Wood smoke & the light was fading over the fields, over the Downs. Babcia was saying good night to Pine Marten, who was fretting. We don't have to worry about all the things Wolf told us, do we? No, dear, said Babcia, we don't have to worry about those sort of things any more.

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Babcia, Wolf & Pine Marten were watching an exciting film about the Yukon. Old Fox had gone out. He always disappeared on Old Midsummer Eve - where, no one knew. But that night, Pine Marten dreamt of grey horses & filigree crowns & silvered stars, cold as ice over the Downs.

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The sky was the colour of Old Fox's pewter & the thunder was rumbling around Barrowdown like a fierce old god who'd forgotten where his worshippers dwelt. Pine Marten was scared of storms, but he was safe inside with his bowl of Babcia’s hot chocolate, made with condensed milk.

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