Invaders of Redwall --- No Comments Please

[cairn destop]

Redwall Abbey has faced many enemies.  Bandits, chiefs, warlords, and pirates have all tried and failed since they lacked organization.  Once the leader's confidence broke, so did his force.  This time, the enemy is an army.  A well trained war machine that has its sights set on conquest.

There shall be prophecies to fulfill. Dreams will need interpretation.  Ambitions thwarted cannot be denied.  Above all, a secret long hidden must be revealed.

The story starts on June 30, 2014.

[cairn destop]

TEN WEEKS AGO

Tassel sat at the table in Cavern Hole, supervising the orphaned and abandoned dibbuns placed in her care.  Mealtime conversations swirled around the table touching on many topics that interested the children.  She ignored their discussions, pleased with their good behavior.

Another child ran into the vast dining hall, keeping ahead of her parents.  "We have snow outside," she shouted.

Tassel snorted at the excited announcement.  "Snow this early in the year?  We just celebrated the fall equinox three nights earlier."

Every child, including those at her table, rushed to the nearest window.  Redwall Abbey resounded with the sounds of delight from every child as snowflakes drifted across the window.  They remained enthralled by the sight until elders herded them back to their tables.  Tassel too found her young charges reluctant about leaving the scene.

The next morning, every child raced through their chores, eager to be outside.  When Tassel dismissed her brood, they charged the front door like a hungry mob at a picnic.  She almost laughed at their efforts to secure boots and heavy coats while running to the door.  As the first child prepared to exit, Tassel opened the door and joined the Abbey's eager children for their first sight of the early snowfall.

She almost laughed at the crestfallen expressions on every child's face.  Instead of a deep blanket of snow that could support snowball battles and snow carvings, the dibbuns found the ground dusted by a thin, disappointing layer of slush, good for nothing more than viewing.  Most of the children went back inside to shed the heavy garments.

Badgermom Tassel decided to remain outside.  She prowled the Abbey grounds checking on the dibbuns who came out earlier.  She made sure those with chores outside were hard at work under some trusted elder's supervision.  Tassel did a quick check on those playing, making sure all behaved, though she didn't disturb their fun.

Her meanderings took her to the Abbey's small orchard, which was as far from the Abbey proper as she could go without leaving the confines of Redwall.  She knew her mate, Bruno, had planned to do some pruning.  She decided to surprise him with a visit.

A heavy tree limb crashed to the ground by Tassel's foot.   Her head tilted upward.  At the top of a ladder, Bruno stood with a saw gripped in his paw.  He gave his mate a sly grin as he apologized for allowing the severed limb to fall so close to her.

"Bruno, you promised me you wouldn't be climbing into trees like some frisky squirrel.  A boar of your years should have helpers doing such labor." 

Before he could respond, Bruno pointed at something behind her.  In the distance, a young otter kit ran towards them.  The otter's calls to Tassel resonated with a note of urgency. 

The winded youngster stood bowed over.  His paws rested on his knees as his chest heaved like bellows in the blacksmith's shop.

"What is so important, Riverstone?"

"Mother Tassel, a unit of the Long Patrol just arrived."  The otter took several deep breathes before he could continue.  "The officer in charge ... he said ... he said he wanted you right now."

Tassel left the winded youth where he stood as she jogged towards the front gates, disregarding politeness for sheer urgency.  Bruno muffled a few ill worded oaths as he descended the ladder.  The heavy footfall of her mate so close behind her helped, but it didn't lessen her fear.

She knew if the Long Patrol was here for her after all this time, it meant Abbess Robertasin must have summoned them.  It seemed the only logical conclusion.  Perhaps the Mother Abbot grew tired of harboring a beast the law classified as vermin.

The Mother Abbot never hid her animosity towards Tassel.  In the early years, a strained truce existed between her and the Mother Abbot.  Such was the tension, that each avoided the other unless official business required otherwise.  Hard feelings, however, eventually mellowed and developed into an air of mutual respect.

The sixty hares stood within the courtyard, each at attention.  An officer strolled before them while the Abbess of Redwall reviewed the unit.  Robertasin pointed in their direction.  The hare officer turned.  He marched up to them; his expression seemed so jovial Tassel decided her initial fears might be unfounded.

"Bruno, Tassel, it's been far too many years.  It's so nice seeing both of you." 

Neither badger said anything.  The hare officer took a step back.  "Come now, I know I'm older, but don't you recognize me?"  He gave a deep bow.  "I'm Markus, or should I say General Markus of the Long Patrol, at your service."

Tassel broke her stunned silence, her voice sounding a bit incredulous.  "You have indeed changed, but then the last time we saw each other, you and your sister were quite an arrogant pair of teens."

Markus laughed as he rubbed the seat of his pants.  "Aye, you two gave us many a lesson on proper manners."  His voice turned more serious.  "I know you're wondering what brings me here and why I sent that young tyke searching for you, so let me come right to the point.  First off, I bring you word about your daughter, Serenity.  She asked that I deliver this letter and extend her love and best wishes."

Tassel growled, which had the hare retreat a few paces.  The letter remained in his extended paw.  Bruno jumped into the lull created by his mate's reaction.  His paw took the letter General Markus held. 

"My wife wasn't too thrilled when our daughter joined the military because of her own status with your liege.  Her objection over Serenity's choice of careers has been a bit of a sore spot between them."

"Then I hope Tassel will not object to my next piece of news.  I am on extended leave from the Long Patrol and have decided that I will vacation here over the next three or four months.  It's the first time I've been on leave since joining the army."

Bruno asked the obvious question.  "And those soldiers?"

"As a general, I always have a unit assigned to me, wherever I go.  Since I haven't officially left the military, they too will be enjoying time here at Redwall."

"Just what I need," groused Tassel, "all those hares shadowing my every move."

Markus either ignored or did not notice Tassel's tone when he grabbed her paw and pulled her along.  "They know they're on unofficial holiday while stationed here, so this will be the last time they will be in uniform until we depart.  After tonight, we will be under the command of Abbess Robertasin and she has asked that we disband for our duration here."

Bruno smiled.  Tassel relaxed.  Markus led the way back to his unit.  Each hare stood at rigid attention as the General approached.  He looked over his shoulder and whispered to Tassel.

"You might want to speak with the doe privates under my command.  Each of them had your daughter as their drill instructor and they speak quite highly of her."

As they approached the formation, Tassel leaned closer to Bruno.  She spoke in a voice intended for his ears alone.

"I have a feeling the next three months are going to be far more memorable than the last time we entertained Markus at our Abbey."

[cairn destop]

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER

"I told you I could find the trail without going past the rest of her pack.  Now that we're here, we can follow the path to her cabin."

A second beast joined the stoat as he exited the woods.  When it came to sheer power, the male wolf could best almost any other creature.  He brandished his cutlass and strutted onto the path.  He flexed his muscles, making a show of his physical prowess as he sheathed his blade.

"There was no need for us stalking through these woods, Nateem.  From what I heard at that last tavern, the foxes inhabiting this region welcome anyone wanting to visit their witch."

"You're an addlebrained fool, Shawarran.  If we sought their permission, it would mean negotiating a price with her kin.  I have no intention of parting with my gold.  Newly promoted officers don't have an unlimited supply of coinage."

A third beast stepped onto the path as if the others served her.  The golden-furred cat stood taller than anyone else, which emphasized her haughty attitude whenever she addressed the others.  Her golden eyes took in the view as she held her muzzle up, testing the wind.

"Nateem is right," she said.  "We have no time to spend negotiating a price with her elders, Shawarran.  Not if we intend making it back to our home country before our leave expires.  Even if this witch gives us a reading today, we have but five days remaining.  Considering the distance we have to cover, best we get started."

Nateem and the wolf nodded their agreement.  The wildcat gave a vicious tug on the leash she held and the last member of their group came scurrying forward.  The fourth beast traveled on all fours as her back held all of the group's gear.  One bundle covered much of her head, effectively blinding her.

As night drew near, they came upon a log cabin.  Nateem snorted and pointed to the cabin, demanding the others give him the credit for finding it.  The wolf sprinted forward and with a mighty blow, pounded his fist on the door.  When nobody responded, he repeated the heavy knocking.  For the third time he raised his fist, ready to hammer the door.

"If the four of you expect the witch to be within, I'm sorry to disappoint you.  She stands here, outside, enjoying the late winter sunlight." 

The vixen leaned on her cane as she inspected her armed interlopers.  She carried no weapon, yet showed no fear.  Her natural fur coloring remained hidden behind the heavy vestments she wore.  However, her face showed her to be a creature entering her later years as grey crept onto the fringes of her ears and muzzle.  She moved onto another path.

"I prefer watching the sunset from atop this mountain, though winter means I must move faster since darkness comes sooner."  She took a few steps and looked over her shoulder.  "If you intend speaking with me, come."

Nateem led the others up the hill, a pace behind the vixen witch.  The fox stood in the center of the field, her gaze looking out on a vista of farmlands.  She stood with her back to them, displaying no fear of her armed guests.

"Every creature knows me as Melody the Miserable, seer of things that can be and those that must come to pass.  Your arrival was foretold to me in a dream.  That is why the trail to my home has remained unguarded.  I did not want any innocent harmed when you invaded my solitude like the thieves that you are."

Nateem took several steps forward, cutting the distance between them in half.  "We are not thieves and will each offer you a silver coin for your services."

When she turned, she stared into his eyes.  Nateem stepped back as if she held a blade at his heart.  His paw hovered over his coin pouch, frozen in place by her look.

"I intend giving all four of you a reading, more as a punishment since knowledge of the future is a curse, not a blessing," she said.

"Our slave is not here for a reading.  Other than transporting our goods and transcribing your prophecies, she will not partake," replied Nateem.

"Nonetheless, she shall be given a reading or none of you will be given one."  Melody's eyes reflected a determination the others recognized could not be changed by words.

The wildcat wedged the hilt of her dagger between two rocks.  She then led the beast of burden so her chest rested above the blade.  With a lithe bound, the wildcat jumped onto the luggage.  For a moment, the beast buckled before returning to a four-paw stance.  In the fading light, all could see the blood-stained blade.

"Accept our terms of three readings witch," said the wildcat, "or there will be no need to read the future of a dead beast.  Decide fast, our slave has had a rough journey and I doubt she can hold my weight too long.  If you need convincing, I'll jump up and down on her back."

Nateem almost laughed at Melody's reaction.  The vixen's eyes widened, displaying her horror.  A look at the trembling arms of the slave forced the vixen out of her shocked stance. 

"You have made your point, she-devil, follow me to my cabin and come the morning, I shall give the three of you a reading.  Keep your silver, such blood money I'll not touch."

Once they reached the cabin, Melody went inside and slammed the door.  Nateem pointed at the door and the three creatures laughed.  Then he approached the wildcat.

"That was a foolish move, Purrnella.  You might have leveraged her feelings for our slave into a better deal, but if our slave died, we would lose any advantage we had."

Purrnella ignored his admonishment.   She released the harness holding all their gear.  A hard push toppled everything and allowed the beast below a chance at standing upright.  Freed of her burden, the slave squirrel first removed the gag that had kept her silent during their long trip.  She then examined the many injuries sustained during the day, including the puncture wound from the blade's tip.

"Get our tents up before I become angry," said Purrnella.  "You know what will happen if I become angry."  The wildcat pulled her arm back, ready to slap the slave.  Her claws extended to their full range.

Nateem grabbed the wildcat's wrist.  "I signed her out, not you.  If she is disabled or killed, her price comes out of my pay.  Give me five golds and Wobbles is all yours."

Purnella left.  Nateem approached the cowering slave.  "A squirrel without a tail, a sadistic wildcat, and a common history, something tells me there is a story here, but I'm too tired to ask.  I suggest you not burn dinner if you intend having a restful sleep."

xxxxx

Wobbles hastened to do her work.  Once the others climbed into their tents, she ate from the meager scraps remaining.  A chilling wind swirled about the cabin and she wrapped herself in a thin blanket as she sought out a sheltered spot where she could rest. 

Sleep almost claimed her, but a paw seized her muzzle.  The vixen held her muzzle shut.  With a beckoning paw, Melody led her into the cabin and offered her a hearty meal and a spot by the fireplace.  Though she expected repercussions come the morning, a full belly and a warm place to sleep this bitter winter night overrode her caution.

Next morning, Purrnella's shouting woke her.  "Wobbles, where are you?  Get your lazy butt over here or I swear I will make you rue the day you were born."

Melody reached the door first and, standing in the doorway, blocked the entrance.  "Your servant is inside; awaiting whichever one of you shall ask your question first.  The rest of you must remain outside."  With that, she slammed the door and crossed the room.

When the knocking began, Wobbles approached the door until Melody's voice halted her.  "Let them wait.  I must prepare seven goblets for what is about to pass."

At last Melody nodded to her and she unlocked door.  No sooner had the latch been unhooked than the stoat barged into the cabin.  Nateem swaggered to an empty chair.  The vixen then directed Wobbles to fetch the cup resting on the table's far left side.

Both watched the vixen mixing several herbs in the cup.  In slow motion, Melody deftly stirred the concoction while taking hold of the stoat's right paw.  The vixen let loose of the cup, whipped out a knife and pricked Nateem's palm.  Holding his paw over the cup, she counted the drops of blood that fell into it.  With the seventh drop, she snatched the cup.  "Speak your question, stoat, but know the future is never revealed with the clarity you wish."

"I seek knowledge regarding where the greatest danger to my future lies.  Tell me if I can avoid it."

Melody drained the cup and began muttering an incantation.  She opened her eyes, but her glazed stare showed that she saw something other than the room or its occupants.  For many moments, she remained unmoving and Nateem fidgeted.  Wobbles held her quill, awaiting the witch's words.

"Death shall seek you out within a circle of blood.  If you enter such a place, beware the dog burning both inside and out, for his golden blade shall bring defeat when victory is within your grasp."

Melody gave herself a shake and ordered the stoat outside.  Once again, she repeated the procedure with the wolf, Shawarran.  Like Nateem, he too asked if the vixen could foretell where danger awaited.  The vixen drank from the second cup and again she entered her trance.

"You shall hold the key to your own survival.  One day you shall face a demon guarding a small treasure that is beyond worth and cannot be carried within your purse.  Challenge the demon and your life shall end just as you taste victory.  Retreat and you shall view waters never-ending once more."

Then the wildcat entered.  Melody prepared another cup and awaited Purrnella's question.  She asked for the name of the creature that would kill her if she did not kill him first.  The vixen drained the cup and went into her self-induced trance.

"As a soldier, many shall challenge you, but always you shall prevail because of your superior skill.  Fate has your life ending in battle because of a plaything you lost long ago.  Your one chance at avoiding death will be the fear of another."

Once the vixen awoke, she ushered the wildcat outside.  Standing in the doorway, she ordered Wobbles to fetch three tankards and a large wine decanter.  Melody accepted the chalices and passed one to each of the three beasts standing outside.  The vixen approached the wildcat first.  When Melody tried filling her tankard, the wildcat placed her paw over the top.

"How do we know this wine has not been drugged like the potion inside?  Better we be sure than die of some venomous concoction.  Wobbles, drink."

Though she too feared the witch had poisoned the wine, she had no choice.  Stoat, wolf and wildcat watched as Wobbles took a long pull at the wine bottle.  She suffered no ill effects.  They ordered their cups filled.  Each downed their measure of wine, each smacked their lips in appreciation, and each collapsed in a heap like puppets with their strings snapped.

Melody chuckled.  "Twas not the wine that was drugged, the sleeping potion coated the inside of the cups.  We shall not be disturbed girl." 

At the vixen's call, several male foxes emerged from the nearby woods.  Even as Melody led Wobbles inside, the male foxes carried the others down the hill.

"It was foretold to me that four would come, but only three would seek counsel regarding the future.  To the fourth, I was to offer a very special potion."

Wobbles protested, yet she could not resist.  A lifetime as a slave conditioned her to absolute obedience and though her paws shook, she drained the beaker containing not only seven drops of her blood, but seven from the vixen.  Wobbles slipped into unconsciousness.

She found herself in a nightmare realm. All about her passed colored ribbons of light in every hue imaginable.  She floated in a brilliant void of colors.  Someone tapped her on the shoulder.  She turned and faced a nightmarish creature, a spider of incredible size.

"I am the personification of Fate.  It is I that weaves the web of life, who decides the length of any skein, and the ultimate pattern that you call reality.  Each colored ribbon of light is a life you or your companions had, are, or will touch."  One of the spider's legs moved in a slow, deliberate pattern and all but four ribbons disappeared.  At irregular spaces, lights hung like fruit on a long vine.

"May I ask what I am seeing?"

There came the sound of soft laughter within her head.  "You look on the threads that are the lives of you and the three that brought you to my humble servant.  The lights represent the ribbons of significant others whose future your passage shall affect.  I have simplified the tapestry I weave so your mind can understand."

"Why am I here?  I do not wish to know my future."

"Look at the distant pole.  Do you see how the ribbons stop?  At that point, each of you must determine what future shall prevail.  The correct choice will take that one further, but the wrong one shall mean an ending.  The others know the what and the who, but not the where.  That I grant to you alone."

Without realizing what she did, Wobbles grabbed the pole.  Within her mind a tableau of three stoic creatures appeared.  One beast, dressed in a green robe, stood in place while flanked on the left and right by two others.  The green-robed figure changed species and sex many times until it ended with the face of a black-furred squirrel with features edged in white.

The one that stood guard to the right, held a sword with a golden hilt containing a red stone.  Where the central creature projected a strong will, the warrior's expression was the very definition of determination.  The warrior morphed.  The first one appeared as a young mouse, followed by a variety of other species.  Eventually it ended, becoming another mouse, much older than the first.  When that mouse disappeared, the sword hung suspended in midair.

But the creature to the left remained constant.  Her features changed, but always a badger.  The other two had a grim appearance, but the sow's kind expression acted like a magnet to Wobbles' weary heart.  The last transformation had no head and Wobbles focused her eyes on this strangest sight.  Then a vision of indescribable horror appeared and with a great shudder, Wobbles released the pole.

Wobbles opened her eyes.  She found herself in a clearing with the other three.  The wildcat growled at her, Purrnella's voice betrayed her irritation.  Words tumbled out of her mouth like dice in a gambler's cup. 

"It took longer, but the witch's sleeping potion did work on me.  Like you, Lieutenant Purrnella, I don't know how I got here."

Purrnella ordered Wobbles into a four-paw stance and soon had her packed and ready for travel.  As they moved out, Wobbles noticed the quiet and preoccupied manner of everyone.  She knew each of them mulled over their own prophecy, wondering what secrets it held.  While she answered to the pull of her master's leash, unbidden words came to Wobble's mind.

"Honor and loyalty are two different things, each with a special meaning.  Embrace one and two shall die.  Hold onto the other and whatever you gain shall come at a high cost.  Which shall you choose?"

[cairn destop]

FOUR MONTHS EARLIER AND IN TWO PLACES

Dawn was still another hour away and those creatures within the compound slept.  As a light autumn breeze moved the blanket of one beast, she shivered.  That action disturbed a corner of the blanket allowing even more of the chill wind inside.  She shivered a little harder and stirred.

Sleep became impossible.  She flipped the blanket aside.  She checked the nearby sleepers and saw everyone tucked tightly in their bedrolls, many of them snoring.  With a slow motion, she stood and stretched the kinks out of her back from sleeping on the cold ground.

A flick of the wrist and she soon had her blanket lying out flat.  Another moment and she had it folded and secured, awaiting transportation.  She became so engrossed in this routine activity that she didn't hear the approach of another beast until he spoke.

"Mornin' Wobbles, how'd the night go?"

"No worse than expected, Sergeant.  Are you here for me or did you just happen by?"

The sergeant, an old stoat with many a battle scar, shook his head.  He continued leaning on his spear as he watched her stow everything.  He kept his voice low, not wishing to disturb the other slaves sleeping around them.

"Just gettin' off duty an' I was takin' a short cut through the slave compound to my tent, that's all."  He pointed to the bedroll.  "You put some of my recruits to shame, Wobbles.  Don't think any of them could do as well packin' their gear."

