Mossflower Falls

[Captain Tammo]

I'm a big fan of how you're weaving together different creature's paths through the little scenes or sentences here and there. It really gives the story that strong, flowing feel to it.

I liked learning a little bit more about the different characters in chapter eleven. I find that sometimes putting in a chapter of character development not only helps the reader learn more about your creations, but helps the reader create a bond with them, too.

[The Skarzs]

Thanks for the review, Captain! It really does mean a lot to me that you read my story. Also, I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter, as I rather enjoyed writing something that was less storyline and more explanation and immersion.

[The Skarzs]

Chapter Thirteen
   
   It was a little surprising how many vermin were in Mossflower that were able to join forces with Grungath Deathcaller. The wolf himself was pleased with the number brought in by Zil, his wildcat captain. In three days since the cat's departure from Redwall, nearly two hundred able-bodied ferrets, stoats, weasels, and rats had been enlisted and brought to the abbey. In the morning light of the third day, the entirety of the newly gathered force was now standing in a large group on the lawns, surrounded by the Deathcaller's original forces to discourage any rebellious happenings.
   Grungath observed them from the ramparts, noting facts in his mind. They were leaderless, spineless, untrained and otherwise useless. Useless, maybe, except for doing what they natural did well: killing. Under the correct leadership, they might prove to be useful pawns in his game.
   They would certainly obey him; the wolf knew they feared him. He could see it in their eyes when they looked at him, in the way they flinched when he moved. To them he was like a god, invulnerable, strong as the trees, and all stuck into a fitting body. The Deathcaller smiled; fear was good. Fear kept creatures in line when they would otherwise think for themselves: a dangerous happening.
   "Farag, Gurra." The wolf called the two remaining wolverine captains, who knelt to his side at once.
   "My lord?" they chimed with their heads bowed.
   "Begin marking the recruits; start a line. If any try to hard to resist, make an example of them." This last order Grungath knew would not be necessary; the sight of two wolverines, not to mention the one of whom they paid homage to, would be enough to stop any uprisings. The wolf's captains bowed, and went down to proceed with their task.
   The vermin on the lawns were not sure what was going to happen to them exactly, so they cautiously formed a line. As a fire was lit, uneasiness spread through them, especially with the first vermin in line, an unfortunate rat. He kept wringing his paws and looking around nervously, but his gaze ever went back to the flames of the fire.
   Gurra pulled from the coals a dully-glowing bar of iron, and the rat's eyes widened to impossible size. "Y-you wouldn't!" he exclaimed, recoiling, but was butted forward by Farag's spear. When the vermin attempted to run, he was grabbed swiftly by Farag and forced toward Gurra. The side of his neck was exposed, and the wolverine pressed the hot metal to the rat's neck briefly. A smell of burnt fur and flesh, the scream of the rat, and it was over. The newly marked rat fell whimpering to the ground, and then crawled off toward the abbey pond.
   The rest of those in line shifted nervously, knowing they would be burned as well, but that there was no getting out of it. As Grungath watched the vermin try less and less to resist until they completely resigned themselves to suffer quietly, he grew bored overseeing it, and walked down from the ramparts and away from the markings. As his stomach grew empty, the wolf walked into the abbey building to have some food made for him.
   Then I shall be able to think, the Deathcaller noted. One always has better thoughts when his stomach is full. The wolf strode gracefully to his throne, snapping his claws as a sign to have his servants get to work with his meal. Swiftly and efficiently, the silent servants brought a table up to the chair, and it was just as quickly set with wine, a plate, biscuits, and other appetizers. Out of the kitchens swept the cooks, laden with a near-fresh roasted woodpigeon, apples, pears, and some select deserts.
   Grungath smiled in satisfaction, thanking his creatures and telling them to wait to the side until he had finished. The Deathcaller ate until he was full of the good food, and sipped at his wine until it was gone. He then stood up and addressed the cooks and servants. "You may eat what is left."
   The vermin were shocked, and stood silent until one of them came forward nervously. "A-are you sure, my lord?" There was still a significant amount of food remaining.
   "Of course I'm sure, you little fool. Now, you all deserve some food; you must be hungry. Come, eat." He tapped his chin. "Besides, it will save you some cleaning up to do."
   There was a chorus of "Thank you, my lord!", and the vermin were immediately upon the delicious food as soon as their lord left them. He smiled at what he had done; they would be some of his most loyal creatures for a long while. It was not like they didn't deserve some of the food, though; he was surprised at how good the victuals actually tasted. Let them have a reward, he thought. It's good for a beast to have their treats every once in a while.
   "Now," he said to himself. "Let's see what we can do about those squirrels."

