Smoke drifted silently up from the dying fires littering the shore. Salamandastron's gates hung open, nearly torn clean off their hinges. Lord Stoneclaw was dead. His head, a grisly sight, was mounted on top of a pike, blood dripping off the bottom every few seconds. The noise of the droplets hitting the wet sand was audible in the silence. Salamandastron, home of the most elite fighting squad in the land and a beacon of hope and safety for hundreds of years, had finally fallen.
It was a devastating scene. Bodies of both good and bad littered the sand, streaking the entire shore with a sickening red. Pikes with banners had been thrust into the ground, the heads of hares stuck to them with expressions of pure terror. The only thing there was to break the eerie silence were the gentle waves that slowly dragged the nearest bodies deeper into their watery depths. It was enough to bring even the toughest to their knees.
One hare lay face down, sand sticking to the blood around his wounds. His spear had been broken in two, but his paws still held onto the other half. Another wave came crashing over the hare's bloodied body, bringing him closer to the sea. A twitch of the eyelid. That was all he gave. He had already given every bit of energy defending his home. Another wave swept over him, spraying his face. A pitiful moan escaped from his lips, and slowly but surely, he forced his eyes to open. It felt like the hardest thing he had ever done.
The heavy stench of death reached his nose like a blanket, and he lifted his head slightly to look around. Fear dug its claws into his heart, and he let his head fall down to the ground. "Major Cutthroat? Colonel Pear? Lord Stoneclaw? Figs?" He called out, hoping somebody would be alive. Please. There there be someone, anyone.
Another wave came over him, and now that he was fully awake, he felt the salty water wash over his open wounds. He cried out in pain, pulling himself up with his knees and crawling away from the water. He looked around at the bloody shore, tears welling up in his young eyes. "Anyone? Please! It's me, Starpaw! Please, anyone!" With a shudder, he brought himself up to his feet, using his spear as a walking stick. It was covered in blood. "Is anyone alive?" he cried out, looking around desperately. Was he truly alone? His eyes caught sight of another hare, partly up off the ground.
"Hey, are you alive?" Starpaw asked as he painfully stumbled over to the hare, only to recoil in fear. The hare wasn't in the process of getting to her feet, her body was held up by a spear that had gone through her chest, propping her up as she had fallen.
Starpaw let out out a wail, scared and alone. He sat down next to the dead hare, bawling his eyes out at what he had seen take place. All the murder and blood. This wasn't the Long Patrol he had dreamed of his whole life, this was death. He could still hear the screams of the wounded and dying, the coarse laughter of the vermin. They had all been big enough to be horde leaders. But the snake. The massive white snake who's scales reflected the fire's light. Who's eyes were as red as the blood its fangs drew. It was all too much. Starpaw, the only survivor of the Long Patrol, sat on the shore and cried.
---
"Who's hungry?" Brother Burt roared, bounding up the path towards the abbey. A crowd of dibbuns took off after the good-natured squirrel, each yelling a response as they ran.
Log a Log June let out a sigh of relief, turning to Skipper as she did. "That did th' trick, they're out o' our way. Can't say I envy th' Friar right now, he's got his work cut out for him."
Skipper gave a mock frown. "Ah, but now I want a slice of gooseberry pie too!"
Abbott Thimble, a kind old hedgehog, joined them, standing on the dirt path. "You both deserve your own pies, I'll have Friar Harold bake you one each. And enough for your Guosim crew, too, Log a Log June. I really do appreciate the help you've given us."
"Oh, don't thank us yet, Father. We're not done. The west gate needs t' be finished, then we're done with th' wall gates. I'm thinkin' it might be a good idea t' replace the Belltower door too, it's lookin' a little worn," June replied.
"You do not have to, June," Thimble said, watching the Guosim working on the gate as the Foremole and his crew directed them. Now that the dibbuns were out of the way, the work was going much faster
"T'would be my pleasure, sir," June said.
She glanced back as Brother Burt came out of the abbey, walking towards them. "Log a Log June, Skipper, Abbott Thimble." He acknowledged each of them.
"Are the dibbuns taken care of?" Abbott Thimble asked.
Burt nodded. "Friar Harold and Badgermum Aspen are keeping them busy for now."
"Good, the door's nearly finished. It should be done this afternoon," June said.
"You're staying for the feast, right June?" Thimble asked.
June smiled. "Wouldn't miss it for anythin'."
"I don't know anybeast who would, matey," Skipper added. "The Long Patrol's gonna be coming too."
"The Long Patrol? Oh no, they'll eat us out of house and home!" Burt threw a paw across his brow in pretend despair.
June chuckled. "That they will, Burt. Better prepare a big ole feast, Thimble."
The Abbott smiled. "I can't wait to tell Friar Harold. I thought a feast would be a good idea, with the Guosim being here to fix the gates, Skipper's crew getting ready to go off to that Hullabaloo, and Lord Stoneclaw with his Long Patrol coming to visit."
"Aye," Skipper agreed. "Twill be a feast bigger than last winter. Oh that was one t' remember. All the red currant pies, and cakes, and pasties, and cheeses, and breads, and strawberry cordial, and October Ale, and - ouch!"
Log a Log June smacked the back of his head again. "Ooh, quit it. You're makin' me hungry!"
Skipper rubbed the back of his head, looking over at Abbott Thimble. "Er... say, what's for lunch, oh kind ruler and gracious Abbott?"
Thimble held back a laugh. "Always thinking about food, you two. How does mushroom and carrot pastie with a blackberry crumble sound? There's cheese and October Ale, too."
"My mouth is watering just thinking about it, Thimble!" Burt exclaimed.
"How about you tell your Guosim to take a small break, June? We can all go inside and eat lunch," Thimble said.
June nodded. "Sounds good. I'll go get 'em. An' when these gates are finished, nothing's getting past them!"