Wobbles shrugged.  "Twenty years does that to you.  I can still remember when we both were raw recruits.  You looking forward to a soldier's career and me to" and here she hesitated, "a new beginning perhaps.  I'm a bit surprised you never tried for officer, you got the brains for it."

The stoat spat off to the side, just missing another sleeping beast.  "Them fancy-furred officers can have their titles; we all know who really commands the soldiers."

Both shared a light laugh before the stoat departed.  "I'll let the gate watch know you're comin' through." 

It had taken a few years learning the army's routine, but now Wobbles considered it a pleasant assignment.  She remembered how her last master sold her to the military, figuring such a harsh existence a just punishment for her attempted escape.  Though living conditions made life difficult at times, she worked hard and gained something of a well-earned reputation. 

Now, officers requisitioning a work detail, requested her.  They knew she would do whatever was necessary completing her duties in a timely manner.  Over the years, she acquired more rank and moved from a mere grunt slave to the privileged rank of overseer.  Now, she served only the officer corps.

Wobbles took another prolonged stretch.  She then reached into her belt pouch and removed her earrings.  She fastened two buttons, one white and the other gold, to each ear and flicked them, checking that her badge of rank remained secure.  After a quick glance about the area, she moved towards the gate.

Back at base, slaves lived in an enclosed stockade that afforded everyone some shelter and the question of unauthorized exits seldom happened.  When the army moved into the field, slaves slept in an area designated by a series of short stakes connected by rope.  A slave who crossed this barrier, without permission, risked some form of punishment, which could range from a loss of privileges to a public flogging. 

Wobbles strode towards the one break in the rope fence.  Every slave called this opening the gate.  They needed permission whenever they entered or left.  As she approached, Wobbles saw the guard talking to the old Sergeant and decided she had enough time that she could pass a few pleasantries. 

"Greetings Sergeant, have you heard anything about us moving on?"

"Depends on what happens when we cross swords with their soldiers.  Unless this ruler has a larger force than we've been told, victory should be ours in short order.  Another week or so marchin' on the capital and we should have their surrender."

The Sergeant continued his interrupted conversation.  "Did you hear a rumor about the General losin' his chef in the last skirmish?  Seems hard believin' a general would assign his favorite cook as a charioteer driver."

The other guard nodded.  "Oh it's true.  His lordship didn't take too kindly to finding his food tainted.  Cookie claimed he got it from supply, but you know those guys in procurement covered their furry butts real good.  Looks like our general will be going without a cooked breakfast this morning."

"Then I know what my first assignment will be," said Wobbles.  "By the way, I heard we captured a large town yesterday, just east of here."

"You should know better than to listen to such rumors." said the guard.  "That town was nothing but a collection of huts around some traveler's inn.  Only beast killed was that fool slave chef when he drove his chariot over a weak bridge and fell into a deep pond.  We took a lot of prisoners, all civilians; no glory there."

Wobbles thanked the guard for his information.  She walked down the camp's central road to the prisoner's compound.  The guards posted about this area noted her earrings and allowed her access.  Like the slave section, everyone slept on the ground with a blanket wrapped about them.  Unlike the slave's enclosure, a rope about one ankle secured each prisoner to a stake. 

A glance at the body of one beast that must have slipped his or her rope off convinced the others that remaining in one spot a far smarter alternative.  The grizzly body hung from atop a high bar straddling two posts.  The unknown creature hung upside down, secured by two iron hooks driven through the crossbeam and piercing its ankles.  At that point, the soldiers must have flayed the body with their swords, leaving the mutilated corpse hanging as a reminder to anyone considering escape.

Wobbles pulled her eyes from the gruesome sight and inspected the sleeping creatures.  She walked up and down the rows of slumbering creatures until she found her quarry.  This female vole must be the fattest beast in the entire prisoner camp.  Stooping down, she grabbed the creature's muzzle and yanked it hard, startling the vole awake.

"Tell me the truth as your very life depends on it.  Are you the cook for the inn our soldiers captured yesterday?"  She felt the vole's head bob, Wobbles released her hold.  "I am giving you a chance at something better than driving a chariot into battle later today.  Depending on the generosity of your new master, he might even release you after the war, but don't expect it."

"How did you know I was a cook?  I told no one."

"I have heard it said that a fat cook means a good eatery, so I looked for the fattest creature, and you're it.  Now tell me your name as I have no intention of yelling 'hey vole' whenever I want your attention."

"I'm called Wiana.  Now it's your turn to answer a question.  Can you tell me what will happen to my two babies, Saupna and Harosa?"

"If your children were toddlers or younger, they were butchered for meat.  I'm sorry, that's how it is for an army on the move."  Wobbles wondered if that was a smart thing to say, but if the vole found out later, it could be trouble.

"My babies are ten and twelve years, not toddlers.  Both of my girls sleep a short distance away."

Wobbles followed her pointing finger and remembered seeing many children among the captured prisoners.  "They will be sold as spoils of war when we return home, unless they can prove their usefulness now."

She watched the vole's eyes and saw how she latched onto any chance at keeping her children.  The vole grabbed Wobbles' wrist with an iron grip as she asked what she could do.  She hesitated for a moment, letting the creature's fear build.  Wobbles's hoped her expression conveyed optimism.

"If they are obedient and if they know how to serve meals, there is a chance the three of you will be kept together.  For how long, I cannot promise." 

When the vole claimed both daughters were obedient and excellent workers, Wobbles told the mother to fetch them.  A while later, the four walked from the compound and down the dirt road.  They turned left, approaching a large tent with the canvas rolled up in the front.  Even in the dull glow of the morning sun, they could make out the cooking stoves lining the rear.  Wobbles gave the three a quick tour, showing them where the larders were and the stacked woodpile.  She showed the youngest daughter where she could draw water and had her relay filled buckets back to her mother.

Wobbles stood in place, as the mother and oldest daughter fired up the stoves.  The first pot had just started boiling when three ferrets came into the tent and took a seat.  One of them growled at the cook, demanding immediate service.  As the mother placed the first serving into the stove, the older daughter poured hot tea for each of them.  Another half-dozen soldiers entered.

She asked for one meal to be made ready.  Once she had everything on the serving tray, Wobbles hefted it.  Before she could leave the tent, the mother blocked her way.  Though more officers filled the tent demanding immediate service, the vole did not seem concerned.

"You could have chosen anyone as helpers, Wobbles.  Why choose my daughters?"

"I don't know if I can trust you, Wiana, but I am sure you will do whatever is necessary protecting those two."  Her voice maintained a gruffness she didn't honestly feel.

No doubt the mother detected that false note and pressed her advantage.  "You have another reason.  Tell me."

"I know how devoted a mother is to her child, and I know the pain when that child is lost forever.  I'll not let another suffer such a loss if I can help it."

With that, Wobbles pushed pass the vole and made for the exit.  The mother tried following, but the clamoring from those seated within the officer's mess left her with two choices.  The vole could follow her and maybe see the children suffer, or return to her duties and possibly keep them safe.  Wiana had no real choice.

xxxxx

Threadfoot approached the building.  She pulled her jacket tighter, trying to keep out the night's chill air.  She hoped a brisk walk from the Warren District of Fiery Mountain would warm her; it didn't work.  She thought she would be entering the training camp in daylight, but the recruiter emphasized the time she had to report, which was more than an hour before dawn.  A look at the camp's clock showed she had less than a quarter hour.

As she rounded the corner, she almost bumped into a dozen hares standing apart from what had to be over a hundred does.  She recognized some and passed a few pleasantries.  One doe pointed across the road where a large contingent of buck hares stood.  She thought about joining them until she realized how little time she had for idle talk.

A door opened and a female hare exited the building.  The uniformed hare stood in front of them, holding a clipboard.  For a moment, she examined the papers, ignoring the questions some of the does shouted.  The hare called all the does closer.

"I'm Captain Percher.  Welcome to boot camp.  Form a single line and we'll get you started.  It's going to be a long day.  For most of you, it's the army.  A few of you might, and I'll emphasize that word, might make it to the Long Patrol.  Either way, every one of you is ours for the next three years."

Threadfoot joined the line as it worked its way into the building.  She did no more than confirm her identity and sign a few papers she never got a chance to read before they directed her to another building.  From there, it became an endless series of showers, exams and questions.  She found herself running from one building to another while her empty belly rebelled.

In one building, they shaved her fur so close, she saw more skin than fur.  Two medics went over her with a fine toothed comb, checking it for infestations.  They gave her britches for modesty before ordering her to another in a series of buildings.  She should have been cold with this little fur, but the sun warmed her.  Threadfoot entered the building, stripped, and deposited her garment in a bag.  Like the other inductees, she followed a line, and received new clothing.  At the far end of the room, she dressed.  As she exited the changing room, a bored clerk assigned her to a barracks.

She ran to the building where a buck hare waved her inside.  Threadfoot raced halfway down the corridor, turned left, and dropped everything she had been given on the upper bunk.  Another doe hare bumped into her hip as she dumped her stuff on the lower bunk.  She extended her paw to the other hare.

"My name's Threadfoot.  Looks like we're goin' to be a sharin' space here."

"Sandythorn, my name's Sandythorn.  Nobody ever said it was like this, and it's only the first day.  I'm beginning to wonder if I made a mistake joining this bloody army."

Threadfoot patted her bunkmate on the back.  "Both my parents were in the military.  Trust me, everything will work out just fine."

With a sound like thunder crashing overhead, the door at the far end of the barracks banged against the wall.  A female badger strolled into the room with a defiant swagger.  Her scowling expression froze everyone in place.

"My name is Sergeant Serenity.  For the next six weeks, I will be your drill instructor.  It is my job to turn you misfits into soldiers.  Until you benighted bunnies prove you are worthy of that title, I will be your mother."

One hare snickered.  In an instant, the badger hauled the doe up by her ears, forcing her onto her toes.  When the doe reached up, trying to free her long ears, the badger gave a hard twist that had the girl crying.  Sergeant Serenity's voice overpowered her wails as she screamed in the teen doe's ear.

"I hear you show any officer or noncom such disrespect again, I will paddle that cottontail rump 'til there's not a stitch of fur on it.  Do I make myself clear?"  The badger released the hare's ears.  A shove of her foot sent the sobbing doe tumbling into the wall.

"Anybody else like to try their luck?"

Nobody stirred as the sow badger moved down the central aisle.  Sergeant Serenity glared at a group bunched near a bunk.  A step towards another doe sitting on a footlocker had that one jumping up as if the thing had morphed into a hot stove.  The badger stood over this miscreant, no more than a whisker's length between them.  Sergeant Serenity growled at the hare.

Five recruits nudged their nearest companion and snicker.  With a speed Threadfoot never attributed to badgers, the drill instructor reversed course.  She crossed the room and bowled into the group.  Her paws slapped the five does until they fell into a heap cowering between two bunks, sobbing like newborn babes.

"Rule number one: When one of you is in trouble with me, all of you had better be on your best behavior."  Turning to the rest of the room, she bellowed.  "Do I make myself understood?"

When nobody replied, Sergeant Serenity screamed her question a second time.  As the silence returned, Threadfoot called out. 

"Ma'am, yes ma'am." 

The young hare found herself looking into the face of an irate badger.  Threadfoot focused her eyes forward on a point beyond the sow's face, maintaining what she hoped would pass for a blank expression.  Her facial fur ruffled like tall grass before a strong wind.  After several seconds, the badger stepped back.

"Sounds like you know something about the military, recruit."

"My parents were in ...."

Once again the sow's voice screamed out as she stood within a whisker's length of Threadfoot's nose.

"Your parents are not here.  I don't give a bloody fig what your parents did or didn't do.  You, recruit, are nothing but maggot meat and until I say otherwise, that will be your new name.  Now gather your gear and find another bed ... Maggot."

The badger marched to the only door leading outside, trapping them inside.  Sergeant Serenity ordered the recruits to find an empty bunk.  For the next few moments, everyone dashed about like frogs on a hot skillet.  When each hare stood by a bunk, the badger swaggered down the main aisle.  She pointed to one recruit and then another.  Without another word spoken, the two does gathered all their gear and exchanged bunks. 

Threadfoot hoped the badger would walk past her.  Instead, she stopped.  The badger stared at her for several seconds without saying a word or uttering a sound.  Threadfoot kept quiet.  Sergeant Serenity moved down the central isle as she reassigned some of the hares to different bunks.  At the far wall, she reversed course, giving each recruit a long look.  When she finished her visual inspection, she blocked the only exit.

"Since this is your first day, I'm going to be nice.  You have ten minutes to stow your gear and make that bunk.  Starting now."

Like the other hares, Threadfoot hesitated.  One hare turned towards her bunk.  In seconds, the does arranged the gear they received in footlockers.  She glanced towards the front of the barracks where the Sergeant stood.  The badger's expression reminded her of her mother when her latest misdeed got her in big trouble. 

Some inner sense warned her about this badger.  The sergeant would administer a harsh thrashing, if given the slightest provocation.  Threadfoot figured she already made herself a special target.  Best she regained her rightful name before Maggot turned into a permanent title. 

Mother said to keep in the background, don't make any trouble, looks like I goofed again.  What a way to start a military life.

[cairn destop]

PURRNELLA RETURNS

"If there is anything I hate about the military, it has to be traveling by water."

She held onto the railing as the raft bobbed across the waves.  Her claws extended with each bounce, digging a bit deeper into the wood.  She groaned when a strong breeze made the raft lurch sideways.  Her tail slashed the air like a broadsword, keeping the other soldiers at a distance.

A sea rat sergeant sharing space along the railing turned her way.  "Sorry, Major, I didn't know we had a wildcat on this raft.  I can understand your reluctance about the river ride, but you must admit; it'll get us to camp a lot sooner than slogging through that forest."

She glanced at the sea rat, and then watched the near shoreline.  "You're right, Sergeant, our journey would be longer and our paws twice as sore.  I suppose it's just my aversion to water travel.  I'm a foot soldier, not a bloody fish."

"Any idea what's going on, Major?"

"Like everyone else in this flotilla of rafts, we're all going to a new camp as replacements for the forces lost during the last campaign."  She held up her paw and flexed her claws.  "Now that was enjoyable, almost enough bloodletting to satisfy even my taste." She shook her head and turned to the Sergeant.  "Sorry to say, all I know is that I'm the ranking officer, responsible for leading this force to camp.  Had I been a week earlier, some newly commissioned Colonel would be in command."

The sea rat returned to his spot on the railing, leaving the officer alone.  The raft journeyed downriver at a rapid pace, thanks to a strong current.  As the raft passed the next bend, the town came into view.  A few moments later, the raft bounced against the piling.  She hastened off the raft.

"Good to have solid ground beneath one's feet."

From all directions came the sounds of bellowed commands.  Soldiers formed ranks and awaited inspection by whichever officer commanded them.  The overall appearance might mimic chaos, but one by one each unit took to the road in proper military fashion.

Major Purrnella did not rush.  She commanded these units for the time it took marching from the river town to their base.  Since they were deep within their homeland, the trek held no danger.  She brushed her blouse and with a deliberate ease, shouldered her gear.  She allowed a unit of sea rats to pass her and waited until she sighted the same sergeant she met on the raft.  When the noncom spotted her approaching, he snapped off a quick salute.

"At ease, Sergeant, since we're all going the same way, I'll travel with you."

The sergeant trailed his unit with the Major shadowing his every move.  They continued marching along, the sergeant checking his unit and growling his orders while she scanned the other companies.  After several moments, the sergeant spoke, though he never faced her.

"Begging your pardon, Major, shouldn't you be up front?"

"For all I know, this will be our one and only meeting.  Why should I ruin a ten league march issuing orders that you're carrying out?  It wouldn't make sense."

The sergeant nodded.  "You're pretty smart for an officer, Major.  It makes no sense at all trying to impress somebody at base when we're not going anywhere soon.  With winter fast approaching, everyone will settle down until spring."

The rest of the forced march passed without incident, and by early afternoon they topped a ridge.  A sprawling tent city filled the valley below her.  As each unit passed the gate, they were met by an officer who directed them to their bivouac area. 

Major Purrnella walked to the hut of the camp's commander.  At first, she thought the place deserted.  She announced her presence.  An elderly mole came around a row of file cabinets, carrying a clipboard.  His brown garb appeared neat, but it was the uniform of a slave.  A white and gold disk attached to his ears, designated the male mole as a slave assigned to an officer of high rank.  Though she hated demeaning herself to a lowly slave, she could discern no other option.

"Major Purrnella Slyclaw, reporting for duty." Her eyes focused on a spot above the head of the mole as she handed her orders to the slave.

The mole retrieved his spectacles from the desk and gave her papers a cursory inspection.  He approached a closed door.  He gave a firm knock before he entered the room.  Another five minutes passed before the mole emerged, moving somewhat faster than he did when she first spotted him.  The mole retreated to his desk where he wrote furiously.  Purrnella approached the room the slave exited.

"No need for that, Major.  The General has ordered me to give you directions to your quarters.  You will be briefed later regarding your duties."

It galled her to accept instructions from a lowly slave, but she did not comment, though her exposed claws were a clear sign of her agitation.  Once beyond the Commander's office, she stormed down the appropriate road, kicking at any visible rock she passed.  After reaching her assigned quarters, she dropped her gear on a bunk. 

The sight of the mess tent across the muddy road reminded her that she had eaten nothing since dawn.  The idea of a hot meal appealed to her.  For a moment, she wavered between the task of arranging her gear and the prospect of some good food.

"This can wait until later," she muttered.

She no sooner entered the mess tent when she recognized two close friends.  The first was a stoat Colonel that had risen in the ranks due to his ferocity in battle.  Across the table sat a grey wolf wearing the insignia of a Brigadier General.  She remembered his ingenuity in battle back when they shared the rank of lieutenant.  They must have seen her too as they made space for her and waved her over to them.

"Nateem, I see the High Command finally came to its senses and made you a Colonel.  And you, Shawarran, you're a Brigadier?  When did that happen?"

The wolf leaned back and smiled at her.  "The ink on our promotions hasn't even dried yet, that's how new our rank is.  It's also the reason why all of us are here.  When we move out of this camp, I will be commanding the Fourth Infantry, Fourth Paw, a unit that will number around ten thousand soldiers and a quarter as many support slaves."

The stoat, Nateem, patted the seat next to him.  "Shawarran tells me that he got first crack at selecting the officers he wants since his unit is so new.  Our General figures that a new unit needs experienced officers, which is why you're here.  Perhaps your luck will be better under the command of a friend."

Purrnella plopped down hard on the seat.  "Luck had nothing to do with my rank, unless you mean bad luck.  I was denied that promotion to Colonel by my last commander because he hated wildcats."

"Don't you mean because you were too cruel and heavy-pawed to those you conquered?"  Brigadier Shawarran's look dared her to contradict him.  "The story I hear is that you butchered half a village because somebody threw a rotten egg at one of your soldiers."

Purrnella gave a menacing laugh.  "My commander thought I overreacted.   Well, it pacified the town.  That fool of a ferret wanted me to coddle the natives; play nice was how he worded it."

The wolf's expression never changed.  "More like you intimidated them into submission.  The villagers were smart and never openly rebelled, but they resented our presence.  Thanks to you, we never got any peace, or the cooperation we needed from that region." 

Shawarran held up his paw when she tried to reply, effectively silencing her.  "The truth is no commander wants you, Major Purrnella.  Your excessively cruel streak and iron-fist mentality have cost us too many opportunities at gaining the trust of our former enemies or the confidence of allies.  As a friend, I will assign you some duty within my command, but you had better believe this next campaign may well be your last if you don't measure up."

Whatever tension remained between her and the wolf disappeared when Nateem chuckled.  She turned towards Nateem and he pointed to the back entrance of the tent.  What she saw had her claws sliding out of their sheaths.  Perhaps this assignment offered her some opportunities beyond that of inflicting pain on her enemies.

"Talk about a reunion.  Isn't that the same slave your family sold to the army some twenty years ago?  She's also the one we took to see the witch right after we received our officer's commission."

