Redwall Abbey

At the mouth of the River Moss lay the wreck of a ship- the Bloodsail! The once-feared slaveship was now little more than a pile of driftwood. Her captain, Rizuel Deathclaw, sat on the deck and thought. He had lost many crewbeasts and most of the slaves in the storm that had wrecked his ship. No matter- slaves were easily replaced, especially in the peaceful woodlands of Mossflower. The fox captain had been in the area on several slaving trips, in fact, and had heard many tales. Most were about a wonderful abbey deep in the heart of Mossflower, full of simple woodlanders. Had these tales not been accompanied by the names of countless vermin leaders, not all of them fools, who had tried and failed to conquer the abbey, Rizuel himself would have tried it long ago. As it was, he decided to leave it be until he had the full measure of its inhabitants. When his crew was in better shape, he would go there and try to gain entrance. If the abbey-dwellers were as simple as he was told, it would be easy. However, that would come later- there was no shame to caution, after all. For now, though, he turned his thoughts to more immediate issues. He collared a passing ferret. "Griffer- get together a foraging party, and tell Mudnose and Twinj that I want to see them." Griffer slauted and hurried off to do his captain's bidding.


South down the coast, the mountain fortress of Salamandastron stood like an eternal sentinel, always keeping a watchful vigil over Mossflower's Western Shores. Inside it, a massive badger stood at the window of his forge-room with a spyglass, glaring out at the wreck of the Bloodsail. A knock sounded on the heavy oaken door, and a battered-looking hare poked her head in. "You sent for me, m'lord?" The badger turned. "Yes. Come in, Hazel." He gestured toward the wide windowledge. "Sit down, please." Hazel obeyed, shifting to find a comfortable spot- it wasn't easy, as she was missing her tail. Her right ear was gone, too, and scars crossed her face and paws. Once she was seated, Hazel ventured, "What did you want me for, Lord Redsand?" The badger smiled faintly. "Stop being so formal or I'll call you by your full title. I remember your reluctance to accept rank quite clearly, Captain Witherton. You can call me Galrod- we are friends, aren't we?" Hazel nodded, and Galrod passed her his spyglass. "Good. Well, I called you because I want you to take a look at the River Moss. What do you think?" Puzzled, Hazel put the glass to her eye and scanned the river. She caught sight of the Bloodsail and paused, holding the glass steady. "Hm. I assume you're referrin' to the flippin' shipwreck up there, sah. Well, it looks like that bally fox chap that we beat off a few days ago, before the storm. The slaver, wotshisname, and his filthy flamin' ship, the Bloodsail. I say, a flamin' ship, not a bad idea sah." Galrod's voice was a menacing growl when he replied. "His name is Rizuel Deathclaw." Hazel nodded. "Right, that's the blighter. Haha, their ship's in a jolly old mess, wot! Hm, but what are they going to do now? They can't stay there, and it would be impossible to repair that old tub." Galrod sighed. "I think they will soon realize that their most likely option is to follow the river inland." Hazel's eyes widened, and she almost dropped the spyglass. "Oh, corks! If the vermin go far enough, they're bound to find Redwall. That bloomin' path of theirs runs straight through the river- they'll be caught completely unprepared!"

Today was a day of celebration. To start, the first flight of the season was performed by the Sparra chick Blackwing. In honor of our Sparra friends, we have decided to name this season the Spring of Early Flight, and held our Nameday Feast today. Ah, what a feast. And the games! Why, there was a scavenger hunt, a game of 'Capture the Acorn', a rock-skipping contest, a wall-race of course, and even a tree-climbing contest. Our new Infirmary Keeper, Clove, won the wall-race by a wide margin- you should have seen that haremaid run! She was quite modest about her victory, and refused any prize, saying that the Dibbuns should get it instead. Speaking of Dibbuns, everybeast was quite surprised by the winner of the tree-climbing contest- it was young Lafel! He was coaxed into competing by those young rips, Pipistrelle and Crysanthemum, the ottertwins who won the rock-skipping contest. Apparently, they had convinced baby Lafel that there was a big bag of candied chestnuts at the top of the tree. Lafel was a blur as he shot up the trunk. He wasn't very well pleased wen he didn't find the promised nuts, I can tell you. Kindly old Friar Hollyspike quickly remedied the situation however, by fetching some from the kitchens. Pip and Mum (as Pipistrelle and Chrysanthemum are known by all) insisted that they be given some too, because "we're the ones that- er, helped 'im win, ain't we?" After this rather bold pronouncement, Hollyspike nodded and replied thoughtfully that that was so, and he did have something for them. The twins quit giggling and nudging each other when he held out a dishrag and scrub-brush; in fact, they ran away and hid until bedtime. Ah, truly it was an exciting day, and tiring, too. I am quite ready for bed, as soon as I wash this ink off my paws.
A knock on the gatehouse door interrupted the old mouse's thoughts, and he looked up from his parchment distractedly. "Hm? Oh, come in," he called, and the door opened to reveal an excited-looking pair of creatures- Skipper Corian and a squirrel of about 15 seasons named Russet. They bustled inside, and Skipper gave a small bow. "Excuse us fer bargin' in on ye so late, Father Abbot," he started, but the old mouse waved a paw dismissively. "Please, Skipper, I'm still just the Abbey Recorder at heart. And don't worry about the time- as you can see, I haven't gone to bed yet. Now, how can I help you?" The burly otter chuckled. "Bless yore 'eart, Ordlin. What we came about was this- Russet here found it in the kitchens when 'e was cleanin' up." Skipper held out an old, yellowed scroll that was sealed with beeswax and addressed 'To the Abbot or Abbess of Redwall'. Abbot Ordlin took it, and unrolled it carefully on the table. It was covered in an untidy scrawl. Peering at it through his rock-crystal spectacles, the old mouse heaved a sigh and smiled ruefully. "My eyes are too old to decipher such scribbles. Russet, would you please read it out? You are still in your young seasons, and have not yet felt the effects of age." Russet smiled, bowing. "I'd be delighted, Father. Here is what it says:
Skipper gave a low whistle. "Well that's a right puzzle an' no mistake." Ordlin, yawning, agreed. "Quite right, old friend. But perhaps it would be more easily solved with refreshed minds. Let us sleep tonight, then make an attempt on it in the morning. Goodnight, friends." Skipper and Russet left, each thinking their own thoughts about the mysterious riddle, and each eagerly looking forward to the next day.

Cool! Bally confounding riddle! Good story so far, when does Rhys enter?

Yeah, the riddle is actually one of at least a few, so I hope that they will get easier to write as I go. Rhys comes in pretty soon- she should be in my next post here.

