A long snake, roused from its stony winter lair, writhed eerily up the slope, heedless of its fellow travelers' existence.

A raccoon was breasting the steep, from another angle.

And behind it came clawing a round-paunched opossum; grinning from the pain of sparks that were stinging it to a hated activity.
The wilderness was giving up its secrets, with a vengeance.

And the Red Terror, as ever, was enforcing a truce among the forest-folk; a truce bred of stark fear.

One and all--of those that had been aroused in time to get clear of the oncoming fiery sickle--the fugitives were making for the cool safety of the lake.
Lad scarce saw or noted any of his companions.