All three officers turned as one towards the back.  There, to the side of the back tent flap and talking to the vole cook, stood a tall grey female squirrel.  In her ears there were two gold disks, designating her as a slave taskmaster.  She moved inside the tent, checking on the dozen slaves operating the kitchen and serving meals.

Major Purrnella enjoyed the squirrel's reaction when she noticed them.  The squirrel's paw traced the scar that ran across her chest.  She took a step backwards.  Purrnella pointed at her and then at her cup, hoping she would miss the message.  She had a few ideas about how entertaining a squirrel would be while hovering above a low fire.

The slave squirrel filled a tray with a selection of different foods and secured a pitcher.  She hustled to their table.  The squirrel placed the food between the three and greeted each by rank as she filled their cups with the hot cider. 

"It's been a few years, hasn't it, Wobbles?" 

The slave acknowledged her name with a smile and nodded.  "It has indeed, Brigadier.  Last time we were together we visited that witch.  When we got back to base, the fortunes of war sent us in different directions."

"You're wearing the double gold of a grand overlord.  Which slave unit are you commanding?"

"My new designation is quiet new, less than a week.  As to which unit, I've been assigned to yours, Brigadier."

"Your efficiency is well known; I'll expect your best.  By the way, Major Purrnella, told us she knew several interesting stories about your past, including the one about how a squirrel lost her bushy tail."

"I'm sure the Major has told you everything you wanted to know, Brigadier."

"Nonetheless, I'd like to hear your version of the tale."  The inadvertent pun made Brigadier Shawarran laugh.

She knew Wobbles couldn't refuse such a direct order.  The stoat and the wolf remained attentive while she continued eating.  Purrnella offered a word of advice before the story started. 

"See that you tell the truth, Wobbles.  I might have been a five-year-old tabby, but I remember what happened, even from so long ago."

"No threats are necessary, Major.  It's a simple story.  I was being transported to my new home when our ship was beached for repairs.  My escape attempt failed and my son died when he fell into quicksand.  After I was recaptured, I received a flogging, but that wasn't the end of my punishment.  Every morning the Captain commanding the vessel would ask if they sighted land.  Each time the lookout responded no, he carved one bone off the end of my tail.  Good fortune smiled on me as a strong wind saved the little I have left."

"Go on," growled Purrnella, "finish the story."

"Your father wasn't too pleased as he thought he had been given an obedient slave and I proved rebellious.  He sold me that very day to the army.  When the procurement officer came, I lurched about like a drunken sailor.  Between the loss of my tail and me spending so much time at sea tied to the fantail railing, my sense of balance wasn't what it should have been.  His comment about me wobbling down the gangplank gave me my army name."

Both stoat and wolf broke out in gales of laughter.  "How about that?  We got a bonus story about your name," retorted the wolf. 

"You're right, Purrnella," said Nateem, "it wasn't worth the effort hearing." 

xxxxx

Purrnella waved her away and Wobbles made a hasty retreat to the kitchen area.  Once she moved out of their sight, she leaned against the woodpile and tried calming her racing heart.  After all this time, those memories flashed in her mind as if it happened twenty minutes ago and not those twenty years. 

She remembered the sea rat sawing another bone off her tail each morning.  Wobbles recalled the searing heat from the hot dagger he used to cauterize the wound and shuddered.  Such memories were painful, but there was still one thing that made reliving that time worth the suffering.  It remained her most closely guarded secret. 

Wobbles knew her son did not die.  She lied when she told the sea rat he drowned in quicksand.  Her last sight of him was when she passed the tree where he hid.  After all these years, she believed in her heart of hearts that her son still lived. 

[cairn destop]

A PACK OF TROUBLES

Once the meal ended, Major Purrnella excused herself, claiming she had to unpack her gear.  Her two companions wished her well as she left the mess tent.  She made her way across the muddy road.  As she approached her new quarters, she froze.  There in the tent, an intruder rifled through her gear.  A quick step put her inside the tent and behind the intruder.  She slammed the tent's canvas door.

A young male mouse stood next to her cot.  The fellow had placed her spare uniform onto a hanger and paused next to an upright storage locker.  Even from where Major Purrnella stood, she could see her other uniforms already hanging in proper order.  The slave first hung her uniform, and then came to attention, just as his training dictated.

Like the soldiers, slaves in an army wore uniforms and had rank designations.  A boss slave wore two white disks and commanded grunts or served low ranking officers.  Overseers had one gold and one white disk, and served a specific high ranking officer, with authority over the boss slaves.

This slave wore but one white disk, which designated him as a low ranking grunt.  She considered his assignment to her nothing more than an insult.  Overseers served high ranking officers, since they had some authority over other slaves.  Such a deliberate slight infuriated her.  She needed something, or someone, as a target for her anger. 

"Just what in Hellsgate are you doing?  Who gave you permission to disturb my gear?"

Her sharp voice made the slave jump almost a foot off the ground.  The young mouse gave an audible gulp as he stepped forward.  His downcast eyes and meek voice marked him as one that knew his place, but her anger needed a target. 

"I was ordered to unpack your gear, Major.  I was also told to provide whatever assistance you needed while the grand overseer found a suitable servant."

So far, Major Purrnella suffered the indignity of addressing one slave as an equal.  Then her new commander, somebody she thought a good friend, reamed her for actions she considered an appropriate response to a rebellious populace.  Since she didn't know who assigned her a grunt, the young mouse became the very embodiment for every slight she suffered.

She stormed across the tent's floor and raked the youth's head with her unsheathed claws.  The mouse howled in pain and tried retreating.  That this slave even tried avoiding her claws infuriated her even more.  Purrnella kept her claws sheathed as she batted the mouse about the floor, making sure she inflicted as much pain while blocking his every attempt at escape.  At one point, the mouse crawled under a cot, no doubt hoping to avoid another roundhouse punch aimed at his ribs.

When Purrnella lifted the cot, the mouse youth darted between her legs.  He jumped upright, which toppled her.  As the slave dashed for the door, Purrnella scrambled back to her paws.  Her claws extended by reflex, but missed him as he cleared the doorway.  Such was the slave's panic that he did not see the officer before him.  Two strong paws clamped onto his shoulders.

"Nice catch, Brigadier," said Purrnella.  "I demand this slave be punished, and that I have the honor of administering whatever I deem an appropriate beating."

Brigadier Shawarran maintained his grip on the injured slave.  After giving the mouse a cursory look, he turned to the Major and asked for an explanation.  Her initial charge had the mouse ready to speak in his own defense.  The wolf's claws dug into his shoulders.

"I have not given you permission to speak, slave," said the Brigadier.

She then charged the slave with striking her, which carried a severe penalty.  The mouse remained quiet while the wolf said nothing.  The Brigadier summoned two soldiers standing near the officer's mess tent.

"Take this slave to the Infirmary and see that his injuries are treated.  Have him relieved of all assigned duties for today and tomorrow, on my authority.  See that our commander is aware of this incident and that I recommended no punishment."

Purrnella stood there, eyes wide, consumed by her anger.  Her objections never got voiced as the wolf motioned her inside the tent.  With the two of them in relative privacy, Shawarran dropped all pretense of friendship.

"You have a reputation for being an obnoxious beast with a cruel streak wider than the ocean.  Unfortunately, I see it's well earned, if not understated.  Knowing you're that abusive with army property, I don't believe I can trust you.  My initial intention was giving you command of a front-line combat unit.  After this display, Captain, I have changed my mind.  Instead, I will have you placed in a support capacity where others can keep a tight rein on your abrasive tendencies."

"My rank is Major," she snarled.

"Not anymore."  He silenced her with an upraised paw.  "Yes, it's your option to protest your demotion, but if you do, every charge that I had quashed from your last duty post will become public knowledge.  When the military tribunal is convened, you'll be lucky to maintain your status as an officer.  Need I say more . . . Captain?"

Purrnella couldn't say anything without jeopardizing what was left of her military career.  She kept silent.  No matter how angry she felt, she knew her former friend had the power and the authority to make good on his threats.  The two continued a staring contest until she lowered her eyes.  The Brigadier then turned and exited the tent.  Once the wolf left her tent, she vented her anger by pummeling the metal storage locker containing her uniforms.

xxxxx

Nateem waited outside until the wolf joined him.  The two walked down the road as they proceeded to the General's command center.  They continued for several moments before Nateem broke the awkward silence, hoping a change of subjects would allow the Brigadier time to assume a calmer demeanor.

"Any idea what the General wants of us?  I mean, who would be foolhardy enough to start a military campaign with winter but another month away?  Personally, I'm hoping the rumors of us bivouacking along the southern coastline are true.  I know a few places down there where the females know how to entertain a soldier in proper fashion."

"Our General is far too ambitious.  That ermine is looking for a position with the High Command, maybe even something higher."

That made Nateem hesitate a step and he had to double his pace.  When he drew next to the wolf, Brigadier Shawarran continued his conversation like it had never been interrupted. 

"Last time I checked, you don't get such a command assignment occupying a rear echelon sector.  You get it by grabbing glory in a bold and heroic campaign."

They had no further opportunity speculating as they had reached the General's office.  The general's slave greeted them and led them into another building.  There, a tall ermine stood, his winter coat just starting to claim dominance over his usual dark brown pelt.  He positioned himself at the far end of a huge table that remained under cover.  On both sides of the table, others sat in attentive anticipation.   

Colonel Nateem noted the various insignias belonging to units under General Zavallin's command.  He watched with some interest the jockeying for position as officers displaced lower ranked members to the far end of the table.  He also noticed the presence of two large sea rats that displayed the rank insignias of Fleet Admiral. 

Brigadier Shawarran nudged him.  "So much for that rumored easy duty station, Colonel.  You don't need two flag officers commanding a flotilla of rafts.  You can bet the General has something much bigger planned."

General Zavallin called the meeting to order.  There was an awkward silence as the mole slave entered the office and handed the General a piece of paper.  Once the slave departed, the General turned the meeting over to a lady ferret standing behind a podium.  When all conversations ceased, she ordered the cloth removed from the table.

A large-scale map of an unknown landmass filled the table.  As everyone tried taking in the scene, the ferret passed several folders down the table.  Each officer kept the bundle with their name and passed the rest to the next officer in line.  When the officers opened their folder, she gave a sharp bark.  Everyone refocused their eyes on her.

"What you're looking at, is a land mass approximately half our empire's size.  To date, this place has no official name, as the creatures living there are as diverse as they are divided.  The only unified ruling body is along the northern coast, running from Point Clisler to Icy Inlet, and even that can be considered a misnomer.  They rule a quarter of the land in a loose alliance called, The Council of Ruling Nobles, led by a badger named King Brisson."

Another ferret raised her paw and asked a question about their military.  He asked her if she knew why this Council of Ruling Nobles had not extended their authority further inland.

"Initially, they formed a military alliance against a common enemy.  When peace returned, each ruler maintained his or her political power base.  In essence, they have been united in name only.  If there is a need to use military force, the particular kingdom uses its own army.  They might request aid from others, but such requests seem driven by politics rather than sound military judgment.  Since the time of their initial unification, they have never acted as a united force."

From his seat, the General spoke to the silent room.  "I intend to initiate an invasion of this land mass with the return of spring.  That gives everyone sixteen weeks preparation time and another two weeks before the actual invasion.  Once we can conquer this Northern Alliance, the rest of the island continent will fall."

When silence returned to the room, the lady ferret continued her briefing.  "The folders you have contain whatever information you need for completing your primary assignment.  Over the next ten days, prepare a battle plan for your objective.  We will meet here at that time to discuss them and to coordinate our campaign."

With that, the officers dispersed.  Outside, Colonel Nateem waited for the Brigadier to inform him of their assignment.  Brigadier Shawarran opened the file and then snorted.  Nateem thought the wolf's expression appeared displeased.  His monologue turned into a fine example of vulgarity at its finest.

"Our assignment couldn't be that bad," said Nateem.

The wolf handed the packet to him and continued back to his quarters, cursing under his breathe.  Nateem came to a standstill while reading the folder.  When he finished, he raced after the Brigadier.

"Talk about your rotten luck, Brigadier.  We drew the tertiary support role of capturing and expanding the port of Ferretville.  In this upcoming campaign, we become nothing more than a garrison force.  Our primary duty will be protecting the engineers responsible for expanding the port's facilities.  While the rest of the army is fighting in the north, we're stuck in the south, twiddling our thumbs."

Brigadier Shararran pounded his right fist into the palm of his left paw.  His voice remained so low Nateem had trouble hearing the words.  However, the wolf's tone told him all he needed to know.  He didn't like their assignment. 

"Brigadier, we do become the lynchpin in the second phase of our conquest.  Without the port of Ferretville, there will be no means for conquering the southern half of that continent.  Perhaps General Zavallin will offer us a more worthy objective at that time."

"Once this Council of Ruling Nobles falls, the rest of our war will be nothing more than a mopping operation.  There will be no glory in conquering simple farm hamlets scattered about the region.  Such tasks are for the greenest units, those yet to taste blood." 

"I see what you mean about ambitious plans," said Nateem.  "General Zavallin must expect this victory to give him land and possibly a nobleman's title.  Perhaps he perceives this crusade as a chance of toppling our king or becoming a ruler of his own realm.  No doubt those officers that excel during this campaign will be granted titles and land holdings commensurate with their conquests."

The silence stretched out as they rounded the last turn in the road and Brigadier Shawarran entered his hut.  Nateem caught the door before the wolf could slam it in his face.

"Too bad we have such a poor assignment, Brigadier.  Without a chance at glory, all we can expect is a few extra gold coins in our purse when this campaign is completed."

The wolf stared out his window while he continued pounding his right fist into the palm of his left paw.  When he stopped, he leaned on the desk, staring at the documents awaiting his attention.  Nateem stood by the door uncertain as to if he should enter or leave.  When Brigadier Shawarran lifted his head, Nateem found himself staring into the eyes of warrior ready for battle.

"I'm not going to sit on my furry backside while some other whelp takes what I earned.  I've served in this army long enough that I deserve a lot better than they're offering me.  If I get a chance at grabbing the gold for myself, I'll take it."

Colonel Nateem took the chair closest to the desk.  Once again, he opened the folder containing their assignment.  He waited until the wolf sat behind his desk.

"We have a battle to plan; best we get started."

[cairn destop]

DORMITORY DAWN

A comforting darkness surrounded her.  Tassel snuggled deeper under the blanket that kept the bed warm and the room's chill away from her.  She took a deep breath and rested somewhere between deep sleep and full alertness.

To her left came a deep rumbling sound.  She turned in that direction, detecting the presence of her mate, who still slept.  When the sound ended, she strained her hearing, trying to sense any other sound.  His snoring resumed its rhythmic pattern.

Her mate, Bruno, acquired the title of Pa Badger when they became a couple.  She enjoyed her role as Badgermom, but he embraced his with enthusiasm.  The children gravitated to him like bees to honey.  On some nights the two of them would crawl into bed and in the morning, several of her youngest charges emerged after spending the night cuddled with her mate.

If she awoke during the night, Tassel would slip into the Dibbun Dormitory, checking up on the ten children they supervised.  Most times, she stalked the corridor and discovered nothing amiss.  On those nights when a child had troubles sleeping, she found him awake and wanting to know what disturbed the child's rest.  Whenever she discovered a sick child, some innate sense alerted him and they did what needed to be done.

To her right, Tassel listened to the steady tick of the mantle clock.  Her fingers reached out to the night table and fumbled with her goggles.  Since her deformed muzzle didn't allow her the option of wearing spectacles, the beast that ground the lenses mounted them in a pair of goggles.  She stared at the clock and noted the time.

"May as well get up," she muttered.  "The alarm will be sounding in another ten minutes."

She swung her feet over the side.  The room's chill air dispelled the last vestiges of sleep.  At that moment, a deep growl came from the sleeping form of her mate.  Without looking, she reached back and kneaded a spot above his tail.  The growl intensified, and then he shifted his position.  Blessed silence returned.

Tassel padded quietly to the door that separated their quarters from the Dibbun Dormitory and gave a quick glance into the children's sleeping area.  Her eyes saw no movement and her ears detected only the sound of many young beasts slumbering.  She turned away and walked down a short corridor, entering her private washroom.

Bruno insisted on a mirror.  A quick glance at her reflection explained her objection.  Even though the years dulled the marks, her disfigured face could still induced nightmares.  She did not need a mirror to see the marks that branded her a criminal in the minds of woodlanders.  Tassel knew some elders living at the Abbey never missed an opportunity at calling her vermin, even after so many years.

Her dress slipped on with ease since she needed no vent for a tail.  She lost that as a child, docked by her master's healer for a visiting dignitary.  On cold nights like this, she swore the missing appendage had never been removed.  Tassel could feel it wag with such vigor it hurt.

A pair of stirrup stockings, a matching pair of fingerless gloves, and the marks that branded her a criminal disappeared from sight.  She removed her goggles long enough to put on the form-fitting cloth mask she wore, which hid her disfigured features.  Once she had her goggles on, she stepped outside the room.

She bumped into her mate, who stood outside the room.  Like every morning, he kissed her once on each cheek, and once on her forehead.  He then slipped past her and entered the washroom.  Tassel remained close to the door, this way they could keep any conversation private.

"It was a quiet night, Bruno.  The celebration tuckered them all out and they slept soundly.  Think it did the same to me as I slept the whole night too."

"Celebrating the end of winter is a big event at Redwall.  It means we can look forward to another year of planting and improving weather."

"Every season festival is a big event.  We party late into the night and then drag through the next day.  I tell you, I'm not the young and energetic creature you married twenty-five years ago."

The soft sound of Bruno's laughter echoed from the other room.  "Tassel, you're not getting old.  If you were, I would have to admit to aging too, and I'm not ready for the title of honored elder just yet."

Tassel said nothing, knowing such a title would always elude her.  That broke the rhythm of their conversation.  The door opened; just enough that Bruno could stick his sopping wet head out.  His expression showed his concern about Tassel's sudden silence.

"Something is bothering you."  Bruno's wet paw reached out and held her muzzle closed.  "No, I don't want to hear any excuses.  After all these years, I can read you like a scribe's diary.  Out with it, sow."

"Age, it's my age."  Tassel kept her muzzle down as she whispered her reply.  "I hate admitting it, but those youngsters are running me ragged.  Most elders our age will care for grandchildren for a day or two.  We have ten dibbuns full of youthful energy every day.  I love them, but I worry that our Abbess will replace me.  If she has no further use for me, will she turn me over to the Law?  Even after so many years, she could do it.  I wouldn't last a month in a penal colony, not at my age."

Bruno reached out and pulled her head closer.  A gentle kiss did nothing to change her mood.  He ducked back inside and for several moments, silence hung in the air.  Bruno exited the washroom and placed his paws on her shoulders, giving his mate a firm squeeze.

"We're getting rid of our little beasties for the next three weeks.  It will be just the two of us, Tassel.  I think what you need is a vacation away from every responsibility.  So as soon as those young charges have stepped beyond the gate, we are going to have some fun."  Bruno's eyes twinkled.  "Perhaps we can take some long walks along the battlements late at night, a leisurely stroll through the orchard, or you can practice your music.  It's been a long time since I heard you play your flute."

Once more Tassel's eyes appraised her mate.  Bruno still sported the vibrant, characteristic coloration of his species, though the ravages of time left their mark.  What had been a brilliant white now had a yellowing, antique look to it.  Grey intruded wherever black had been.  Even the flag on his tail certified to his advancing years as it appeared somewhat ragged instead of full and lustrous.

That had her think about her own appearance.  Over the years, her fur had taken on a dull, uniform, grayish color.  No longer did she possess the distinctive black and white markings of a badger in its prime, which had many a newcomer to the Abbey inquire about her species.  She felt every year of her life weigh on her.

Bruno embraced her.  In his powerful arms she felt safe and his loving voice made her feel desirable.  She never wanted him to let go.  He nibbled on an ear and she leaned into him.  Bruno's words shattered the illusion that they stood there alone.

"As much as I would love to stay right here, I do believe we should wake the children."