Splinck felt sick as he watched the marking going on below him as he and Presel stood guard, by order of Grungath Deathcaller, on the ramparts. Upon a glance, he knew his female companion was not any less ill from the experience, her face having gone a different pallor.
   "I think it's alright for us to leave now," the male ferret heard Presel say in a low voice. She pointed to other vermin leaving their posts along the walls. "The marking line is nearly finished."
        Splinck sighed. "Alright, let's go."
   As the two walked down from the wall, Splinck remarked, "That was unpleasant."
   "Ya think?" said Presel. "I don't want to think about that horrible treatment, let alone imagine what it would be like to be one of them! Oh, those poor, stupid beasts." She shuddered, and her companion squeezed her shoulder slightly.
   "You'll be all right; so will they . . . Oh look!" he chortled, pointing at Farag and Gurra. "The wildcat let his tail get caught in the fire, and now he's nearly run over the wolverine in his antics! Gnuk gnuk!"
   Presel chuckled as well, first at the two captains bumbling about, then at Splinck's peculiar laugh. "That brightened up things," she said with a smile.
   The other became suddenly serious and silent as they passed by several vermin. When the group had gone, the foreign ferret stayed in his serious state, though he was less obligated to stay "mute". "We still need to find a way to release that family of squirrels, though." Splinck saw the happiness in Presel's face disappear. "From what I hear they're meant to help draw the Redwallers out of wherever they're crouching. I've been able to think about it a bit, and if we could get word out to Rhonhuk, we might be able to get them into safe hands."
   "Yes, but how are we going to do that?" Presel objected, pointing out the chink in the plan. "There's a curfew, and anybeast caught trying to leave is flogged, at the least!" The female ferret didn't want to admit that she didn't want to see Splinck hurt. "Please . . ."
   Splinck winked. "Don't worry; I was born for sneaking. Besides . . ." he let his smile fade, placing a reassuring paw on Presel's shoulder. " . . . If I can help those poor creatures out, it's worth the risk."
   His companion nodded silently as they made their way across the lawns, over to the corner of the walls behind the pond. Up above their heads clouds began to gather, gradually growing into a larger mass of gray; it would soon rain. When they reached the corner, Presel took note of this. "Would it be better if you went tonight? The rain would help hide your tracks and keep you better screened from being seen."
   The other pursed his lips as he considered it, tapping his bottom lip with a claw. "Yes . . . but at the same time, I have no idea when the squirrels are to be used, nor where Grungath might plan on taking them. Also, I have one thing in common with the wolf here: not the faintest idea where the Redwallers are besides 'in the woods, somewhere'." He dropped his paws. "We're at a stalemate for a while."
   Presel set her back against the wall and slid down until she was sitting. She crossed her arms in front of her and rested her head upon them. Wind blew at the trees, making a rustling noise that was slightly comforting in its natural and careless freedom. The female ferret longed after the freedom she once had as she mulled thoughts over in her mind. After a long while of neither speaking, Presel looked at Splinck.
   "How big is your friend, the . . . um, cou- . . . Cat?"
   Splinck shook himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. "Oh, you mean Rhonhuk? (The word is cougar, by the way.) He's large, methinks a little bigger than old Death-hogger." He ignored the look Presel gave him. "Why do you ask?"
   "I think . . ." she said, allowing a smile to grow on her face. " . . . It's time to start a rumor."