Sorry for the double-post, but here's some more of the story:

Earlier that same evening, two creatures stood before Rizuel Deathclaw in his repaired cabin and quailed under the fox's icy gaze. His voice was casual as he asked, "How many slaves are still alive?" Mudnose the weasel gulped and gazed imploringly at his companion, who shook his head slightly. "Er, t-two, cap'n," Mudnose stuttered, trembling visibly as he tried not to think of what his captain might do in his displeasure. To the weasel's great surprise, Rizuel laid a friendly paw on his shoulder, winking at him. "Two, eh? Well, having two slaves is better than having none, isn't it? I'd call it almost lucky, in fact." Twinj the rat piped up curiously. "Er, er, lucky, cap'n? Why's dat?" The fox chuckled. "Why, couples are two creatures, aren't they? And when a couple is together, more creatures are bound to follow as a result." Still confused but not daring to push his luck, Twinj nodded. "Aye, cap'n. Yore clever, alright!" Concealing his disdain, Rizuel smiled dangerously. "So I am, which is why I am sending you two to catch more slaves for me. You are my only trackers, but you've never failed me. I trust my confidence in you is not a mistake- go now, and return by tomorrow evening." Both beasts saluted and backed out of the capain's cabin hastily, stopping only to taunt the slaves before setting out. "Haharr, don't worry, me beauties, you'll 'ave comp'ny soon!" "Heeheehee, aye, an' den we might not need yer anymore. We"ll set yer free- t'meet da fishes!" Laughing callously, the crewbeasts left to go about their mission. After they had left, the slaves, who were chained to the Bloosail's ruined mast, exchanged a look. One, a sturdy hedgehog, spat on the deck. "Maybe they won't catch anythin', mate. Bad luck to 'em both, I say," he muttered. His companion, a youngish vixen with coal-black fur, shook her head sadly. "They've always brought somebeast back with them, Chuff. You know that as well as I do."He smiled weakly. "Aye, Rhys, but we c'n allus hope." They both fell silent as Rizuel strode out onto the deck. The cruel fox winked at his slaves, flicking a whip at them idly. "I know what you're thinking, oarscum. You're hoping that Twinj and Mudnose will fail me- forget those thoughts. Idiots they might be, but they have never failed me." Blood boiling, Rhys glared at Rizuel. "There's a first time for everything, murderer," she spat. Without looking, almost casually, Rizuel struck her face viciously with the whip's leather bound handle, commenting coolly, "I suppose there is- which means that someday, I will hear you begging for mercy from me. I hope that day is soon."

I'm intrigued by your riddle. So far, the only thing I can think of with the "bury" from the words of a Warrior dear is the red pommel stone on Martin's Sword. This would also be supported by "sonnet" minus an n being "sonet," which can be rearranged to "stone." And the stone in Martin's hilt was there before Boar ever got to making a new blade for it. But I haven't got any clue about any of the rest of the poem. At any rate, I love the rhyme scheme inside of it.

I know we've only had brief exposure to him in the story thus far, but I'm already enjoying Lord Redsand's character. Badgers make everything better. In other notes, Rizuel is coming off as fittingly cruel, and I'm already hoping for the freedom of the two slaves on board.

I only spotted one typo, I think. On your second post, when you describe the appearance of the scroll the riddle is written on, you say, "It was coveted in an untidy scrawl." I think you mean "covered."

If I can offer a critical observation (this is, of course, totally up to you as the writer to accept or ignore, and I recognize that it's a bit nitpicky), you've fleshed out three separate characters already with self-denying humility. Lord Redsand asks Hazel not to call him by his formal title, Clove the haremaid declines her award for the winning the wall-race by asking that it be given to the dibbuns, and Abbot Ordlin waves away Skipper's reference to his title, affirms that he's really a recorder at heart, and makes certain that Skipper and Russet understand they haven't disturbed him from any resting whatsoever.

I like that you're adding these touches to these characters, certainly. It's just that, for me, the repetition of this specific trait comes out of the text... almost in the same way that closely repeated words do. Since I've only been introduced to 11 protagonists at that point in the story, it seems somewhat unlikely to me that, for 3 of those 11, one of the very first things I would learn from observing them is that they are all particularly humble.

Again, that's nitpicky. This is good work, and I'm interested to see what's going to happen next.   

Thank you for your comments, Blazemane! I really do like it when people (especially other writers) give constructive criticism. Actually, I had also noticed what you pointed out about humble characters, but they do all have specific reasons.

Ordlin feels that his new(ish) title separates him from his old friends, especially Skipper, as they used to have quite the adventures together. (Also, I needed a way to show that he was still at his Recording duties.) Clove, who you will properly meet later, is shy, especially because she is quite different from the rest of the abbeybeasts. She is the only one who consistently shows "self-denying humility", as you put it. Lord Redsand is good friends with Hazel, and also feels that if she doesn't want him calling her by her formal title, then there's no reason she should call him by his (if that makes sense).

As to the riddle- congratulations! You are quite close to the full answer (of that one, anyway). The rest will be revealed shortly in the story, though. Sorry, you'll just have to wait. ;) Thank you again for your comments- they really are helpful. :)


The new day dawned bright and clear. The sun shone merrily, and a playful breeze ruffled the treetops in Mossflower Woods. Russet stood on a parapet on the east wall, facing the coming day with a thrill of excitement. He closed his eyes, heaving a contented sigh as the breeze tugged at his bushy tail. He heard somebeast approaching, but did not open his eyes or turn around. "Good mornin', Russet. How did ye sleep?" Russet smiled. "Good morning, Skip. To tell the truth, I was too excited to sleep at first. When I finally did drop off, though, I slept like a Dibbun- I feel quite refreshed. Have you seen the abbot yet?" Skipper chuckled. "After his late night yesterday, I doubt well see 'im 'till noon." A voice behind him caused Skipper to turn. "See who?" Abbot Ordlin stood there, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Good morning, you two." Skipper shuffled his footpaws hesitantly. "Uh, good mornin', Father. Russet was just askin' about- er- Gurben. 'E was up late las' night puttin' away drinks, y'see." The abbot smiled, winking at Russet, who was now standing beside Skipper. "Ah yes, our faithful Cellarhog. Of course. So, are you two ready to start on that riddle?" Russet grinned. "As soon as we've had breakfast, Father." Skipper nodded and patted his stomach. "Aye. A full stomach is always more useful than an empty one," he commented as the three creatures descended the wallsteps. Cavern Hole was buzzing with its usual chaotic morning bustle. Skipper, Ordlin, and Russet each filled a bowl with oatmeal and picked up a scone or two. "Let's eat in the gatehouse. It's bound to be more peaceful there," suggested Abbot Ordlin. Skipper and Russet eagerly agreed.