Tassel followed Bruno to the doorway between their quarters and the Dibbun Dormitory.  They leaned on the half door that separated their living space and gazed down the long corridor.  Tassel couldn't see the children sleeping due to privacy curtains, but she did hear their steady breathing.

"It seems a shame waking them up."

Bruno chuckled.  "Liar, I do believe you enjoy watching their reactions each morning."

Tassel returned the gentle rub her mate gave her back by patting his broad chest.  She then opened the door and latched it against the back wall.  Bruno cranked the ceiling window shades open as Tassel seized the handle of a large wooden mallet.  With a swift motion, she struck the sounding board next to the door.  Three times the room filled with a hollow boom that put thunder to shame.

Badgermom Tassel yelled at the top of her voice.  "It's time to wake up.   Everyone, get out of bed."

She got the reaction she desired on the very first swing of her hammer.  Several children darted out of their beds, racing for the washroom as if some demonic hellhound nipped at their heels.  Others moved in a slow, but deliberate manner, but at least they moved.  One mouse lad slept at the far end of the room, but Tassel still heard him muttering about the noise.  It made her giggle as he pushed the blanket to the side.

Bruno pointed to one bed still occupied.  With the snap of his wrist, he threw the blankets off the pillow.  A pair of furry feet rested on the pillow, the toes wiggling.  Bruno grabbed both feet in his paw and yanked the child out of her bed.  With a deep growl, he held the child up until her toes were at his eye level.  He added a snarl to his voice as he spoke.

"Alright girl, wake up."  With a light tap, he batted the girl's feet.  "I am not going to be fooled into believing you're still asleep.  Now open those eyes or I'll slap you silly."

A young mole hung just above the bed, giggling.  "I'm down here, Pa Badger."

Bruno shifted his eyes from the child's toes to her head.  His eyes almost doubled in size and his deep inhale gave him the appearance that he was surprised.  He released the girl and she tumbled onto the mattress.  "Well how was I supposed to know that wasn't your head?"

Tassel fought the urge to laugh.  Bridgett and her mate, went through this routine at least once a week.  Instead, she focused on the day's chores.  She cleared her throat, which caught the attention of those still in the main room.

"If you are not wearing it, or packing it, all garments are to be placed in the appropriate hamper.  All beds are to be stripped and the bed linens dumped in one pile.  I also want every privacy curtain taken down and put next to the bedding in a separate pile."

Badgermom Tassel had just finished giving her instructions when she shrieked.  Those children still in the room gave a quick look and then returned to what they were doing.  One child giggled while the older ones shook their heads, a smirk engraved on their faces.  Even Bruno had no reaction to his mate's unexpected outburst.

As for Tassel, her reaction was not so calm.  She spun about on her heels and pounded on the chest of the intruder that stood behind her.  Her light blows left the fellow laughing rather than moaning.  Her victim did nothing to stop her assault.

"Thorn, how many times have I told you not to scare your mother like that?  I swear you'll be the death of me yet."

The male badger, which looked like a younger version of Bruno, trapped her flaying fists in his paws.  "You must be getting old, mother.  I don't remember anyone being able to enter or leave this place without you knowing about it."

"Don't change the subject, Thorn.  I swear, you might be a respected elder, but I will do my level best to put you over my knees and let you know just how upset I am."

Thorn gave his mother a light peck on her masked muzzle as he scanned the room.  He moved from bed to bed, collecting the children's backpacks, while passing a few pleasantries with his father and some of the children.  The three badgers stood about until the children finished their chores.

After a quick inspection, Tassel led everyone down the stairs and into Cavern Hole, the Abbey's communal dining hall.  The children kept quiet until they occupied their usual table.  As the children took their seats, they discussed the upcoming special event with such enthusiasm that the three badgers were left to discuss adult topics undisturbed.

Badgermom Tassel quizzed her son, who sat to her left.  "And how much gold do you intend to take?"

"I don't need too much, mother.  Serenity, offered us free housing since the military base will be closed during the six-day holiday.  We'll take a ten minute walk, join the other families at the Inn they rented, and after another short hike, we will be at the festival.  I might even hire a few goat carts and we can ride in style."

"Thorn, my sources tell me you're taking well over a dozen extra children that cannot afford attending such an event.  How much silver will you be giving them each day?"

Thorn stared at his mother.  "Seventeen isn't what I would call well over a dozen, mother.  Anyway, I intend giving each child two silvers each day of the Spring Festival.  It will be enough to keep them entertained."

Those closest to the head of the table heard a low growl from Tassel, which signaled her displeasure.  "You must be out of your mind.  Two silvers will keep them well fed, but it will never allow any of them admittance to the better shows and activities."

"How would you know?  You've never been outside these walls."

Bruno's fist struck the table, tipping his empty mug and spilling the dregs onto the table.  "That was completely uncalled for, son.  Need I remind you that I took everyone to the festival when it last came to Salamanderstorn six years back?  Your mother and I talked all night about the cost of the premium attractions."

Thorn stared at his empty plate.  He muttered an apology.  Tassel patted her mate's arm while her other paw dug into the pocket of her dress.  The cloth bag jingled with sound of coins when she dropped it on the table.  She pushed the purse closer to Thorn.

"I have enough from the sale of my craft works that you could afford giving each child eight silvers a day."  Thorn made to protest, but Tassel gave a low snarl that silenced his protests.  "Use your money to hire those goat carts for the length of your stay.  When you add my money, there should be enough to give everyone three or four silvers each day.  That way, they can all enjoy some of the better activities.  Make it a week they'll never forget.  As you said, since I cannot leave this Abbey, money means nothing to me."

Their youngest charge, Bridgette, asked if she could go outside.  In quick order the fidgeting dibbuns raced outside.  There, Thorn had a cart waiting, piled with supplies and the backpacks of some thirty other creatures.  Tethered goats pranced in place.  Parents and young gathered by the Abbey's front door as they waited for Thorn.

Those parents remaining at Redwall gave their children a final hug and kiss.  The children Thorn promised to watch gathered about his cart.  Many parents smiled as their offspring milled about the young badger, eager at starting this trip.  After giving his mother a hug and shaking his father's paw, Thorn followed the crowd to the Abbey's main gate.

The children waved and shouted their goodbyes.  Those traveling with their elders drew closer to them.  Already, half the caravan had passed the inner gate.

Bruno called out to the departing children.  "You better hurry, you're...."

All of Tassel's youngsters chorused Pa Badger's favorite saying, "wasting daylight." 

[cairn destop]

FIRST TIME ALONE

Bruno grabbed her wrist.  He pulled her along, joining the many other elders racing towards one of the towers on either side of the gate.  At the top of the stairway, she ran with Bruno from the inner wall to the outer one.

In that short span of time, the travelers covered a respectable distance.  The travelers avoided the east-west trail since it led away from their eventual destination and trekked across a wide meadow.  Even now, the vanguard crested the distant hill.  If all went as planned, they would intersect the northern road to Fiery Mountain by nightfall.  After another five days, they would reach the military base where their daughter, Serenity, had arranged lodging.  A good night's sleep and all would be in attendance when the festival opened.

For now, Tassel's only thought was to wave.  She could see the travelers waving back, but couldn't tell if any of the children were hers or that of the family standing next to her.  It didn't matter.  This would be their last sight of each other until they returned in twenty days.  Tassel's stomach churned as she worried about her young charges being beyond her protection.  She continued waving until the last beast crested the hill.  She remained at her post, like all the other parents, staring at the vacant field.

"I do believe, sow, this is the first time since we mated that there hasn't been at least one child needing your attention."  Bruno gave her a mischievous grin and a hug.  "What are you going to do with yourself for these next three weeks?"

"Husband, this is the first time since I became Badgermom that no child needed me.  It's an experience I've never had.  As to what I will do, I want to know when you intend checking on the larger orchard outside the wall.  This winter's snowfall proved quite heavy.  I don't want my vacation causing us to lose a fair size of our future harvest.  What will the other elders say?"

Bruno's left paw fluttered as if he were shooing an annoying fly.  "I'm not going to waste this opportunity, Tassel.  Let the trees take care of themselves for another day or two.  As of right now, we are on vacation."

Bruno bowed to her and held out his paw.  Tassel placed her gloved paw into his and the two descended the stairs to the battlement that ran along the outer wall.  As they stepped outside the tower, a light breeze swirled about them.  For a moment, the chilly air had them huddle together.  Each looked into the eyes of the other.  A huge grin came to Bruno's face as he led her along the wide walkway.

Tassel nodded a greeting to those on guard duty.  The sentries did no more than return her nod, though she noticed their smiles.  She could guess why.  The way Bruno held her paw and acted, she knew they looked more like first-time lovers courting than a mated pair.  In spite of their longevity together, her heart race each time he squeezed her paw or gazed into her eyes.

Along the west side, she stopped.  Tassel gazed over the forest that still had not recovered from the harsh winter that ended with the last full moon.  The morning sun warmed her back as she enjoyed the view.  Bruno nudged her.  When she turned in his direction, he first faced her and then looked downward.  He repeated the motion, and she stepped away from the wall.  She wondered where he wanted them to go.

They descended the steps and strolled to the end of a wooden dock that extended over the pond.  Bruno kicked off his sandals and sat at the very edge.  He patted the space next to him.  She followed his example and soon had her bare feet dipping into the icy water.  The two conversed in whispers as they sat.  Sometimes one or both kicked their paws through the water like children on a holiday, the sound of their laughter echoing across the water.

Time continued its march.  All too soon the tower clock chimed the dinner hour.  Tassel stood.  Bruno joined her as they made their way to the Abbey.  She anticipated a reserved quiet with the dibbuns gone.  Cavern Hole proved to be just as noisy without so many youngsters, though the topics focused on things other than school or chores. 

Bruno pointed at several occupied tables.  Each time she balked.  He frowned whenever she pointed at an isolated table or one near a darkened corner.  They stood near the center of the huge dinning area, alone in a crowd of eaters.  Tassel pointed towards a table near the exit.

"We always sat further up, where the light is strongest."

"We had the children then" retorted Tassel.  "I am sure the others prefer I not join them.  I don't want my presence to cause any troubles."

A deep scowl creased Bruno's brow as his anger rose at her reluctance.  "You use those orphans as an excuse, sow.  It's time you start meeting the other elders of this Abbey.  You'll find they are a lot friendlier than you imagined."

Another voice interrupted their conversation.  "Indeed you will, and I'll be the first one inviting you to my table."

Tassel turned towards the voice.  She knew her mask hid her surprise when she recognized the imposing figure that spoke.  The squirrel stood a few hairs higher than Tassel and wore the green habit of Redwall's leader.  Abbess Robertasin's fur may have been midnight black in her youth as a shepherdess, but over the many intervening years, it had lightened.  Her fur now resembled the hour after sunset.  The bony ridges along her face showed an edging of white fur attesting to her advanced years.  Even her fingers and the very tip of her bushy tail now showed the same aged color.

"Without your young charges, Tassel, I can extend an honor long overdue."

The Mother Abbot hooked her paw onto Tassel's elbow and guided her along.  As they approached the head table, Tassel remembered how the throne-like chair reserved for the Abbess had migrated from the center to the far right several years back.  Every resident knew the milky film that dulled the emerald-green of her right eye would one day blind her. 

Now the seat of honor was to the Abbess's immediate left.  Robertasin steered a reluctant Tassel to that seat.  Bruno took the seat next to her.  Bruno turned away from her, striking up a conversation with Healer Shortspike and the Abbey's warrior, Jazzin, who shared the head table.  Tassel felt a bit overwhelmed by the unexpected attention.

Something touched her foot.  Tassel glanced towards her mate.  He stared at her and then at the Mother Abbot.  She wondered if he understood the gravity of his command.  When something hit her foot a second time, she got the less than subtle hint her mate sent her.

Tassel turned to the Abbess, her food untouched.  "Don't you worry about extending such hospitality to somebody the law declared vermin?  Is it proper for my jailer to share such amenities with her prisoner?"

A forkful of salad hovered halfway between plate and mouth as the Abbess stared at her.  Robertasin returned to her meal, but the squirrel's smile had disappeared.  The silence grew as the squirrel chewed.  When her fork clacked back on the table, the Mother Abbot addressed her guest with a voice tinged with disappointment.  Such an unexpected tone had her listening, yet fearing what she might say.

"Is that how you still see Redwall, as your prison?  Do you believe you have no place in this Abbey?"  The Abbess gave a low snort.  "You have served as Redwall's Badgermom for more than forty years.  This is an honor you have earned."

"Nonetheless, Abbess, my past condemns me, even now."

Robertasin's expression lost its pleasant smile.  "Perhaps it's time I tell you that every year, on my anniversary date, I submit a letter asking for your release.  If I asked the residents, I'll stake my reputation on their support for such a petition.  I have forgiven you, it's time the law did the same."

Tassel stared at the Mother Abbot, too shocked for words.  Bruno's elbow nudged her and she returned to her meal.  Each of them would turn to the other, but neither one could think of a topic to discuss.  When the silence became pronounced, they concentrated on the next course of their meal. 

Kitchen workers scurried to the table, whisking dirty dishes to the back room.  Even the cook's announcement regarding dessert got no reaction from her.  Robertasin leaned back, enjoying her cider drink.  The squirrel's glazed stare let Tassel know the Mother Abbot remained unaware of the awkward silence at the head table. 

Abbess Robertasin's next action caught her off guard.  She stood.  The Abbess took her empty mug and banged it on the tabletop like a pewter gavel.  Conversation within Cavern Hole came to a slow end as the residents turned to the head table.  Kitchen workers abandoned their sinks and stoves, congregating at the doorway.

"To every beast that calls Redwall home, over these many years, our Badgermom has served this Abbey with honor and distinction.  In all that time, she has never asked for anything because she thought herself unworthy of our respect.  Now I am asking if you will join me and sign a petition for her clemency.  After all these years of faithful service, I think she has earned her freedom."

The Abbess placed her paw on Tassel's shoulder.  There was total silence within the room when Robertasin concluded her announcement.  Two tables back, a male mole stood and clapped.  By ones and twos, many of the other elders of Redwall joined in the applause.  Several residents, including a few she thought still held her past crimes against her displayed their approval.

From one table, a male hare rose and moved to the aisle.  General Markus of the Long Patrol approached the head table.  As a representative of the King's law, Tassel feared the hare would remind all of her crimes.  Her heart raced as she waited for him to condemn her once more.

"Let me know when you send that petition and I will add my own personal letter of recommendation.  If she can turn a troubled teen like me into a general of the greatest fighting force ever known, then she deserves my support."

His words caught Tassel by surprise.  She jumped out of her seat, knocking the chair onto its side.  Tassel bolted to the doorway.

xxxxx

"Was it something I said," the hare asked.

"She must be overwhelmed, or in a state of shock," said Bruno.

Markus turned around and gave a sharp whistle.  Every hare within the place came to rigid attention.  The hares abandoned their seats and moved forward, but Markus stopped them when he raised his arm.

"I want everyone paired up, find Tassel.  When you locate her, report to me.  Bruno, shall we see where that wife of yours has run off to?"

Bruno gave a quick bow to the Mother Abbot and excused himself.  He joined Markus.  The hare pointed to the door she used but a few seconds earlier.  Bruno led the way, jogging through the main building to the Abbey's front door.  Once beyond the building, Bruno found nightfall turned every shadow into a hiding place.  At least Markus had the foresight to procure a lantern before he left the Abbey.

After twenty-five years of hunting down reluctant, or missing, children, Bruno thought he knew every hiding place within Redwall.  Each time he examined another possible location, he expected to find his mate.  Even with the assistance of the other hares, none could find her.  The night grew darker and still no sign of Tassel.

Markus approached him, his expression reflecting worry.  "Several of my hares checked out the root cellars, they said no beast has disturbed the dust.  I know we asked the sentries at the gate, but could she be so distraught that she somehow got outside?"

Bruno considered that idea.  "Her fear of your king will keep her within the Abbey.  Somehow, she has managed to elude us.  Let's call off the search until daylight."

By ones and twos, the other hares returned to the Abbey.  Each reported no sign of the female badger.  Some of them confirmed what they already knew; Tassel had not left the Abbey's grounds.  The last hare relayed a request to the guards atop the wall, asking them to remain alert in case she did appear.  A few offered to join the guards, just as a precaution.  Markus dismissed them.

Bruno thanked Markus as they separated with a promise of resuming the search come morning.  With leaden paws, Bruno climbed the stairs and opened the door to their private quarters.  A sixth-sense drew him to the doorway between their place and the vacant dormitory.  As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he discerned the shadowy form that he recognized as his wife.

Without his sandals, Bruno's footsteps remained quiet.  He listened as he heard her light sobbing.  Tassel ran her paw across the footboard of an empty bed, muttering the names of dibbuns, past and present.  When Bruno touched his mate, she reacted as if a hot poker had lanced her.  Even in the darkness, he saw the tears that matted the fur on her exposed face.

"There were so many in this place, and yet my mind fixates on the ones I lost.  Common sense tells me an act of nature or an illness is beyond my control, but it doesn't diminish the hurt or the feeling of failure.  I remember all those that went on to better things, and yet my mind will not grant me any peace or happiness."

Bruno sat on one bed frame.  His mate sat on another empty bunk, facing him.  Tassel's paws flew up and out before slapping together as she tried trapping them between her knees.  She rocked back and forth, moaning as if in physical pain.  He kept quiet; knowing that eventually she must reveal what bothered her.

Tassel finally broke the silence.  "Do you remember the days before we married?  We talked about so much then.  I explained my duties and how I intended caring for these children."  Her voice reflected disgust and loathing, something he never expected.  "I talked of everything but what you needed to know about me, and you never once asked about my past."

It took some effort catching her paws, but he did.  Bruno held her paws and knelt before her.  His voice remained no higher than a whisper as he tried reaching the heart of his distraught mate.  Tears rolled down his muzzle, matching those of his wife.  He ached to relieve the gut-wrenching pain still gnawing within her.

"I loved you too much, Tassel.  When you said never ask of the before time, I took that oath seriously.  But don't think I haven't heard about your past over these many years."  There came a low, rumbling laugh as an old memory surfaced.  "Remember the time I took our two pups to Brocktree?  The female badgers there told me things they hoped would disgust me, but I chose you, Tassel, as my mate and I returned here.  I will always stand with you."

Tassel's whole body shook, her abject misery apparent to him.  Bruno sat by his wife, his arms enfolding her.  He kissed her scarred face and the tears flowed even heavier.  He nibbled on her ear and the delightful giggle he always expected, and enjoyed, never came.  He lifted Tassel and carried her in his arms.  The two went to their bedroom and he took her as a husband does a wife.  In such a loving embrace, Tassel found the solace she sought.

[cairn destop]

TROUBLED DREAMS

Something heavy landed on his chest.  Bruno scanned the dark bedroom, looking for the assailant that disturbed his sleep.  A kick to his back alerted him to the source of his discomfort.  Tassel shifted on the bed, moaning.  Her elbow dug deep into his side.  He grabbed her shoulder and gave a hard shake.

"Wake up, Tassel, you're having another bad dream."

Tassel bolted upright, panting.  A few seconds later, her sleepy voice spoke, even as she dug deeper under the covers.

"Not to worry, Bruno.  I'm sure its nothing."

"Enough, sow, I have had enough of your evasive answers.  I blame myself for letting this go as far as it has, but you will tell me what is troubling you.  No more excuses."

Tassel's eyes widened, no doubt surprised by his tone of voice.  He could sense her measuring his irritation, deciding if she could again evade his inquisition.  Bruno tried calming himself, as he strived to be the voice of reason.

"Whenever one of our little ones has a nightmare, you always tell them it holds power over you because you will not tell.  Must I use those words on you?"

He never expected her reaction.  She wrapped her paws about him, holding on as if she expected him to vanish.  His body shook in time with hers.  He whispered his love, all his anger forgotten.  He rocked her with a gentle motion, like he did with one of their young charges when they needed comforting.  He held her head against his shoulder until she finished crying.

"Husband, I fear my words must be made known to the Abbess as well."  Bruno opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Tassel silenced him by placing the palm of her paw against his nose.  "How I know this, I cannot explain, but this nightly horror involves her too."