Rhonhuk crouched at the bank of the River Moss; he had grown tired of staying cooped up in the cramped confines of Brockhall, despite the Redwallers' hospitality. He longed to be out again, and had left the hideaway in the early morning with Spruceclimber as a guide. The cougar did not care much if he was seen by the Deathcaller's patrols; however, he did care if he was seen near Brockhall.
   With this in mind, Rhonhuk had asked Spruceclimber to show him somewhere that he could be without any worries of revealing the Redwallers' position. The squirrel seemed to know just the place, and had taken him to the wide river that ran through Mossflower Woods. Rhonhuk was pleased at the sight; it had been a long while since he had been near a river.
   Whilst he sat running his paw through the running water, Rhonhuk recalled the river he had back at his homeland, with its rocky banks, its ever-cold waters, and the sight of fish in its waters. "What do you think of when you think of home, Spruce?"
   The squirrel, who was sitting on the limb of a tree above the cat, raised his head and looked at Rhonhuk. "Home? Well, I've never really had a home; always goin' off, never staying in the same place for too long. But if I had to choose a place that I will always call home, it would have to be a tree."
   "A . . . tree."
   "Yes." Spruce smiled as he rested his head back again. "They're always around when you need them, with big branches to sit on or sleep on, and a leafy roof above your head shading you from the sun and blocking the rain. A tree will always be home to a squirrel."
   The cougar chuckled. "And perhaps only a squirrel."
   Suddenly the two beasts were disturbed by a faint but frantic cry for help. "What was that?" said Rhonhuk, standing up and drawing his sword.
   "I don't know . . ." Spruce answered. ". . . But it's coming from down the river; let's go!" Hardly had the squirrel spoken the words than his companion went sprinting off along the river side, leaving the squirrel to hop swiftly from tree to tree in an attempt to keep up. "He's fast," the squirrel mumbled as he leapt to another branch. "I might not even get there in time to see what's going on."
   Several minutes later found Spruce discovering what the cries were about. A young otter was swimming in the river, desperately fighting off a group of pike. The ravenous fish attacked the exhausted creature mercilessly, wearing him down until he would no longer be able to fight back. It would not be long before they would inevitably go in for the kill.
   Rhonhuk had assessed the situation a short while before the squirrel had gotten there, and he had unbuckled his armor, tossing it aside as he bounded into the water. Wading against the moving water, the cougar struggled his way to the battling otter. "Hold on! Don't stop fighting!"
   The young beast looked up for a moment to where the voice had come from, and cried out in fear as he saw a massive cat coming straight for him. With that last yell, the otter dropped back into the water, completely passed out from the exhaustion and fright. Rhonhuk roared as he surged forward as quickly as he could while the water predators around the unconscious otter struck. But as the first pike sunk his sawing teeth into the flesh of the otter's arm, the cougar reached to grab the victim.
   Spruce, who was now standing on the bank watching with anticipation at the whole thing, jumped in shock as he saw a limp form come sailing out of the water towards the bank. Dropping his javelin and pack, the squirrel splashed into the water as the otter smacked against the surface not far from the water's edge. As quickly as he could, Spruceclimber dragged his unconscious load to shore, and made sure he was breathing. Sighing in relief as he heard steady breath coming from the otter's mouth, the veteran squirrel turned his gaze back to where Rhonhuk was. "Mate, are you-?" His call was cut short as Spruce saw his companion splashing frantically about in the water.
   "Rhonhuk! Come on, get out!" The squirrel scampered back into the water and tried to swim toward the cougar, his soaked brush weighing him down as he floundered. "Rhonhuuuuuk!"