I think you captured a certain sort of... joy with the way you set up the scene in this part--describing the sun and the breeze and the way all three of these characters show just how excited they are by their actions. Russet literally awaiting the new day, Skipper finding him, and Abbot Ordlin showing no obvious signs of fatigue, but sneaking up on both of them...

I'm going to contradict myself now, but Skipper also seems very down-to-earth himself, and I don't mind! I think it's really interesting to see a Skipper that way.

Now, this only hit me after I'd written my comments on your previous chapters, so it obviously it isn't all that jarring, but I think technically, different speakers are supposed to have different paragraphs for their dialogue. Do you prefer the look of the format you're using now?

This is great please write more  :) actually I read and LOVE all you stories but this one is the best so far  ;D

@Blazemane: I never quite understood how the dialogue worked in books- I always thought it was some weird, complex system that I would never be able to figure out. Thank you for clarifying that for me. Jeez, I can be such an airhead sometimes. Now that I understand, I can fix it. :) As to whether I like the format I'm using now- not really. I think it makes it look like there's a lot more text than there actually is. Again, thank you for comments, Blazemane!

@Rachel25: Thanks. I like to write it out before typing it here, so I am working on my actual written copy for another day or so, but I should have more up soon. :)

That doesn't make you an airhead at all. Actually, I think there's a bit more to dialogue than my single sentence about it explained.

The rule for writing dialogue is often said to be something like, "every time a new character says a line of dialogue, create a new paragraph for it." But obviously there's more to it than that. Once a new paragraph is begun, an author is definitely allowed to keep writing prose after the dialogue is finished. And then, more dialogue from that one specific character can follow after that prose. And more prose can follow after that dialogue, and so on and so forth all while everything is kept in single paragraph.

Also, if there's a substantial block of dialogue from one character, that dialogue can be broken down into multiple paragraphs, even though a second character isn't giving their own dialogue.

And then there's the whole thing about when the new paragraph is actually made for a new character speaking. The rule I wrote would seem to suggest that, if a new paragraph is made for dialogue, that dialogue must come at the beginning (because you're switching paragraphs when you're switching speakers). But I'm not terribly sure about that, because Brian Jacques went against that idea constantly and put his dialogue at the ends of paragraphs. There were never any paragraphs with more than one character speaking, so he certainly kept different speakers separate from one another, but the timing of that separation often came long before the next line of dialogue was actually spoken.

But that is a long-winded explanation with lots of words repeated over and over, so... examples:

Return of the King, Chapter 7:

...All that day he was silent. It was the sixth of October.

'Are you in pain, Frodo?' said Gandalf quietly as he rode by Frodo's side.

'Well, yes I am,' said Frodo. 'It is my shoulder. The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me. It was a year ago today.'

'Alas! There are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,' said Gandalf.

'I fear it may be so with mine,' said Frodo. 'There is no real going back...'

In this specific instance, when a new paragraph is demanded by a new speaker, the dialogue of that new speaker comes immediately (though even Tolkien will at times right tons of prose, and then get to a new character's dialogue half-way through "their" paragraph). In any event, there are no paragraphs written with dialogue from both Frodo and Gandalf here.

Taggerung, Chapter 4:

Otters are fiercely proud of their agility and strength. Two hefty young ones sprang forward, a male and a female, and spoke together as one. "I am!"

Boorab clapped them on their backs. "Splendid. Two towerin' figures of otter muscles, wot! I'll wager you could life that instrument with me jolly well sittin' atop of it, right?"

It was the otters' turn to swell their chests and flex their muscles. They chorused together in agreement. "Right!"

Skipper knew what was coming, and he chuckled as Boorab answered, "Good, then I won't sit on the instrument. You two carry it an' I'll walk. I'm not lazy, y'know."

So here, too, no single paragraph has dialogue from more than once character. But Brian Jacques saves his dialogue for the end--my guess is that he wants to show the reader exactly what the speakers are doing, how they're expressing themselves and so on before the reader hears what they have to say. So... yeah. "Every time a new character says a line of dialogue, create a new paragraph for it," probably isn't the wording I should be going for. Maybe it's best to say "never have dialogue from more than one character written in the same paragraph."

And you're welcome for the comments.

     The three creatures slipped outside and hurried across the lawns to the gatehouse. Once inside, Ordlin took out the riddle and placed it in the middle of the table. "So, where should we begin?"
    Skipper chewed a bite of scone thoughtfully before replying. "Let's read it again an' see if any lines make sense by themselves," he suggested.
    Russet nodded and swallowed a mouthful of oatmeal, then picked up the riddle.
    Ordlin sighed. "The only line in that confounded thing that makes any sense at all is the one about speaking to somebeast in the Infirmary- it must mean the Infirmary Keeper."
    Russet was quiet, trying to remember something- the last few lines had stirred a vague memory... Suddenly, he slammed a paw down on the table, exclaiming, "Of course!"
    Ordlin and Skipper exchanged bemused looks, and Skipper asked, "What d'ye mean, 'o' course'?"
    Russet grinned mischievously and winked. "I'll explain later, Skip. Come on, it's to the Infirmary for us!"


    In the forge room at Salamandastron, Lord Galrod Redsand was speaking to two creatures. One was Captain Witherton, and the other was a young hare. He was looking about the room with amazement, and it was obvious that he was not paying the slightest attention to what Galrod was saying. Hazel elbowed him sharply, and he focused once more on the conversation. Galrod fixed his eyes on the young hare, who shifted uncomfortably. "As I was saying, Starbreeze, you may choose a weapon from this room, but it is only to use in case you are attacked. Your purpose at the vermin camp is not to attack them. You must not even be seen. You being are sent only to discover their numbers and carry that information to Redwall. Do you understand?"
    Starbreeze nodded once, then saluted. "I understand, m'Lord. Count the blighters, then toddle off to Redwall and warn them, wot. Er, were y' serious when y' said I could pick a weapon from in here?"
    Galrod smiled briefly. "Yes, as long as you can wield it. No battle-axes larger than yourself, now. What weapon is your favorite in training- the sword? The lance, perhaps?"
    The young hare pointed to a mace hanging on the wall. "Actually, m'Lord, I enjoy usin' the jolly old mace. It has a nice feel to it, y' could say." Galrod raised his eyebrows, but lifted down a light mace and handed it to Starbreeze, who smiled. "Thank you, sah. This is a blinkin' beauty of a weapon, wot!"
    Galrod's voice was grave, but his eyes danced merrily. "Yes, and you'd better take good care of it, Star. If you bring that back scratched and dented, I'll give you to the cook and tell him to make afternoon tea for the officers."
     Starbreeze grinned and replied thoughtfully, "Give me t' Corporal Alderbuck, sah? He's a jolly good chap, but I think you'd have some trouble getting me inside the kitchen, wot. He told me that if he ever sees me in there again, he'll make me eat me own tail."
    Hazel snorted scornfully, muttering, "I wonder why?", and Galrod had to hide a smile.
    "Ahem. I suppose Hazel will have to get the supply packs from him, then. Now off you go, and the best of luck to you both." The hares saluted solemnly and left, closing the great oaken door behind them.