Now he understood her reluctance.  Before Robertasin became Redwall's leader, she left no doubt about her contempt and dislike of Tassel.  Once their children were born, and Tassel recovered her health, Robertasin spoke such horrible things that Tassel feared for her safety.  Over time, the Mother Abbot's demeanor altered as she proved several days earlier when she spoke on Tassel's behalf.

Bruno led Tassel to the Mother Abbot's office.  Like a frightened child, Tassel would not release his paw.  Bruno felt Tassel squeeze his paw harder the closer they came to their destination.  He whispered his encouragement to her and that seemed to give her the courage she sought.

A lady vole sat at a desk near a closed door at the end of a hallway.  The vole glanced their way.  Without asking their business, the vole approached the door that led to the inner office and the Mother Abbot.  She gave a light knock and a sharp but muted voice responded.  The vole entered the office and closed the door, leaving them outside waiting.

xxxxx

Robertasin sat at her desk, reviewing the many documents requiring her attention.  She sometimes wondered if she was the Mother Abbot or a glorified clerk.  She looked up from another series of letters that seemed to flood her desk.  The intrusion of her secretary came as a welcomed diversion.

"Is there somebody I need to see, Lilly," ask Robertasin.

She watched the old vole.  When Lilly pushed her glasses up her muzzle, she knew it had to be a resident.  After so many years in her service, Robertasin knew her mannerisms and learned a lot about her potential visitor before they entered her office.  Based on the way Lilly kept shifting from one foot to another, she had better talk to whichever resident stood on the other side of the door.

Lilly nodded.  "Our Badgermom and her mate are waiting outside, should I send them in or ask them to come back at a later time, Mother Abbot?"

If Lilly addressed her by her title, she thought it important enough to interrupt whatever business held her attention.  Abbess Robertasin trusted her intuition.  She pushed her chair away from her desk. 

"I'm sure I can spare the time.  To be honest, I'm surprised they waited so long.  You can send them in, we shouldn't be too long."

Lilly brushed her dress as if her spotless garment had a stray piece of lint, a habit she displayed whenever she approved of Robertasin's decision.  The vole pivoted on one foot and left the office.  There passed a moment of silence before the door opened for a second time.  The vole remained at the door until the two badgers crossed the threshold.  Lilly gave her an inquisitive look, but Robertasin said nothing.  Lilly retreated to the outer office, closing the door.

Light from the late winter sun filtered through the window behind the Abbess, giving the room soft, but sufficient illumination.  Both walls had ceiling-high bookcases filled with the diaries of Redwall's prior rulers.  In front of the huge desk, Bruno had his choice of a wide sofa or one of two chairs.

Bruno helped Tassel sit at one end of the sofa while he took the opposite side.  At no time did he release her paw.  Though she couldn't read Tassel's expression due to her mask, Robertasin worried when Bruno's eyes avoided any direct contact with her.

As Mother Abbot, she decided to put them both at ease right away.  She bounced out of her chair and circled the desk.  Robertasin sat on the front edge, as close as she could to her guests.  She reached behind her and held up several sheets of paper.  Robertasin continued waving them until certain she had both badger's undivided attention.

"I can guess what's brought you two here.  After four days, you're looking for news about that petition.  I'm happy to report almost every resident signed it.  Maybe this time, King Brisson, will grant you clemency."

Instead of a joyful look from Bruno or even a raised muzzle from the masked badger, the two visitors continued staring at the floor like chastised dibbuns.  That worried her. 

"I give you good news and the two of you act like I did something horrible.  Please, if there is anything bothering you, let me know.  I'm here to help."

Bruno raised his muzzle, but did not meet her eyes.  "My wife has experienced the same nightmare over the last four nights.  She insists you hear her story."

Robertasin still had some coaxing to do.  A few more words of encouragement from her and Bruno had Tassel recounting her nightmare in detail.  She gave the sow her full attention.

"A great storm has descended upon Redwall and I fear the children will be frightened.  When I enter the Dormitory, nobody is there.  I rush back outside, and when I reach the end of the corridor, I find myself atop the rain-lashed battlement of some high tower.  In the storm, the lightning flashes across the darkest sky ever known, and I see faces, the face of every child I nurtured."

For just a moment, Tassel lifted her masked muzzle and gazed deep into the eyes of the Abbess.  "After every child I know is shown, I see one more child.  As that face appears, another bolt strikes the tower and it is destroyed.  I fall, seeing the Sword of Martin fly towards me like an arrow.  Before it pierces my breast, I awaken."

Robertasin and Bruno remained silent for several moments.  Then the Abbess stood and paced from her desk to the window and back.  She made several circuits before she once again returned to a position just before the Badgermom.  She lifted Tassel's muzzle.  The two stared into each other's eyes.

"When first I became Abbess, we were enemies.  In time, I learned of your value and dedication to this Abbey.  You even inspired me to adopt Narkade a year after your pups were born.  Raising him taught me just how much good you have done."

Abbess Robertasin gave the Badgermom a gentle squeeze to her masked muzzle.  "I do hope you now see me as somebody that supports you.  Perhaps I should have apologized for my ill manners so many years ago, but pride stopped me.  I'll not ask for your friendship, but I will tell you I take seriously the message you bring me."

Bruno shifted in his seat.  "Would you know the meaning of these words?"

"I'm afraid not, Bruno, but I will think long and hard on this.  I'll let you know if your assistance is needed." 

As the two badgers left, Lilly hesitated by the door.  Robertasin wandered over to the window behind her desk.  Without looking back, she addressed her receptionist. 

"See that I am not disturbed, Lilly."

For several moments, the Mother Abbot gazed outside her window to the courtyard, her mind a blank slate.  Many of the most monumental events in Abbey history came after a dream.  Some unknown force compelled Tassel to talk to her.  She couldn't dismiss this without careful thought.

Like a flash of lightning, an old memory surfaced.  She turned towards one of the high bookcases.  She withdrew the diary from her first year as Mother Abbot.  It took but a moment to find the relevant passage and she read the words from a dream she thought forgotten so long ago, "When war comes, and it will one day."    Robertasin yelled for her receptionist.

"Lilly, find Healer Shortspike, our cellar hog Tabeston, the warrior Jazzin, and General Markus.  Once they arrive, see that nobody disturbs us, for any reason whatsoever."

Something in her voice must have frightened Lilly.  The vole departed so fast she forgot to close the door.  While she waited, Robertasin's mind compared the two dreams and their messages.  It made her stomach churn.  After a glance at the shepherd's crook, for the first time ever, Robertasin wished she had never left her sheep.

Healer Shortspike arrived first and the Abbess reviewed her biography.  The female hedgehog started out as an orphan under the care of the prior Badgermom, as well as Tassel.  She later traveled to a badger clan where she finished her training as a healer.  Since her return to the Abbey, Healer Shortspike maintained a vigorous program designed to maintain the health of every creature.  Though many complained, several times her advice prevented the spread of diseases that, left untreated, would have resulted in many unnecessary deaths.

A soft knock preceded the next beast. In his youth, Tabeston contradicted the stereotypical male hedgehog.  Unfortunately, his job as Cellar Hog had him sampling every food stored within the larders of Redwall.  Now, Tabeston displayed quite an ample girth. 

The two tapped foreheads in typical hedgehog fashion before he shook paws with Robertasin.  When Tabeston sat, the sofa's springs twanged in protest.  He slouched on the sofa as if he thought he could catch a quick nap.

The mouse warrior, Jazzin, and the hare, Markus, entered the office together.  Even in the chilly air, the two were bathed in a heavy sheen of sweat.  Both carried practice swords sheathed about their waist and bearing heavy padding.  The two argued in a friendly, but heated manner, about which of them had scored the last kill.  Neither of them noticed the room's other occupants waving their paws before their snouts. 

Robertasin retreated to the window.  She opened one of the panes closest to her head, allowing the chilled air inside.  The slight breeze kept the musky body odor of the two warriors away from her nose.  At least she wasn't gagging from the stench of the sweat-soaked padding they wore.

"Shame on both of you," snarled Shortspike.  "At your age, Jazzin, you should have more sense than to fight some beast almost half your age."  She then turned on the laughing hare.  "As for you, Markus, you should know better than working up such a heavy sweat outside during the winter.  I swear, if I see either of you in my Infirmary with a cold or fever, I'll give you so strong a purge, it'll take three meals before your stomach even knows you ate."

While the healer admonished the two warriors, Robertasin returned to her desk.  Before either warrior could retort, she rapped her knuckles on the wooden desk, like a teacher trying to catch her student's attention.  It worked in the classroom, and it worked here.

Robertasin pointed to the Cellar Hog.  "Tabeston, I want a full inventory of everything within this Abbey, be it food or some other material under your control."

"But Mother Abbot," whined the hedgehog.  "You get an inventory of what we stored and used every month.  I'm sure the actual count wouldn't be that far off."

"Oh yes, I have seen your reports.  'A little over three barrels of flour delivered from the grist mill, several dozen eggs discarded as rotten.'  They will not do, sir.  I want to know, by the gram, and by the count, exactly how much of everything there is within Redwall, and you have three days to do it."

Tabeston shifted his position.  The hedgehog pushed his glasses off the tip of his nose and against his head.  When he stood, every spring sounded a note of relief.

"Three days?  How am I going to accomplish all that in three days?"

"I don't care if you and your whole crew have to work around the clock, nonstop.  You will have those numbers for me, at the end of the third day or I will find somebody else competent enough to do your job.  That deadline isn't being pushed back because you're standing here catching flies.  I strongly urge you to leave now while you still hold the coveted title of Cellar Hog."

Tabeston hustled from the room, the slamming door attesting to his rapid exodus.  The Healer bolted from her seat.  Shortspike stormed over to the desk as if she meant to do physical battle with her.  The hedgehog's finger snapped out like a whip aimed at Robertasin's snout. 

"I don't care if you are the Abbess; you have no right addressing an honored elder in that manner or in that tone of voice.  Why I have half a mind to ...."

"Your next words had better be something like 'do a full inventory of the Infirmary.'  Have a full count of every medical supply and a list, by priority, of whatever else you require no later than tomorrow's final bell."

Shortspike blurted "You gave Tabeston three days, why am I getting less than half that time?"

Robertasin stood to her full height, her back straight.  Her tail puffed out in a visible display of her agitation that anyone would dare challenge her authority.  Now it was her turn to wag a finger within a whisker's length of the Healer's nose.

"You have but one small part of this Abbey to account for.  Are you telling me you cannot have such a list ready?"

Shortspike's quills remained in an upright position.  "I'll have it done, but I do want some allowance if there's a medical emergency.  You and your bloody list can go to Hellsgate if it means compromising my services."  With that, the hedgehog stomped out of the office.  The female hedgehog slammed the door so hard that Robertasin's shepherd's crook fell off the wall.

The Abbess now focused her attention onto the two warriors before her.  She continued staring at them until their smiles disappeared.  The Abbess returned to her seat.  She beckoned them closer and dropped her voice to a near whisper.

"I am giving the two of you whatever authority you need.  Requisition as much additional help as necessary, take anything you want.  I expect, no, I demand, immediate results.  If we are fortunate, we may have more time, but I cannot guarantee that, so have this Abbey ready to withstand an extended siege within five days."

Markus broke the stunned silence that followed this pronouncement.  His ears flickered, a sure sign of his distress.  "Mother Abbot, do you have any idea who will be placing the Abbey under siege?"

The Abbess leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.  Neither of the two warriors spoke as they awaited her answer.

"Gentlemen, Redwall is already at war.  The only pertinent question is how ready we will be when the enemy is knocking at our gates."

[cairn destop]

THE ARMY AND POLITICS

Every hare entering the military went through boot camp in an area that encompassed both banks of a river and a large island.  The bucks camped on one side of the river, while the does occupied the opposite bank.  When the sexes got together during training sessions on the island, the drill instructors had to keep a firm reign on the youths.

Should an amorous buck decide that flexing his pecks would attract the female's attention, he paid a high price for his folly.  The drill instructor would have his entire unit doing calisthenics on a dusty field while wearing full gear.  Let some doe bat an eye at a buck, and every lady in her unit crawled through enough muck to discourage any further romantic thoughts. By the third week of training, the recruits got the message.  It was safer listening to their instructor than trying to make points with the opposite sex.

Sergeant Serenity led fifty female recruits as they marched in formation towards the bridge connecting the barracks with the training field.  She stepped off the paved access road, watching as each hare passed.  Two weeks of training remained and her teenaged misfits moved like a single, well-coordinated unit.  When she thought back to that first day, it seemed a monumental achievement for this group of inept teenaged hares.

Recruit Sandythorn, now dubbed "Boo-boo," wore the blue armband that designated her as the first group's leader.  This doe had the misfortune of being the clumsiest hare she ever met, garnishing more cuts and scrapes than the rest of the barrack's brats put together.  When she asked if the hare wanted her boo-boos kissed, the nickname stuck.  Now Serenity believed she had leadership potential.  Come the end of training, she would recommend the hare for promotion.

The second platoon followed Threadfoot.  Perhaps her family's military background helped, but this doe displayed a fighting spirit second to none.  Many of the female hares thought it a joke after Sergeant Serenity nicknamed the hare Maggot.  However, the doe's versatility handling any weapon became a reference to the fate of those she faced in their battle drills.  Serenity expected her to qualify for the elite Long Patrol once the doe passed basic training.

Sergeant Serenity increased her pace as she marched to the fore.  From her vantage point at the front, she checked each file and saw the perfect spacing of a well-trained unit moving as one.  She bellowed her command.  Like a single entity, the unit wheeled onto the road leading to the practice fields.  They came to a halt once they passed under an arch at the outskirts of the area.

"Recruits, fall out and draw reed swords.  I want you mustered around Circle Nine in five minutes."

Other than the nearby sign that labeled the area as Circle Nine, nothing made this practice field special.  It spanned twenty paces in diameter, just like the other fields.  Her recruits formed a rough circle along the perimeter of the area, each holding a short sword made of dry marsh reeds.  She stood at the very center of the ring, awaiting the arrival of her young charges, a reed sword dangling from her paw.

"I have some good news for you bunny beauty queens.  At the end of this week, you will have the privilege of defending your unit's reputation in a series of duels with your male counterparts across the river." Serenity paused, gauging their reaction.  "For the sake of this unit's honor, you will not disappoint your comrades.  For the sake of your furry bottoms, you will not disappoint me."

She didn't joke when it came to such threats.  She remembered when her unit competed against the three other female units on the obstacle course.  They may have won the overall event, but the five recruits who finished last learned the hard way how far they could march with a full pack.  Only one, Sandythorn, returned from that forced march.  The remaining four joined the other washouts discharged as unfit for military service.

Last week, she repeated the same threat when her unit faced the males on the obstacle course.  This time, they took the honors in every event.  The recruits had a good laugh when the buck hares from the last place unit were forced to run a gauntlet of willow switches.  The does pursued the hapless male hares back to their camp across the river, switching any that moved too slowly.

"Maggot, enter the circle. You get the opportunity of taking me on again."

When Threadfoot entered the circle, she noticed the doe's broad smile.  Two days ago, the recruit won the best of three matches against her.  Since then, the other recruits promoted the doe to godhood.  The hare almost swaggered as she stepped into the circle.

"Come on, Maggot, whip that badger," several does yelled

"Give that fat sow a couple o' good whacks for the rest us," screamed a few more hares.

Over the many catcalls, Serenity issued her instructions.  "Recruit Maggot, this is a single duel to the death.  Unless one of us scores a killing blow, any contact is to be ignored.  On my mark, begin."

Both combatants circled each other, searching for an opening.  The hare lunged and she evaded.  Jeering whistles erupted all around the circle.  She initiated a series of thrusts and slashes that had the hare backpedaling and the recruits groaning.  The hare counterattacked, forcing her back.  Every recruit shouted their encouragement.

Threadfoot tried a double paw chop that she blocked with her sword.  The two came into contact and before they separated, Serenity made her move.  She reached behind the recruit and grabbed the hare's tail.  Serenity gave it a hard yank.  

The doe hare dropped her reed sword and placed her paws on her hips.  "Hey, Sergeant, that's not fair.  Since when do you fight dirty?"

Serenity's reed sword struck the doe hard in her stomach.  She continued pummeling her.  Battered and sore, the doe fell to the ground, bawling.  Sergeant Serenity planted one of her feet on each upper arm of the whimpering doe, pinning her to the ground.  The hare pounded her paws into the unyielding clay as she struggled to free herself.  

Serenity lifted the hare's head by her ears, stretching Threadfoot's neck, which had the hare screaming in agony.  She drew her reed sword across the throat of the doe.  Serenity expressed her disgust by giving the doe a hard kick to her posterior.  She grabbed the recruit by her cotton-balled tail and the scruff of her neck.  With a mighty heave, Serenity sent Maggot sprawling beyond the circle of shocked and silent recruits.

None of her recruits moved from the circle's rim.  All remained quiet, many with their jaws hanging open.  She let the silence continue for a short time as she took her place at the very center of the training area.

"Rule nine: When fighting for your life, all that counts is winning.  I just demonstrated the tail yank.  Next, I will demonstrate the elbow to the temple and the knee in the breadbasket.  By the time you meet those bucks, you will have mastered a dozen dirty tricks and will know how to counter every one of them.

"Remember, the soldier writing a report about a gallant enemy lived.  His opponent never got a chance at telling his side of the story because he's dead.  Now let me give you a word of advice.  If any of you feel hesitant using these tricks, be aware, the bucks are learning the same moves and they may not be as reluctant."

Once she demonstrated how the three dirty tricks were done and how to counter them, the recruits partnered with another hare.  As the first two combatants entered the circle, she noticed the approach of two hares.  Sergeant Serenity saluted the officer, wondering why another drill instructor accompanied him.

"Sergeant Serenity, you are relieved of all duties until further notice.  Pack your gear and report immediately to the Commandant."

It seemed hard to believe, but the officer had dismissed her.  All the way back to camp and while packing her gear, Serenity replayed every moment in agonizing detail.  She tried to determine where she had crossed the line between harsh instructor to insensitive brute.  With a double-march step, she approached the Commandant's office door and knocked.  Given leave to enter, she moved before the desk and came to rigid attention.

From behind her, she heard a deep male voice.  "Is this the one you're recommending?"

Commandant Darlow addressed the unknown male as if she didn't exist.  "If there's any soldier that can do what you want, it's Serenity.  She knows how the Long Patrol hares are trained, her recruits consistently win the highest honors, and her unit has the best esprit de corps of any training unit."

The unknown male voice sounded unimpressed by the Commandant's praise.  "You have eight other instructors here, and I have another six names that have better qualifications than her."

Commandant Darlow flipped a file open, placing it at the forward edge of her desk.  Serenity couldn't see the contents, but did see her name atop the folder.  

"This might only be the Sergeant's tenth class, but she has the highest number of recruits making it into the Long Patrol, and every candidate for officer training has proven to be exceptional."

"Others have more service time in rank and have been training recruits for a lot longer."

"All I ask is that you speak with her, my liege, and decide for yourself."

The term "my liege" had an immediate affect on her.  She pivoted on her left foot, turned, and gazed upon the badger sitting in a chair behind her.  She dropped to her right knee, right paw clenched in a fist, held rigid to her breast.  Serenity bowed until her back became parallel with the floor as military protocol required.

King Brisson, Lord of Salamanderstorn, and ruler of the Northern Alliance, did not acknowledge her salute.  Instead, he rose and walked over to the Commandant and relieved her of the file.  Serenity watched him dismiss Darlow and his two hare bodyguards with a simple wave of his paw.  The boar badger read the material as if no other beast occupied the room.

Sergeant Serenity peeked at the imposing male badger.  Though a few years older than her father, this boar maintained his lustrous coat and distinctive fur markings.  He stood at least a full head taller.  She wondered how so broad a shouldered boar entered the room without turning sideways.

"We are alone now.  Please take a seat and speak with me as an equal.  Naturally, I expect everything said between us to remain strictly confidential."

"My liege," seeing the ridges on the boar's forehead knit, she reworded her greeting.  "Lord Brisson, how may I serve you?"

