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older voice calmly.
    ‘And if they try, there are enough Draila to hold them. But we must be certain of the lead hind, Fourleaf. Now, I’ve got to get going. I have the Outriders to attend to.’
    The stag who had just been speaking turned on his haunches and set off into the darkness. Blindweed was dumbstruck. Very softly the old deer backed away from the thicket and padded back towards the stream. He stopped to drink, his old, calloused lips sucking at the cool water. Then he set off along the bank again, his head buzzing with the talk of plots. At last he reached a clear stretch of open ground and he froze as he heard a snort of pain. It was a hind straining with her unborn calf.
    ‘Stand off there, in the name of Herne,’ cried an angry voice from the darkness. It was Bhreac, the old doe that Brechin had asked to watch over Eloin. She had nosed Blindweed coming down the stream and now her instincts were roused.
    ‘I mean no harm, old one,’ said Blindweed softly, realizing what was happening. ‘Who is it that’s calving?’
    ‘Blindweed, it’s you,’ said Bhreac less harshly, ‘I didn’t realize. It’s Eloin. One of Captain Brechin’s hinds. He asked me to watch her.’
    ‘I just saw the captain on the hill,’ said Blindweed. ’He was going towards the Home Oak. Bhreac, there is trouble in the herd tonight. The Draila are out.’
    ‘Stags,’ snorted Bhreac in disgust. ‘They always mean trouble. But we hinds have more serious things to think of. Blindweed, I fear this will be a hard one. I have never known a hind to be so late.’
    The old deer nodded gravely.
    ‘Don’t fret,’ he said. ’Eloin is strong and the calf of
    Captain Brechin has a better chance than most.’
    ‘Still,’ said Bhreac, ‘I wish there were something we could do.’
    But the two old deer were silent now. They were listening to Eloin’s breathing. It was shallow and painful. They wanted to help her but they knew she had to do this alone.
    When Brechin arrived at the meeting place the Lord of the Herd was addressing the stags from under the spreading branches of the Home Oak. Drail had twelve points to his antlers but from their size and thickness it was clear that they had already gone back.
    His voice was fighting the wind as his great, shaggy form limped back and forth. The ranks of Draila around him were nodding enthusiastically. Brechin smiled as he recognized some of Drail’s own sons among his bodyguard. It was typical of Drail to grant special privileges to his own.
    Drail was not an unattractive deer but his eyes had a wary, cruel look. To the left of Drail Brechin caught the glint of Sgorr’s single eye in the moonlight and the flash of his long front teeth. A deer with no antlers can sometimes grow fierce teeth which, when used skilfully, can prove nearly as dangerous. On Sgorr’s head were the stumps of bone where the antlers had failed yet again. His left eye, now just an empty socket, was closed up by a deep scar that ran straight across his left scent gland.
    ‘And these rumours and lies must cease,’ Drail was saying.
    ‘If any deer has a genuine complaint he can bring it to me or to Sgorr. The Draila will be happy to investigate...’
    As Brechin drew nearer and trotted up the line towards the tree, some of the Corps members stamped appreciatively. Drail broke off at once to address the captain.
    ‘Brechin. So good of you to join us,’ he said sarcastic- ally. ‘We thought you had got lost. Bandach gave me your heartfelt apologies but still, perhaps you can tell the young Corps members why a captain of the Outriders chooses to come so late to a meeting of the council?’
    ‘Lord Drail,’ replied Brechin coolly, ‘perhaps you are mistaken. The Herla may only stand in council when all the captains of the Outriders are present. I see here only young bucks. But no captains. Where are Straloch and the others?’ At this one or two of the members of the Corps nodded their antlers in agreement, but