     When Russet and the others reached the Infirmary, Clove was mending some torn coverlets. She looked up, surprised, when the small party entered. The haremaid stood and performed a neat curtsy. "Good morning, Father. Skipper, Russet- good morning. What can I do for you?"
     Russet gave a bow in return before replying. "Good morning, Miz Clove. Could you please tell us any remedies you know to treat wounds from hedgehog spikes?"
     Skipper and Ordlin looked at each other, clearly baffled. Clove headed toward a small desk in the corner, as obviously puzzled as the others. "Sure, Russet. Let me get the book. But- you're not injured, are you?"
     "No, we're all fine. There's a riddle we are trying to solve, though, and I think I might have discovered some of the answer."
     Ordlin and Skipper exchanged glances again, this time of exasperation, and Skipper asked, "So, are ye goin' t'let us in on th' secret, young scamp, or are we goin' t'die of old age first?"
     Russet chuckled. "Oh, no- you two couldn't die of old age. Not for another twenty seasons at least. Anyway, it looks like Clove found what she was looking for."
     Clove had- it was a thick, leather-bound journal, with a faded cover and yellowing pages. She opened it close to the beginning, and leafed carefully through a few pages before stopping. She gave a satisfied smile and held out the book for them to see. "This is a journal that has been passed down to every Infirmary Keeper since the beginning of Redwall. In it is recorded every remedy that each Keeper has encountered, heard of, or used. This page tells how to make a poultice for injuries from hedgehog spikes, written by old Brother Torilis."
     They all peered at the neat script that filled the page and the rough sketches that accompanied it. Russet suddenly gave a triumphant shout and pointed to a note scrawled at the bottom: This entry had an unusual cause, and Corksnout Spikkle was the patient. At first, everybeast thought that he had been bitten by Baliss, the adder. Upon closer examination, however, it was revealed that Baliss had merely butted Corksnout, driving some of his hindspikes inward. The wound was not serious, and he should be fully recovered soon.

Sorry it's been so long- I've been busier than I expected. Anyway, here's some more. :) Critiques are welcome, as always.
EDIT: I had to change something, because I wasn't able to get enough background on it. My apologies.

    Skipper faced the grinning Russet. "All right, how did ye know abou' that?"
    Russet's smile grew wider. "Didn't you ever pay attention at Abbey School, Skip? There were stories of Baliss, a giant adder, thought to be descended from Asmodeus himself. The riddle asks what the cure for a wound from Baliss is, remember? Well, I knew that we don't have a cure for adder venom, and was stuck until I remembered a story about Corksnout getting- er, injured, by Baliss."
    The abbot cleared his throat excitedly. "I see. So now we have been led to another clue- this remedy. There must be something on this page to lead us to whatever we're looking for."
   Clove surveyed the three of them quizzically. "Pardon me, but what are you all talking about?"
    Russet glanced at Father Ordlin, who nodded. "We're trying to solve a riddle, Miz Clove. I found it in the kitchens yesterday."
    The haremaid's eyes shone with excitement. "I haven't come across a good riddle for a long time. May I see it, please?"
    Ordlin handed it over to Clove, who read it under her breath, her brows furrowing in concentration. When she was done reading, she sighed. "That is a challenge, all right. But if we can just solve those anagrams, it will become much easier."
    Skipper scratched his head. "Anagrams? Wot's that?"
    "An anagram is a word that is mixed up to make another word." A sudden smile crossed Clove's features, and she continued. "Like 'bury' and 'ruby', for example."
    The three creatures in front of her blinked and looked at one another in surprise. Then Abbott Ordlin smiled. "Well done, Clove! I never knew you were so good at solving riddles."
    Blushing, Clove shook her head. "Oh, no, Father- it's really not that hard. I'm sure anybeast could solve it."
    Russet saw that the haremaid could be quite helpful, and interrupted. "Nonsense, Miz Clove- you're brilliant! Would you like to help us solve the rest?"
     Skipper agreed heartily.. "Aye! We could use a sharp mind such as yores on this, miz."
    Clove relented, smiling broadly. "All right, I'll help. Now, it looks like there's quite a few anagrams in this riddle- they seem to make up the main portion. The fifth line points to the third as a clue: 'The treasure- a bury from the words of a Warrior dear'. We know that 'bury' means ruby, but what else in this phrase could be an anagram?"
     The four creatures pondered over this question for a moment before Ordlin spoke up. "It must be 'words'- it's the only part that doesn't quite fit."
     There was another pause, then Russet exclaimed, "Sword!" He and Skipper joined paws, dancing around jubilantly. "It's the ruby from Martin's sword!"
     Clove hid a smile. "Let's continue, shall we? We've only got the first few lines. Our next problem is the 'nots, knot the ones that you tie'. I think the only part we need to worry about there is the word 'nots'."
    Ordlin, plainly amused by the antics of Skipper Corin and Russet, cleared his throat. "Ahem. That's a wonderful start, Clove, but according to the next line, that's just the beginning. I think we'd better gather all the clues we can before trying to unscramble each word."
    Russet came to a stop long enough to voice an opinion. "I think that's a sensible suggestion, and it certainly won't harm our efforts. So what have we got? 'Nots', 'mop', and the line about meals."
    Skipper clapped him on the back, nearly knocking the young squirrel off his paws. "Ye've got it, Russet! Breakfast, lunch, supper- their 'other name' is 'meal'!"
    "Not quite," Clove put in. "It says to change one letter, but it needs to sound the same."
    Ordlin polished his spectacles and winked at Russet. "That should be easy to solve- just ask one of the Dibbuns to spell 'meal'. I seem to recall one, not too long ago, who was so bad at spelling that his words were impossible to decipher. What was his name, now?"
    Russet winked back cheerily. "I don't know, Father. It must be Pip- he once spelled your name 'Abutt Oaredlyn'."
    Clove was about to call their attention back to the riddle when they heard a disturbance outside. Rushing to the window, they saw a company of shrews coming up the path towards Redwall, singing a lively marching song.
    Skipper was already running to the front gates, whooping, and the others followed at a more sedate pace. When they caught up to Skipper, the gates were open and he was standing in the archway, scowling at the shrews.


