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*****

I could swear that I had been out for only a few minutes when a paw started shaking my shoulder. Blinking awake, I couldn't tell precisely what time it was, since there was now a curtain tacked over the entrance to the dugout. I almost did a full face-plant getting out of bed; a fur with more of a sense of kindness than placement had hurriedly packed up my kitbags and had placed them right in front of where I was sleeping.

The dugout was lit, dimly, by some red lanterns. I could see that Meadow was hunched over the Situation Board, and she was moving around pins over the map. After accepting a mug of hot tea thrust into my paw from one of the squaddies (and after draining it in one gulp), I was given a briefing by my counterpart, who had had her few hours' rest as well, but was evidently less of a slug-a-bed than your humble narrator.

The last patrol shift, led principally by a mix of Mossford militia members and a few Lark's Rise refugees, with a scattering of Thorn Platoon members, had been busy engaging the screen of scouts from the Grand Duchy's Army. The logic of this was that those troops were more likely to be lightly armed, and even more importantly, were more likely to be the ones expert in fieldcraft and communing with trees.

I had to agree with this, in particular from the angle of the Voice of the Forest. As one who knew how to work that, I knew that the trees could provide a great deal of knowledge as to our dispositions. Eliminating them, and controlling some of the areas where the trees were (at least the ones not muffled by snow) could control the battlefield.

Of course, considering that the locals were fighting for their homes, they were seeking to control more than the battlefield.

There was a noticeable smell of smoke in the air, and I turned to one of the Burrows (I couldn't tell which one, in the dim light), and asked where it was coming from.

He grunted, and noted simply "Lark's Rise."

I went outside to have a look for myself. Even with the snow (which was continuing to fall at a fair pace), the view from the field fortifications showed smoke coming from a few miles away. The squaddies who were shoveling out the fortifications told me that there had been continual fights throughout the afternoon, and they'd heard the whole hamlet was put to the torch. By which side, they didn't know.

Going back down, I asked about the butcher's bill. No one killed on our side, though there were a number of light wounds, and two serious cases. I had a look at both of them, and wished that I had some real talent in healing. As it was, I was able to remove the arrowheads, and had the areas bathed in raw spirit and bandaged. That neither of the squaddies screamed during the procedure certainly gave me some heart.

It also worried me, since we had so few of them to begin with. I didn't want to give any orders that would put the burden of fighting on the locals, but neither did I want to use up my stock of trained furs. I found Auld Tom and Meadow, and put the matter in front of them for discussion.

To my surprise, Auld Tom waved off my worries about putting the fight on his shoulders and the shoulders of his kinsfurs. For tonight, in the dark, I was to leave things to them. Motioning to the map, he suggested placing the few sling-staff furs and both archers (that is, Meadow and myself) at points surrounding the village, and to stay put until dawn, when a certain signal would be given to launch an attack. He, for one, had every expectation that the Grand Duchy was going to rush forces to Lark's Rise, hoping that we were not ready. Based on what Auld Tom laid out, that was going to be a problem for them.

I also found out that the Lark's Rise furs had set fire to their own homes. I was somewhat astonished by this, until I remembered that valuables and other important things had been removed. Still, it wasn't until it was pointed out to me that this would deny a lot of warmth and cover to any attacking forces that I saw what the logic had been, grim as it was.

I remembered one trick that Lt. Rutter had taught me, all these months ago. A batch of small, flat rocks and whetstones were brought in, and I heated them with a simple spell. They were promptly inserted into gloves, and at least provided a modest addition to warmth. Luckily, I found that I could renew the spell without having to remove the glove, either mine or the other fur's. That would have been problematic for me, in particular!

We moved out across the Mill River, and all six of us from the Imperial and Royal Army eventually took up positions near Lark's Rise. Even with thick layers of clothing (and the warm-stones), and the fact that we all had had tea and hot food, it was a cold and uncomfortable night. The skies had cleared somewhat, and there was a fair amount of moonlight, but we were all camouflaged, which made it hard to spot us.

Unluckily for the opposing forces, they were still in dark uniforms, which not only served to identify them, but also made them stand out brilliantly against the snow.

For a time, I used Elfmind to keep a running track of the battle, but I eventually stopped using it. While it helped pinpoint where the enemy was, it also provided me with information as to sensations upon being mortally wounded. I've since spoken with a number of elves familiar with both combat and Elfmind, and I've been told not a few have gone insane from what they've heard. Sometimes, the intelligence simply isn't worth how you're collecting it.

I could see, from time to time, the local farmers gliding quietly on their skis. Every so often, they would drop on one knee, ready a bow, and fire a picked shot. They were very impressive. Of course, when one considers that they likely had hunted feral animals for various reasons since they were young, it should hardly be a surprise that they were that good, but I'm not sure I would have bet against them even against an Elfhamer, and we aren't any slouches when it comes to archery. Or were, anyway, when there were more of us.

From time to time, the ski-troopers would glide by us. This was mostly so they could have their heat-stones renewed, but it was also to drop off supplies of arrows taken from defeated opponents, and keep us up to date on developments.

As Auld Tom had accurately predicted, the Grand Duke had started to rush troops to Lark's Rise. Owing to weather conditions, the march was probably not as swift as he could have hoped for. It was likely that some troops were taken from those nearest to paw, i.e., opposite Flourford. But I had no doubts that the troops that had been in and around Sainted Oaks had started to move out. I had to hope that by pushing up the schedule, I had disorganized their plans.

Certainly, it seemed that the troops being fed into the area were not well-briefed. This might have been as a result of the scouts having been removed from the area, either by retreat or by, well, staying on the battlefield but otherwise not able to report. Discipline was not very effective, as you could hear them floundering about in the snow and calling out to one another. The ski-troopers, though, were listening and watching very carefully. Any fur who had a "command voice" was quickly located, and then silenced.

