Duncton Wood by William Horwood Page B

reappear ahead or to the side of her, so she had to turn away from the direction of her home burrow to keep clear of him. Sometimes he would laugh or call after her “It’s all right, Rebecca, I won’t hurt you.” She was out of breath with running and becoming confused as to which way to turn, everything rolling round in her mind as her chest heaved and panted with the effort of the chase. “I want you, Rebecca. I want you,” Rune called, his voice seeming to echo darkly from all directions, as if there was a Rune down every turn in the tunnels.
    Finally she could stand it no more and stopped in her tracks and turned round with talons raised but shaky to face him. He eyed her calmly and, inching forward very slowly, got bigger and bigger. He smelled of the dead of winter and she felt as if she was falling back into a pit, her talons soft and useless, scrabbling ever more weakly above her head as she fell back and back. Somewhere, far, far away, she thought she could hear the urgent drumming of the woodpecker on the oak’s side, but it was only the pounding of her heart, which no longer seemed to be part of her. Rune came nearer, smoothly nearer, looking down at her, petrified before him, lusting in his power before her.
    But the moment was suddenly broken by the terrible shout of “Rebecca!” It was Mandrake, suddenly Mandrake, and now she did hear her heart thump, thump, thumping, and she felt terribly frightened as the two male moles she most feared in the system loomed above her.
    “This is not the time to leave the home burrow,” said Mandrake, adding with threatening force, “How many times must you be told?”
    “Just what I’ve been telling her. Mandrake, my very words,” purred Rune, turning with a black smile to Mandrake. “It’s not true,” she said. “He wanted...”
    But Mandrake ignored Rebecca, going straight to her and striking her so hard that she fell back and hit her snout against the tunnel wall, and it brought tears to her eyes. She ran crying from them both, back to her home burrow.
    Mandrake turned to Rune: “She will not mate this spring, Rune, not this spring. She is not ready, and I will kill anymole that tries. Whichever mole he might be.”
    Then Rune ran off down the tunnel, as ever awed by Mandrake, who, it seemed, was impossible to fool. However, he promised himself, a cold laugh in his voice, “I’ll have her yet.”
    So April ran on toward May and most Duncton females grew big with young so that when the burrows started to warm up, they were ready for their litters. Rebecca, who had seen the males grow aggressive and her father angry with bloodlust, and Sarah grow excited and running, sighing, nervous, taken in the burrow by Mandrake, and Rebecca near to hear the deep softness in his voice and wonder about the world in a whirl about her, and thinking of Rune chasing her not knowing where to turn, watching the males who dared not come near thinking of Mandrake and Sarah, Mandrake so powerful on Sarah, she wanted to run to them. Oh Oh Oh she would sigh alone, drifting into adulthood.
    She heard the cries of littered pups and wanted to go near and croon over them as she did flowers and the sunlight, but she never dared go near for fear of attack. She steered clear of males after her father found her with Rune, for though he never said anything to her directly, she knew he would kill anymole who came near. So, when males did come near, she would discourage them, though often they were young like her and sweet, so sweet, that she wanted to dance with them, and laugh as they did to match her desire and run, her spirit rising and diving like larks did over the pastures beyond the edge of the wood.
    As summer started, she felt miserable and isolated, for even her brothers went off for long periods searching for mates across the wood. Sometimes, though, they would return to the home burrow, far they were still youngsters at heart. If they had been beaten in a fight, as they always