     Captain Hazel Witherton cursed her luck. Of all the hares in Salamandastron, she had to travel with Starbreeze. The young hare was delighted to be on his first mission, and had chunnered incessantly all morning. "I say, old gel, those vermin chaps had better watch out, wot! I've been trainin', y'know. I hope those scummy blighters are smart enough to post a guard- I think that any vermin we meet would soon become close friends with my mace. Very close, if y'know what I mean."
     The hearty laughter that followed this statement was stifled by Hazel shoving a paw over Star's mouth. They were getting close to the river, but her patience had snapped. "Shut it, you flop-eared nuisance! Do you want to get us caught? One more sound out of you an' y'don't get lunch!"
    She removed her paw and Starbreeze snorted indignantly. "Harrumph! Well excuse me f'flippin' breathin'. I'll keep my melodious voice to m'self from now on, wot!"
    Hazel breathed a sigh of relief, and the pair traveled in silence for a few minutes, until they reached the south bank of River Moss. "All right- we'll rest here till nightfall, then make our count under cover of darkness. Got it, Star?"
    He saluted, winking cheekily. "Got it, marm. So what are we going to do until then, Captain Witherton?"
    Hazel glared at him. "You know I only took that title to shut Major Togworth up about it- if you use it again, I'll stuff your ears up your nose and make you wear your tail as a hat. Now, we're going to have lunch, then get some sleep."
    Star flashed a nervous smile. "Er, haha, right you are, marm. Lunch, that's the ticket, wot! I'll start the fire."
    Hazel grabbed his paw and shook her head. "No, you're not. No fires- the vermin might see the smoke. It's traveling rations for lunch."
    Nodding reluctantly, Star assented, muttering, "I just hope we'll get a more substantial meal soon."
    Hazel dug out the food, passing half to Star and smiling. "You don't know what a substantial meal is till you've been t'Redwall, Star. Just you wait."
    The hares relaxed on the bank, cooling their footpaws in the shallows and eating their lunch. Hazel sighed wistfully. Why couldn't Alderbuck have been chosen to go on this mission with her? He was an excellent cook-  these traveling cakes were his invention, actually. They were thick oat scones made with berries, nuts, and honey. They were quite sustaining, and delicious, especially with a flask of dandelion and burdock cordial.
    Once the pair had finished their lunch, Starbreeze dozed off, his footpaws still half in the river. Smirking, Hazel considered leaving his paws to get waterlogged, but decided against it. The coming night would be wasted if they couldn't march on after counting the vermin's numbers. Leaning back against a sandy hillock, Hazel kept her eye on the sand dunes on the northern bank and waited for nightfall.

Coming along great!

Thanks!


   Skipper folded his arms across his chest, still glaring at the silent mass of shrews. He called out in a challenging voice that everybeast could hear clearly. "Now, I've met most o' ye before, an' I've had issues with some, but they're all resolved. Except one- last time we met, one of ye tipped my boat over. None o' ye are gettin' in until I deal out some words an' more'n a few hard knocks to him."
A tough-looking shrew stepped forward, returning Skipper's glare and resting a paw on his rapier hilt. "I didn't touch yore boat, lardbarrel- ye tipped it yoreself when ye tried to capsize mine."
    Skipper narrowed his eyes. "Are ye callin' me a liar, Tallo?"
    "O' course not- yore memory must be playin' tricks on ye, Corian. It happens when a beast starts gettin' old," the shrew retorted.
    Both beasts continued scowling at each other for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. Skipper pulled Tallo into an embrace, lifting him clear off the ground. "Haha! Log-a-Log Tallo, it's good t'see ye again, mate! How've ye been?"
Breathlessly, he replied, "Fine, but I won't be fer much longer if'n ye keep squeezin' me. Put me down, ye sentimental lump!"
    Skipper replaced the winded shrew chieftain on his paws and clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Welcome t'Redwall, mate."
    Log-a-Log Tallo waved the shrews in behind him, and they began to mingle with the gathered abbeydwellers. Old friends were found and new ones soon made, and the air was filled with the sounds of merry creatures greeting one another.
    Skipper and Tallo sauntered up to Ordlin, Clove, and Russet, and Tallo bowed politely. "Good day, Father Abbot. Thank ye fer yore 'ospitality..." his voice trailed off as he got a better look at the abbot. "Ordlin? Why, I haven't seen you since we went on that adventure to Southsward together. So, you're Abbot now, eh? I never would have thought it."
    Ordlin gave an embarrassed cough. "Yes, well, that was a long time ago. I'm quite respectable now, as you can see. It is wonderful to see you alive and well after all this time, Tallo. Clove, Russet, would you two excuse us please? The three of us have a lot of catching up to do."
    Russet nodded. "Of course, Father. Miz Clove and I will see you later. Meanwhile, we'll keep working on the riddle."
    Clove flashed a quick smile. "Let's see if we can solve it before supper- that would show them, eh? Come on- let's get the riddle and the Infirmary Keeper journal."
    Russet returned her smile, and the two hurried to the Infirmary, eager to continue working on the puzzle.


