Dibbunhood Lost

[ArwynSquirrel]

Matthias the Warrior held his small son tightly to his chest, tears pricking his eyes as the heavy sorrow that had been weighing him down for weeks drained into unspeakable joy and tremendous relief. The young mouse's face was buried in his father's jerkin, sobs jerking his thin shoulders, his small paws tangled up in the soft warm fabric. Gently brushing his paw through his son's tousled headfur, the warrior leaned back against the tent wall, drawing the small mouse back so that he lay against him. The late summer evening sun warmed his face, drying the old tear streaks on it. Paw steps hurried by and a distant order was shouted to get campfires built and supper prepared.  Matthias felt his son's shoulders heave again under his arm and he said soothingly, "Its alright...it's all right Mattimeo...its over now...it's over now. I'm here little one, I'm here. Shhh...shh..."

He reached over and pulled a blanket out of his pack, tucking it snugly around them both.  "You were so brave. So very brave...and I am so proud of you...so proud. Tess told me that you looked out for them the whole way and protected them as much as you could. I couldn't have asked more from any warrior, son. You have acted gallantly, worthy of a true warrior. Being and staying strong under such horrific circumstances is never easy. I could not be any more prouder of you then I am, Mattimeo."

He gently stroked the young mouse's headfur, and softly hummed a lullaby, slowly rocking his son.

"I-I t-thought I w-w-would never s-see you aga-again" the young mouse's voice was thick with sobs.

"I know, I know. I'm here Matti, and everything's alright now...everything's alright."

"I-it was s-so t-t-terrible. T-thought y-you had d-d-died under those r-rocks."

Matthias squeezed his arms tighter around the small mouse in his lap. Similar thoughts had raced through his own mind when he and the others had seen the dead stoat Wedgeback lying at the bottom of the Great South Cliffs. The possibilities of finding his son lying dead along the path had tormented him viciously that night. He had had horrible thoughts that the slavers might dispose of him because he was too small to keep up with the others or for some other wretched reasons that had found their way into the warrior's desolated mind.  Finding him here and alive was nothing short of a miracle.   

After a long while, Mattimeo's tears began to slow and he snuggled closer feeling warmth and comfort wrapping around him in an embrace. The dark horrors of his past experience were fresh in his mind as well as the battle shock that had taken over him almost right after Slagar the Cruel had been brought to justice by the means of an empty well shaft. The smell of blood, the clashing of steel, the agonized screams and the dead corpses still hung about his senses as he clung to his father. His arms shook with tremors as the horrid thoughts morphed into the scene of him slaying a rat that had come at him with his spear. Young and small as he was, in the chaos and action of the battle he had not had time to feel afraid. The rat had drawn back his spear for a stab and all he could remember was the burning cold feeling in his mouth and throat, and a hot flash behind his eyes before he had brought the chain manacles down on the rat's head with all the strength his quivering limbs could muster. He was stronger than most mice of his seasons but he had only gotten in a few telling blows with his weapon. Most of his attacks had left his opponent clutching broken arms, jaws, or with knocked out teeth. He knew he had killed that rat though. He had seen the whites of its eyes as the beast rolled over on the ground, limbs twitching.

A cold, sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, and he squeezed his father tighter, as if his embrace would warm the shock and horror freezing his heart.

He had killed a beast. He, a young mouse of seven seasons, who only several weeks ago had been running and playing, a carefree, innocent youngster, had just killed a grown beast. He had taken the life of a living, breathing creature, something that he knew he could never, ever change...or even worse, forget. Even though the rat had been one of their cruel captors and had been trying to kill him, it did not make it any easier to bear.

Unbidden, the memory of Wedgeback's cruel end unfolded itself in his mind. The shock and utter terror he had felt at Wedgeback's pitiful scream mixed with the battle trauma he was now under, sent the young mouse into another bout of violent shivering, causing Matthias to pull him, blanket and all, underneath his cloak, murmuring soothingly, "Easy Matti...shhhh...easy now...I'm here...I'm here... nothing will hurt you now...I've got you my little one."

The minutes ticked away, silent except for the low voice humming and the slow breaths of the two creatures. Delicious cooking smells mixed with pine smoke began to fill the air and the gruff voices of shrews shouting at each other finally stirred the two. Matthias gently wiped the rest of the tears off Mattimeo's face and then gave him a slightly shaky smile.