   The cougar turned to the other. "Go back to shore; I'll be fine!" he yelled as he slammed his fist with a crunch against the silvery head of a pike. "Get out before you drown yourself!"
   Curious as to what the cougar was doing, Spruce climbed reluctantly out of the water. "Hell's teeth, he's gonna get himself eaten."
   "You hear that? You're going to get yourself killed!" he yelled. "Crazy cat," he muttered.
   A few minutes later, Rhonhuk crushed the skull of the last pike that stayed to fight him, grabbing it by the head and squeezing. He smiled in satisfaction as he looked at the fish blood that stained the water, running downstream and mingling with the rest of the liquid. The cat swam back to shore, stepping onto the bank and sitting down in a wearied heap. "How's the victim?"
   Spruce folded his arms. "You mean the otter? He's fine. It's you that I'm worried about. What in blazes were you thinking, you crazy beast? I told you to get out, and nearly got dragged under trying to reach you."
   "It's your tail."
        Rhonhuk winced as he inspected the numerous cuts inflicted by the vicious carnivores. "Quite the fish, aren't they, pike?"
   "You're a madbeast! You nearly got eaten."
   "But I did not; and I am pretty sure they are the ones that are being eaten."
   At this he held up three of the fish by their tails, each of them dead and bleeding. "It has been a long time since I have had pike. I hope you do not disagree, as fish isn't exactly meat."
   Before Spruceclimber could say anything else, the young otter behind him gave a groan and began shifting. Rhonhuk moved around to sit with his back against a tree while he waited for the youth to fully recover consciousness. When he did open his eyes he took a moment to recognize that he was, in fact, on solid ground. He bolted upright, crying out in shock.
   Spruce took hold of his shoulders firmly. "It's alright, lad; you're fine. You're not in any danger of those pike anymore." He took at look at the ragged bite on the otter's arm, taking a length of bandage from his pack and binding the oozing wound. "Didn't see that before; sorry, lad."
   The otter shook his head slowly. " . . . I thought I was a goner; those pike had me good, mate. Then I blacked out when . . ." He jumped slightly. "Did you see a big cat? In the water, near where I was, there was a huge cat."
   Rhonhuk chuckled. "Yes; I'm right behind you."
   The young beast sprang up when he heard the voice, and stared slack-jawed at the cougar. "'Ow did . . . what just . . . 'O're you?"
   "My name is Rhonhuk; it is a pleasure to meet you. You certainly got lucky, otter." He allowed the otter to stare at him; it had become a common occurrence in the past few seasons.
   "'E got lucky? You got lucky!" Spruceclimber turned to the otter. "This beast went and jumped into the water to save your life, lad, and for that you must thank him. But then he proceeded to beat those pike to only a few survivors, and there you can see a few of his . . . catch."
   "Mr. Rhonhuk, sir, I'm forever thankful that yer saved me life." Now the otter looked with admiration at Rhonhuk and his haul of pike. "And you killed pike! Mate, that's something an otter allus dreams about: it's the ultimate thing a fisherbeast can do, and as otters, we feel that the beast who kills a pike should get the highest of honors! If you ever meet my father, you ought to have a boast battle with 'im; he's killed pike, tho' I don't know 'ow many."
   "Well, I'm flattered, master otter," laughed Rhonhuk. "And your name is . . . ?"
   The otter saluted. "Gulindal Widetail, sir."
   Spruceclimber turned the otter to face him. "Wait . . . Did you say Widetail? Isn't that the name of the Skipper of river otters?"
   "Y-yes sir; Skip's my father. He's held up downstream in the Holt Widetail; you could call it a siege, I guess. I snuck out and swam upstream here to get help from the Redwallers, or anybeast. Ain't heard anything from the Guosim, either."
   "Guosim?" echoed Rhonhuk. "What's a . . ."
   "I'll explain later; we need to go," Spruce said firmly. "We're going back to Brockhall now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holy cow it's been a while. Hopefully this chapter will be enjoyed, as I have finally gotten to bring together some ideas of mine.

