The bird was coming out of Africa, almost two thousand miles – Swift by name and swift by nature. She’d been impatient to come. A longing that had prompted an early start before any of her family and friends were ready. She was alone. There had been no mating and now, for the first time, there would be no chicks. For some hours she’d been tracking a storm, managing to avoid the worst of it, but suddenly it was all around her. Spiteful air currents tore into her as she fought to stay on course. Torrential rain beat on her, relentlessly dragging her down. Gasping for breath, she searched for shelter, a place to cling to – somewhere safe. An ear-splitting crash of thunder, coupled with a sheet of blue lightning, knocked her off balance and spun her around. Stunned, deafened and blinded, the Swift plummeted towards the ground.

*

Overnight the stream had been fed by heavy rain, and Cory could hear the noise of rushing water as they approached. The ground underfoot became soggy and there was a dank, malodorous smell. Cory laid his paw on Spike’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about Scumble. There’s more to him than you think.’
Spike shook Cory off. ‘What do you know about it!’ he muttered bitterly. ‘How would you like to be tied to an idiot? Expected to look after him every day.’ He turned away from Cory and shook off tears of frustration. ‘It’s all right for you. Everyone likes you. They listen to you.’
                Cory laughed. ‘That’s not true. You don’t listen for a start!’ Before Spike could reply, a movement in the stream caused Cory to lean forward and peer more closely. ‘Great Pan! What’s that?’ The dead body of a rat, caught in the current, was lodged against the reeds. Patches of fur were missing, revealing a pallid wrinkled skin that was blistered and scarred. More horrifying was the sight of its face, frozen in a death mask of fear, its paws clenched tightly into fists of pain. As the two hedgehogs moved nearer, an eddy released the rat, spinning it slowly around in front of them, before carrying it further downstream, where it eventually disappeared from view.

    *

Clowes placed Vincent on the bare bark and they all stood back to watch what – if anything – would happen. At first, it appeared as if the caterpillar had gone to sleep. Spike raised his spines in irritation. But gradually they saw the grub’s little body begin to vibrate and secrete a liquid that slowly slipped into the cracks and crevices of the tree bark. After a while, Heaton pointed out an ant crawling towards Vincent along the length of the trunk. As soon as the little visitor was noted, more emerged from the cracks, until dozens of ants had converged upon the caterpillar and he disappeared from view. All they could see was a writhing mass of dark brown bodies that bubbled and boiled like an erupting lava flow.

   *                          

 Earle descended the cellar steps and strode across the floor by the altar. He stopped for a moment and appraised himself in the Spirit of Self-perception. He’d taken to wearing his ceremonial robe most of the time now; it gave him a grandeur he felt he deserved. He pushed the lifeless snout back off his face, smoothed his greying hair and stroked his whiskers. He was ageing well – eyes still bright and snout still black and wet. Quite distinguished; an imposing figure. Nothing wrong with his brain, either; still agile, quick to see the flaws in others’ arguments. He could easily outwit them when he put his mind to it. He smiled and his image smiled back at him.

*