"What do you say we go join the others and get something to eat? Some of those shrews out there can cook up a spread almost as good as a Redwall supper. I know you're ready for a nice good meal" his eyes wandered over the slight form of his son, worry, grief, and a flash of anger reflecting in their gaze. He could feel each of the young mouse's ribs through his tunic, evidence that his son had been starved. The ugly black and blue markings on the young mouse's thin face only added to his anger. The fact that somebeast would dare to hurt his son and steal him away from his family! Matthias took a deep breath, reining in his turbulent emotions. He had already put paid to the vermin slavers, and allowing himself to become enraged again would not help his present situation.

Mattimeo buried his face back in the warrior's jerkin, clinging tighter. At the moment, the hollowness of his stomach was the last thing on his mind. The thought of being separated from his father's embrace distressed him, and brought more tears running down his cheeks. Matthias, all too willing, squeezed his son close and leaned back again.

Being a warrior he had duties and responsibilities to the creatures that had just been rescued and liberated. So twenty minutes later after some gentle convincing, he draped the blanket over his son, despite the fact that it was a warm evening, and the two emerged from their tent. The sight of Mattimeo's tattered yellow tunic and torn green robe flecked with blood brought more emotions welling up inside him. His clothes and fur were also bloodstained, but with no body of water in the general area to wash in, it couldn't be helped. Regardless, it was a dark picture, seeing his small innocent son, carrying on him the stains of war and death. He sternly forced back the tears that were building in his throat and eyes.

Together the two moved slowly over to the ring of shrew fires. Mice, squirrels, otters, and hedgehogs trotted back and forth through the clusters of makeshift tents, some carrying supplies, others in search of their friends or siblings. Near the grove of trees that was close to the edge of the great rift, an infirmary of sorts had been set up, wounded creatures lying on blankets and cloaks, while shrew warriors bustled about them, cleaning, stitching and binding wounds. Moans and cries of pain drifted over the air, and Basil's voice sounded across the camp, "I say, chaps and chapesses, in need of a few steady paws o'er here, quick like! No wet pawed volunteers now! Some charmin ladies would do the trick, wot!"

A few beasts hurried to answer the call, helping restrain patients and gathering herbs for poultices.

Matthias made the rounds of the camp, Mattimeo in arms, clinging to him like a latch. The whimpers and cries from the infirmary had set the young mouse's legs to shaking violently, so Matthias had picked him up and carried him as he went. 

Flugg, the new Log-a-log, came trotting up to them panting. "Well Matthias, it seems most beasts are settlin' in for the evening. Orlando 'as detailed a few under his charge to stan' first watch. Who knows, there may be more o' those black robed loonies hangin' around and it would not do at all to be taken by surprise, 'specially with all these little 'uns here" his voice trailed off as he looked at Mattimeo. His face widened in a broad grin. "I take it that is yore lad. "

Matthias nodded, gently fixing the blanket around his son. Flugg leaned back against a tree, and tugged at his headband, "I didn't tell ye Matthias but when 'ol Log-a-log found the young'uns he was at the point o' death. We 'ad stopped for a moment outside a heavy wood door and the next thing we hear this young rip's voice cryin' out the battle cry of Redwall and Mossflower. Log-a-log immediately knew who it was 'an ordered me to free 'em. Well, I tell ye Matthias, I 'ad just managed to pick the lock when the door burst open and I was bowled to the ground by yore son, chained paws and all. Good thing Log-a-log still 'ad a voice to yell at 'em, cause we was bein' pounded 'an choked by the little warriors."

Mattimeo felt his cheeks growing warm. He knew his ears must be as flushed as his face because they were burning. 

"Mattimeo told me none of this," the warriormouse turned with a grin to his son. The sight of the reddened ears brought a chuckle. Flugg shook his head. "I don't know why we even bothered to show up. I'll betcha yore son 'an his pals would 'ave run their captors ragged until they tossed 'em out!"

"No doubt," the warriormouse nodded sagely.

"Me son Kibbles. Now there's a little rip if ever one was born! We often swear he'll give us gray fur 'fore our time with the mischief he gits up to." Flugg adjusted the small bow over his shoulder. "Well, I best get back to the fires 'fore those shrews take to their blades. They've been arguin' for the past half hour about whether to 'ave woodland stew wit shrew bread or mushroom soup fer supper. Leave it to me. I'll set 'em straight in a tic."