[Lady Ashenwyte]

Wow, nice story, I typically don't like stories with Redwall falling, but hey, atleast you used Brockhall, a place not many fanfiction author visit. You have given a gentle hook to the reader and the temptation to read the rest of your story is irresistible. Congratulations on that.

[The Skarzs]

Many, many thanks, Ashen. I'm glad you like this story, and I hope to continue it's hooking nature as I progress toward the end of it.
And yes: I liked the idea of Brockhall being brought back into the picture as a place of refuge.

[Lady Ashenwyte]

Many, many thanks, Ashen. I'm glad you like this story, and I hope to continue it's hooking nature as I progress toward the end of it.
And yes: I liked the idea of Brockhall being brought back into the picture as a place of refuge.

Cool, but I can't wait for the next chapter, a likkle preview maybe? 

[Captain Tammo]

Another great addition! I was pretty excited when I saw new next to this topic

[Hickory]

Wait, what new creature is it?

[The Skarzs]

Many, many thanks, Ashen. I'm glad you like this story, and I hope to continue it's hooking nature as I progress toward the end of it.
And yes: I liked the idea of Brockhall being brought back into the picture as a place of refuge.

Cool, but I can't wait for the next chapter, a likkle preview maybe? 

Okay: There will be both fortunate and unfortunate happenings. In other words: NO SPOILERS.

Another great addition! I was pretty excited when I saw new next to this topic

Nice to see you liked the chapter, Captain!

Wait, what new creature is it?

Um. . . You could read and find out. . .

[Eulaliaaa!]

This is very well written, I really like it! 

[The Skarzs]

Well, this is certainly a late response, but. . . Glad you liked it! Now I hope you will like this next, long-overdue and slightly short addition to my fan fiction.

Chapter Fourteen

   Ronhuk stood to the side of the underground room in Brockhall, his wounds from the pike being sewn up as Coalpaw and his leading officers, as well as the Abbot, Sprucetail and Limbjumper, had their discussion.
   Coalpaw put his paw solidly down on the table. "We can't just lead a force upstream to help the Guosim; that's asking to get caught! With all the patrols wandering around, it's a wonder nobeast has been discovered yet."
   "At th' same time, we do need all the help we c'n get, my lord," said Commander Gemal.
   " . . . And you will not leave those poor creatures at the mercy of that terrible wolf!" Abbot Nart folded his arms. "I don't see how you don't see that, Coalpaw."
   The badger sat down, rubbing his eyes. "Nart, you must understand I'm not only trying to plan ahead for future survival, but trying to keep everyone who is already safe safe. I know those shrews won't be able to last much longer, but until I . . . we think of something that won't get anybeast here killed or captured, the wisest decision will be to stay put."
   In the light of the serious predicament, Ronhuk took a moment to think. Two of their most likely allies were help up at opposite ends of the River Moss. From what Gulin had recounted the otters had to deal with a considerably large force, so a frontal large attack might be the only option to aid them. The shrews, however, might prove less of a problem.
   "Friends, I have something to suggest." Everybeast turned to the cougar's voice voice. "I think we might be able to help the . . . Guosim if we use a small force to get them out of the situation they are in. Now, we have no idea exactly where they are exactly, but that is where a small force would be useful. They would move quickly and cover ground, and while the shrews might not have been able to break out of what they are in, I do not think our enemies will be expecting help coming from outside."
   Gemal rubbed his chin. "Was thinking of something quite similar, actually, wot! Decent plan, if we c'n get a good force."
   Ronhuk raised a paw. "I volunteer as part of that force. I may be large, but I can go unnoticed when need be."
   "You shall do nothing of the sort!" Abbot Nart stood up in objection. "You're hardly halfway recovered from your injuries from the battle on the plains, and those bites from the pike aren't fully tended to yet."
   The mouse taking care of the bites poked her head out from behind Ronhuk. "Well, actually they are . . . I just finished, Father Abbot."
   Nart huffed and folded his arms firmly. "Well . . . Regardless! You are going nowhere, master Ronhuk."
   "I shall grow increasingly restless unless I move somewhere, and if I am seen in the woods on the way, it will lead any force away from this place. Please, let me do this."
   "I'm sorry to disagree, Nart, but I'm inclined to go along with the cat." Lord Coalpaw coughed awkwardly. "If he really can go unseen as he said, then he would be useful in helping the Guosim. At least they'd be able to grow more accustomed to him, and know he would be on their side."
   Ronhuk smiled thinly and crossed his arms. He knew it would be dangerous, and he was taking a risk even going out into the forest. Of course, he had been taking risks since as long as he could remember, something his father had always warned him about, and what had helped endear Jvealla to him. But he could not stay cooped up; it wasn't how he could live.
   "Oh, so be it," Abbot Nart said, his disapproval obvious. "If you want to go off despite all my warnings, then I guess that's fine by me." The mouse stalked out of the room.
   Ronhuk started to go after the mouse, but Coalpaw put a paw on his arm, shaking his striped head. "Don't go, my friend. A very old friend of his died when Grungath took Redwall, and it takes much time to heal wounds like that."
   "Yes . . . it does." Ronhuk sighed and turned back to the others. "Well, I guess we should finish deciding who shall go. I know we will get volunteers from the group in Moledeep, but I would like to check if we have anybeast here who would join us." Ronhuk looked around the room.
   Both Limbjumper and Spruceclimber spoke up at once. "I'll go!"
   Spruce turned to the other. "Mate, I'm not sure if both of us should go."
   "You're right," said Limb as he picked up his javelin and stood beside Ronhuk.  "Which is why I'm going, and you're staying, mate."
   "But . . ."
   "Spruce, we've been through a lot together; you should know I'm not changin' my mind. Besides, you always go out on these things, and I know the Guosim better than you." Limbjumper jabbed a claw at Ronhuk. "And I'll keep a better eye on lover-beast here."
   "Don't get your locket ruined if you hop in the river again ol' bean." Commander Gemal beamed, waggling his eyebrows cheekily. "Would be quite a shame, wot?"
   Ronhuk rolled his eyes and sighed inwardly. "Oh for the love of-"
   "Ha! You said 'love'!" The squirrel whacked the cougar's belly with his javelin before turned back to the crestfallen Spruceclimber.
"I'll be back, mate."
   The other nodded slowly. "Alright. Well, you two had better go collect your group. Those shrews aren't saving themselves."

