Mole stared. “That’s not wicked. That’s useful.”

Lala slunk from the shadows. “Fighting is stupid,” she sneered. “I’ll just take what I need. That’s what the strong do.” She darted toward Badger’s apples, but her paws were weak—she hadn’t eaten properly in days, either. She tripped on a root and tumbled into a dry ditch.

No one laughed. No one helped her either.

“That’s true,” Lala said. “But I can dig. I’m fast. I can sneak into Fox’s territory and see where the old badger set snares—he’s gone now. There might be forgotten caches.”

Then little Mole, whom Lala once tripped for fun, trundled past with a thimble of water. He stopped. “You look terrible,” he said bluntly.