     The sun was hanging low in the sky when Mudnose and Twinj dragged an unconscious squirrel into camp and took it into Rizuel's cabin to make their report. Soon the hapless pair came scrambling out on deck, still hauling the squirrel between them, and spurred on by the captain's irate shouts. "Idiots! You're good for naught but fishbait, you flabby-pawed, thickheaded nincompoops! Get out! Out!"
     Rhys grinned and winked at Twinj as he helped Mudnose chain their captive to the mast. "So, how did it go?" she asked cheekily. "You wonderful trackers got quite a catch, eh?"
     Now that the trackers were closer, Chuff and Rhys could see that they both had various injuries, and Mudnose's spear was broken. Trembling with rage at the vixen's comment, Twinj drew back his paw to strike her. The rat was stopped by Mudnose, however, who glanced nervously at the cabin door. "Careful, mate. You knows the cap'n don't want anybeast touchin' this'n. Remember ol' Spottie?"
     Slowly, Twinj nodded, but could not resist a parting shot as he climbed down the ship's side. "G'night, ya wort'less piece of 'ide. I don't t'ink dat squiggle'll be 'appy when 'e wakes up- if'n 'e tries ter kill yer, vixen, jest scream fer me, eh? Oh, I wuddent wanna be in yore paws."
     Despite herself, Rhys cast an uneasy glance at the squirrel, who was already beginning to stir. Chuff noticed and clasped her paw. "It'll be fine. 'E's just tryin' t'scare ye. I thought ye knew better'n to listen t'scum like that."
     Just then, the squirrel woke and shot to his paws, only to be brought up short by the thick chain around his waist. The breath rushed out of him and he sat down hard, shaking his head to clear it. As he did so, he noticed Rhys and glared at the vixen. Recovering his breath, he said, "What d'you want, fox? Come to gloat over your prize? Well, I won't be chained for long, and when I get free, I'll-"
     Rhys interrupted irritably. "Excuse me, but if you're done jumping to conclusions and making threats, perhaps you'll permit my friend and me to introduce ourselves."
     Chuff took advantage of the squirrel's surprised silence to gesture to the chains that secured all three beasts firmly to the mast. "We're both slaves, mate. An' now ye've got yerself hired on as well. I'm Chuff."
     He held out a large paw to the squirrel, who shook it firmly. "I'm Marnus." Turning his attention back to Rhys, he offered his paw. "Er, sorry about that. Lately, I've just had a few bad run-ins with-" the word 'vermin' died on his lips and he grinned apologetically.
     The slim young vixen accepted his paw and shook it with a surprising amount of strength. "Apology accepted, Marnus. My name is Rhys."
     Marnus winked roguishly. "Pleased to meet you, Rhys. 'Tis a shame our relationship almost got off to a nasty start- especially as it looks like we're going to be spendin' a lot of time together. Ah, well at least I'm chained to a beauty such as yourself, me darlin'."
     Rhys pulled a face, but it was lost on the unusual squirrel, who had leaned back against the mast and closed his eyes, apparently going to sleep.

Marvelous! I think this is your best fanfic yet! I sure hope you'll finish it.

Yanno, when Ordlin and Tallow are talking Ordlin sounds like Bilbo at the beginning of the Hobbit. "Yes, well, I'm quite respectable now."  :D

Anyway, I think this story is awesome so far!

Thank you. I'm certainly planning on finishing it. :)

I've finally gotten some more written. Hooray! ;D

        When the bells rang for the evening meal, Clove and Russet looked up from the parchment in front of them. "I think that's it, Miz Clove. Are you ready to impress the abbot with our riddle-solving prowess?"
        The haremaid nodded once, a smile flitting across her whiskers. "All right, as long as get to impress our stomachs with Friar Hollyspike's culinary prowess as well."
        Russet gave a short laugh. "In that case, we'd best hurry before all that delicious cooking is gone."
        With that, the two creatures hurried off to Cavern Hole, taking their parchment with them. Cavern Hole was, as usual, packed with friendly beasts and enticing smells. It was, in fact, more full than most days, as the shrews were visiting. Clove and Russet could not find the abbot at first, as he was not sitting in his customary seat at the head of the main table. Instead, he was at one of the extra tables which had been set up to help accommodate the shrews. Skipper and Log-a-Log Tallo were with him, recalling their past adventures together. Tallo grinned at Abbot Ordlin. "Remember when that stoat an' 'is gang tried t'rough us up?"
        Ordlin merely smiled, his eyes twinkling, and a young shrewmaid looked up expectantly. "What 'appened, uncle?"
        "Haha- I knowed y'would ask, Janby. Well, it went like this: Ordlin an' I was settin' up camp one afternoon when a stoat walks up, bold as y'like. 'E wanted our food an' supplies, o' course, an' o' course we refused. So 'e whistles, an' about ten more vermin come outta hidin'. Ordlin wanted t'take 'em all then an' there, but I says, 'Careful, mate.' The stoat was about t'charge when Corian drops outta the trees an' hits 'im a good'n with 'is book. T'others ran like scared rabbits! Hahaha! I'll never ferget their faces, th'poor cowards!"
        The shrew cheiftain collapsed into hearty laughter, unable to speak. Russet chuckled as well as he stepped up to Skipper and Abbot Ordlin, who were shaking with mirth. "Skip- you knocked him out with a book? Where did you find it?"
        Skipper coughed, his face reddening slightly. "Er, actually, I allus had it with me. I used t'be quite a scholar, ye know. A bit sheltered too, I s'pose. Ordlin was really the adventurous one. Ahem. Any'ow, what is it? Did ye finish the riddle already?"
        Clove winked at Russet. "I'll say we did, Skipper. Would you like a hint to the answer?"
        Down the table, Tallo's young niece blurted, "Why not jus' give the answer?"
        Clove looked taken aback, but a mole pounded the shrewmaid on the back, grinning widely. "You'm bees roight thurr, miz Janby! Noice'n'sensible loike. Hurrhurr!"
        Russet hid a smile. "Actually, she is right, miz Clove. Don't you think we should just tell them the answer?"
        Clove paused as if in thought, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Hmm. I don't know. Interrupting her elders like that- not respectful at all, you know. Perhaps once she apologizes, we can reveal our findings. Until then we'd better get something to eat."
        Janby thought for a moment, her pride struggling with her curiosity. "All righ'. I'm sorry fer inneruptin'. Could ye please let uz all know wot ye're talkin' about?"
        The haremaid nodded once, grinning. Her and Russet exchanged winks before chorusing, "It's the pommelstone of Martin's sword!"
        Skipper and Ordlin applauded the two creatures. "Very well done, you two! How in the name of seasons did you figure it out?"
        Russet gestured to Clove. "It was mostly Clove- she deciphered almost all of the anagrams. When we finished, we discovered that the riddle was talking about the ruby on Martin's sword."
        Tallo, who was under control by this time, looked puzzled. "The stone from 'is sword is missin'?"
     Ordlin nodded excitedly. "Yes. It's been gone for many seasons, and until now, there had been no clue as to its whereabouts."
     Skipper's face lit up with a triumphant grin. "An' these two've solved it! That stone's as good as found! Come on, you two- celebrate yer victory. It ain't a feast t'night, but th'food's good enough."
     The two young creatures suddenly noticed how hungry they were, and fell to with a will. The meal lasted longer than usual; it was quite late when the last weary beasts dragged themselves off to bed. Soon, a warm silence fell over the abbey, and the breeze sighed peacefully in the calm spring night.


