Dear diary...

This has been a tough day.

David is gone. Gorden has taken the loss very, very badly. Gorden has been...

Quiet.

Difficult.

Sad.

I think we lost Gorden as much as David.

That poor little, frightened, gerbil. I remember seeing his hand as the waves crashed over him and we were dragged away by the raging tide. You could see the fear in him. I know he was permanently frightened - everything seemed to put him on edge - and his sense of humour was quite acidic at times - but this time I could feel, even taste his fear.

I slept soundly last night. Fighting the river had completely worn me out and as soon as I laid down on the river bank my eyes turned to stone and slammed shut.

I woke at dawn, feeling groggy but refreshed. I immediately worried about Gorden. He was easy to find, but it wasn't easy to stop worrying about him.

He was squatting by on the bank, staring up the river, eyes riveted on a point under the bridge, towards the rapids.

I didn't need to ask. He was looking for David. I didn't want to ask if he'd been like that all night. It was a stupid question, *of course* he'd been watching all night.

I walked up to him and laid my paw on his shoulder.

It didn't interrupt his vigil.

"He'll be along soon." He said. "He won't be long." I squeezed his shoulder. "He'll catch up with us soon."

Tears welled up in my eye. I didn't see eye to eye with David.

Correction. I hadn't seen eye to eye with David... But he was Gorden's best friend. Gorden depended on him in a strange way - David was always there to let him know whether he was having good ideas or not. David was always there to pull someone's leg.

"He *can't* be much longer." Gorden continued. I closed my eyes to help hold back the tears.

I needed a break from listening to Gorden. I decided to forage for a bit.

Half and hour later I was back. Gorden hadn't moved.

I tried to make him eat. I'd found a Wotsit bush, Cheesie flavour (Gorden's favourite). I pushed a couple into his front paws.

He was silent for a second then pointed out that David had preferred Barbecue Beef flavour.

"I think he did it *just* to be awkward." Gorden laughed. I'd never heard such a sad laugh. "No," he continued, "I *know* he said it just to be awkward."

There was a strange smile on Gorden's face, I could just make out a teardrop welling in the corner of his eye.

"I think he did *everything* just to be awkward."

I gave his shoulder one last squeeze and walked back to where I had slept, where Plessey was still snoring.

I shook Plessey awake and we busied ourselves getting ready to go. We traced along the river bank gathering our scattered belongings.

Gorden's staff had been thrown clear of the river - I found it nestling in a small bush. I dragged it back to our "camp" as a symbol of hope.

I've done a lot of hoping today.

I made a small breakfast, which Gorden ignored, and we packed all our belongings away, ready to travel.

I suppose there *was* some chance of David surviving in the water. But I couldn't see how he would be able to continue the journey along the river. He couldn't swim and couldn't build a raft on his own.

Isn't it strange how easy it is to start talking about how someone *was*?

"We've got to go." I told Gorden. "We've got to head for home." Gorden didn't so much as flicker an eye away from the river. I hated myself for it but I continued: "If David survived he would head for home." There. I'd done it. I'd pretended to Gorden that I thought David could have survived. I froze when I realised I was trying to manipulate Gorden like that. I gave up and said all I could. "Please?"

Gorden looked down and I could feel the internal fight. I knew that if he moved he'd think he'd betrayed David by leaving him for dead.

Gorden was crying as he stood up, the tears streaming from his face.

"David..." He was trying to put his emotions into words. "David..." He shook his head, "David."

My heart twinged at the loss he felt. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly. His head dropped on my shoulder and he began to sob out loud, shaking as he did. I rubbed his back; soothing him as he tried to talk but he just ended up saying "David" over and over again.

I cried with him. Not for David, as such, but for Gorden's loss, for Gorden's pain.

We made a sorry sight as we shambled off through the forest. Plessey led the way, I followed and Gorden tagged along behind. I kept having to call to Plessey to slow down, Gorden didn't have any *go* in him.

I started feeling nervous when I heard a noise beside us and I realised that I'd been hearing the noise continuously for the last hour or so. My concern for Gorden was overpowering my survival instincts. I padded faster ahead to Plessey and whispered for him to slow down with me. We slowed until Gorden caught up with us. I tried to make Gorden aware of what I was about to do, without actually telling him. No use; wrapped up in his grief, I couldn't make him understand me.

I stepped towards the noise.

"Come out and show yourself!" I shouted. The bushes rustled and Gorden shouted "David!"

It wasn't a gerbil that appeared. To start with we couldn't tell what had appeared. It was a *long* animal, all dressed in rags, it's face and hands hidden behind cowl and mismatched sleeves.

A sob came from the animal.

"food" It said in a low, slurred, weak voice, so weak it couldn't manage a capital letter.

I told him that we didn't have much. But he still asked for food and moved nearer. I could finally see under his hood and jumped back in alarm!

It was a ferret!

He shook his head at my dismay.

"No weapons" He said. I didn't understand what he meant until he pulled his hood down and said again, "No weapons." His mouth seemed deformed - then I realised that he had no teeth! Scabs around his lips testified that this was a recent injury.

Then I looked to his paws - they took were scabrous. It sunk in what he had meant- no teeth and no claws- he truly didn't have any weapons. For an animal like him that would mean that he couldn't catch any food and couldn't chew it if he did.

This was getting too much for one day, Gorden's emotional pain and a maimed and physically pained Ferret. I told the ferret I'd try to cook him something.

What could I cook for a carnivore? Well, all I can *really* cook is carrot stew.

The ferret had obviously not eaten for a few days because he wolfed it down. Any sustenance is better than none I suppose.

He must have been very hungry.

Gorden hardly ate anything.

I tried to get the ferret to talk.

I asked him what happened.

"Disgraced." He mumbled. "Failed." His head twitched from side to side as he talked.

He held his head up and his eyes drilled into me.

"I failed a commission. My order does not take failure lightly. They took away my tools - maimed me. Turned me out. Helpless. Defenceless.

"That was a week ago. I haven't eaten until now."

He thanked us and asked if he could travel with us. I was about to agree when Plessey asked him his name. His head shook violently.

"No Name!" He shouted, "Nameless! No-one!"

Gorden had been silent until now, but he piped up:

"Good! There's no room for more names in this song." I could see his knuckles whiten on his staff. The ferret nodded, not understanding but accepting Gorden's words..

So, this afternoon, we were four again. 'Cola, Plessey, Gorden and No-one'

It doesn't have the right ring to it.