The sky had grown darker. ‘Shouldn’t us do something?’ asked Hubba. ‘Such as?’ ‘Well, you know – attack.’ ‘Attack?’ said Iggy. ‘With four of us?’ ‘We could spread out,’ suggested Hubba. Iggy gave him a weary look. ‘Never mind, things could be worse,’ said Hammerhead cheerfully. ‘Really?’ said Iggy. ‘They’ve stolen our caves, captured our whole tribe and – oh yes – the world might end any moment. How can it be any worse?’ ‘At least it’s not raining,’ said Hammerhead. There was a rumble of thunder. Heavy raindrops began to plop from the sky. ‘Oh,’ said Hammerhead. The rain warmed to its task, pouring down as if the Ancestors were emptying their bathwater. It dripped off branches and bounced off stones. Iggy hugged himself, shivering with cold, and watched the river swell higher.