King Brisson pointed to a chair while he continued reading the file.  Without taking his eyes off the folder, he opened his conversation with a question that seemed out of place.  

"Tell me, do you know what the biggest problem is with the Long Patrol?"

Serenity's stammering voice displayed her evident confusion.  Her mind tried grasping at every rumored shortcoming, but couldn't imagine which could have caught the king's attention.  She decided the fastest way to learn what problem brought him to her was to defend their honor.

"The Long Patrol is the finest fighting force ever assembled.  Every hare is the best of the best.  They have no equal when it comes to the battlefield."

King Brisson laughed.  "And that, my dear sow, is the problem.  I rule a loose union of some twenty-five realms, each with their own military force.  They resented the hares and their fighting skills when my father first formed this alliance some fifty years back.  I'm sad to report they still do."

"If you're aware of the problem, why not have creatures other than hares, become part of the Long Patrol?"

"It sounds like such a simple resolution.  The root problem is politics.  Integrating other species into the Long Patrol will lose me the support of the hares who consider it their exclusive domain.  Such a move could leave me without an army.  I would then be equal to some court jester."

"Politics doesn't concern me, Lord Brisson.  All I want to do is train the best fighters and make them even better."

The boar badger rose and walked to the window.  The room remained quiet as the ruler of the realm stared at the scenery beyond the window, his back to her.

"I'll be blunt; I need you, Serenity, because you have no political connections or ambitions.  Redwall's singular independence means no one ruler gains status over the others when I give you this honor.  I can place you in command and no noble will protest."

Sergeant Serenity's voice showed the deference of one who respected the position and the responsibilities of the creature she addressed.  

"Placing a sergeant in charge of such an elite unit means those under me would number no more than one or two dozen.  If you're motivated by politics, doing something like this has to be perceived as an insult.  Whatever unit you form needs sufficient numbers that other species have a viable opportunity at promotion."  

King Brisson turned around and sat on the window sill.  "I'm granting you the rank of Captain for the duration of this assignment.  When the camp finishes with this current batch of hare recruits, you will have unlimited use of the camp.  Each region's ruler is sending an elite unit here for what I called special training.  Your mission is to integrate them into a cohesive unit.  I expect this new unit operational come spring."


xxxxx



For over an hour, they discussed various issues regarding the formation of the new division.  When they finished, the King had his newest Captain wait within the Commandant's office.  As he left, three hares jumped to attention.  The king motioned to Colonel Darlow, indicating his desire that they should walk outside.  His two bodyguards followed at a discrete distance.

"I do believe you were right in recommending her, Colonel.  Unlike all the other candidates, she has extensive knowledge of other species on a personal level.  She will mold those divergent qualities into a force worthy of matching our best hare warriors."

Colonel Darlow nodded as she kept pace with her king.  "Living under the Badgermom means living with many different species.  Serenity knows more about handling other species than she realizes because of that intimate contact.  She can relate to them better than any hare on that list of yours, my liege.  I spent two years under her mother's care and learned the hard way that other species deserve our respect.  Something too many hares never learned or seriously considered."

King Brisson chuckled.  "Perhaps you can tell me more about those days at a later time, Colonel.  For now, I would appreciate it if you and your staff extend all the assistance you can to Captain Serenity, as she has a difficult task before her.  It means no winter vacation, but this is far more important than you can imagine."

"You need only command, my liege, and it will be done."

[cairn destop]

TODAY IN FERRETVILLE

Chitter leaned onto the crossbar, his harness tightening around his shoulders.  He maintained his steady pace, knowing he covered more ground if he didn't overexert himself.  Around the next bend, the sign he expected appeared, telling him how far he was from his destination.

A dozen paces beyond the sign, the hard-packed earth turned into a stone road.  He evaded the many work crews repairing the thoroughfare after a hard winter by keeping close to the middle of the road.  His pace increased thanks to the smooth surface and the downhill gradient.

An hour later, he approached the town's outskirts.  He diverted course to circle the buildings since that route remained less traveled at this hour of the day.  It took time traveling through a congested area and he wanted to rest before the market opened.  On the far side of the town, he turned down a familiar street. 

A series of miniature fortresses lined each side of the wide lane.  Armed sentries patrolled the walls, each wearing the colors of their particular employer.  Guards at the gate stood straighter as he made his way pass them.  A few even waved, hoping to catch his attention.

The first two fortresses remained shut, though the placard by the gate announced they were open and accepting new business.  The guards at the next fortress motioned him to keep moving, which he did.  He continued down the avenue.  At the sixth fortress, the sign by the gate displayed a familiar stripped color scheme.  He made for its entrance, passing a pair of armed sentries who made no move to stop him.

Once he entered the fortress, he turned left.  Chitter passed a small cottage, taking no notice of the ferret that entered the building.  He came to a long building, which had a series of open bays.  The first four he found occupied and barred by a closed gate.  The fifth one stood empty.

He maneuvered the cart into the stall, stopping when the crossbar reached the far wall.  Chitter removed his harness and grabbed the wooden chocks resting against the wall.  Just as he braced the wheel, he heard a familiar voice call him by name.

Three ferrets approached.  The one in the middle wore the attire of a wealthy aristocrat and carried no weapon.  The other two looked like the kind of beast best avoided if you intended living.  They moved to flank him.  One held his sword at the ready while the other rested his paw on his axe.  Chitter glanced at the horizontal crosswalk halfway up the wall where another armed sentry kept watch.  The guard's crossbow rested on his shoulder, but his eyes watched him.

His paw stayed away from his sword.  He reached into his shirt pocket and tossed the copper coin he placed there earlier.  The dapper ferret caught it in midair and placed it in his pocket.  The two guards retreated.  They moved behind the aristocratic ferret and sheathed their weapons.

"Chitter, my word, I expected you a lot sooner.  It's been four months since last you visited our fair city.  I do hope that full cart does not mean you intend robbing honest merchants of their last copper."

"As tight-fisted as this town's merchants are, Draedin?  I'll be lucky if I get enough money to replace these worn sandals, let alone show any profit."

The ferret pulled a white kerchief from his sleeve and waved it in the air.  The two guards standing next to him withdrew and the third one continued patrolling the catwalk.  The aristocratic ferret extended his paw and Chitter shook it.

"Let's conclude our business in my office like civilized beasts.  Your merchandise is safe at my warehouse."

They walked back to the first building he saw when he entered the property.  As they passed the occupied bays, he noticed the empty wagons.  He counted the days he traveled on his fingers.  Something was wrong, and he had to know.

"I thought the open air market was held every seven days.  If my count is correct, it opens tomorrow.  Those empty wagons worry me.  Did I miss it?"

"Your count is correct.  Those wagons belong to merchants here to buy, though I think they might be disappointed by the meager selection.  Most of the local farmers lost their crops due to a harsh winter.  Those still trading reported an increase in banditry and are reluctant about traveling beyond their homesteads.  Rumor has it somebody struck a place west of here and left nothing behind but the bodies of the landowner and his family.  Our Peace Enforcers said the farm reminded them of a field after an infestation of hungry locusts."

"That might explain the resistance I ran into while camping near one of the outlying farms.  I swear that stoat intended having me mounted on his pitchfork.  He didn't start talking like a reasonable fellow until he had me unarmed and treed.   Never apologized, just ordered me off his land."

While they chatted, Draedin filled out the billing for his service.  Chitter dropped the required coins on the counter and took his receipt.  Their business finished, Chitter reached for the doorknob.  However, the ferret called him back to his counter.

"If you don't mind a bit of friendly advice, I suggest you visit the bathhouse before making any sales pitch.  The stench is most offensive."

"Has the town decided to beautify the place by burning that hovel of yours to the ground?  Between ticks in the bedding and watered-down soup, I decided I must've fallen asleep at the local prison."

"Best you not tell my mate such things.  We can joke here, but that is one fiery ferret I married.  Last fool that made a disparaging comment about her boarding house got run out of town.  I tell you, seeing a lady badger running down the street screaming in fear, while my mate pursued her with a rolling pin sure provided some welcomed entertainment.  Of course, bailing her out of jail proved expensive."

Chitter shouldered his travel pack and left the warehouse.  He walked five blocks down and three more to his right before spotting his destination.  A large hanging sign swung from a chain above the wooden sidewalk proclaiming the place as "The Exotic Nesting Nook."  The building stood four stories high and with the exception of the port's fortification, dwarfed every nearby building.

As he approached, Draedin's mate rushed outside.  She barred his approach.  How did she know I was coming? I just arrive.  Her sour expression let him know he had no chance at entering her establishment without first using the bathhouse.  After an exchange of coins, Chitter relinquished all but one set of garments, knowing that everything would be cleaned and pressed within the hour and waiting for him in his room.

It took time filling the tub with enough hot water so Chitter could enjoy a good soak.  He no sooner immersed himself when the door opened and a younger and smaller version of Draedin walked inside.  The young ferret placed several towels within easy reach and handed him a cake of soap and a bottle of dipping solvent.

Chitter relaxed in the hot water, enjoying the sensation.  Without opening his eyes, he spoke to his young attendant.  "The candied chestnuts are in my backpack, upper left pocket, on the flap."  He listened to the child rifle through the pocket and his excited squeal upon finding the candy.  "So Tranasey, what's your pleasure?"

"I missed your last trip here because my auntie broke her leg and needed help with the farm.  Please, sir, tell me all about where you come from?"

"I am nothing more than a humble merchant, living with my expectant wife, Highclimber.  My home is a place of squirrels and otters, with the squirrels living in treetop drays and the otters occupying a communal hut built from logs by a wide stream.  They fish the stream and we harvest the fields and trees.  Everyone benefits."

Chitter enjoyed talking about the places he visited since Tranasey seemed enthralled about the world beyond his home.  Whenever he finished one story, the fellow would beg for another.  Since he made several trips here each season, he did what he could to stay on Draedin's good side by entertaining his son.

"Did you know my mate and I were orphans raised at Redwall?  When we married, the two of us decided we would move to another village.  Since we didn't care where we lived, we went wherever the next squirrel visiting Redwall called home."

"Redwall?" the surprised voice had Chitter open his eyes for a moment and the soap soon forced his eyes closed.  He listened to a voice tinged with wonder.  "The stories I've heard about that place.  It must be great growing up in a home filled with different species.  Only other creatures I ever see are the guests, and none of them talk to towel boys."

Another male voice intruded on their conversation.  "If you're looking for information about Redwall, the best source comes from those that live there."

Chitter plunged under the water, rinsing off the soapsuds.  When he surfaced, he squeezed the water off his facial fur while searching for the source of the new voice.  At the opposite end of the room, another squirrel had entered the bathhouse.  While the young ferret rushed about preparing another tub for their newest guests, Chitter called out to him.

"Narkade, I thought you were still living with your mother back at Redwall."

"Until six months ago, that was true.  I ran off and joined a troop of squirrel thespians under the tutelage of a lady named Bushface.  Mother's last message wished me good luck on this tour.  We're performing for the next three weeks at the town's opera house, or what passes as such."

Both of them continued their animated conversation as they caught up on the latest news.  When the water in Chitter's tub turned cool, he climbed out.  After a vigorous shake and a good toweling, he dressed.  He invited Narkade to dinner, which he accepted.  As Chitter made his way to the Inn, Tranasey blocked his way.  He might have protested, but the young ferret's face had such a worried expression that the words died unspoken.

"Be careful where you wander, sir.  There are many in this town who speak of marauding rather than trading.  They say ferrets should hold power with a sharp sword and not a dull coin."

Chitter ruffled the youngster's head fur.  "I have heard such grumblings from some of the impoverished or the hot-headed drunks as they stagger from a tavern, Tranasey; it never goes further than talk."

The young ferret kept his voice low.  "All I'm saying, sir, is that the Peace Enforcers have their paws full as it is.  Between these bandits beyond the town limits and a series of murders within, there are many that don't take to outsiders like they did before."

xxxxx

A skiff pulled into the shelter of the cove.  While its crew rowed the craft towards shore, one creature stood at the bow.  When the keel grounded, he jumped into the knee-high water.  He waded in from the sea, not caring about his wet legs.  His purposeful steps took him to a nearby chair where his assistant waited with a towel and a pair of dry boots.

"Thanks for meeting me, old friend.  Shipboard business took a little longer than I expected.  Fortunately, outstanding issues have been resolved."

"Everyone will be pleased, Brigadier.  I had your command staff gathered when I saw you in the boat, sir.  You can give them the good news."

Brigadier Shawarran marched across the seashore.  His friend, Colonel Nateem, followed a pace behind him.  They continued through the camp until they reached his command tent, which hid the entrance to a deep cavern lit by several lanterns.  Brigadier Shawarran approached the long table where his officers stood at rigid attention.  With a sweep of his long cape, he took his accustomed place at the head of the table.  Everyone sat.

He got right down to business.  "I have just spent the last day speaking with the Admiral and every ship's Captain.  What they tell me isn't good.  Four of our troop ships are still missing and presumed lost with all paws after that storm we encountered.  We lost five of our six merchant vessels, meaning we have no supplies beyond whatever we can commandeer.  The ship's food supplies are no better and will be exhausted in four days, and that's if we deny the oar slaves their rations."

There was a momentary silence as everyone assessed the information.  From a point halfway down one side, a large sea rat rose.  He waited until the Brigadier acknowledged him.

"Our forces are not that much better off, Brigadier.  If we hadn't gone to half rations when we first landed some six weeks ago, and if our foraging parties hadn't found some supplies by raiding the nearby farms, our only remaining option would be a forced reductions in our slave population."

A female stoat jumped to her feet.  Her hackles rose as she stared at the other officer.  The two of them remained locked in their staring contest until the Brigadier asked for her report.  The female stoat's hackles lowered when she turned away from the sea rat.  She checked a paper in front of her before addressing him. 

"As much as we need food, we also need those slaves.  Without them, most of our army would be assigned to other duties, reducing our effective fighting force by more than half.  If we go into combat, it will be with less than fifteen hundred effective soldiers."

The wolf nodded.  "According to the tally sheets, we departed with a force of eight thousand warriors and a thousand slaves.  Our losses have reduced our warriors to three thousand, but all our slaves survived.  These slaves might be placid now, but if even one dies and the rumor starts about a new food source, there would be a revolt.  We cannot afford such a distraction when we are so close to launching our offensive."

An ermine sitting next to the snarling stoat raised his paw.  When the Brigadier acknowledged him, he gave his report.  "While you were gone, sir, another launch delivered the report we have been expecting.  General Zavallin's forces initiated their offensive three weeks ago.  They are meeting stiff resistance, but our forces are advancing on the first of two primary objectives.  We have our go for the conquest of Ferretville."

A general air of celebration swept through the assembled officers until Shawarran slapped his paw on the table.  The officers quieted as he read the various reports sitting by his chair. 

"Our soldiers are ready, how goes our efforts at conquering the port?"

Colonel Nateem opened a folder by his seat.  He read the pages within while the room waited for his evaluation.  The stoat rose, walked to the map and took hold of the pointer.

"Both our strategies have gone better than expected.  Our primary plan relies on a dissident squad of guards within the fortress.  They are scheduled to have morning gate duty in three days and promised they would keep the gates open, no matter what.  With your permission, Brigadier, I will inform them we intend commencing our attack that morning."

"You said both our strategies.  You never said anything about an alternative."

Nateem smiled.  "Our losses required a reevaluation of our original battle plan.  When we received word that our attack could begin, I sent a skiff offshore to the anchored merchant vessel, ordering him into our cove.  We can hide five hundred fighters within the ship.  The revised plan has those soldiers attacking the main gate from within the fortress at the same time as we launch our frontal assault.  If the dissidents fail to show, or the gates are closed, we still have a viable backup."

Shawarran nodded.  "The port is protected by a civil police force, not a standing army.  Most are armed with nothing more lethal than a wooden stick.  Once we have secured the gates, resistance will quickly collapse."

When a female stoat wearing the insignia of the medical unit glanced his way, Colonel Nateem answered her unasked question.  "The worse case scenario has us losing three or four hundred and having another hundred needing the services of our medical staff.  This port city anticipates an attack from the land and has all its defenses designed to repel such an attack.  Our forces will be behind them; it should be a short battle."

As he stood, everyone at the table came to attention.  "Put everyone back on full rations.  In three days, we either feast on the larders of Ferretville or the meat of our slaves."

[cairn destop]

OPENING GAMBIT

Brigadier Shawarran pulled his boot on just as Colonel Nateem entered his tent.  "If I ever find the sadistic ... cobbler ... who made these ... accursed things, I'll force him to march a hundred leagues in them."  He slammed his left heel on the ground and sighed.  "So what news have you, Nateem?"

"Your gamble seems to have worked.  Our food is gone, but the soldiers are eager to fight.  Even our slaves seem impatient for the anticipated victory."

He nodded.  "The reports about our army's success helps.  Everyone is expecting little opposition, though I wonder what has happened during the usual two-week lag in communications from the north."

"Our soldiers moved into their final staging areas during the night.  If our turncoats show up at dawn, we can storm the gate and the battle should end in less than ten minutes.  Our ship will be entering port at the same time, which puts the defenders between our two forces."

"You've done well, Nateem."  Brigadier Shawarran stared up at the starry sky, pleased that it promised good weather.  He then turned to his second, "By the way, did you find an assignment for Captain Purrnella that keeps her out of trouble?"

xxxxx

Captain Purrnella's mood matched the predawn sky.  She anticipated an opportunity at combat, but drew an unappealing assignment.  She understood the reason for keeping her off the ship.  The port authority's paranoia regarding species other than ferrets would put them on alert if her unit joined that force.  Purrnella didn't argue about missing that duty, the Brigadier's subterfuge made sense to her on a tactical level.

However, she expected to lead a unit storming the main gate or one of the town's dozen Peace Enforcer's stations.  In the confusion combat created, she could bloody her claws.  The idea of close quarter combat with untested fighters appealed to her.

The only thing keeping her claws off Colonel Nateem's throat was his rank when he announced her mission.  "How can you put me in such a low-risk support role?  My experience in combat makes me more valuable attacking the port than scavenging supplies."

Colonel Nateem's voice remained calm despite the proximity of her claws to his neck.  "Your tendency for overindulging in mayhem could cost us valuable allies.  If a soldier from your unit kills one civilian, you better have a dozen witnesses to justify it.  If you're the one who does the killing, I doubt that will save your hide."

Each time she thought about the slight, her anger grew.  Yesterday, she spent hours sharpening her claws in anticipation.  She even tested them on an unsuspecting slave passing her tent.  So much blood pleased her, and she did let him live.  Though based on the Colonel's comments, her fun may have cost her any chance at combat. 

She climbed down from the hill overlooking her assigned section of the town.  Her unit milled about the carts, acting as if they won some grand prize.  Each time she heard one of the soldiers comment about their easy assignment, her claws slid out.  When one rat called their role vital, her tail slashed the air behind her.  Bad enough she commanded a unit of reluctant warriors, but when she learned she had to guard a contingent of slaves, she almost refused the assignment.

Two of the slaves had their backs to her, unaware of her approach.  She couldn't resist the opportunity.  Her claws extended to their full length.  A quick swipe wouldn't disable them, but it would satisfy her urge to draw blood.  She approached them with all the stealth inherent to her breed.  Her paws swiped at their backs, missing them.

It seemed inconceivable.  Then she discovered the reason.  Her mind remained so focused on the two young slaves that she never saw the other slave standing behind her targets.  Now the two young voles stood behind the slave overseer, no doubt expecting her to protect them from her wrath.

"How dare you interfere, Wobbles.  I catch two lazy slaves nattering and you intervene."

"If you harm them, where will we get replacements?  We need these two if we are to complete our mission." 

Wobbles pushed the two youngsters further behind her.  Wobbles approached Captain Purrnella, in a submissive posture.  No doubt hoping to defuse a tense situation. 

She considered her options.  Purrnella thought of pushing past their perceived protector and battering the two slaves.  It would at least provide her some entertainment.  She knew Wobbles couldn't stop her if she attacked the two young voles; it was her right as the ranking officer.  Maybe targeting Wobbles would provide a better object lesson.  Then she had an idea.  It made her purr.