Giving Mattimeo a little tickle on his footpaw, the newly appointed chief of the shrews made his way over to where the Gousim cooks looked ready to come to blows.

Matthias spotted Tess and Tim over near a grove of trees, seated by a campfire. Other young ones were huddled together there, holding paws up to the warm blaze. He stood watching them for a bit, his thoughts painfully sparring back and forth. As much as he wanted to keep his son with him, he had to find somewhere to leave him for a bit while he went to help the others. He could not do that and carry the little mouse at the same time. He had already been absent from the goings on for too long. He knew he was needed.

Matthias stifled a heavy sigh and after a long moment murmured softly into Mattimeo's ear, "There's Tess and Tim sitting over there around a campfire. Lets go over to your friends, Matti. I'm sure they want to see you."

"No..."the young mouse dug his face into his father's shoulder again and clung on tightly, tears beading his eyes. The warriormouse drew in a slow breath, his own heart desperately longing to cling to his son and never let go. However some of the duties he needed to attend to were no sight for a little mouse. 

Although it greatly hurt him to ask this of Mattimeo (and himself, if he were honest), he needed Mattimeo to be strong again, and go stay with his friends until he could come back for him. Kneeling down, Matthias gently detached the small clinging paws from him and stood the young mouse in front of him. Mattimeo's gaze went to the ground, the wet in his eyes blurring the whole world in front of him. Two warm thumbs gently wiped across his eyes clearing them, and he met his father's loving gaze.

"I-I want you to know...this is...hard for me to ask this, of you Matti." The warrior drew in a long breath, and spoke strongly, trying to prevent his voice from breaking. "But I need you to be the brave little warrior that you are and go stay with your friends while I go take care of my responsibilities. That is the duty of a warrior and we both wear that mantle now." Matthias cupped his paws around his son's head. "You are their leader now and will always be. Look after them until I can get back. We will both be doing the duties we have been given. Will you do that for me, son?" Matthias's face searched his son's face, his gaze earnest, "Will you do that for everybeast here? They need you just as much as they need me. We mustn't fail them."

For a long moment there was no answer. Mattimeo dropped his eyes again, his father's words running through his brain. Something within his heart stirred at them. Although he wanted nothing more then to grab onto his father and cling to him again, the warrior's words had awakened something deep inside him. A desire, fiercer then the turbulent emotions lashing him, was welling up in him, warming his heart. His father was relying on him, warrior to warrior, to take on the responsibilities of a leader.  He had for so long dreamed of the moment when his father would bestow the mantle on him and treat him like a real warrior, but he had never imagined it would happen like this.

The journey to becoming a warrior was nothing like he had always imagined it being. But deep down, there was a definite sense of belonging and determination and he accepted the role with willingness and a grim satisfaction. He felt that despite the now evident trials and sorrows that came on such beasts, he had been born for this moment, born for this destiny. The role of defending and caring for those he loved was a heavy one, but one that he had already begun to embrace and accept with his whole heart during the brutal march to Malkariss.

Although inward fear and distress were still tugging at him, he forced back the shaky emotions, and after a long moment met his father's gaze steadily, "I won't f-fail you or t-them father. I'll watch over them."

The smile that warmed the warrior's face brought a lump into the young mouse's throat. Courage and determination had been lit like a flickering candle in his heart and would, with the passing of time, grow into a steady unquenchable flame. 

Matthias had seen the hard struggle of wills behind his son's eyes and he swiftly pulled the young mouse into an embrace, murmuring, "That's my brave, brave little warrior." His ears caught the sound of a pained scream from across the camp and he swiftly planted a kiss on his son's cheek. "I promise to come for you as soon as the camp is settled for the night." Taking Mattimeo's paw, he walked with him quickly over to the campfire.       

At the sight of the two approaching, Tim Churchmouse jumped up and ran towards them. "Sir Matthias! Sir Matthias! We knew you would come! We just knew it! Boy, did you give them dirty slavers billy ho!"

"Tim, sit down." Tess strode over, her face worried, "Jess said not to move around too much!"

Matthias saw a cloth bound tightly around the young mouse's side, fresh blood staining it, and he gently put his paw on the small shoulder and helped him onto the ground. "Tess is right young'un, you must be still so that you won't bleed anymore."

