"We haven't long, my Lady. Please hurry!"

Hathlir the Hound, more used to cradling a crossbow than a sleeping child was growing anxious. The endangered infant, a badger cub of two years was already the size of a full grown mouse, but Hathlir guessed he was easily twice as heavy.

The guards upon the gate were embattled. The booming of the ram upon the oaken doors was becoming more and more insistent.

"I have it!" The duchess hissed. Her black paw held something that glinted in the candle light. "Take it, Hathlir, with my blessing. Keep it safe."

The hound shifted the little one to the other shoulder and took the thing in his paw. It was a ring of gold, large and heavy.

"Your family seal, my lady?"

"Not mine." She confessed, "It belonged to his father. Let it be his proof when the time comes, but hide it well for now. "

"The Duke will return, my Lady." the hound announced faithfully, though his tail was heavy and unconvinced. There was shout from the barbican guard. The gate was almost breached. All the last stand of the duchess’ beasts-at-arms was forming to repeal the invaders with sword and spear.

"Go now, Hathlir." The duchess commanded arising to her full impressive height. Her burnished plate armour clinked and chimed as she moved. "The Abbess awaits. Her moles will guide you true."

"You will come to us," he begged, "to your son?"

The she-badger did not reply but took up her sword and moved to the fireside wall of the old barracks chamber. The large hearth stone looked like one solid piece of granite but it was a cunning design. It lifted in a hinged motion to reveal a narrow passage beneath, one almost certainly too tight for the lady’s own mighty frame. Hathlir suppressed a whimper, though his ears drooped noticeably. He was sworn to protect his liege lady and was loath to leave her.

"I will not fall this night." The queen comforted her faithful hound. "A fox knows the value of a Royal hostage better than any beast. But they will pay a dearly for me." Her teeth flashed menace as the guttering candle flickered. Hathlir caught the scent of a mole in the stale air of the passageway.

A crash of timbers sounded from the gate followed by a clamorous charge. The clash of steel was ringing out in the courtyard.

"I am needed at the gate." The lady growled, "Fly now to safety and hope."

A mole appeared in the shadow pool of the opening. Two large clawed shovels received the heavy badger cub. Hathlir followed him down. Turning back he caught a final glimpse of his lady's deep black eyes before the passage way was closed and the mole barred it from within.

"The little prince is heavy!" the mole groaned, gladly handing the cub back to the larger hound. "This way now, quickly."

Hathlir hefted the boy up higher taking the weight on his shoulder and set off after the mole.

"Hathlir?" The child murmured, recognising the hound's scent and the sound of his panting. "Are we going on an adventure?"

"Yes, lad." He replied with a gentle tone, "a secret one."

"A secret?" the cub asked dreamily, "A secret adventure."

"Just you rest now, lad." The hound panted, "We've a long journey ahead. Just sleep now, if you can."