A few hours later found the group picked for aiding the Guosim walking carefully through the peaceful forms of the trees of Mossflower woods. They had crossed the river not long before, Limbjumper insisting that it would have been easier to cross there than most places further upriver.
Rhonhuk looked from side to side over the heads of the other members of the party, knowing it was crucial that they stay hidden, at least until they were far enough away from Brockhall that it would leave very little for trackers to go on. He noticed some big sandstone boulders becoming evident here and there, but he passed it off without much care; his own land was full of diverse rocks and dirts, it was not too outlandish to think the same was of here.
   At the crack of a twig the cougar ducked behind a tree, motioning for the others to do so as well. Pawsteps in the bushes to their left, as well as the spattering of hushed conversation between two enemy patrollers, met the keen ears of the cat.
   "D'you think that ferret, wotshername, Presel, was tellin' th' truth?"
   "Whadya mean?"
   "You know, about that devil from the battle at the plains, the one wot killed Captain Hurra, th' wolverine. I hears he's as tall as the red castle's walls, and carries a sword the size of a tree, and-!"
   The other interrupted the excited vermin. "Hush! We're on patrol, not a drink an' story table. And how c'n you believe such ridiculous stories? I hear he was shorter than Grungath . . . at least by a bit, I dunno, but he's got a sword as tall as he is."
   "Still sounds mighty dangerous, I guess . . ."
   Ronhuk listened after the fading voices, and motioned to the rest that it was safe. Devil? What devil? The cougar shook his head at the strange conversation; such peculiar stories could pop up during war.
   As the group moved after Limbjumper in the direction guessed as to where the Guosim were, Ronhuk watched the young mouse Cavaer. He had caught the cougar's eye, with his energetic personality, quick thinking, and growing list of other attributes, and Ronhuk didn't want those to go to waste. He had been in Moledeep training with the young scout Thaze when Ronhuk had gone to assemble the group, and when he heard of the peril the Guosim were in he had nearly leapt forward to volunteer.
   Of course, Thaze was not going to allow his friend to go off on his own, so the hare volunteered as well, insisting to Ronhuk that a scout such as himself would be useful. Ronhuk smiled. Such friendship was admirable, and the two would become strong companions in seasons to come.
   Limbjumper caught his gaze and Ronhuk moved up to the squirrel. "What is it?"
   Limb pointed. "Keep an eye out on yer right, cat. There's something you might find interesting in a little while."
   Curious as to what the squirrel meant, Ronhuk went back to his previous spot and walked along, checking his right side every so often. When he did see what the squirrel was talking about, he was indeed interested.
   Miles of the perimeter of a curving hole in the ground stretched before him, like a bite taken from the earth by some giant beast or scooped out by a massive paw. Despite the dim shadows cast by the cold sun fingered along the walls. While they were covered in slime, weeds, and dirt, they were an unmistakable pinkish tone, the sandy texture convincing Ronhuk that it was indeed the same sort of stone he had seen earlier. Down at the bottom, many feet below, murky water had collected and was moldering, nowhere to go from such a low point.
   "Pretty amazing, huh, cat?" Limbjumper leaned on his javelin as he too stared out at the open expanse.  "Been here for as long as anybeast can remember, and further back than any written records. Was used as a quarry 'til beasts didn't need it anymore."
   Cavaer, who was lingering nearby and gazing in awe at the pit, noticed something and pointed a claw at it. "Is that a cave?"
   Limb followed the direction. "Aye, that it be. There's plenty more where that came from, lad. This place is pitted with those dark holes."
"Mind if Thaze and I climb down there for a moment?"
"Sure, go right ahead."
Cavaer placed his sword he had borrowed from a hare down on the forest floor (he knew it would have been foolish to bring along Martin's sword), and began clambering down the side of the quarry, Thaze doing the same.
"Jolly big place this quarry, wot? Could fit Redwall in it! Looks like the same sort o' stuff used for the grand ould abbey too."
"Just one thing though . . ." Limb leaned over the edge where the mouse and hare were climbing and whispered loudly. "You wouldn't want to be 'round here at night, though. That's when the adders come out o' those holes and hunt for food."
   The squirrel laughed as Cavaer and Thaze nearly flew back up the slope, Cavaer grabbing his sword and pointing it shaking back where he had come from. Limb, still laughing, patted the mouse's shoulder heartily.
   Thaze glared at him. "Sah! I must insist that you nevah do that to my heart again!"
   "Relax, scout." Ronhuk chuckled. "I am sure he was jesting. Besides, it's not often Limb gets to use his sense of humor anyway."
   The veteran in question huffed, turning sharply and muttering something about them going on as the group moved after him.