     As the sun began to set, Hazel gently prodded Starbreeze. "Wake up, Star. It's time to make the count."
     Stretching and yawning, the young hare got up and brushed sand off of himself. "Mm, time for a bit of the jolly old covert operations, wot?"
     Hazel rolled her eyes at his chosen phrase, but nodded. They left their supply packs in a neat pile, where they could be easily grabbed in case of a hasty retreat. Then, with many quiet curses on Hazel's part, the two hares crossed the river. Once on the north bank, Hazel rolled around, covering herself in sand, and made Star do the same.
     When he protested, Hazel merely dumped a pawful of sand over his head. "It's for flippin' camouflage, laddie buck. If you're going to jolly well stand out, do it over there." She pointed to a distant sandhill some ways up the beach. "Now be quiet," she whispered as they made their way to the top of the dune.
     Peering cautiously over the top, they both made a swift count, then ducked down to compare notes. Star grinned cheerfully. "I only saw about twoscore of the blighters," he murmured.
     Hazel shook her head. "Y'need to count slower, Star. There's at least another ten. Besides, what about those we might not be able to see? There could be sixty inside that blasted ship- I'd add a score to our count."
     The smile faded from Star's face, but he still looked hopeful. "That's not many- nowhere near a proper flamin' horde, wot!"
     Hazel snorted. "Even one vermin could wreak plenty of havoc inside the abbey. Or even outside of it."
     The young hare's ears drooped. "Hm. Do we have time t'make a quick report to Lord Redsand before goin' all the way to Redwall? Those vermin don't look like they'll be going anywhere too flippin' soon."
     Hazel grinned wickedly. "Not gettin' homesick already? Trust me, once we get to the abbey, you might never want to go back to Salamandastron."
     Suddenly, Starbreeze froze, his ears twitching slightly. "What's that noise?"


    Rhys was woken by something tickling her face. She opened her eyes to find Marnus standing in front of her, brushing the tip of his tail across her snout. Rhys was about to lecture the grinning squirrel on the merits of sleep when she realized something- the chain that had bound him to the mast was gone. Confused, she glanced over at the still sleeping Chuff, who was also free, then down at the chain that used to encircle her waist. "What? Marnus, how-?"
     Marnus' smile grew at the vixen's bewilderment. He held a paw to his lips, then revealed a small beltpouch that was hidden in his bushy tail. In it was a lockpicking kit. A smile spread across Rhys' face as Marnus carefully replaced the kit. Standing, she grasped the squirrel's paw warmly, speechless with joy. He winked and shook her paw, then turned to wake Chuff. The big hedgehog blinked owlishly, then his eyes widened as he saw the hated chains lying uselessly on the deck.
     Jumping up, he pulled Rhys and Marnus into a quick embrace. "Come on, mates- let's go!"
     The three creatures climbed quietly down the ship's side, then began carefully picking their way through the Bloodsail's slumbering crew. Chuff had to stifle a chuckle as they passed the snoring Mudnose. Rhys held a paw to her lips for silence- they couldn't afford to wake anybeast. Once they were across the river, on the southern side, they would be free. The north bank was just past those sand dunes; they were almost there!
     Then a ferret rolled over in his sleep- directly into Chuff's path. Chuff went sprawling, waking the ferret, who quickly realized what was happening. "Wot the- escape! The slaves are escapin'!"
     Further shouts were cut off by a hefty spar of driftwood swung by Marnus, but it was too late. The camp was waking up, and some of the crew were already hurrying towards the escapees. Marnus and Rhys helped Chuff to his paws and ran, knowing there was little chance now that they would make it to safety.
     Suddenly, a slingstone struck Marnus, and he fell. Chuff picked him up, waving Rhys on. "Go on, mate! I've got 'im- we'll find ye later!"
     Tears filled in the vixen's eyes and blurred her vision as she struggled onward, knowing that both Chuff and Marnus would be recaptured.


     Shouts were coming from the direction of the vermin camp. Hazel and Starbreeze poked their heads over the rise, and were surprised to see a crowd of vermin rushing towards them. Hazel loaded her sling and twirled it expertly before loosing it at one of the frontrunners. It connected solidly and downed the creature. Another stayed to help the beast who had been hit, waving the others on.
     Hazel dropped her sling, knowing it would soon be useless, and pulled Starbreeze below the rise. "C'mon, old chap- burrow down in the sand. Hopefully, they won't bloomin' see us!"
     Just as the two had covered themselves with sand, a black vixen came stumbling over the rise. She tripped, rolling down the sandhill. Just as a small party of vermin, puffing and blowing, reached the top of the dune, the vixen ducked behind a large rock at the river's edge. The vermin peered into the darkness until finally one of them remarked nervously, "Er, I don't see 'er anywheres. Wot are we gonna tell the cap'n?"
     Another creature gave a sigh of disgust. "She'll be well 'idden or far away by now. All we c'n do is get back t'camp. We'll tell the cap'n the truth- we lost 'er."
     There were a few murmurs of glum agreement as the vermin turned away, but one said under his breath, "Aye, an' who's going t'do that, eh? Not me, an' that's fer sure."
     Hazel let out a sigh of relief as the voices faded away- her and Star were safe. They had gotten up and just started to brush sand off of themselves when a movement by the river caught Hazel's eye. "I say, marm, what is- mmpf!"
     Hazel clapped a paw over Star's mouth and pointed silently at the vixen, who had come out from behind the rock, and was now glancing furtively at the hillside. She froze, and Hazel cursed- they'd been seen!
     But instead of raising an alarm, the small figure fairly threw herself into the river, striking out for the opposite bank. Star and Hazel pursued her, and by the time they reached the southern bank, the vixen was off and running again, obviously weary. The vixen had no chance of outrunning Hazel, who promptly showed her why she was the Regimental Boxing Champion of Salamandastron.

Not my best work, but I finally got past that blasted wall of writer's block. Hopefully more will follow relatively soon. :) It's good to be writing again.



