“Yah! There! After him, troops!” the Buzzard yelled, pointing to the door Helga seemed to be favoring.
Making no attempt to block their search, Helga stood silently aside while the Patrol ransacked the room. Although only a few moments passed, the stratagem purchased precious time. Then, as their examination of the room ended, she took a great risk. Trusting in her father’s quick mind, she invited her brutal enemy to follow her out to the workshop. “If you wish, sir, you may also like to question my father. Perhaps he’s seen the Lynx you’re seeking.”
“Slug-brained idiot,” said the soldier, “I take no advice from you. What is your imbecile father’s word worth to me? I will see for myself.” Motioning for his troops to follow, the Skull Buzzard pushed Helga aside. He and his troop stormed into the workshop, clubs at the ready, apparently hoping to surprise their prey.
But as the Royal Patrol pushed into the carpentry shop, they found no one. A light shined, however, from outside the back door, which stood open.
“Yaa-Haa! The scum went this way!” the commander cried, rushing out through the open door.
Clattering outside, the troop of Skull Buzzards pulled up in surprise. Some distance across the garden behind the workshop was an outhouse. A lantern swung gently above the door, casting illumination.
The blustering commander was speechless. He had not expected this. For a moment, he did not know what to do, but recovered quickly. Signaling to his troops, they ran quickly to surround the latrine.
As the Royal Patrol took up positions around the outhouse, their cursing and tramping brought a shout from inside the small shed. “Who’s waiting for the pot?” Breister’s voice boomed out cheerfully through the closed door. “I’ll only be a minute. This is a one-holer, so you’ll just have to wait.”
Yanking the outhouse door open, and brandishing his hooked club, the commander yelled, “Freeze! Don’t move!”
Breister, apparently startled, stared at the Patrol leader. Although his carpenter’s apron gave him some privacy, he was clearly sitting on the toilet.
Looking embarrassed and a little annoyed, Breister said, “My, my, your mother needs to teach you some manners! Can’t a fellow be alone at a time like this?”
The commander’s eyes flashed dangerously, but seeing that there was no one else in the small, cramped shed, he said nothing.
“If you give me just a moment, I’ll be glad to see if I can help you fine fellows,” Breister offered. “But, I’m surprised that the High One’s troops do not have better things to do than to search outhouses...”
“Zet! Sharant!” the Royal Patrol leader shouted angrily. “The Lynx isn’t here! But he can’t have gone far. Leave the idiot Wood Cow! Spread out and check all the houses and alleys!”
The Royal Patrol dispersed to continue searching. As a parting shot, the Skull Buzzard commander spat at Breister, “I belong to the High One! Nothing has ever stopped me in his service. I will tear the Lynx to pieces, wherever he may be.” Swinging his club with ferocious rage, he shattered the lantern, spraying fragments of glass and blazing oil in all directions. “Bah! Sharant! You may tell the Lynx that is what awaits him, when I find him!” With that, the commander stomped off after his troop.
A surprisingly bemused Breister rose, adjusted his clothes, and stepped outside. “O.K., Bad Bone, it’s safe to come down. But don’t tarry. We don’t have long.”
Dropping down from a tree overhanging the latrine, the Lynx emerged from his hasty hiding place. Despite the dangerous encounter, the friends laughed heartily, although nearly without sound. A few moments of levity were all they could afford, however. The situation might be ridiculous, but it was also deadly serious.
“You don’t have much time,” Breister urged. “The Patrol will be back here soon enough, once they find no trace of you down the road. You must escape quickly.” He looked at his friend fondly. “We’ll never forget that you, alone among the Hedgies, showed us kindness. Although you serve the High One, you’ve been kind—in secret, a friend. We’ll never forget you.”
Bad Bone gave a low bow, his hand sweeping the ground. “I address myself to the noblest of true friends. I will never forget what you have done. Your courage is something those thugs will never understand,” the Lynx said, his voice thick with emotion. “The High One and his legions mistake your simple ways for ignorance and weakness. But the fools do not know what true friendship is worth.”