The Rogue Crew

Speed was imperative, even though it was heavy going through the soft, deep dune sand. Sergeant Miggory, bringing up the rear with another young ranker named Bribbs, could feel the enemy gaining on them. He jollied the young hare along, noting the look of fear on his face. “C’mon, young Bribbs, make a shape. Yore pa was battalion sprint champion. Let’s see ye do h’as good h’as ’im. Those shrews’n’lizards are lighter’n us, so ’tis h’easy goin’ for ’em. They don’t sink h’in the sand like h’us, y’see.”

Miggory dropped back slightly, allowing Bribbs to take the lead. “That’s the ticket, laddie buck, make ’em h’eat yore pawdust. We’ll show the blighters, eh?”

Bribbs managed a tight smile. “Indeed, Sarn’t, we certainly will!”

The column broke out onto the shoreline, setting a flock of gulls, who had been resting on the sand, wheeling into the air, crying harshly. Rake called a brief halt and issued further orders.

“Corporal Welkin, Lancejack Sage, take left an’ right point! Redspore, front an’ centre. Head north along the tideline. Scutram, ye an’ Ah’ll drop back tae the rear. Sarn’t Miggory may need us, Ah’m thinkin’.”

As they ran back toward the rear, scores of foebeasts could be seen, sweeping over the dunes in massed waves. Scutram spotted Miggory, who appeared to have been slowed down. He was supporting Bribbs. They hastened to join him, relieving him of the burden as they shouldered Bribbs between them.

Miggory ran alongside, explaining. “Young Bribbs was’it by somethin’, sah—a dart, h’I think. Couple h’of ’em just missed me, but ’e was unlucky. One or mebbe two of ’em got ’im h’in the back, sah.”

Bribbs winced, then blinked, his footpaws hardly touching the sand as he was rushed along. “Sorry about that, sah. Silly little things, never hurt much, just slowed me down a flippin’ bit.”

Scutram peered across his shoulders at the two tiny spikes tufted with downy feathers. They were buried right in the centre of Bribbs’s back.

“Slowed ye down, eh? Don’t fret—we won’t tell your pa. Get ’em out for ye once we’ve outdistanced this little lot, eh!”

As they rounded the final dune, Captain Rake was nonplussed when he saw the column waiting on their arrival. “Corporal Welkin, Ah thought Ah told ye tae take them north along the shore. What are ye doin’ stannin’ roond here?”

Welkin waved a lance in a sweeping gesture along the dunes. Both sides of the sandy hilltops, north and south, were teeming with the foebeast horde, ready to charge down on them. It looked like a hopeless position.

Scutram frowned. “Ye did well t’keep the column here, Corporal. If they’d have caught us runnin’ north, strung out along the shore, it would’ve been a flamin’ massacre, wot!”

Rake weighed the situation swiftly. Silence had fallen on the dunetops. A whole army of shrews and lizards were watching the hares, waiting for them to make the next move.

Queen Dukwina squeaked scornfully, “It’s over, rabbets—surrender or die!”

Buff Redspore glared at the queen. “Nobeast asked for your comments, marm!”

Rake moved casually, flicking the sand with a footpaw as he spoke with Scutram and Miggory. “There’s no way out o’ this, mah friends. If we fled, they’d pick us off one by one, eh, Lieutenant?”

Scutram smiled grimly. “Fled, sah? Fled, did ye say? Sorry, but we ain’t much good at fleein’, doncha know.”

The tall, dark captain nodded. “Ah’m obliged tae ye for sayin’ that. So how d’ye feel about stannin’ an’ fightin’?”

Scutram held out his paw. “Thought ye’d never ask, old lad!”

As they shook paws, Miggory’s paw closed over theirs. “Pardon me sayin’, but h’a quick dash down t’the tideline. Keep the sea at our backs, dig into the wet sand, make ourselves a trench an’ make a barrier, a fort. May as well do h’it proper, sahs!”

Scutram smiled approvingly. “Jolly good, Sarn’t—a tiptop plan. How’d ye think of it, wot?”

Miggory saluted both officers respectfully. “Put it this way, sah, h’I was fightin’ vermin while you chaps was waitin’ t’be h’enrolled as cadets.”

Captain Rake winked admiringly. “Och, there’s a deal tae be said for experience. Thank ye, mah old friend. Ah, weel, we’d best be aboot our business!”

None of the horde on the dunetops was expecting the next move. Without a word or sign, the Long Patrol column broke away, going pell-mell for the sea, carrying their wounded and captives along with them. The departure was so sudden, it took their foes a few moments to realise what was going on and mobilise themselves. Some of their leaders, who seemed to be female shrews, began to scream and brandish their thin reed lances, urging the main body forward. The horde took up their cries and charged down the dunesides.