"He got hit by one of those short spears the rats had," Tess edged closer to the warrior; her eyes betraying a mixture of worry and fear. "Matthias, sir? Do you know if my father is all right? V-Vitch told us that the slavers had k-killed him!"

The warrior's eyes shone kindly on her, "Your father took some bad injuries from the vermin. When I left though, he was awake and sipping soup. He saw you all being taken by the slavers and was able to inform me after he regained consciousness. I do not know how he is, little one, but he is a strong creature. I am sure he is standing up on the ramparts with your mother and Cornflower, waiting to see their little ones come marching down the path."

Tim broke out in a gusty sob, covering his eyes with his paws.  Matthias gently pulled the young mouse close to him, resting a warm paw on his back. Before he could say anything Cynthia pushed her way through the others and broke out, "W-what 'bout my mum? Vitch s-said s-she had been k-killed too!"

Silence lay heavily upon the group for a long moment as they waited for Matthias's answer. The warriormouse gazed quietly and steadily at the small vole, sadness reflecting in his eyes, and after a long moment said in a gentle voice, "Cynthia, do you think, that even if your mum could not be here anymore, that you would have to stop loving her? Or that she would not still be here with you, inside of you?"

Cynthia stared at him, her lower lip beginning to tremble, "I-is mum a-alright?"

Matthias drew in a slow breath, feeling tears starting in his own eyes. He did not want to say the words, did not want to destroy the small shred of hope and desperation in those sad eyes, but there was nothing that could change the painful truth and to delay answering would not be fair to her. "I'm afraid she has gone to her rest, little one, in the sunny fields and bright forests."

Cynthia stared blindly at him for about two seconds; tears filling her eyes, then with a wild sob whirled around and tore off into the sheltering woodlands bordering the campsite. Without a word Matthias stood up and went after her leaving the group of young ones gazing at each other in shock and horror. After a long moment Tess sat down beside Mattimeo, tears stinging her eyes. "I suppose one can't always expect everything to be fine...but I did so hope it would be this time...oh, it's just awful..."

Mattimeo said nothing, his own eyes still smarting from his earlier crying. He did not have words to say, as he was far too emotionally racked himself. He spotted Jess Squirrel and Sam coming along with Auma and her father. Sam eagerly leapt into the group, his grin a mile wide, "Never thought I'd see my dear 'ol mum again! What are you lot doing, sitting around with such gloomy faces? Cheer up! We're finally free 'an we're going 'ome!" When their faces didn't change Sam swished his tail behind him, his face a mask of confusion, which then turned to concern, "Eh, wot's the matter mates? Somethin' wrong?"

Tess said sadly, "Matthias told us that Mrs. Bankvole was killed by the vermin when they kidnapped us. That means Cynthia doesn't have a mum anymore."

Jess came up behind Sam, placing a paw on her son's shoulder. "Yes, I'm afraid it's true. She and Friar Hugo died trying to save you from the slavers. They went as valiantly as any true warriors."

"Friar Hugo!!" Tim's voice was a squeak. Tess buried her face in her paws, tears trickling down her cheeks, as her own wracked emotions overcame her. Jess gently pulled the youngsters beside her, placing her arms about Tess and Tim.  "There, there. There, there. We're all here now. It's all over. All over." She gently rocked them, stroking their headfur and murmuring soothingly. Orlando stood with Auma close by, looking over the scene, his own face sorrowful. He sat down on a fallen log and drew Sam and Mattimeo to him, gently setting one on each side of his lap.

He chuckled softly as he looked Mattimeo over. "I can see your father in you, young'un." He gently tweaked the young mouse's nose. "You've got his snub nose and his eyes."

"Everybeast always said he had Cornflower's eyes, sir," Sam countered, "'Cause they are hazel like hers."

"That's not always the meaning, little one," the badger answered, his eyes still on Mattimeo. "He may have her color, but the shape and expressions in them are from his father. Aye," he added, his dark eyes regarding the young mouse seriously. "As well as his fighting spirit."

If somebeast, especially a warrior like Orlando, had said that of him a few months back, Mattimeo would have been tickled to death with pride and delight. However the reality of war and the way of the warrior was now bared before him in all its stark grimness. His childhood fantasies of being a brave warrior, defeating hordes of evil armies and becoming a hero no longer carried the excitement and charm that fantasy gives to young minds. He found he could not meet the warrior's gaze, as tears began to bead in his eyes again. The badger gently pulled him back against his cavernous chest, letting him lean against him. His huge arm cradled the small mouse effortlessly.