Numb blackness slowly receded, to be replaced by a painful awareness. Rhys was lying on her side in the darkness, bound paw and foot. Suddenly, her ears perked up. There were low voices speaking close by.
   "I say we should bally well toss her in the blinkin' river and be done with it, wot!"
   There was a sigh, and a resigned voice answered. "I know, Star. But, vermin or not, she is currently a defenseless creature."
   "We can change that, marm."
   "Trust me Star, I wish we could. I think I've come up with a better solution, though. Wait here."
then the sounds of somebeast getting up and dusting themselves off, followed by soft, sand-muted pawsteps. A moment later, a bucket of water was dumped on her. She gasped- the water was cold! "Wake up, vixen."
   Rhys tried to get up, only to trip on bound paws with a muffled curse. She had forgotten about that. At least now she was in a position to see her captor- a pair of hares. The hare brought out a knife and cut the ropes on Rhys' footpaws. "No running off again, vixen, or I'll let Starbreeze use his mace t'stop you. Understand?"
   Rhys nodded, somewhat nervously.
   "Good. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you have two choices. One, answer truthfully, and go free. Or two, play me false, and stay here. Permanently."
   Rhys couldn't meet the hare's cold glare. "I'll tell the truth, marm."
   Though the vixen's reasonable attitude and polite speech surprised Hazel, she didn't let it show. "Then to business, vixen. Is the captain of that ship still alive?"
   There was a short pause, then Rhys quietly replied. "Aye."
   "Pity. I'd hoped he'd flamin' well drowned, wot. How many crew are alive and fightin' fit?"
   "I'm not sure. About fifty, maybe threescore."
   Hazel gave Rhys a calculating look as she asked her next question. "Hm. Enough t'cause plenty of trouble for an abbey full of peaceful woodlanders, eh?"
   Rhys looked up, confusion in her eyes. "Marm?"
   Hazel snorted. "Don't tell me y'don't have any idea what your captain's plans are. Foxes were ever slybeasts. They're always the first t'know what's goin' on."
   Rhys frowned. "I'm afraid not, marm. But my guess is that he'd follow the river. We can't put out t'sea, as you know. Not much point stayin' put, either. He can't lose face by turnin' tail and goin' back north, and if we went south we'd walk straight into that badger and his fighting-"she broke off midsentence, suddenly going very still.
   "Marm, are you both from the mountain?"
   "Well, where else would we jolly well be from, I'd like to know."
   Hazel was puzzled when Rhys closed her eyes, shrinking from the hare. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the vixen was trembling. "What is the blinkin' matter?"
   Rhys shook her head, responding in a quiet, tense voice. "Marm, please- when you- well, when you said that you'd let me go... was that true? Are you- will you just kill me anyway?"
   Hazel blinked in surprise. Where had that come from?
   "What?"
   Rhys took a deep breath, tears welling up in her still-closed eyes. "Please don't pretend that you won't. And do it quickly- please."
   Hazel didn't like being confused, and she hated when beasts didn't speak sense. Frowning, she raised her voice. "Quit talking rubbish an' explain y'self, vixen! D'you think I've got time to unravel your flippin' riddles all night? Come on now, speak up!"
   A few spear-lengths away, Starbreeze smiled. That was Captain Hazel, all right. The vermin must not be giving straight answers.
   Rhys, now shaking violently, made a quick reply. "The captain always told everybeast that if the badger or his hares caught us, they'd kill us without a second thought. He said the only way they'd let us go was if we were dead."
   Ah. That explained the vixen's trepidation. Hazel shook her head. "That's typical. He didn't want the crew to jolly well desert, so he made us the worse option." She took a breath, and ignored the part of her that told her not to make promises to vermin. "I'm not going t'kill you. Not now, at least," she amended.
   Rhys' trembling subsided, and she opened her eyes. "You aren't? But-"
   "Your captain is a liar, vixen. Most vermin are. And be sure, I will find out if you are."
   The vixen nodded, mouth set into a grim line. She hoped that Hazel didn't think she was a liar. On the hare's part, a niggling doubt had wormed its way into her mind. This vermin seemed to regard the beasts of Salamandastron as murderers. Perhaps her own views of vermin were not entirely accurate? Pushing the thought aside- she could deal with that later- she went back to a relevant topic.
   "Where were we before all this killing business came up?"
   "Um, you'd asked me about the captain's plans, marm. Like I said, I don't know them but I'd guess he'll follow the river."
   "Right. How long would it take to get the whole crew moving?"
   Rhys shrugged. "A day or so maybe to get all the supplies together. But if Rizuel really wanted to, he could get the crew on the move by dawn."
   Hazel cursed and pulled the vixen to her paws. "Blasted vermin! Come on, vixen."
   She pulled Rhys over to Starbreeze, who lost his amused smile when Hazel snapped, "On your paws, laddybuck. We're off."
   "Now? But marm-"
   Captain Hazel Witherton was a formidable creature when angered. 'Perilous', some of the hares called her. One glare from her and Star was scurrying around collecting their packs. Hazel's stern gaze landed on Rhys. "All right, vixen. You can either start south now, or you can come with us as a prisoner."
   Rhys seemed almost as surprised by her answer as Hazel was. "I'm coming with you, marm."
   Hazel hefted a pack onto her shoulders. "Fine. Let's get moving."
   So, before Rhys could have second thoughts about her decision, the trio marched off into the night, east towards Redwall Abbey.


   The sun peeked over the horizon, turning the sky pink and bringing the soft colors of dawn to the land. Gulls began to gather for a day's fishing, shrieking at each other and fighting over the best catch. The waves hissed softly up the shore, sparkling with early morning light. All of this was lost on one fox.
Rizuel Deathclaw was in a towering rage. The pine marten who had been "volunteered" to tell the captain about his captive's escape lay on the floor, dead. "Tagrin! Get your scruffy hide in here!"
   Moments later, a rat appeared in the cabin's doorway. "Aye, Cap'n?" Rizuel's first mate carefully avoided looking at the pine marten's carcass.
   "I don't want explanations or excuses. Take Mudnose, Twinj, and Halfmask, and go. Do not return without the vixen, and do not fail me, unless you want to replace her."
   Tagrin shuddered. "I won't fail yer, Cap'n."
   The rat jumped when Rizuel swept his sword at him. "Then what are you waiting for, fool? Go!"
   As his first mate made an exit with all possible haste, the fox howled his fury. Swinging his sword in a mighty arc, Rizuel heaved it at the rat's fleeing tail. Fortunately for Tagrin, the door had swung shut after him. The sword embedded itself in the door, its point protruding from the other side. Suddenly, a thought crossed Rizuel's mind- the other slaves. The ones that had been recaptured. They needed to be made an example. Not to slaves, because no others were still alive. But to the crew. There must be no deserters. A thin smile settled itself on his face. His crew had been getting discontented lately. It was time that they remembered who was in charge. "Halfmask!"
   A ferret with mask markings only on the left side of her face entered the cabin, skirting the cutlass that was still stuck in the door. "Captain?"
   "Where are the slaves?"
   "Tied t'the mast again, sir. D'you want 'em?"
   Rizuel bared his teeth. "No. I want you and your useless mate to get the crew together."
   Halfmask saluted. "Aye, captain. What should I tell 'em?"
   "If they ask questions, ask them if they need a reason to obey their captain's orders."
   "Aye, sir."