"See that? Climbing marks on the side, clear as my old mum's warts."
   The two patrollers Ronhuk's group had passed before hunched at the edge where they had been looking at the quarry. The rat was crouched over the edge while the other, a weasel, held both their spears.
   "Aye, yer right, there, messmate. Lucky thing we came back after you heard that rock fallin', or we mighta never found this, especially after that rain from last night."
   The rat stood up but continued looking at the disturbed earth. "Strange, though . . . Ye'd think we'd've found sumthin' like thise before. They do look like youngbeasts, though . . ."
   The weasel snorted. "Aye, them young 'uns were probably goin' out without permission- didn't cover their tracks. Lord Grungath'll be mighty pleased."
   The rat turned, still looking at the ground. "That, or it was this bigbeast here. Hellsgates, lookit that print in the soft dirt here!"
   "D'you think . . . ?"
   "Doesn't matter; the Deathcaller'll take care of 'im. Let's get outa here!" The two immediately began jogging back to Redwall.

[Captain Tammo]

I was wondering when you'd get around to this again!

[The Skarzs]

So was I.

[Mhera]

Finally got around to reading this. Honestly, the first few chapters took a little effort to forge through, but your writing has really shaped up since those early entries. This has been very enjoyable, great work!

[The Skarzs]

I'm glad you found it enjoyable.

I would like to know, though: What made the first chapters hard to read? I'd like to know for future writing so I can improve even more.