawns were the worst hit, for their little hoofs were soon frozen as they sank into the white, but they also found delight in the snow and the adventure. Bhreac, in particular, was eager to move them on, realizing that the weather would mask their escape. It had stopped snowing for a while during the morning, but by noon it started again, as thick as before. From the edge of the home valley the landscape began to flatten out and form the more regular contours of the Low Lands. The deer found themselves traveling across a patch of down where the undulating ground proved difficult to cross, for in its folds the snow heaped thick and left snowdrifts, which the fawns sank into up to their haunches.

At one point, Tain disappeared altogether and if Rannoch hadn't been watching him and marked the place where Alyth and Shira could dig him out with their hoofs, Tain might have frozen to death. But the little fawn was unhurt, though his nose was throbbing with cold, and the deer pushed on again into the winter.

By the afternoon of the next sun, the snow began to get finer until it eventually stopped altogether and the sky began to clear, giving way to great patches of blue that looked as icy as the ground below. The deer's spirits lifted with the weather and they made better progress. Rannoch, Tain, and Thistle trotted along together, though the other calves stayed with their mothers. Thistle had cheered up a little and they laughed and joked and even found time to play, rolling around in the blanket of white. But, at last, as Larn approached again and the evening star began to pierce the sky, a new fear entered the hinds' thoughts.

As they came to a wood and looked back across the downs, they realized that their hoofs had laid a clear trail in the snow. It was with sinking hearts that the hinds entered the trees where the ground began to rise. A deer's mood is infectious and soon the fawns were nervous, their fear compounded by their unfamiliar surroundings. Among the calves, only Rannoch felt more confident, for he had been into a wood before, and now he came into his own, trotting up and down and reassuring the others. He was running back toward Bracken when he overheard the twins, Peppa and Willow, talking under their breath as they padded along behind their mother.

"I'm frightened, Willow," Peppa was saying, as darkness closed around them. "The trees look like huge Draila."

"Don't worry," said her sister quietly. "I'll look after you, Peppa."

"But there are things in the forest," Peppa went on nervously. "I wish I was at home."

Rannoch fell into step with the little does.

"Your sister's right," he said cheerfully. "There's nothing to worry about. I've been in a wood alone before and I've seen an owl and badgers and I was even lost for two nights, but nothing happened."

Peppa was very impressed, but Willow said nothing. She turned her head away disdainfully.

"My name's Rannoch. You're Peppa and Willow?"

"That's right," answered Peppa, no longer thinking of the big trees. "We're twins."

"I can see that." Rannoch laughed. "Are you Willow or Peppa?"

"Peppa."

"So you must be Willow?" said Rannoch.

Willow didn't answer.

"Willow it is then. It's very nice to meet you."

"And you," said Peppa. "Willow, what's wrong? Why don't you say anything?"

Willow still refused to speak and the three fawns walked on for a while without talking. Rannoch finally broke the silence.

"This is fun, isn't it? I mean, how many other fawns would get to visit the forest?" "How many other fawns would want to?" said Willow suddenly.

"I didn't mean . . . I was just trying . . ."

"Well don't. We're fine on our own, thank you."

"Willow," scolded Peppa. "Why are you being so unfriendly?"

"Because it's his fault that we're here at all."

Rannoch was hurt, but he tossed up his head proudly.

"Well, I'm very sorry, I'm sure," he said.

With that he ran on along the trail of deer, winding through the wood. He was angry, and by the time he reached Bracken he felt miserable again. Bracken was with Bhreac and they were talking seriously.

"Not now, dear," said Bracken when her fawn arrived.

Rannoch ran over to Tain, who was telling Thistle a story he had just made up. He fell in with them and listened for a while, but his heart wasn't in it and he was soon lost in his own thoughts.

The deer went on, and, at last, they came to a wide clearing where the ground evened out. Bracken and Bhreac stopped to wait for the other hinds.