Jube Stump and his father suddenly arrived, each carrying a large platter of hot shrewbread and honey. Jabez winked cheerfully at the gathering, 'Ot bread 'an' honey for all!! Cummon little 'uns, get yore gobs around this. And soon there will be pots o' woodland stew 'an shrewcakes; made only by the best Guosim cooks! Jube, take your platter over to Orlando, please. I will serve these little 'uns." 

The sweet smell of the freshly baked shrewbread and hot honey was enough to temporarily knock the gloom out of the freed captives, and with the voracity of starved beasts they soon cleaned the platters of every last crumb, then sat about licking the honey off their paws. Mattimeo sucked the honey off his fingers, thinking it was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted in his life. The food they had gotten off of the slavers had been poor, bland, and un-filling, consisting mainly of wild roots, bread crusts, berries, and an occasional apple. If they were lucky they had sometimes found berries along the trail to nibble on between feedings, which had happened at best twice a day.

As the young ones passed around a flask of water Jess turned to Mattimeo and gestured for him to come over. Crouching down so that she was level with him she said gently, "Is your father with Cynthia right now?"

The young mouse nodded, and pointed in the direction he had gone. Jess nodded and with a soft sigh stood up. "I will take over his duties for the time being. Basil has been waiting for him for the last half hour to help with the wounded." She looked back down at the young mouse and gently passed her paw through his headfur, resting it on his head. "You stay here and guard these little ones. They depend on you now" her voice was soft. Mattimeo felt his cheeks warm but he nodded, his face serious. He felt Orlando's huge paw rest on his head, "I will stay here as well. If any blackrobes show up, we will deal with them."

Jess nodded and, picking up her satchel, swiftly left.

"We will deal with them. Not, I will deal with them" he had said. Mattimeo felt warmth and strong confidence welling inside him again at the warrior's words. A comforting feeling of unity and belonging wrapped around him as he stood by Orlando, gazing out into the darkening forest. Nighttime was fast approaching, and that was the most likely time an attack would happen. Looking around he spied a short but stout stick lying by a tree and went and picked it up, hefting it slightly in his paw. It would certainly leave some bruises on an opponent. Orlando's huge paw however plucked the stick right out of his paw, the badger's voice a deep chuckle, "I think I have something better for you to carry. Here, this is a bit too small for me. It should just fit you" he reached into his belt and drew out a small brown leather sheath and handed it to Mattimeo. Inside of it was a long dagger, it's hilt bound with dyed dark green leather, and a golden colored pommel stone set in the hilt. The blade was slightly narrow and keen edged on both sides; it's tip tapering to a sharp needlepoint. The young mouse lightly felt it, his paw clenching tightly around the hilt. It was slightly too big for him, but he did not find it so, and made a couple attempts at thrusting it at the air, his eyes lightening briefly. This was the first true weapon he had ever owned, and he gripped it tightly, turning back to the warrior. He looked up at him somewhat shyly, "Thank you sir. I'll-I'll make good use of it."

The badger ruffled his headfur, chuckling, "I'm sure you will, young'un. However" he paused briefly and suddenly bent and picked up the stick. "Perhaps you had better hang onto this too. Only use the dagger if yore in close combat. When you have gained more experience, you will be able to also attack with it. Right now, self-defense is what you have to work with. Use this stick to keep them from getting too close to you, and if they push past it, then strike with your dagger." Mattimeo found himself suddenly lifted off his paws, and perched on the badger's shoulder. The warrior's voice was gentle, "If we should be attacked, young one, yore duty is to your friends and their safety. Get them away from the attack and leave the fighting to me."

He patted the young mouse's leg. "It's not that I doubt your courage young one, but fighting is not always what is important. Yours and your friend's safety is. Never go looking for trouble and only fight when you must. If you were alone, then it would be different. But we are here, and that duty is ours. Do you understand Mattimeo?"

