Midwinter had again arrived in Mossflower. Days were shorted, the cold winter nights seemed to stretch on and on. Despite the dark and gloom of snow and sleet, Redwallers were celebrating. The creatures of Redwall Abbey always strived to see the good in all things. What was so good about winter? Well, there was sledding, skating and snow-beasts to build of course. This delighted the dibbuns and the young at heart. For the older creatures, the ones with aching bones and swollen joints, midwinter heralded the halfway point of their least favourite season.
Not surprisingly the Abbot called for a feast. Redwall's cupboards and store rooms were well stocked. The autumn harvest had yielded a bountiful assortment of fruits and vegetables. Indeed, there was enough for a number of feasts, with lots remaining for the kind brothers and sisters of Redwall to provide charity for those less fortunate.
On the chilly winter morning Melanda MacBurl awoke before any of the others in the dormitory. Yawning, the pretty squirrelmaid quietly pulled on her homespun smock and tip pawed down the winding staircase. She could already hear the Friar and the kitchen helpers making breakfast down in the kitchen. Her heart tingled with excitement as she dashed towards great hall, trying to run as fast and as quietly as she could. There in great hall was the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. This morning there seemed to be a pleased expression on his face. Smiling brightly the squirrelmaid addressed the image of the ancient warrior.
"Good morning Martin. " She whispered.
Below the tapestry the sword rested in its place of honour. From the time she was small her father had taught her how to use a blade. Melanda had even the privilege of being official blade carrier on their visit to Salamandastron. Although her healer mother had been hesitant about Melanda being trained in the ways of the warrior, her Father Rakkety Tam was insistent that his daughter should learn. The squirrelmaid had skill for a creature of her build, but she so wanted to impress her father, and her uncle Doogy Plumm. So each morning without fail, she would wake up before the others and practice.
Taking the blade from where it rested she swung it expertly. Balancing on her pawtips she thrust the mighty sword forward. Moving as she had been taught she battled with invisible foes around the hall. Her bushy tail flailed behind her as she leapt and bounded throwing her weight behind the blade to slash and parry. Round and round the squirrelmaid seemed to dance, until a soft sound alerted she was being watched. Ever the modest creature, Melanda didn't like to practice in front of an audience. The Redwallers often asked her to show her skills at feasts and celebrations, but she shyly declined each time. Spinning about on her paws, she found the small spy hiding behind a pillar.
"Out you come, Dauncey de Mayne." She called to the young creature.
Dauncey was the young son of Redwall's two resident hares. He had the cheerful disposition of his mother, but the build of his father. The little hare seemed to be all ears and legs at the moment. His footpaws appeared to be growing far faster than the rest of him. His legs and paws were riddled with bruises and scrapes, as he often took tumbles.
Wiping his nose with the back of his paw, he shuffled forward. Eyes wide with admiration for Melanda. "Corks marm, yer a jolly good warrior. Teach me, please." He clutched both paws together begging the squirrel. "Please oh please marm."
Smiling Melanda patted him on the head. "Oh Dauncey, you can't start with a great big sword like this. It is far too big for a little hare like you."
Dauncey reached up and clutched the hilt of Martin's sword. "I'm much stronger than I looks." He insisted, then with a great heave tried to lift the blade.
Melanda had to move quickly to keep the little creature from pulling the weapon down upon himself. It was far too heavy for the young creature to shift. Seeing how discouraged he was, she offered some words of encouragement.
"I have no doubt one of these seasons you'll be a great warrior. Every warrior has to start somewhere. When I was your age my father taught me how to use a dirk. Tell you what, if your mum and dad don't mind we'll start your training first thing tomorrow."
The little hare's eyes lit up. " Y'jolly well mean it marm?"
Melanda nodded. "Of course I do." She sniffed the air and grinned. "Smell that Dauncey, I think breakfast is ready."
Dauncey clapped his paws taking a whiff of the aroma. "Honey scones, bakes apples, and oatmeal hurray!"
Hanging up the sword the squirrelmaid took paws with the young hare and the two went off to breakfast.
All the Redwallers were awake now. All clustered in cavern hole for a warm breakfast. Both sets of parents joined the young hare and squirrel at one of the long tables. Young Dauncey made a face as his mother licked the corner of her apron and tried to clean honey from his whiskers.