"We'll rest here tonight," said Bhreac when the others had all arrived. "The fawns are tired and it's too dark to go on. If anyone's following they'll have to stop, too."

The hinds nodded in agreement, but now Shira stepped forward.

"Bhreac," she said quietly. "Do you know where we're going?"

The hinds pricked up their ears, for they had been wondering this all day.

"Not really, my dear. If we are to escape Drail we must get as far away as possible, even to the High Land if we can."

There was not one among the hinds who really knew where the High Land was and they feared its name, but at least the sense of purpose and the thought of getting as far away as possible seemed to reassure them, and they began to move about the clearing, smoothing the ground with their muzzles, clearing away the covering of settled snow and finding places where they could lie down with their little ones. But just as they were settling down, they heard a noise that made them start and blink in terror.

"What's that?" whispered Tain to Rannoch.

The two fawns were shivering in the frosty air as they listened. In the darkness, through the trees, came a sound that haunts all Herla. A low, quivering howl that seemed to rise from the depths of some wounded beast and echo through the night before it was lost again on the wind. The terrified deer shivered, and the hinds, lost suddenly in their desire to run but held fast by their fear for their fawns, moved back and forth about the clearing like fish wiggling on a hook. Shira's eyes darted to and fro looking for a thicket or a patch of bramble where she could hide Tain for a while if it came to flight.

The howl came again and was then picked up by another and another.

"Wolves." Bracken shuddered.

The other hinds had heard her, and though they knew the sound well, the word had its own power to add to their terror.

"Yes," said Bhreac loudly so that the others could hear her, "but listen. They're far away. Probably in the mountains. They won't trouble us tonight."

Bhreac's words calmed the deer, but she could see that they were all deeply disturbed, especially the little fawns. Peppa was nudging up to Willow while Quaich was nestling under his mother's belly, hiding his head from the awful noise and trying to suckle at the same time. To add to the misery, in the clearing the temperature had fallen again and a wind had come up, shaking the forest around them and howling through the dark branches, so that the fawns thought that the wolves, who they were hearing for the very first time, were coming closer.

"This is no good at all," whispered Bhreac, but then the old deer had an idea.

"Come on, form a circle," she said. "I'm going to tell you a story."

The hinds were pleased and they shepherded the fawns into a ring. There they sat; Rannoch, Tain, and Thistle together, Quaich, Peppa, and Willow; their mothers circling them to shield them from the night, and old Bhreac thinking desperately of a tale to lift their spirits.

"I'm no Blindweed," she said at last, looking about her rather sadly, "but I'm going to tell you the story of Starbuck and the wolf."

As she said it there was another howl from the mountains and the fawns shuddered.

"Yes . . . well," she began. "It was a long time ago when Starbuck had crossed the Great Mountain and had come to the High Land. No deer had ever been so far north except the reindeer who have always lived in the snow. Starbuck ran free across the heather and drank from the great lochs and was happy. But one day, when he was walking along the foothills of the Great Mountain, he saw footprints that made him shudder. They were the marks of a wolf that had come down alone from the hills to hunt.

"Now Starbuck knew that he was in danger, for the pad marks were fresh and he had no chance against a wolf, even a wolf on its own. So he began to look around him for a place to hide. Ahead, he saw a thicket and he backed inside it so that only his antlers were showing, and they looked very much like branches. There Starbuck waited. He didn't have to wait long, for the wolf had scented him on the wind and was now retracing his steps, sniffing and slobbering as he went. Starbuck could see the wolf's shaggy sides shaking with excitement as he padded along, and the lines of shiny white teeth glinting in his muzzle.

"But Starbuck wasn't afraid," Bhreac added quickly, for she could see she was frightening the fawns. "Oh no, he was far too clever to be afraid. Instead, he waited as the wolf came right up to the thicket. He could hear him muttering and cursing to himself that he had lost his lunch. Well, when the wolf was right next to him, Starbuck shook his antlers gently and said in a deep voice:

" 'Why are you complaining, old wolf?'