"Yes sir." Despite himself, the young mouse felt relief filling him. Fighting was the last thing he wanted to do or have happen at this time. The mention of it brought back the cold, heavy feeling and memory of the rat guard's death. His gaze fell on the weapon in his paw, seeing it for what it truly was, a dark tool of death. His stomach went queasy and he had two minds to fling it from his paw when he suddenly was set back on his footpaws by the campfire. Worried what the badger's reaction might be, he held the weapon limply in his paw, dark, heavy emotions having once more settled on his spirit.   

  Orlando glanced at the horizon; the setting sun had turned the landscape from its peach hue to a golden fire, jagged edges of dark slowly creeping over the sky. He turned to the group of young ones and said gently, "I am going to go see how many blankets can be spared for us. You may have to share. The ground around the fire is the warmest and also very smooth. You can huddle up together and it should be warm enough." He patted Mattimeo on the head and then, turning to Jabez, asked, "Will you come with me and help bring back some supper? It's high time these young ones had a proper meal!"

Jabez collected the platters and nodded to Jube, "You stay here, son. Help yore friend look after everybeast." He winked cheerily at the young mouse and went after Orlando. Mattimeo caught sight of Tess wiping fresh tears from her eyes and he sat down beside her, taking her paw in his. Tess sniffled and met his gaze, managing a small smile. "I'm alright now, Matti. Really." She rubbed her eyes again and sighed quietly, leaning back against his small sturdy body. Tim came and huddled down at his other side, wincing as his wound throbbed. Leaning with their backs against a thick log, the three lapsed into a weary, strained silence. Sam perched above them, his thick bushy tail at intervals sliding off the log to brush their heads. The other young ones huddled on the other side of the fire, seemingly all lost in their own thoughts. Mattimeo recognized a few of his slave companions in the group who had already been with Slagar when he and his friends had been kidnapped. He had rarely heard any of those captives speak except to cry or to beg for food and water. They had been a spiritless bunch, completely cowed and submissive to their cruel captors treatments.

Auma was over there with them, sitting between a small hedgehog and mouse. The two were leaning against her, and she was speaking in a low voice to them, gently stroking and rocking them.

Mattimeo slid a small arm around Tess's shoulders, letting her rest her head on his chest, as she had done so many times on the terrifying journey. A stiff breeze suddenly washed over them, sending the fire's smoke straight into their faces. Sam obliged by jumping up and fanning his tail as close as he dared to the fire, until the smoke was blowing out towards the other camps.

Nobeast spoke, all in their own thoughts and painful emotions, so that the thought of speaking was heavy and undesired in such an atmosphere. Mattimeo was now becoming aware of stinging throbs across his back, and his head ached badly. Used to suffering as he was now, it did not bother him as acutely as it might have back home at Redwall. He reached up gingerly and felt the sore lump just behind his right ear where he had been struck by the butt of a spear a couple days ago. At least he thought it must have been a couple days. Down in those dungeons it was impossible to calculate the passing of time. The touch made him wince and he withdrew his paw, letting his eyes close, trying to block out the persistent throb.

The last rays of the golden sunset had faded from the sky and a chilly wind was now starting to blow across the copse, forcing creatures to huddle close together. Mattimeo drew his robe around Tess and tucked his footpaws up under him as much as he was able to. The crunch of branches snapping under somebeast's boots caused him to sit up abruptly, his heart starting to pound softly in his chest. Orlando loomed out of the shadows, followed by Jabez bearing a small bag and two flasks. The badger set down a small stack of blankets and squat deep pot from which rose a tantalizing aroma. His tone was low and hushed, "Alright, little 'uns. We do not have enough dishes to serve everybody with, as you probably know. So each of you will have a small loaf of shrewbread to dip into the pot with. You will have to take turns. Once your bread is gone you can use your fingers."

Hunger still tugging sharply at their stomachs, the youngsters crowded around the pot, each accepting a small loaf of bread from Jabez as they passed him. Mattimeo gently nudged Tess in front of him, "Go ahead, Tess. I will come in a bit." The mousemaid glanced back at him but he just nodded at her and sat down on the log, pulling his tattered robe about him to repel the breeze's nip.

Orlando sat down beside him and draped his thick heavy cloak around the small figure, covering him down to his footpaws. He drew Mattimeo against him and gently cupped his paw around his head, his warm fingers gently fondling the cold ears.

The sky's eventide blue shade gradually darkened into inky blackness and a bright full moon cast it's soft white beams against the land, sharply outlining the whole surrounding countryside. Not too far away a cricket began its nighttime song.