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Bracken was born the following spring, his power was absolute and unquestioned. Inevitably other, weaker moles clustered to his support, enjoying the prestige and power that allegiance to him gave. Moles like Burrhead, who under a strong, true leader might have been a force for good, now became one of Mandrake’s toughest hench-moles. His dominance on the westside made him especially useful to Mandrake, who flattered him with words, asked his advice (or seemed to) and even visited him in his burrow; Dogwood willingly gave his support, too, telling Mekkins pragmatically, “If you can’t beat’em, join’em.”
    Bindle never became a Mandrake henchmole but slipped away from the elder burrow and relinquished his rights as an elder, deliberately making his peace with Mandrake so that he would be left alone. “I’m getting old now,” he told Mandrake, “and you need younger moles as elders these days.” Bindle went back to the eastside and kept out of everymole’s way. He felt ashamed and had neither the courage nor the heart to go and see his friend Hulver. So it was through weakness that Mandrake’s evil spread, souring even the love between two old and harmless moles.
    As for Hulver, Mandrake let him live. He may have lost power at the June elder meeting, but Mandrake knew that many still loved and respected him and there was no virtue in killing him yet. Better to wait and choose a time when Hulver’s death would be seen as a natural end to the Ancient System and its ways, whose end seemed to be Mandrake’s main intent. They even let Hulver say the Midsummer Blessing that June, though he said it alone, for no other mole joined him – except Rune, who watched secretly from the shadows.
    Rune stayed outside the Stone clearing – being too near the Stone disturbed him – but near enough to watch Hulver, solitary and old, go through the ancient celebration of Midsummer Night. He whispered its magic words for the Stone to hear, raising his paws so that the strength of the Stone could come into him for another year.
    A soft wind ran among the trees, shaking the beech leaves so that their shiniest side caught the moon’s light like rippling water in the sky. The moon shone, too, on Hulver’s fur, which seemed new and smooth in the light. But where Rune crouched in the twisting crook of a huge gray beech-tree root that ran like a thick snake into the chalk soil, there was thick, black shadow, which only thickened when he stirred. His talons dug into the beech root as he watched Hulver, for he itched to kill him there and then.
    Somewhere in the moonlit trees high above them, a tawny owl called, and Rune shivered. But Hulver, safe in the circle of trees around the Stone, seemed not to notice and carried on his chant. Midnight passed as Hulver raised his paws in a final supplication to the Stone, saying with happiness the last words of the Midsummer ritual.
    He was relieved that for another twelve moleyears, at least, its words had been spoken.
    But Hulver had not quite finished. He turned from the Stone and faced the west toward the Holy Burrows of Uffington. He might never go there himself, he might never have had the courage to try, but he hoped his prayers might reach that holy place. So now, with the Stone behind him to give him strength, he added a final petitionary prayer to the ritual, whispering it urgently into the night over the tops of the westside trees and out over the pastures beyond: “Send us a scribe,” he prayed, “for somewhere in this lost system he will find moles who will honor him. So send us a scribe, for now we need one. Send us the strength to fight this Mandrake and Rune, whose evil I fear.”
    Rune heard the prayer, and also heard the owl calling again, uncertain if it was the prayer or the owl that up-set him. He wished again that he could kill Hulver, sensing that he was in some way more dangerous to them than he or Mandrake realized.
    Still, prayer or no, Mandrake extended his power