"The wolf nearly jumped out of his skin, for he thought he was being addressed by a tree. 'Who's there?' he snarled.

" 'Just a tree,' answered Starbuck. 'But why do you disturb my sleep with your mutterings?'

"The wolf, who was old, nearly blind, and rather stupid, was too amazed to do anything but answer the tree. 'I smelled a deer,' he said, 'and now I've lost it and I'm hungry.'

" 'Well, well,' said Starbuck, smiling, 'I don't know anything about a deer, but I do know this. Herne wouldn't be pleased to see you roaming about trying to harm his favorite Lera. Did you know that Herne especially loves the deer?'

"At the mention of Herne," whispered Bhreac, "the wolf was very afraid, for he had begun to think that he was bewitched and perhaps it was Herne himself who was addressing him.

" 'No, I didn't,' he said respectfully, 'but I must eat, mustn't I?'

" 'Well, yes,' said Starbuck, 'I suppose you must. But the grass and the trees and the glens have much tastier things than the hide of some old Herla.'

" 'Oh,' said the wolf. 'What?'

" 'Berries for a start,' said the cunning Starbuck. 'And if you reach up to my branches you will find some especially juicy berries to fill your tired old stomach.'

" 'Thank you,' answered the wolf.

"He wasn't at all pleased by the idea of berries but was too afraid to be rude to the talking tree. With that, the wolf lifted himself on his back legs and tried to reach the berries that he thought were growing on Starbuck's antlers. Starbuck didn't waste a moment, for as soon as the wolf's muzzle came close, he tossed his head forward and caught him such a blow in the face with his antlers that his front teeth were knocked out and he was sent flying backward, over and over. He picked himself up and with a yelp of terror went hurtling away, his tail between his legs. And from that day on, whenever he scented deer, he would remember the talking tree that had knocked out his teeth and would go off to hunt some smaller Lera."

The fawns were delighted by this story and felt much better about the howls that were really a good many miles away. All except Thistle, who was grumbling to himself.

"I think it's a silly story," he muttered. "Who ever heard of a talking tree? Besides, how could Starbuck understand a wolf anyway?"

"Because Starbuck is a special deer," said his mother kindly. "And besides, it's only a story." "I loved it," said Tain, "especially because Starbuck can talk to the Lera."

"Now, now," said Bhreac, "enough chatter. If we don't all get some sleep how will we ever travel anywhere?"

The fawns began to calm down again and soon most of them were fast asleep.

"I've never heard that story before," whispered Bracken to Bhreac as she watched Rannoch drift into dreams beside her. "Who told it to you?"

"No one," chuckled Bhreac. "I made it up."

Rannoch woke with a start. He had had dark dreams that night. First he had dreamed he was being chased by a strange hornless deer with sharp teeth. Then he had dreamed of wolves and wind and high, lonely places. As he looked around him now, he was shivering. It was still dark and the others were fast asleep. Bhreac was muttering to herself in her own dreams, and Peppa, Willow, and Quaich were curled up snugly by their mothers. Tain and Thistle, who already thought themselves too old to rest at their mothers' sides, were farther off on their own. Rannoch got up and shook himself, but he felt wobbly on his feet and his ears were ringing. Something in him was unsettled and he felt strange. Around him the forest was quite still, for the wind had died and nothing was stirring in the darkness.

Rannoch wandered to the edge of the clearing, ate a few desultory leaves, and peered into the wood. Then, quite unafraid, he stepped into the trees. It began to grow light as he walked, and slowly the trees became discernible, so Rannoch felt confident that he could easily find his way back to the hinds. He was just beginning to enjoy himself when he suddenly stopped. From up ahead he heard a noise.

