Duncan when he landed, damp but feather-free, a few minutes later.
“I expect it’s because the otters might be leaving. They go wandering further afield looking for food if the loch freezes. That’s probably reminded them how much they’re missing their friends.”
“We all are. I wish I knew how they’re getting on. I’d love to get in touch on the Gloaming Huff, but they’ll be out of range.”
“We could take the kids on a longer foraging expedition, I suppose, while this weather holds,” Duncan said thoughtfully.
“I think they’re a bit sick of foraging,” said his wife. “I know I am! Let’s hope the otters stay for a while longer. A few more Tail-Stane games should cheer them up. But it’s going to be a long winter!”
Chapter 4
Winter Closes In
For the next few days Tail-Stane matches were all the rage for the youngsters, and as the loch froze more and more, the play became wilder and faster. They left the reedy bay, and on the open ice the stane and the players slid faster. They had spent some time collecting a pile of suitable smooth flat stones, as they lost so many over the edge of the ice. Tom developed a new way of hitting the stane, by hovering just above the ice and clouting it with the end of his tail, to loud applause from all four otters. A stane hit that way went flying in unpredictable directions, which made the games more interesting, even though it disappeared into the water more regularly.
The otters hadn’t yet left for the river, and spent a lot of time fishing as the ice crept nightly towards the centre of the loch. Their fishing was so successful that they sometimes shared their catches with the dragon family, to Gwen’s relief. She was a little tired of Emily complaining that rooks and crows weren’t nearly as nice as the pigeons they had eaten on the rescue expedition.
“Aren’t you afraid you might be seen by Humans near the big river?” she asked the otters during one of their rests in the middle of a particularly strenuous game.
“Naw!” said the twins’ dad. “We hide up when they’re aroond. Ef they dae spot us, they get all excited like, but they niver try and nab us. Wudnae stand a chance onyways. They cannae swim.”
“An auld otter yince telt me they used to hunt us w’ dugs,” added his wife. “Tha’ cud’ve bin nasty, but it doesnae happen th’ noo.”
“Sgin’tae be great,” added Wattie happily. “Lottie n’ me’ve niver been oota this glen afore.”
“When’re we gaein’, Da?” Lottie asked.
“Soon, afore th’ snow staerts. Easier travellin’ when the groonds a’ frozen.”
“I wish you weren’t going,” Tom sighed. “It’s going to be so boring with just Em.” Emily was feeling too depressed to clout him with a wing, as she usually did.
“Why no’ come tae?” asked Lottie. “Dragons c’n fly as faest’s we c’n run.”
“I asked Dad if we could,” Emily said, “but he said no. It’s because we mustn’t be seen. If Humans spot an otter, that’s OK, because they know about otters. They think dragons don’t exist, remember? You know how all the grown-ups go on about it.”
Tom snorted. “Not Des! He doesn’t seem to mind being spotted. Sometimes I think he WANTS to be found, to see what will happen.”
“Tha’ gret daftie!” the twins’ dad said. Unlike his cubs, he had no time for Des, who had disturbed his fishing far too often. “Ye’d think he’ve learnt wha’ Humans can dae aefter young Ollie wuz ta’en. Want anither geme?”
“Girls v boys?” said Emily, who had learnt that the twins’ mother was by far the best player. Sure enough, they won, and she felt more cheerful as they prepared to fly back to the cave. Tom was cheerful too, despite his defeat. He was enjoying all the applause for his new stane technique.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked when they arrived.
“He thought he’d risk a fly right down the glen,” said Gwen. “I think he’s hoping to find a few pigeons. He’s fed up with your complaints! I hope he won’t be much longer – it’ll be dark soon.”
“I’ll go up to Ben’s head to see if he’s coming,” said Tom, flying off before anyone could object. He was gone a while, and Emily helped herself to some nettle tea to warm up while she told Gwen about the game, and Lottie’s suggestion that they should go to the big river with them. Her mother sighed.
“Emily, you know why we can’t!” she said. “Remember what happened when you and Ollie were spotted at our old cave? It even got into Humans’ newspapers! They wouldn’t make a fuss about an otter family. We have to stay safe, and that means well hidden! Cheer up! Winter won’t last forever.” She gave her a sympathetic pat and went into the cave.
“Feels like forever!” Emily muttered, finishing her tea.
It was very late when Duncan arrived home, triumphantly carrying a large pheasant that he had found down the glen. “I think I heard Humans shooting in the distance,” he said, dropping it and getting his breath back. “They must have missed this one. It was a goner when I found it. Good eating!”
“Nice change from crow!” said Tom, and was set to plucking the feathers off for being cheeky. Emily took the long tail feathers to decorate her private cave.
“Bit risky, Duncan,” said Gwen quietly, while the children were busy.
“I know, but I flew low and kept a close eye out. Easier when I’m alone. I’ll go back early tomorrow – there may be more lying around. We still need all we can find before we’re reduced to roots and berries! I can just about cope with bored kids, but bored and hungry...” He shook his head in mock despair and went to help Tom.
Duncan had gone again by the time Emily and Tom emerged for a late breakfast the next morning. Tom was disappointed – he had wanted to go too – but the two of them set off for the loch as usual, looking forward to a return Tail-Stane match. To their dismay, there was no sign of the otters. They called, and even flew to the holt in the far bank where they knew the otters slept, but the only sign there had ever been an otter family there was some footprints in the frozen mud on the bank and fish bones on a nearby stone.
“They’ve gone!” Emily felt like bursting into tears.
“They wouldn’t have gone without saying goodbye!” Tom argued.
“They wouldn’t have bothered coming all the way up to the cave just to say goodbye,” Emily argued. “We knew they were going. I just didn’t think it would be today.”
They returned to their bank and gazed sadly at the pile of spare stones, but were too dejected to play by themselves. “Might as well go back,” said Tom, and Emily agreed.
Back at the cave their mother listened sympathetically to the tale of the missing otters. “Why don’t you go down to your tree-house?” she suggested. “You haven’t been for ages, and you promised the others you’d keep an eye
