Urchin and the Rage Tide by M. I. McAllister

exempt from duty, too—she was small and delicate and looked as if the wind would blow her away—but she looked up at him with a glare that told him it wasn’t worth arguing. Her nephews Tipp and Todd took her paws.
    “We won’t let you blow away, Auntie,” said Todd.
    The wind was rising and the rain lashing as the Circle marched out to make a Ring of White around the burrows. Urchin, Padra, and Fingal pulled their cloaks around them and turned to walk into the storm, falling onto all four paws as the driving rain struck them. They were safer that way, and would make faster progress.
    For the first time, Urchin saw what a dangerous mission this was. When every other animal on the island was being ushered to the highest and safest ground possible, when the rage tide seemed nearer and more terrible than anything they had imagined, they had to scour the island looking for Mossberry, who could be anywhere. While every instinct told him to head uphill and duck into the nearest burrow, he was in open country.
    Urchin pulled his cloak more tightly about him, narrowed his eyes against the rain, and huddled his head into his shoulders. King’s orders. This is what comes of being a member of the Circle and a Companion to the King. He remembered the days when, as a young squirrel, he would have given anything to go on a dangerous mission for Captain Crispin. The thought made him smile. All that excitement was still there.
    Nearing the cliffs, Padra put out a paw for them to stop. A gust of rain and wind slashed across them. Urchin’s ears stung.
    “Have you seen something?” yelled Fingal, his voice whipped about in the storm.
    “Can’t see a plaguing thing!” Padra yelled back. “We may have to go back. I can’t see anything in this rain!”
    Urchin turned to look uphill. At first, through the driving rain, he could hardly see the Ring of White—but as his eyes focused he saw the dots, here and there, of white tunics, and animals weaving their way to safety. He had barely registered a flurry of red fur when Longpaw, the chief messenger squirrel, stood before him, rain pouring from his cloak.
    “News from the king, Captain Padra,” he panted. “He’s been talking to some of those animals you brought in. Mossberry’s hangers-on, or they used to be. Apparently Mossberry has plans to take his followers off the island. It’s all been done very secretly.”
    “Off the island?” exclaimed Urchin. “Where to?”
    “Plague, lice, and fire!” exclaimed Fingal. “They can’t be mad enough to follow him!”
    “They can,” said Padra. “We’ve seen him in action. He inspires them.”
    “According to Mossberry, the Heart doesn’t approve of the king, the queen, the captains, the Circle, Brother Juniper, or anybody else except himself,” said Longpaw. “He says the Heart has told him that the rage tide is a punishment against the island.”
    “For what?” asked Fingal.
    “Heart knows. He says his followers can escape if they follow him through the mists to safety.”
    “Plague and fire!” repeated Fingal.
    “Then, he says, he can lead them back home through the mists. And they believe him.”
    “Plague! Where are they now?” demanded Padra.
    “He told them to get to the shore by sheltered routes, going underground where they could, so they wouldn’t be seen. It seems they plan to get out by Arder Bay.”
    “Not far from where we saw him,” said Padra.
    “There must be a way around the underground lake,” said Fingal. “Or over it.”
    “Straight to Arder Bay, then,” said Padra. “Longpaw, tell the king we’re on our way.”
    Fingal, Urchin, and Padra turned back toward Arder Bay. Steep rocks on either side sheltered them, but Urchin knew that soon, they would be on the open shore.
    “If they absolutely insist on following Mossberry off the island,” said Fingal, “if they can’t listen to sense, how can we stop them?”
    “We can’t, if they absolutely insist on going of their own free