It was a furious flapping and cawing. Rannoch pressed slowly forward until he saw a sight that nearly made him laugh out loud. It was a big black crow, bigger than any bird Rannoch had ever seen. It was flapping its wings and cawing furiously as it tried to lift itself from the log it was standing on. But each time it flapped and tried to take off, the effort ended in a flurry of irritable squawks. Rannoch tingled as he realized he could understand what the bird was saying. "Quite absurd," cried the bird in a sharp, snapping voice as he flapped and strained. "Quite absurd. Never land in a wood again. Nevermore. Nevermore. Crak, Crak. Now what am I to do? To do? Oh, I wish I'd never got up."

As Rannoch came closer, the bird stopped flapping and eyed him carefully, his long pointed beak tilting left and right as he did so and his little eyes sparkling.

"Well, what are you looking at? Looking at? Crak, Crak," said the bird, clicking his beak together.

"I'm sorry," said Rannoch. "I was just wondering if you were all right."

"Do I look all right? Crak, Crak. Look all right?"

"Well, no," said Rannoch politely, "you don't."

"Well, don't just stand there. Stand there. Crak, Crak. Do something. Do," said the bird irritably.

Rannoch walked up to the log, and now he realized that there wasn't just one log but two and that one of the bird's feet was wedged in between them. The log had rolled as the bird had landed on it to get at a particularly juicy-looking wood louse.

"Shan't walk again. Crak, Crak," cried the bird. "Nevermore. Nevermore. Oh, do hurry up." Rannoch lowered his head and began to push at one of the logs. After a lot of straining and butting it started to wobble, just enough for the bird to pull his leg free and lift himself into the air in a shower of feathers. He landed just next to Rannoch and began to hop around painfully, cawing and screeching and snapping his beak. Finally, he seemed to calm down, and then he suddenly wheeled on Rannoch and fixed him with a beady and very suspicious eye.

"What did you say? Did you say?" cried the bird.

"Me? What do you mean? I didn't say - "

"I thought so," cried the bird, nearly taking off again. "You spoke to me. Quite remarkable. Crak, Crak. Where did you learn it?"

"Oh. I didn't. It just sort of happened," answered Rannoch.

"Nonsense," said the bird. "Don't be silly. Anyway. What are you doing here? Crak."

"I'm here with my friends," said Rannoch. "We're running away."

"Running away. Crak, Crak. Running away. So you're with that lot heading north? What do you want to run away for?"

"Well, the Draila . . . ," Rannoch began, and he was about to tell him something of his adventure when the bird suddenly lost interest and flew up onto the branch of a tree. He fluffed his feathers on the bough and then looked down coldly on the little fawn.

"What's your name?"

"Rannoch. What's yours?"

"What's mine? Crak. Crak, Crak," answered the bird, whose name really was Crak and who always had great difficulty explaining the fact.

"Pleased to meet you," said Rannoch. "I've never met a crow before."

The bird took off again and landed right next to Rannoch.

"What did you call me?" he screeched. "A crow? A filthy, greedy, tricksy crow? How dare you?" "But aren't you a crow?"

"No, I'm not, and I'll thank you not to be so impertinent."

"I'm sorry," said Rannoch, who had decided that this bird was really very rude. "What are you then?"

"What am I? Am I? Crak, Crak," said the bird, strutting around proudly. "I'm a raven, of course."

"Oh," said Rannoch, who had never seen a raven before and wasn't at all sure he wanted to again. "And you are a fawn," said Crak, walking straight up to him and sticking his beak in Rannoch's face, "but a strange one to be sure. To be sure. Crak, Crak. Well, if you think I've got time to stand around in a wood all day, you're wrong." And the bird lifted into the air again and flew straight upward. He landed on a branch high in the canopy.

"But if you're running away," he called down to the fawn, "you're going in the wrong direction. You won't get through up ahead. Crak, Crak."

With that the raven lifted into the air and was lost in the trees, cracking and cawing as he went.

"Wait. Come back," cried Rannoch. "What do you mean?"

