by Bob Cregan
He approached the entrance to The Long Way with some trepidation. It lay at the end of a little-used side tunnel, which was itself tucked away in an isolated part of the sett. He crouched by the entrance and reached out with his senses to see what they told him about the space in front of him. The little noises he made - the rustles and scratches of his body and claws - were not echoed back. They disappeared forever into the darkness and told Musty that the tunnel was indeed long and straight.
It had not been cleaned for years. There was a thick layer of light soil on the floor, an accumulation of many years Musty realised. There was no smell of badger though; any mess came from wear and tear, not use and neglect.
Musty gave a little snort as he made his decision, and set off.