Blackberry: You're beginning to sound like a chief, Hazel. 'Hazel-rah'.
Bigwig: Hazel-rah? That'll be the day I call him chief, that will.
Fiver: Look. Look. That's the place for us. High, lonely hills, where the wind and the sound carry, and the ground's as dry as straw in a barn. That's where we ought to be. That's where we have to get to.
Hazel: Lord Frith, I know you've looked after us well, and it's wrong to ask even more of you. But my people are in terrible danger, and so I would like to make a bargain with you. My life in return for theirs.
Frith: There is not a day or night that a doe offers her life for her kittens, or some honest captain of Owsla, his life for his chief. But there is no bargain: what is, is what must be.
Hazel: We'll fill in the holes good and deep. They'll have to dig us out, and they can't stay out in the open for long without attracting elil.
Blackavar: You don't know the Efrafans. They'll never give up.