But the raven was gone. Rannoch was left alone thinking to himself that he had never met such an insulting creature in all his life. The bird hadn't even said thank you.

By the time Rannoch made his way back to the clearing, the others were awake and preparing to leave. The hinds had breakfasted on some acorns and a small juniper tree nearby. Bracken scolded Rannoch furiously for wandering off again, but now she was too full of thoughts of the journey to let her anger last. Bhreac was readying the others, talking to the hinds and encouraging the calves.

"Well," said Shira, "which way now?"

"We'll keep going straight ahead," answered Bhreac. "Come on, we better get moving."

At this Rannoch stepped forward.

"I don't think we should go north," he said as importantly as he could, then imitating the bird, "We can't get through that way."

The calves, all except Willow, were very impressed by this, but Bracken just nudged Rannoch gently.

"How do you know, my dear?" she said, smiling.

"A raven told me," answered Rannoch brightly.

Some of the fawns giggled, and Bracken licked the little deer.

"Of course, a raven told you," she said gently, for she assumed that Rannoch had had another of his dreams. "Now don't you worry. Bhreac knows best."

"But, Mamma. A raven really did tell me."

The hinds had no time for Rannoch's story, and, with Bhreac and Bracken taking the lead, they pressed on through the trees. The forest began to open out and they made good progress. The trees were thinning and the ground was rising, so that the deer could see a long way back over the path they had taken. Ahead there was a break in the forest over a wide stretch of ground and then the trees began again, banking very steeply upward. Bhreac was leading the deer out into the open when Fern called from the back.

"Quick," she cried, "down there. There's something moving through the trees."

Bhreac and Bracken ran back to take a look, and Bhreac nodded gravely. She had seen a flash of movement through the branches. A deer was coming toward them, and, though it was still quite a way off, they could clearly see it was running fast.

"Hurry," whispered Bhreac, "across there. It will be easier to tell who it is if we get some height."

So the hinds began to run across the open ground, the fawns going as fast as they could. The group disappeared again into the far trees and paused to look back. The deer was coming on. They were going to move off again when Bracken suddenly stopped them.

"Wait," she said, "I think it's a hind."

"You're right, my dear," said Bhreac, "and she's not alone. There's a fawn with her."

"Bankfoot," shouted Rannoch delightedly. "It's Bankfoot and Canisp."

By the time Canisp and Bankfoot reached the open ground, the others had made their way back to the edge of the far trees. Rannoch and Tain hopped up and down as Bankfoot puffed up to them. "My dear, how did you get away?" cried Bhreac. "We thought we had lost you."

"No time," panted Canisp, "they're coming. Up through the wood. Bankfoot and I found it easy to track you through the snow. So did the Draila. I saw them in the distance when we entered the trees. They can't be far off. What shall we do?"

"That's obvious, my dear," cried Bhreac. "Run. For your lives."

The hinds and fawns turned as one and dashed up the slope into the trees. They rose quickly, stumbling and tripping as they went, but pushing on regardless. At a snowy outcrop of rock that broke a hole in the sparse webbing of forest, they paused and looked down. The calves began to tremble. On the open ground below, three stags were standing, looking round them and scenting the breeze. Bhreac recognized them as captains from the Draila. Then, coming from the lower forest, another stag appeared, and another, until, on the grass beneath them, there were at least twelve stags, their antlers lifting and nodding as they pawed the ground and scented their quarry. The hinds ran on almost blindly, darting and weaving in and out of the trees, pausing only to help up their calves. Peppa was desperate as she ran and Bankfoot, though he kept up with Rannoch, was puffing badly. The ground was rocky and the loose earth slid under their hoofs and slowed them down. Again the trees began to thin, which would have been a help to their flight if the snow hadn't fallen thicker here, so much higher up, and turned icy, making the deer slip and slide as they went. They were beginning to tire when Rannoch suddenly stopped.

"What's that?" he whispered.