"I will give you a choice, Wobbles.  When this day ends, you may either surrender those two to my idea of an appropriate punishment, or you can give them a public flogging as a reminder to the others that I will not tolerate laziness.  Either way, these two will be spending the next few days in the infirmary, if I am feeling generous."

Purnella enjoyed watching Wobbles squirm.  She guessed both options did not appeal to the squirrel.  If she got to select the punishment, Purrnella expected at least one less slave before morning.  The other alternative would make Wobbles an outcast among her fellow slaves, even though they knew she had no option. 

Wobbles never got a chance to respond.  Several signal flags snapped up along the hillside.  Purrnella saw the flags, pivoted on her heel, and shouted orders to her unit as they prepared for the upcoming battle.  Slaves slipped into their harnesses as they pulled their carts, following the soldiers.  Purnella led the charge over the hill separating them from the town.  Her first objective, a building Colonel Nateem identified as a large boarding house. 

All moved through the sleeping town.  Purrnella's claws flexed as she pointed at the main door.  Perhaps a fool would think themselves some great hero and challenge her.  She would welcome such heroics since she could then bloody her claws without disobeying her direct orders not to kill any of the civilians.

xxxxx

Chitter and Narkade finished a hearty breakfast and held their mugs high enough that the bartender noticed them.  Draedin's mate strolled over and poured each of them a hearty portion of apple cider before she moved to the next occupied table.  Chitter added his empty plate to the stack of dirty dishes sitting on the table's edge.

"I got to see your performance yesterday, Narkade.  You do have talent.  Even after seeing you do it, I'm still fascinated how a squirrel went from playing a cringing mouse slave to vixen warrior and back during that show."

Before Narkade could answer, glass from the door panels as well as splintered wood filled the air.  Five large rats stormed in, armed with various weapons.  Their shouted orders became part of the bedlam erupting in the common room as the other customers either screamed or dove under their table. 

The ferret bartender grabbed his club and jumped over the bar.  His life ended before his feet hit the floor.  A well-aimed bolt from a crossbow pierced his heart and his lifeless body rolled to the middle of the floor.  While one rat reloaded his crossbow, an additional five beasts entered.

Draedin's mate lunged for the body of the dead ferret.  Two rats raised their swords.  Only the intervention of a female wildcat prevented her death.  The wildcat delivered a solid kick to the lady's shoulder, sending her skidding across the floor until her back banged into the wall.  By then, the rest of the Inn's terrified staff had assembled in the kitchen doorway.

From his seat, Chitter watched the invaders.  Sometimes a merchant saw more than any trained warrior.  He noticed the uniformity of their garments, which meant these were soldiers, not some sea-borne collection of pirates.  He watched as the intruders took up a station that allowed them to both cover and support each other without any words being spoken.  They moved so well Chitter knew these beasts had trained for this mission, which told him this was no raid. 

His ears told him even more.  As a merchant who frequented this part of the continent, he recognized the major regional dialects.  He also knew many of the ones used by sailors visiting the town.  This one remained unknown to him.

Narkade slid his paws off the tabletop.  Chitter tried stopping his friend without any success and they found themselves staring down the length of a crossbow bolt.  The ermine's blank expression made Chitter stutter as he hissed in a louder than desired voice.

"Narkade, put your paws back on the table, but do it very slowly.  These bandits will shoot anyone that gives them the slightest reason to do so."

The wildcat turned from the lady proprietor.  She approached their table without interfering with the ermine's line of fire.  None of the other patrons, workers, or raiders moved.  For several long seconds the wildcat scrutinized them.  When the wildcat spoke, she did so in a low voice that held a note of menace, her full attention focused on Narkade.

"Your friend is right.  It would be safer if you kept both paws on the table at all times.  My unit is under strict orders not to kill unless provoked and you saw what happened to that fool with the club.  So tell me the truth, are you armed?"

"I have a short sword about my waist and a dirk in my left boot," said Chitter.  "My friend is unarmed.  I'm going to put both on the table."

As Chitter's right paw dropped below the table, the ermine shifted his aim towards him.  His paw came up with the sword and dropped it on the table.  Another move below the table and a small knife joined it.  The wildcat's voice purred, but her claws remained visible.

"Are those all your weapons?"

Narkade snapped off a less than polite answer, which raised the hackles of several nearby invaders.  When one moved towards them, an upraised paw from the wildcat had him retreat.  The wildcat pulled the table away from their bench, scattering the dirty crockery.

"Frisk these two squirrels.  Let me know if either one has a weapon."

Chitter stood, keeping his arms away from his side.  A glance at Narkade had his friend imitating his stance.  A rat patted them down, relieving them of their purse.  The wildcat did nothing more than growl and the rat returned their property.

"They held nothing back, Captain."

The wildcat's expression became that of a pouting child as she waved the two squirrels back into their seats.  She made no move to return the table to its proper place.  The wildcat examined her claws as she stepped away from them.

"Pity neither of you tried holding back a weapon.  Your deaths would serve this town well as an object lesson to any other fool that thought about defying us."

A sharp whistle from the wildcat had half of the remaining rats following her outside.  As the intruders exited, a contingent of five beasts entered the room.  Like the soldiers, they wore uniforms, but of an inferior quality and a different color.  Unlike the other raiders, they carried no weapons.  Chitter guessed they served the others. 

Two adult mice and two vole children darted through the common room.  The mice ran up the staircase towards the upper floors.  The vole children entered the kitchen area.  Nobody within the common room interfered.

The kitchen door swung open and the voles relayed sacks of food through the door.  When the mice returned, they carried bulging sheets.  Some of the ornate pewter candlesticks from the upstairs hallways stuck out of their improvised sacks.

The four moved under the directions of another beast that intrigued Chitter.  This fifth one might be a squirrel of many years as evidenced by her grey muzzle, but her stubby tail confused him.  Chitter wondered if she was some unknown species native to whatever land these intruders called home. 

Though this strange creature dressed like the other workers, she appeared to have some command latitude.  None of the soldiers contradicted her as she shouted orders to the other four.  It made him wonder if her loyalties were to these soldiers or her fellow slaves.  Perhaps he could use that divided allegiance against this enemy. 

[cairn destop]

BARROOM RESPONSE

Chitter kept quiet as the intruding rats bullied the other customers.  Several of the uniformed intruders patted down those guests not yet searched.  The rats confiscated all weapons in case somebody thought they were invulnerable or wanted a chance at playing heroic warrior.  They didn't have to worry, the body of the ferret bartender lying in a pool of blood acted as a testament to their willingness to use deadly force.

A large ermine entered the common room.  His brilliant white coat showed blotches of dark brown fur as his lighter summer coat replaced his heavy winter-white pelt.  It must have itched, as the ermine officer often clawed at his shedding fur.  He yanked one large clump off the side of his face and discarded it on the floor as he crossed the room.  Chitter called out to him.

"Hey, ermine, did you know this place has a bathhouse?  They keep a good selection of fur-rakes and strippers back there that can remove your winter coat in no time, if you need one."

The ermine gave him a quizzical look before he wandered closer.  He placed his paws on his hips and glared at him.  Chitter tried projecting a friendly face, but the ermine kept fingering the hilt of his sword.  He decided he must have made a less than favorable impression on this officer.

With a sinister sneer, the ermine spoke.  "Trying to get rid of me?  Figure these rats are too stupid not to stop whatever you two squirrels are planning?"

The ermine scowled first at him and then at his companion, Narkade.  One rat suggested the ermine accept the offer.  The ermine ordered him over as a babysitter for the two squirrels as he backed away from them.  He had just entered the passageway between the common room and the bathhouse when the wildcat poked her head inside.  Her snarl caused the ermine to hustle back.

If the ermine's voice a few moments back had an intimidating tone, it didn't come close to what the female wildcat possessed.  Even as the ermine stood like a living tree out on the floor of the common room, the wildcat circled him, her voice screeching out, rising in both volume and pitch.  Patrons sat at their tables mesmerized by the wildcat's actions as well as several of the rats, until a paw swiped at a nearby support beam.  The sharp claws gouged the wood so deep that splinters sprayed across the area, sending two female shrews diving beneath a tabletop.

For a moment, the wildcat's attention shifted from the male ermine to the disappearing shrews.  Moving with amazing speed, the wildcat seized the table and heaved it behind her.  When the female wildcat pointed, the two lady shrews moved to the designated chairs.  All could see her unsheathed claws and heard her deep growl.  Chitter guessed one or both shrews would feel the brunt of her anger.

Three creatures came out of the kitchen, distracting the agitated wildcat.  One vole rolled out a barrel of flour across the floor, while the other girl staggered under the weight of a sack of potatoes.  Their unknown leader carried another barrel of flour over her shoulder.

"Captain, with your permission, may I send Saupna and Harosa back to camp?  We have one cart loaded with food and ready for transport.  If they return to their mother with these supplies, they can prepare the officers' mess."

The wildcat swiveled her hips until she faced the kitchen doorway.  A quick glance over her shoulder at the frightened shrews must have convinced the Captain that the two shrews posed no immediate problem.  Chitter observed the miffed wildcat as she addressed the strange creature.

"And how do you intend transporting the rest of the food we confiscate back to our larders, Wobbles?  If I send these two back, where will I get replacements?"

"If we send the full cart back now, two stronger slaves can return the empty one later.  I'm certain camp personnel will find ready replacements when they receive your message about these full lauders."

The wildcat did nothing more than snort.  With a sharp bark from the adult slave, the two vole children hurried towards the street.  As the three slaves passed the Captain, she followed them out the door.  For a moment, none of the soldiers made a move.  Then the ermine lieutenant's rigid pose slumped.  He cast a quick glance to the street before walking behind the bar, declaring his intention to have a stiff drink.

Whatever brew he found, it proved distasteful.  After wiping the foam off his muzzle, the ermine lumbered over to the ferret proprietor that the Captain had kicked earlier.  His shouted inquiry got a frantic shake of the head from the frightened female.

"Don't try telling me this swill is your best ale.  An owner always has her best hops hidden somewhere, just in case an important visitor stops in."  He lifted the sobbing proprietor to her paws.  The ermine yelled into her face.  "So break out the good stuff 'cause that important visitor is standing right here."

Chitter grabbed Narkade's wrist and pulled him along.  Several of the rats turned in their direction until Chitter addressed the ermine.  "My friend and I will bring up a barrel of her best from the storage room."   

When the ermine waved them away, Chitter led Narkade through the trapdoor behind the bar.  They crawled along the length of a narrow passageway until they found themselves standing at the top of a rickety staircase.  Dropping into the basement, they took a few seconds orienting themselves within the dark room.  The near wall held racks of bottles, which Chitter ignored.  He wandered down the first row of kegs, reading the markings on the side of each.

Narkade grabbed Chitter's wrist, pulling him closer.  There was no hiding his disgust.  "You intend serving those . . . killers, like honored guests?  I always thought you better than that."

Chitter wrenched his arm free.  "Use your head.  We have got to get out of here, and fast.  Sooner or later, these invading soldiers will begin questioning everyone.  As a simple merchant from a small hovel of a village, I won't generate any special interest.  But you are the only son of a prominent ruler known throughout the land.  If you don't escape, they will use you against your mother and Redwall Abbey."

The gravity of their situation finally dawned on Narkade.  "Fine, we're here, now what?"

"Like I said, I'm a merchant, and I have delivered many a keg to this very inn.  There's a chute where the kegs are rolled into the basement, we'll climb up and exit through the back alley."

"Great idea, but have you forgotten about those rats upstairs?  If we don't come back real soon, one of them will find out how we escaped."

Instead of answering him, Chitter wandered up and down the rows of kegs.  His joyful cry drew the reluctant Narkade closer.  The squirrel watched as Chitter first tapped a keg and then held a mug under the spout.  A twist of the wrist and the mug filled with a dark liquid.

"Take this and soak your muzzle with it.  Then take a mouthful and gargle, but don't swallow, as this is one potent brew."

It took a great deal of grunting and groaning carrying the keg up the stairway, which was the easy part.  Moving the newly tapped keg through the passageway between the upper landing and the service door proved more difficult than Chitter envisioned.  As they cleared the entrance, the two heaved the keg from the floor to the bar.  Chitter grabbed a tankard, filled it and staggered over to the ermine.

One taste was all it took.  At the ermine's pleased look, Chitter suggested that he and his partner return to the storeroom for additional kegs.  With a wave of his paw, the ermine gave his blessing to their suggestion.  Chitter rushed over and pushed his friend back into the tunnel as several of the rats laughed.

"Did you smell that one's breath?  And the other one, the way he staggered?  Two silvers say those two squirrels don't return and another silver coin has them passed out under an empty keg."

Back on the staircase, Narkade balked.  "These ferret merchants are not the most trusting of creatures.  Wouldn't the owner lock that chute?"

"It is locked, but from the inside with nothing more secure than a sliding bolt.  We can exit this cellar as easily as you would your room upstairs."

Neither of them hesitated at the stairway.  Both knew they were in a race and the starting flag dropped when they reentered the service tunnel.  They weaved their way through the stacked kegs until Chitter pointed to the back wall.  As expected, Chitter found the wooden chute against the far wall.  A little bigger than a keg in width and height, it led to a pair of wooden doors.  The contraption offered no hindrance to them.

As they approached, a voice chimed in from a dark corner.  "You'll never get out of this town without my help."

"Tranasey, you gave us a good scare," said Chitter. 

The young ferret moved to the base of the chute, blocking it.  Chitter gave a quick glance behind him, glad the stairs remained clear of any soldiers.  They couldn't delay.

"Listen, we have to leave, but you don't.  Stay down here and when those soldiers come looking for us, tell them how we got outside.  I don't want you getting hurt."

"Hurt?  Those rats killed my uncle.  He might wave that club around, but he never hit anyone with it.  I saw what they did to my mother, so don't tell me I'll be safe if I hide down here.  Anyway, you need me."

Narkade snapped out an angry retort.  "We don't need some undersized, flea-bitten whelp slowing us down."

"That's where you're wrong.  You two bushy-tailed tree hoppers show your faces outside this inn and every green shirt will use you for target practice.  You want to get beyond the town's limits unseen, you need me.  I know ways that will get you out faster and away from most of the major roads, but you have to take me with you."

"Much as I hate agreeing with him," groused Chitter, "he's right.  Those soldiers will stop anyone not in uniform."  Chitter chewed his lip for a few seconds before he bopped the ferret youth on his muzzle.  "Fine, we'll take you, but if you fail to follow our orders, to the letter, I'll tie you to a tree for the soldiers to find."

The small ferret disappeared as he climbed the chute.  The hollow echo of the bolt sliding back came to them and they hustled after Tranasey.  At the top of the incline, they found the boy grunting as he pushed against the heavy door.  Chitter reached over the ferret and added his strength.  A few seconds later, it opened.

Their escape almost ended before it started when a green-coated stoat wandered into the alley, attracted by the odd noise.  Both squirrels were fortunate enough to find a hiding spot behind a trash heap before the soldier spotted them.  However, the stoat noticed the young ferret and quickly grabbed him by the throat with one paw as he went for his sword with the other. 

Chitter snagged a nearby broken table leg and with a mighty swing, clubbed the soldier from behind, killing him instantly.  Chitter unbuckled the sword and fastened it about his own waist.  He then tossed a sheathed dagger to Narkade, who attached it to his belt.  Checking that the alley remained empty, Chitter turned to their young guide.

"A dead soldier behind your uncle's tavern, and you missing, I'd say you're committed.  Got any way of getting out of here without going into the street?"

The ferret youth gave a snort that changed into a respectful, "yes sir," when he looked a second time at the dead stoat.  Chitter knew the young ferret's life almost ended if not for his intervention.  Chitter dragged the body closer to the building, and then buried it under some trash.  It wouldn't fool anyone doing a methodical search, but might give them a head start on any pursuit.

Tranasey led them to a high wooden fence and pushed against two boards.  When they didn't move, Narkade gave a low growl, expressing his displeasure.  The ferret picked up a small pipe and poked it through a knothole.  There was a soft thud and when the boy pushed against the planks for a second time, they moved aside.  Everyone passed through the opening.  On the other side, Chitter waited until Tranasey replaced the beam of wood.  Then all three hastened their steps.

xxxxx

Wobbles assisted the two slave children as they finished loading supplies on the cart.  She then led the voles up front and helped them don the harnesses.  Captain Purrnella, kept a watchful eye.  The two voles were about to return to camp when another officer approached.

"Captain Purrnella, I need one of your slaves for chariot duty."

"I thought we lost all our ponies in the storm, Major."

"We did.  Lucky for us our last troop ship, which we thought lost in that storm several weeks back, made landfall less than an hour ago.  They started out with twenty ponies, but only five survived the trip.  Brigadier Shawarran wants them used for perimeter duty."

"I'll send Wobbles back with this wagon," said Purrnella.  "She's an experienced driver, which should please our commander."

[cairn destop]

BEYOND FERRETVILLE

"Slinking out of Ferretville is a lot harder than I imagined," Chitter said.

The young ferret spared a quick glance behind him before checking the upcoming street.  So far, their luck held.  Twice, an undetected hiding place or hidden path helped them dodge a number of the green-shirted invaders as they patrolled the muddy streets.  Every step nearer the outskirts made such evasive moves even more difficult as the number of soldiers increased.

Without turning around, Tranasey tried explaining the problem.  "We're lucky, the port is mapped out and everything is orderly.  There's no place to hide.  The town's a warren of meandering alleys and cul-de-sacs.  If you're not on one of the main roads it's easy to get disoriented."

Chitter patted the young ferret on the back as they regrouped in the next alley.  As everyone tried catching their breath, Chitter complimented Tranasey.  "You're right, without your guidance, we'd all be captured, killed, or lost."

A hodgepodge of meandering paths wasn't the only obstacle hindering their progress.  Other refugees joined them.  Their threesome had increased as they moved further from the Inn.  Four ferrets that initially supported the invaders, now fled for their lives.  One vole couple believed safety lay beyond the town and back on their farm.  An elderly mouse feared for his life because he held an invader's sword he took from a soldier he killed.

"It's going to turn dark pretty soon, Tranasey.  Mind telling me how much further to the forest?"

"Another hour or two, and that's if we don't get lost in the dark.  There's a burned-out grain elevator at the edge of town, we can spend the night there, sir."

Chitter heard the screams of the populace and the smashing of doors and furniture as the invaders strengthened their grip on Ferretville.  None of those sounds left him in a talkative mood.  Now that a respite seemed possible, he offered his own observations.

"We should push on, Chitter.  There's a better chance of avoiding any sentries if we're moving at night."

"Agreed, Narkade, but we have more than the three of us and not everyone is ready for a sleepless night.  Much as I want to continue, we'll need a short rest.  Take us to that grain elevator."

Up ahead, Tranasey waved them forward.  He moved a door that hung on one hinge and sounded an urgent hiss.  One by one the others dashed from the alley across the weed-chocked street to the dilapidated structure.  As Chitter entered the building, he almost gagged over the stench.  The sooty smell from the charred walls, the moldy grain that coated most of the floors, and the rotting bodies of the birds, left him wishing they continued.

The female vole found a piece of wood that fit her paws and used it like a squeegee.  After a few moments, she had a clean spot by the wall where she and her mate could rest without touching the mold.  The others followed her example and soon cleared spaces about the room.  All slumped down, exhausted by the tension of their flight.  None commented about the smell.

Chitter dropped to all fours and showed off his agility as he climbed a set of rickety stairs to the second level.  The upper floor supported his weight and provided an ideal observation post.  He stared out the busted window, his ears twitching at every noise.

Now that everyone felt safer, the actor in Narkade came to the fore.  He engaged the others in lively conversations, sometimes performing whole scenes from memory.  When the old mouse demonstrated some knowledge of theatrical performances, Narkade no longer described some obscure scene or stage performance; he played the part for his enthralled, but captured audience.

The last rays of the sun acted like a spotlight as it streamed through a narrow crack in the west wall and Narkade utilized the bright illumination for some fancy dance moves.  Every creature there laughed and clapped in time to his motions. 