"Mum I can get it m'self." He squirmed flushing red about the eartips as she continued to clean his face.
"Hold still you little ruffian." Kersey took a firm grip on her son, seeing to it that he was honey free.
"I'm no ruffian. I'm going to be a blinking warrior."
At this announcement Rakkety Tam, the warrior of Redwall offered some advice to the young creature. "Th' first rule o'being a warrior is tae listen tae yer maw."
Wild Doogy Plumm nodded in agreement. "Och aye, a guid laddie ne'er crosses his mammy. 'especially one that used tae run wi' th' Long Patrol."
Twisting his ears, little Dauncey slouched on the bench. "Well, when I become a warrior I not going to listen t'any one. I'll make the jolly rules."
His father Ferdimond de Mayne glanced up from his oatmeal. Wiping his lips with a napkin he shook his head. "Well m'laddo, I suppose that means the rule making warrior doesn't want his first Leverets dagger."
The threat seemed to work. Dauncey was instantly the picture of good behavior. His father had promised him since start of the season he would get the prized weapon, if he demonstrated appropriate behavior, and proving he was mature enough to own such a thing.
Breakfast was quickly finished. By Abbey standards it had been a light snack. Friar Glisum wanted to make sure there was room for everyone to enjoy that evening's feast. The dormouse was busy at work with his helpers, ensuring that even the pickiest of beasts had something to enjoy.
Armel smiled to her daughter. "Will you be helping me mind the dibbuns as they play in the snow?"
The young squirrel maid glanced between her mother and father. Shifting her weight between her paws she spoke hesitantly. "Well… I… er, I had hoped to go into the woodlands with father and uncle Doogy."
It was hard for the boarder warrior not to beam with pride at his daughter's admission. Both looked pleadingly to Armel. Shaking her head she waved the squirrels off. "Run along then, go off on your adventures. "
In order to bolster celebrations, Abbot Humble ordered a great bonfire of pine boughs to be built on the Abbey grounds. The smell and crackling flankers were sure to delight young and old alike. Skipper had scouted out an area where the boughs could be collected, not far from the Abbey. It wouldn't be any woodland errand without Rakkety Tam in tow. And where ever the boarder warrior went, Wild Doogy Plum was sure to follow.
Large sleds were stored in the gatehouse, not the sort for playing in the snow. These had been fashioned from old scraps of wood to allow goods and lumber to be hauled through the snow. Each had study rope leads which were tied around a creature's middle to allow them to pull it along. Doogy was having a great deal of trouble finding one that would fit his ample belly.
"These ropes are tay small. Somebeast ha' gone an' shortened them y'ken." The gruff little highlander grumbled in dismay.
Rakkety Tam shook his head patting his friends belly none too gently. "Maybee too many good suppers mate."
With the help of both Tam and Melanda the rope belt was secured around Doogy. Each squirrel had bundled up against the cold. While both Doogy and Tam still wore their kilts, over top each wore heavy cloaks. Melanda too sported a tartan winter cloak to protect against the chill. Trudging passed the main gate the three were met by Skipper and four stout otters. They each carried axes and saws to aid in the collection. Seeing the three squirrels Skipper tugged the corner of his winter hat.
"Morning mates, find day t'collect some fire wood." Even in the coldest of days the otter was always cheerful. "Ole Togey got his scarf in a bind this morning." The otter warned referring to the Guosim Log-a-log. "Seems a pair o' young weasels 'ave been seen lurking about this end o'Mossflower woods."
Rakkety Tam knew just how deeply the shrew chieftain loathed vermin. It had seemed strange that a number of shrews had been missing since breakfast. Now he had his answer. "But it's a feast day; our wee friend can't go hunting vermin on a fest day."
Skipper shrugged his brawny shoulders. "I tried to talk 'im out of it, but you know 'ow he gets. Word is the they're only likkle 'uns. But I 'spose likkle 'uns grow in to big 'uns."
Melanda had grown up on the stories of her father and uncle Doogy. Vermin were creature to be hated and feared. They brought nothing but pain and hardship on honest folks. Perhaps it was her Abbey upbringing that caused her to feel for these weasels. "He won't kill them, will he Skipper?"