The hinds had heard it, too, and now the deer were bunching together and listening in the approaching twilight. Through the trees, from somewhere up ahead, they heard a great rushing sound. It sang like a wind.

Rannoch and Tain ran forward with the hinds and the deer gasped as they reached the edge of the trees. In front of them, they saw a sight that stole their hopes away. They were on the edge of a ridge where the ground suddenly plunged away, disappearing into a sheer gulf. The chasm was at least three trees wide, and the deer backed away fearfully as they looked over the beetling ravine. The walls were of smooth rock and, in the gorge below, a river ran fast and angry, bubbling over the huge boulders that dotted its path. The deer were completely cut off. "What now?" panted Shira, looking out desperately across the void.

Even Bhreac was at a loss.

"They'll be on us soon enough," said Bracken.

"My little ones," cried Fern, as Peppa and Willow peered over the edge.

The hinds shuffled about nervously on the ridge until Bhreac spoke again.

"Bracken, you take Rannoch and try and skirt back down behind them," she said. Then she lowered her voice. "We'll go back and give ourselves up."

"No!" cried Bracken.

"My dear, it's the only way. We're lost. Look."

In the trees below, a trail of antlers was weaving upward.

"Go quickly," said Bhreac. "Get Rannoch away. Rannoch? Where is he now?"

Bhreac looked around and saw the little calf farther off, near the edge of the ravine. He was rigid and shaking, his head lifted in the air.

The hinds looked up as they suddenly heard a squawking and cawing high above Rannoch's head. In the cold blue, a large black raven was wheeling high above them.

"Rannoch. What are you doing?" snapped Bhreac. "Come here. You must hurry."

"Wait. Wait," said Rannoch as he nodded at the bird.

"Quickly," he cried suddenly. "There's a way over. Along here."

"What do you mean a way over?" said Bracken. "How do you know?"

"There's a bridge," said Rannoch, though the raven had hardly had time to tell him what a bridge was. "Please trust me."

The calves looked wonderingly at Rannoch, but Bankfoot suddenly piped up.

"P-p-p-please, do as he says. If he says he knows the way, he does."

"Well, he did know the way would be blocked," said Shira, who was desperate to run anywhere. "There," shouted Fern.

The hinds turned to look back down the hill and shuddered as they saw the antlers not ten trees' length below.

"All right, Rannoch," said Bhreac, "lead the way."

Rannoch turned and ran west through the trees, with the hinds and the fawns following him as fast as they could. He kept to the edge of the ravine. The path of the river that had gouged its way through the soft stone hundreds of centuries before was a twisting one and the deer wound left and right, following its rough contours. At last, though, they came to a bulge in the ridge where the gorge narrowed very slightly, and here, amid a crop of thick and snowy bracken, Rannoch stopped and looked ahead proudly.

In front of him, strung high across the ravine, was an old rope bridge. It was pinned into the earth by four wooden stakes at each end and it sagged badly in the center. But though it had been put there and forgotten nearly fifty years earlier, its planks were still in place, covered now with a thin layer of snow.

"There," cried Rannoch. "I told you so."

The other fawns were talking excitedly as Bracken and Bhreac came up beside him.

"So you did, my dear, so you did," said Bhreac gravely, "though for the life of me I don't know how. But we'll leave that till later. Now we must take them across."

"Who will go first?" asked Bracken nervously.

As she stood there, she smelled a scent that made her shake. It was old and faint, but it was a smell that she had been taught to fear from as early as she could remember. The smell of man. "Let me," cried Rannoch, filled with pride at the thought of leading the deer out of danger. Before Bhreac or Bracken could stop him, Rannoch had run forward and was standing on the edge of the bridge. The fawn paused as he looked down into the plunging ravine, but then, very gingerly, he stepped out onto the first plank. The bridge shook under his weight and the planks quivered, dislodging their powdery covering.