Chitter reappeared.  He bounded down the steps, avoiding those that couldn't support his weight.  At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped.  He stared at his friend, miffed by such antics.  Narkade must have sensed his displeasure as he miss a step in his dance routine.  The others ceased their celebration when he stopped dancing.

"Since everyone seems so energetic, what say we move out right now," asked Chitter.

Silence fell upon the tired group.  In just a few seconds, they returned to the spaces previously cleared and bedded down.  Narkade looked the most disappointed since he had lost his enthralled audience.  Though the others no longer showed any interest in his theatrical skill, Narkade had Chitter's undivided attention.

"You're so wide-awake, how about taking the first watch?  The second floor windows give an excellent view of the surrounding area."  Chitter eased his weary body onto the floor.  "Call me after the Town Hall clock has struck the hour for the third time." 

Sweet oblivion took Chitter as soon as he closed his eyes.  Somebody nudged Chitter awake.  As he rose, Narkade dropped to the floor, too exhausted to care about the dirt.  Another two hours and it was he who woke a bleary-eyed Narkade.

"Wake everyone, dawn is in another hour and we have to reach the safety of the trees before full light."

It took a few moments before the others gathered at the door.  Without a word spoken, they filed outside.  They continued trudging in a tight bunch as they made their way towards the forest beyond.  By the time the sun's rim popped above the horizon, they entered the woods.  An hour later, they left the trees and all signs of Ferretville. 

Noon came and everyone made good time through the open country.  All enjoyed their walk, thinking themselves beyond the reach of the invaders.  None check the area behind them.  That took time and all wanted nothing more than to put additional distance between them and the invaders.

Chitter scanned the area for a place where they could rest when he heard a strange noise.  An odd contraption that held a driver and two soldiers, rushed towards them.  As the thundering conveyance bore down on them, all fled in panic.

The elderly mouse fell behind the fleeing group.  The cart brushed past the fellow.  There was a loud scream as the whirling blades attached to the wheel's rim gored the old mouse.  A spear thrown by one of the soldiers in the cart silenced his cry forever.

Narkade spotted a pile of rocks ahead and at his signal, all ran for cover.  The two voles leading the way were overtaken.  One was trampled by the strange beast pulling the cart while a sharp edge along the trace severed the arm of the other.  As the terrified refugees sought safety behind the rocks, Narkade shouted at the injured vole who was shocked into immobility.  When the driver made a second pass, that one joined his comrade in eternity.

From behind one rock a voice called out.  "Anyone know what that was?"

A ferret responded.  "I once heard a sailor talk about ponies that pulled wagons.  He described them as dumb beasts, like goats, only bigger and faster.  Never thought I'd die because of one."

"We're not dead yet."  Chitter then shouted to Narkade.  "If that animal is mindless, all we have to do is kill the driver next time they pass.  Hand me your dagger; I'm pretty good throwing a blade."

"I . . . ah . . . I dropped it while running."

There was no time for recriminations as the two-wheeled cart raced past their temporary sanctuary again. 

"Well, at least they can't hurt us behind these rocks," one ferret yelled.

As the pony dashed by the rubble, two spears were hurled through the air.  A yelp, followed by a gurgling groan proved the unknown ferret's last comment inaccurate.  He now lay sprawled across a rock, two spears embedded in his chest.

Narkade picked up a long tree branch he found next to his hiding place, bouncing it several times in his paw.  He called Chitter to his side.  The squirrel barely dodged two spears aimed his way as their enemy continued racing back and forth.  His dive behind the rock bowled both Narkade and Tranasey off their feet.

"If we can get that cart closer, I can jam this branch in its spokes.  That'll stop them." Narkade hissed.

Gazing up the short hill, Chitter noted how the sun glistened off the wheel blades and the trace as the soldiers swiveled their vehicle for yet another pass.  "Got any bright ideas how we can do that?  And not get killed?"

In answer, Tranasey pushed himself off the rock and dropped into the field.  "Get ready."  The young ferret ran for the trees at the far end of the field.  At the top of the hill, the pony reared as it turned towards its fleeing target.  Every hoof beat cut the distance, but Narkade realized they would pass very close to the outcropping of rocks.

Actors excel at timing.  Narkade jumped from his place of concealment, lunging at the cart.  He jammed the thick branch between the whirling spokes and the wheel came to a jolting halt.  The sudden stop flipped the cart over.  Both soldiers fell onto the rocky field, stunned by their fall.

Chitter ran towards one of the soldiers.  "Narkade, you'll have to dispatch that other one."

Narkade rushed over to the semiconscious soldier lying on his back.  He reached down to the fox's belt, and withdrew a large dagger.  He held the weapon in both his paws with the blade pointing upward.  Narkade raised it until it was at eye level.  The sun reflecting off the finely honed blade and he spoke his part as if a huge crowd listened attentively to his words.

"Behold the accursed blade, once withdrawn from its leather sheath; it became a sharpened tooth that started a raging empire.  One small dagger.  Such a trivial thing, yet it sent fathers into eternal rest deep beneath the brine or sons to lie within some unmarked grave far from home."  Still holding the blade in both paws, Narkade raised the weapon as high as he could and reversed the point so that it was aimed at the dazed fox. 

"Let this bloody metal meld with the iron heart that ruled this now twice accursed land.  Allow its merger to forge a greater peace and end this ruler's gory reign.  Now the mighty tyrant shall feel the fang's bite." 

With that, Narkade brought both paws down with all his might.  His aim true, the blade pierced the soldier's chest.  Unlike the trick blades used by actors, the point did not retract into the hollowed hilt.  Before death took the fox, his eyes opened wide.  Shock and pain passed in an instant as the fox stared into the eyes of his executioner.  Narkade withdrew the blade.  When he did, blood covered his paws and chest.

"I have committed murder most foul.  The king is dead and now my sword carves a feast for maggots.  I have set a table for the most ignoble of insects, but did such a king, even an evil tyrant such as he, deserve this fate?  Can now the never-ending river cleanse my fur of this sundered life's blood and will the glorious sun, on the morrow, burn its memory from my mind?"

A paw tapped Narkade on his shoulder and he jumped off the body.  His eyes remained focused on the dead fox.  As he continued hyperventilating, Chitter grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him.  Chitter moved between him and the dead body.

Narkade became aware of his surroundings.  The blade fell and Narkade dropped to his knees knowing the scene he had just played was reality.  His victim would not rise with the next curtain call, and that what he did, could never be undone.

"Killing another creature isn't something to enjoy.  Take pride in your reaction, but understand you had no choice."  Chitter knew his words brought no comfort; they didn't when another said the same to him years ago.

As the remaining members of their group gathered near, Chitter approached the pony.  Its agonizing cries resonated on his heart and he was moved to mercy.  Lifting his blade as high as possible, he hacked at the thick neck of the wounded animal.  With the third chop, the animal moved no more.

By then, Tranasey had joined the others some distance from the toppled cart.  He scanned the nearby field.  The first time he spoke, his voice carried no further than the nearest survivor.  None acknowledged his question, so he called out again.  This time, everyone heard.

"Has anyone seen the driver?"

[cairn destop]

THE FIRST MEETING

Chitter stared at Tranasey, unsure why his comment sounded so urgent.  Then it registered.  He remembered the pony pulled something containing three riders.  They killed the two soldiers after they were ejected from the capsized cart, but the last occupant remained missing. 

He approached the toppled vehicle, not sure what he expected to find.  Broken spears and other gear littered the area, but no bloody corpse.  Chitter gathered his group next to the overturned contraption.  As they drew nearer, Chitter detected a moan.

"Give me a paw flipping this thing over," Chitter yelled.

"No wonder we couldn't find the driver; she's shackled to it," said Narkade.

The driver had her feet wedged into leather stirrups on the floor.  Her paws held onto similar straps attached to the inside so tight that her knuckles appeared white.  What drew his attention the most were her manacled wrists, and for a moment, he stood rigid, mesmerized.  Again the driver gave a low moan, which galvanized him into action.

"Tranasey, see if one of those soldiers carried a canteen." 

While the young ferret foraged among the dead, Chitter approached the driver.  She was slumped over as far as the chain allowed and seemed only semiconscious.  Chitter patted her muzzle until she opened her eyes.  He then helped her drink from a canteen the ferret retrieved.

"I remember you from the Inn."  Chitter snapped his fingers, pleased by his memory.  "Your name is Wobbles.  What is this thing and why do they let a slave drive it?" 

As he spoke, Chitter smiled at the old female, hoping a friendly face would help her relax.  He needed answers to what had happened over the last day and believed this strange beast could provide them.

"This thing is a chariot and driving one in battle is a hazardous task.  Drivers are usually the first killed because they cannot duck behind the armored sides while controlling the pony.  Slaves are considered expendable."   

He introduced himself and his companions, but the female's eyes flutter as they changed from lucid to a glazed-over stare.  Chitter tried reviving Wobbles once more.  Narkade stormed over to his friend and seized his shoulder.  Such was the force of his action that Chitter toppled out of the chariot. 

Narkade shouted, "We have to leave, and now.  These soldiers are going to be missed.  If we're still here when they come looking, we'll be lucky if they don't kill us all.  You know that."

"There has to be a way of freeing her."  Chitter's voice held a note of frustration.

"Those dead soldiers don't have a key and we have no way of breaking that chain.  Even if we did, she's injured.  We can't travel fast if we take her."

"One thing I learned growing up at Redwall, we free slaves, regardless of the cost.  Thanks to my real mother, I escaped slavery as a very young dibbun.  When I became old enough, I understood the price she paid for my freedom.  I swore no creature would ever wear chains, not if I could help it."

Narkade kept his voice low.  "And that's the key phrase, 'if I could help it.'  I don't want to leave her either, but what choice do we have?"

Chitter felt Wobbles' eyes focused on him and turned in her direction.  With a lithe bound, he again stood inside the chariot.  A moment later, Chitter had both paws wrapped about the shackles, his feet braced against the front panel.  Giving an ear-piercing scream, he strained every muscle in his body as he tried wrenching the chain out of a slot in the chariot's armor.  His effort spent, he collapsed on the floor, sobbing.

Savagely swiping the tears off his muzzle, Chitter approached the group standing a short distance away from the wreck.  None said anything about his futile effort at snapping the chains.  With an irritated wave of his paw, Chitter motioned everyone closer.

"I'm sick of running away from those needing help.  Mother Tassel taught me a lot better than that and I'll not shame her now.  Narkade, you can travel faster by yourself than with the rest of us.  You have got to get word to Redwall.  Tell your mother everything that has happened.  She'll know what to do."

"What about everyone else?  You have an obligation to protect them too, or have you forgotten?"

"They can travel with me to my village.  The residents of Green Birch will offer them a place of refuge.  Then I'm organizing a war party and come back.  If this invading Horde wants a fight, I'll make them rue the day they came to our land."

Chitter waited with the others until Narkade reached the woods.  The remaining survivors scavenged the area for anything useful while Chitter talked with the injured slave.  When the others indicated their readiness to leave, Chitter joined them. 

Halfway between the others and the overturned chariot, he stopped.  He ran back and jumped next to the slave, Wobbles.  His eyes bore into her very soul, which made her shudder.  Chitter grabbed her head and forced her snout under his armpit.  He held her tight, overpowering her feeble struggles.  His voice had a ragged, harsh sound to it as he whispered.

"Drink deep of my scent, Wobbles.  I swear, one day, I shall free you.  If ever you detect my odor, know that your salvation, and your freedom, is near.  This I swear by all I hold sacred."

Wobbles struggled, her battered body could take no more abuse and once again she slumped into unconsciousness.  Chitter placed the half filled canteen next to her before he left.  As he walked away, he glanced backwards.  She had not moved.

xxxxx

Captain Purrnella Slyclaw followed the main road to the northwestern base camp in response to orders received earlier that day.  Once she located the canvas huts that housed the Military Intelligence Unit, she asked for directions to the commanding officer's quarters.

Colonel Varden, the Chief of Intelligence, had commandeered a small hut and turned it into both his headquarters and his home.  Purrnella snorted at the extravagance, but chalked it up as one of the many privileges a commander's position afforded.  She expected some underling or slave to answer her knock.  Instead, the Colonel answered the door, inviting her inside as if this were a social call.

The grey wolf motioned her to a vacant chair.  He then poured her a measure of liquor before taking his own seat.  Neither spoke for a few moments as they savored the fiery local brew.  The Captain maintained her silence, waiting for her superior to make the first move.

"Tell me Captain; are the stories about you true?  Do you find excuses for engaging in physical confrontations because you enjoy inflicting pain or because you like dominating others?  I mean, was it necessary to put your lieutenant in a field hospital because two squirrels tricked him and escaped?"

Before she could reply, the wolf held up his paw denying her any chance at responding.  Colonel Varden rose and walked over to his desk where he removed a flask and poured a measure of its contents into a glass.  He added a bit of water and began swirling the mixture, but made no move at drinking the concoction.

"It doesn't matter.  You see, Captain, your crass methods are ineffective because they are the worse extreme.  You may gain some pleasure from your abusive actions, but you miss important information.  Now this," and here the wolf displayed the glass, "is the other extreme, a serum that lowers one's mental guards while causing no physical harm.  It too is not always effective as sometimes prisoners will tell you what they think you want to hear, even if it isn't the truth."

She shrugged, unsure this conversation led anywhere.  "So what do you do, Colonel Varden?"

"I use a mixture of the two extremes.  The trick is in knowing how close and to which extreme.  That's why I brought you here.  I'm questioning the slave Wobbles and since the two of you are acquainted, perhaps your presence might prove useful."

With that, Colonel Varden led the way outside.  They walked to a wide field where they saw a stoat kneeling by another form.  As they drew nearer, the body of the prisoner became visible.  She had been staked to the ground, her arms and legs stretched out and her eyes blindfolded.  Although the stoat made no physical move against the creature, the prisoner squirmed and whimpered.  The stoat held four fingers up before he resumed questioning the staked prisoner.

The wolf motioned her to a nearby bench.  They sat and watched.  She observed the other creature's suffering and purred.  When the stoat struck the prisoner with a leather strap he carried, the prisoner's reaction seemed so mild that she expressed her disappointment.  The Colonel leaned closer as he explained what was happening.

"His signal told me that he is going through the fourth round of interrogation with this prisoner.  She hasn't slept since we brought her here late last evening.  My inquisitor refuses to believe anything she tells him, which means he has been using that strap not only as an inducement to talk, but as a way of keeping her awake.  Notice how the prisoner suffers, but the whip does no serious harm, though she will be rather sore once he's finished with her.  I need information, but not at the expense of valuable army equipment."

Captain Purrnella took the hint and kept her voice low enough that her comment would not reach the bound prisoner.  "I would be more persuasive with that strap.  Tickling her isn't going to get what you want.  Slaves don't respond to anything less than maximum pain."

"This is the fourth time she has undergone interrogation.  Each time with a different officer.  The first one had her wailing loud enough to wake the dead.  The next two used pain to keep her awake.  Our friend out there uses the whip as a reminder of what can happen.  If I did as you suggest, she might very well die and we will have learned nothing."

"It looks quite ineffective, sir."

Colonel Varden smirked.  "You don't understand interrogation techniques.  I am giving her something we call the rock and feather treatment.  My officer has been the rock, harsh and unyielding.  After more than twelve hours of continual questioning, she is feeling exhausted and without hope.  Now I will step in and rescue her.  In her gratitude, she may reveal things she didn't even realize she knew.  Now watch and learn how to play a prisoner."

Colonel Varden rose and took a casual stroll over to the stoat that still questioned Wobbles.  The wolf and stoat argued.  The stoat shouted in an angry voice, claiming the squirrel withheld information and punctuated his comment by striking the prisoner's leg and back.  The wolf pulled rank and ordered the prisoner taken to his quarters and summoned a Healer, thus ending their masterful performance. 

Several soldiers standing nearby carried Wobbles inside the Colonel's house, but did not remove her blindfold.  Colonel Varden had the squirrel tied to the bedposts, claiming the Healer had ordered it.  Wobbles tried resting on the bed, but the restraints kept most of her body suspended above the mattress.  The wolf ordered the blindfold removed and Captain Purrnella complied.

Wobbles took one look at her and renewed her struggles, fear evident in her voice and in her expression.  Colonel Varden rushed to the side of the prisoner, expressed his concern about her distress, and eased her fears with the promise that there was no danger.  He then produced the beaker Captain Purrnella saw him prepare earlier.

"Drink this; the Healer tells me it will dull the pain."  Varden gave Wobbles an inquisitive look, while he pointed at Purrnella.  "I take it you either know her or about her reputation?" 

Wobbles nodded.  "I was given to her family when she was but a kitten.  Her father then sold me to the army.  Stories about her are a major topic of discussion in the slave camp."

While the Healer worked a soothing salve into her bruised body, Colonel Varden questioned Wobbles.  Sometimes he asked her about Purrnella or the other slaves in the camp.  Eventually, the wolf quizzed her about the loss of the chariot.  Wobbles babbled, telling the Colonel everything she knew.  By the time the Healer was done, the squirrel's speech slurred as the effects of the drug and the long period without sleep took its toll.  Wobbles directed her final comment at Purrnella before passing out; the slave's voice held a defiant tone she never exhibited before this day.

"He got . . . away, and you'll . . . you'll never find him."

Once outside the room, Captain Purrnella spoke with Colonel Varden.  "Any idea if she was speaking about Narkade, or their leader."

"Most likely she is referring to the one she called angry squirrel.  Wobbles didn't remember him by name because she faded in and out, but she does recall his promise to free her.  That might prove useful in the future if this other squirrel does decide to fight us."

"I wouldn't trust her, Colonel.  Wobbles has been a model slave, very submissive until now.  I have never known her to speak in such a manner before today.  Perhaps she has a rebellious side."

Colonel Varden laughed.  "It's the drug.  Some prisoners change personalities under its influence.  The meek are boastful, the cowardly, brave, and the submissive, assertive.  Her tone of voice is inconsequential."

He then expressed his gratitude for frightening Wobbles, as that was why he had her there.  He considered her a prop for the interrogation, nothing more.  In her anger, Purrnella denounced his interrogation methods as ineffective.  The Colonel laughed at her indignation.

"An Intelligence agent gathers bits and pieces from any number of sources and combines them into something useful.  When I use what Wobbles gave us, I am going to have some very important information for Brigadier Shawarran, and you never noticed it.  In your haste to inflict pain, you act like a fool who squanders a fortune on something worthless.  No wonder our commander reduced your rank to captain."

xxxxx

Inside the room, after the two officers left, Wobbles fell into a deep, exhausted drug-induced sleep.  Her tired body sank into the soft mattress, her limbs free of their painful restraints.  Her breathing eased as her mind relaxed.  Darkness fell upon her.

From this blackness, a thin ribbon of light appeared.  She reached out, thinking the colored light a solid object.  Her paw passed through it and within her mind, she saw the image of some creature polishing boots.  Wobbles brushed another lighted thread and saw a fork stab a potato.  She continued falling through the colored threads, bombarded by unknown moments of time as experienced by others.  Since she saw and experienced their visions, she had no way of knowing the source.

With a jolting abruptness, the falling sensation stopped.  She twisted her head to one side and a huge spider approached her.  Behind this nightmarish creature, Wobbles recognized the pole she had touched seven years earlier when a witch gave her a vision.  Like that time long ago, all of the surrounding threads terminated at the pole. 

"The time is drawing near when the prophecies revealed will come to pass.  Be vigilant, Wobbles."

The sensation of falling resumed.  As she tumbled through the blackness, another bright light shone down on her.  A very small squirrel stood in silhouette.  Based on its size, she knew it must be a very young child, perhaps a toddler.  The unknown squirrel receded into the distance, but not before he stretched his paw towards her and cried out in a heart-rending voice just one word: "Mommy."

As darkness overtook the child, Wobbles tried recalling the one she lost, but the passage of time had dulled her memory.  Yet one thing did come to her tired mind.  She recalled the name of her child, a name that remained unspoken for more than twenty years. Within the room where she slept alone, Wobbles called out his name. "Chitter."