Of interest to me was a conversation that I had heard from a few wolves, just before they were cut down a few yards away from our position. They were discussing Fuma's Tail (or at least, so it seemed -- they were using a different name for something that was clearly the comet). They thought it was an augury, too, and apparently opinion was divided in the Grand Duchy's army as to whether or not it was for or against us. Most thought against -- but there were many who were not sure.

As dawn was starting to approach, it got a little clearer as to what we were up against. All told, we were facing something like a few hundred squaddies. I say squaddies, because from their loud and confused chatter, I don't think in the main their officers or NCOs had survived the night. Many were hungry, and none had had any sleep. Neither had we, for that matter, but I suspect that we were a lot warmer.

Just as daybreak occurred, and the snow started again, a chorus of owl-hoots echoed from a point to the north of both our positions and the remains of Lark's Rise. This had the principal effect of causing a stampede out of the hamlet, to the south. That is, toward our position. The six of us readied our weapons, and as the opposing troops floundered to within range, we let them have it.

It was probably a good thing that we had been supplied with extra arrows looted from the dead all throughout the night, because Meadow and I used them all. Aethelwulf and his lads certainly ran through their ammunition at a good clip. The end result was that the survivors fled north and north-west, to be cut down by the ski-troopers blocking their route.

Some, inevitably, escaped. One could imagine how the Grand Duke would deal with any panicked soldiers, especially ones that had thrown away their weapons. In any event, after checking over what was left behind, we left the battlefield as well, just as our relief, newly shod on snow-shoes, passed us going the other way, to resume daylight patrols (and to complete the looting work).

More tea, and more news, awaited us back in the dugouts. From what could be seen in the distance from the monastery and relayed to us by signals (Sergeant Crater obviously being on the job), Flourford was under attack and on fire -- smoke from that direction could be seen on the distant horizon. I don't think I was the only one hoping that enough troops could be kept occupied in both of our positions so that neither of us would get crushed. I didn't have much hope of that, though I kept that to myself.

One thing that I noticed, rather grimly, was that one of the arrows that the rabbits had provided me, courtesy of our enemies, was of a type that held small ampules. In other words, of the type that had wounded Captain Chitterleigh. While I saved it, I decided there wasn't any point in showing it to him.

He, himself, was in what appeared to be a good deal of pain, though other than giving him some herbal infusions, there wasn't much any of us could do, even the Burrows with their local knowledge. You had to admire Sir Jasper, though; he didn't cry out once, nor did he complain. Meadow and I whispered our reports to him, and he made a pawful of suggestions on dispositions, based on the fact that we needed to have at least some ranged-weapon capability available at all times, since obviously our "friends" did.

One of the local provided me with some snow-goggles, which I promptly magicked red, so as to keep my night vision. Meadow and I agreed to trade off shifts where she would work primarily day patrols, and I, night patrols. It seemed the best way to keep things off-balance for our opposition.

When I was woken for my next shift, and the close of the second day of the fight, I got the latest news. The Grand Duchy had continued to feed in troops throughout the day, even with the snow getting deeper, and they'd been getting more aggressive around Lark's rise and the areas south toward the Mill River. We had continued to take casualties, including the first of the squaddies, who got three before he was overwhelmed. The fact that he was able to beat three much larger wolves in paw-to-paw combat with his short sword said much for his morale and spirit, and also for a continued lack of preparation by our opponents.

Their biggest loss, though, wasn't in fur-power, but in something a lot more humble that had been suggested as a target by Boy Tom. Namely, the field kitchens that were dragged at great effort through the snow. Our army wasn't the only one that ran on tea, and I've heard since many an "old sweat" tell me that denying a soldier his tea is worse than denying him weapons or shelter.

Little of what was brought back from their cook-houses was usable by us; cold had made their iron rations somewhat literal. The biscuits weren't bad if you dunked them enough in hot tea. However, the more of their food we had, the less of course they had.

While the opposition was better prepared on the second night, in that they expected us to attempt to own the dark, they still didn't have a good time of it. Using red goggles during the day certainly helped our night vision, and judging from the whining and cursing that could be heard, it seemed as though the food issue was becoming serious.

They did have sufficient fuel to build fires, though this in itself caused certain issues. Namely, when you stare into a fire at close range (and believe me, they were in close range), it is very difficult to see what's coming at you from the dark. Many a squaddie from the other side would approach a camp-fire to ask a question, only to find there was nobody who could answer.

Still, when you have numbers like they had, even a lucky shot was very bad for us, and there were more wounded and another few deaths among both us and the locals. At least we could drag ours away to deny the enemy intelligence, but it was still disconcerting.

Just before day-break, however, I found two things that were even more disconcerting. I was reminded that there was the large lake to the east of Lark's Rise. Depending on the thickness of the ice, it might be able to support enough troops so that the village could be flanked in force.

I cleared out some snow, and had a good look at the ice. The fiercely cold weather had certainly frozen the lake, hard.

The second disconcerting revelation? That would be the loud sounds of gronking and clanking coming toward Lark's Rise and the lake. Obviously, the Grand Duke meant to test the strength of the ice.

Following that, he might well decide to test the strength of Mossford.

I stripped my gloves and placed them on the surface of the ice, and began to chant magicks to attempt to weaken the ice. I was fiercely concentrating on this for a few minutes, when I chanced to look up.

Coming into view, some hundreds of yards away, was a compact mass of large, glossy battle ants, upon which were mounted canine cavalryfurs in full battle armour. And by full, I mean they had it all, right down to various things mounted on their great helms.

In full array, with pennons flying, they started to advance.

And the ice held for them. I began to pick up the pace with my magicks as fast as I could.