Hearing the concern in the maid's voice, the brawny otter patted her head. "Don't worry missie, ole Togey may hate vermin, but even 'e won't slaughter young 'uns. Those shrews will just drive them off. No harm done." Assuming this would settle the maid's worry, the team of wood cutters set off.
While trudging through the snow, laughing and singing with her family and friends the young squirrel tried to put the fate of the weasels from her mind.
The spot Skipper had scouted out wasn't far from Redwall at all. In fact they could still see the walls through the forest fringe. While many of the evergreen trees still proudly showed their needles, a small crop of trees were broken with branches decked in gold and brown. A past season windstorm had cracked many of the study branches. Dead limbs hung limply from the still living tree.
"Blasty boughs." Skipper grinned like a dibbun pointing to the dead branches.
"Blasty boughs?" Melanda was baffled by the term. "They're just dead branches sir."
The otter nodded. "Aye, that they are missie. But set them on fire and they crackle and hiss and smell lovely. A grand fire can be made of dead branches like these."
Unhitching their belts Rakkety Tam and Doogy Plumm took saws and axes and climbed to the higher branches. Rakkety Tam easily glided up the wounded tree, whereas Doogy had to stay at the lower branches, his weight causing the tree to sigh and sway in an unsafe manner. Seeing the fun, Melanda unhitched her sled and taking a small hatchet scrambled up the adjacent tree. It was a little tricky climbing with all her winter clothes on. Yet, the squirrelmaid managed.
It was only when she was out in Mossflower woods that she got to do any real climbing. The orchard trees didn't grow to be very tall, and Brother Demple always scolder the young squirrel for disrupting the unripened fruit. Out in Mossflower, when she hiked with her father she could enjoy the freedom of the trees. It was far easier to leap and bound without her mother cringing for fear she might fall. Her father was always watchful, but he let her run and leap, and even make mistakes, for how else would a young warrior learn.
Always trying to impress her father, Melanda scrambled to get the highest branches. The cold wind whipped around her, sending her cloak out like a sail. Gritting her teeth and wrangling her tail she tried to compensate for the wind. Claws gripped the bark, giving her a sturdy hold on the tree. Finding a hold of her footpaws she inched up and up. Then finally there was no more three to climb, she had reached the top. Beaming she peered down. The otters looked so small, Doogy and her father too. She waved a paw to them feeling like a tiny dibbun again. She could see right to River Moss from the tree top. Swaying as the wind saw fit to take her, she watched the wintery woodland. Two creatures caught her eye. She could see the two young weasels. Melanda had never seen a weasel before, but she knew based on description that these were indeed weasels. They wore rags and stumbled about in the snow. Suddenly they vanished under a large fallen beech tree. Much of the tree was hidden in show, some of the roots poked up gnarled and twisted. The tree had been downed so long small shrubs and vegetation had taken root atop it. This had to be their hideout. Melanda knew if she was looking for a place to hide in Mossflower, such a tree would be as good as any. She ought to tell Skipper and her father. However the maid kept this information to herself.
Skipping and sliding down, she merrily hacked some of the high dead branches. "Look out below!' she bellowed to the otters. The branches tumbled down thudding on the ground.
While the squirrels took care of the higher branches, or in Doogy's case the middle branches. The otters took care of what was on the ground or low enough for them to reach. Working as a team the labour was quickly completed. Skipper and the members of his crew used twine to bundle up the wood. Leaping down from the tree Melanda did a mid air flip before landing in a snow pile.
Her father didn't seem impressed by her feat. "Missie yer lucky that was snow an' not a rock underneath."
"Och aye, foolishness canna kill wee squirrels." Doogy nodded seriously.
Looking dejected Melanda flicked snow off her ears and tail. She had only gone for the snow out of fun, she hadn't thought about consequences of her actions. Skipper sided with the young maid. "No harm done matey, don't tell me ye two didn't do the same at her age."
Without warning he picked Melanda up as if she weighed nothing at all, and set her atop her sled. While her father and Doogy had been giving their lecture, the otter had arranged the bundles to mimic a chair. Now seated quite comfortably the squirrelmaid smiled, feeling much better. Skipped winked and began pulling the sled along. "Come on mates, gotta get princess snowflake back for the feast."
Giggling widely, Melanda waved regally amid jokes and hearty laughter. The merriment continued all the way back to Redwall.