No Matches and Laces to sell: so I have to write..

Chatter was elated.

He had won the contest to be selected as supreme leader of the forest communities. It had been a hard fought campaign, but finally he had wrestled the leadership from Warthog. Well to be truthful, from the descendants of Warthog, who had tired and withdrawn from leadership of the ground dwellers, leaving them confused and bewildered so that an opportunity for change arose and now the tree inhabitants were in control.

Well almost in control, he had to make alliances with others: particularly the group that contained that Neighing Nuisance from the south east fields. Neighing was another of those who had once pulled his weight in leadership and maintaining progress, but he too tired and now only neighed annoyingly from his stall when it amused him to put his spake in.

The new leader Squirrel, a half-half: sometimes ground dwelling and at other times high flying towards the small fragile topmost branches. But Chatter noted he seldom climbed right to the top, always hesitated when the hot sun warmed his fur, or the rain plopped onto his back, and then turned and withdrew to a lower safer branch. He was often joined there by his friends, new friends, not all of them squirrels: to gnaw on a nut, or worm of wisdom or two.

Now Chatter flitted from tree to tree: from solitary chimney pot to castle ruins, chattering his message to his subjects, often changing his chatter, when he suspected that the dwellers in the nests, or in the hidey holes in stone walls, or in the cracks in crumbling masonry might need a different soothing message.

There would be time enough to leak out the bad news, not now, when it might spoil his triumph.

Weasel, had advised this strategy: adding that now was not the time for the early bird to try and consume the early worm. She warned him there could still be a sting in the worm's tail, if he approached head on: better to sneak up on the problem later, from the back.

Weasel had knowledge in such matters.