Rannoch waited until the bridge was still and then he took another step and another. His legs were shaking badly, and as he looked down he felt his stomach fall into the gulf. The air around him was cold and there was a great updraught of wind that filled his ears with thunder and made him dizzy and sick.

Rannoch looked straight ahead and kept going. Step after step he took, until he was right out above the center of the ravine. The bridge had originally had two ropes on either side, one at about the head height of a hind and the lower rope level now with Rannoch's eyes. From these lower ropes, thin lines of cord held the planks in place, but the lower rope on the left-hand side of the bridge had worn through and broken and its trailing tendrils hung down into the abyss. Here new bits of cord had been attached to the higher rope to hold the planks in place, but they were few and far between. There was little to stop Rannoch plunging over, and, as the fawn went, he kept well to the right, with only the thin lower rope to hold his course.

Bracken and the others watched him from the near bank, their hearts in their mouths. But by the time Rannoch was beyond the middle of the bridge, he felt calmer and the ringing in his ears had stopped. He was even exhilarated and his senses began to open as he mastered his fear. The fawn started to walk more quickly, till at last he was nearly running. But just as he neared the far side there was a great crack.

The whole bridge shook and Bhreac and Bracken started as Rannoch slipped. One of the planks near the end of the bridge was rotten and Rannoch's back legs had gone straight through. The fawn's front body slammed onto the bridge and he rocked sideways, only prevented by the thin rope and the bits of cord from falling to the rocks below. Rannoch scrambled forward desperately with his front hoofs scratching and scraping at the wood.

Slowly he pulled himself up again and clambered on. As his body pressed on the ropes, he saw the wooden posts in front of him shudder. But at last he was safe. He had made it to the other side. "Well done, Rannoch," shouted Bankfoot.

"Come on," called Rannoch breezily. "It's easy."

Bankfoot was the next to try the bridge, followed closely by Canisp. When the fat little fawn reached the break in the bridge he started to tremble terribly, but Rannoch shouted encouragement from the bank and eventually Bankfoot leaped over it and ran to join his friend. Then came Fern, with Peppa and Willow. Morar and Quaich came next, then Shira and Tain, Alyth and Thistle, and finally Bracken and Bhreac. It was a strange sight to see the hinds and their fawns crossing the terrible void, and when old Bhreac reached the other side she snorted with relief.

"I'm far too old for this sort of thing," she panted. "I've never been so frightened in all my life. But I made it."

"Maybe for nothing," said Morar. "Look."

Bhreac swung round to see the Draila standing on the far side of the ravine. They were gathering at the verge and the leading stag had dropped his antlers and was edging out into the gulf after them.

"What do we do now?" said Canisp.

"I know," cried Rannoch.

The fawn ran up to one of the posts that was holding the lower rope in place. He started butting and bashing the post with his head.

"What's he doing?" said Bracken.

"Come on," cried Bhreac, "follow Rannoch."

The hinds started to kick and bash at the posts themselves and they began to ease loose. Three Draila were nearly in the middle of the bridge by now, but they stopped, for the bridge was quivering badly, and slowly, trying to keep their balance, they began to retreat. Suddenly they lurched and nearly tipped into the ravine. There was a singing sound and the bottom right-hand post came free. With it the lower rope snapped and then they all began to snap, whipping round and lashing through the air. The last Draila just made it to the bank as, with a terrible crack, the rope bridge broke completely and clattered into the ravine below.

The fawns cheered as the stags snorted and stamped the ground angrily.

"Hinds, you've escaped us for now," cried the lead Draila furiously over the gulf. "Make the best of it. We'll find a way round and we'll never be far behind."

With that, he turned angrily and led the stags back down the hill.

On the far side of the ravine, the hinds were overjoyed. The fawns had gathered round Rannoch and were cheering and complimenting him. Even Willow smiled when he looked at her. The little fawn smiled back happily. For some reason, he felt a new pride in the fawn mark on his head.