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not a hat thing. I made it."
    "Let's have a look at him," said Questrid. He turned Ralick over and over in his hands and stared into his glass eyes.
    "I don't know why, but I feel like I know this ted . . . Ralick," said Questrid, looking confused and worried. "Could I have seen him somewhere, in a book or something? Is he famous?"
    "No," said Copper, laughing as she took Ralick back. "I bet he wishes he was, but he's just Ralick."
     
     
     
    9. Wood and Stone
     
    They walked right round Spindle House. At the back, the north side, the ground sloped steeply upward toward the mountains. Dotted over the hillside were clumps of dark trees and large bare rocks that stuck out sharply black against the whiteness of the snow.
    "Look up there," said Questrid, "over to the right and you'll see the Rock. That's where the Rockers come from."
    Copper strained her eyes, peering into the distance. "I can't see anything."
    "It is hard to see," said Questrid. "It's really just a mass of tunnels and caves, built right on top of the mountain with windows at the front. The Rockers are completely isolated up there in their stone fort. If they do venture out, it's only to do evil, like try to set Spindle House on fire. Copper, you're shivering. I am sorry. Come up to my room where it's warm."
    Copper grinned. "I'm not acclimatized yet."
    At the back of the stable, behind the horses, was a ladder leading up to a long attic room where Questrid slept. There were four tiny windows in the sloping roof and a stove in the corner. There was a wooden bed with a patchwork quilt, a carved chest of drawers and a chair. On a table were some peculiar chunks of wood that seemed to have been hacked at roughly. Copper picked one up.
    "What's this?"
    Questrid grinned. "Can't you tell?"
    "No."
    "It's a horse. I carved it. See, four legs and a tail and a head."
    Copper made a face. "Don't tell me—you were wearing a blindfold and woolly mittens when you made it."
    Questrid shook his head.
    "You had one hand tied behind your back?"
    Questrid laughed. "No. I just can't carve wood. When I was little, I used to try so hard. I badly wanted to be part of the Wood clan and belong. But I just can't do it."
    "So if you're not a Wood, what are you?"
    Questrid looked away. "Well . . . ," he began, but Copper interrupted him.
    "Who's this?" she said, picking up a framed picture.
    "I got it out of a magazine," said Questrid, blushing. "I used to pretend it was my mother. I thought my mother might look like that, I don't know why. There was something about her."
    Copper nodded. "I know. I understand."
    "I don't know who I am," Questrid told her. "Greenwood found me years ago, sheltering by a rock in a blizzard. He brought me here and no one ever claimed me, so I stayed. I was about six or seven then. They called me Questrid because Questrid was a famous hunter, and it turned out that I was really good at tracking animals and people, following prints in the snow—you know, that sort of thing."
    "So you were a foundling too."
    "Too? But you weren't."
    "Yes, I was, I was found by Aunt Ruby," said Copper.
    Questrid looked puzzled. "I don't understand. You're a Wood. Everyone knows that. You're not a foundling. I thought you'd just been living somewhere else. Didn't you know you were a Wood?"
    "No. I didn't know this place existed until yesterday. Now it seems strange that I've never asked Aunt Ruby more. . .." She gazed out the window toward the Rock. "I'm going to find out, though," she added. "And I want to know more about the Rockers. Who are they?"
    "They're miners and metalworkers, like dwarves of long ago. The Beech family used to trade with them; the Rockers gave them metal and gold that they dug out of the rocks and we gave them wooden things and fruit and vegetables and stuff from the valley. But then there was some terrible row, I think about money, and now there's a sort of war between us. They still mine the rocks, of course, but I don't know what they do with it.