Three Tales, One Story
In the Tradition of Brian Jacques's Redwall Novels
Prolouge:
To Be Lost In A Cave With Nothing To Do
Tigand had no idea how long they had huddled together for warmth in the icy stone crevice. Hours seemed like days, and days? He didn't know about those anymore. He lost count at six, however many days ago that was. The homely simpleton and his family of four others, two daughters, a son, and a caring wife. Traveling with the five woodmice was a large gray squirrel, though Tigand had not heard a word from him for... well, it was an amount of time that had to be less than a day, but other than that the mouse did not know. He could glimpse through the massed bodies of his family the form of Kellos Silverbirch. The squirrel was lying on the frosted floor slightly away from them. Not a sound except their ragged breathing broke the deep earth silence.
Tigand's eldest daughter had been the closest friend to the tough squirrel. She was now inconsolable, convinced that Kellos was dead from the freezing cold. Ready to slip away herself, she drifted into a half-dream, half-vision of a place far away.
Trees in their Autumn garb swayed in the buffeting winds, not quite willing to release their scarlet and orange leaves to it just yet. A stream ran through the green-grassed gully, little more than a trickle of a drainage from the nearby mountains of the western coast, but it was more than enough. A tiny mousemaid and a squirrel kit several seasons older were splashing about, giggling as their footpaws squelched the sticky bottom mud. Soon the young squirrel was throwing mudballs, and the mousemaid was squealing to get away, though she was truly laughing the whole time.
"Hah-hah! Gotcha Lima!" the squirrel said in triumph. The mousemaid gave a squeak as a gob of mud spattered over her blouse.
"Eeeew, Kellos, ya gots mud all ova me!"
Young Kellos did not seem to heed her distress, and instead of immediately behaving himself he scooped up another mound of mud and grinned devilishly.
"I know! That's th' game, silly!"
Thrusting itself through the happy vision, the head of a large ruddy-brown furred vixen loomed large in Lima's sight. The mousemaiden did not think she had the strength to scream, so instead buried her face back in her mother's cloak sleeve and waited for her torment to be all over.
It took Tigand a moment to realize the vulpine figure was no illusion as well. Sitting stock upright and rubbing his eyes hard with the backs of both paws, he gazed wildly at the creature standing stooped in the small passage leading out into the storm. The beast was flecked with snow and wearing a thick parka that looked to be made at least partially of rabbits' fur, together with snug wool leggings. Another fox entered, dressed similarly but this one a smaller male. Then a third came into their midst, him a larger male and wearing a black cloak along with fur parka and leggings. All three had dark green eyes like shadowy pieces of jade, and prominent black markings around their eyes as if somebeast had painted them on.
"This chamber is taken, Chief."
"I can see that," the big male snapped at the smaller one. The vixen stepped closer to the prone form of the gray squirrel, leaning over him curiously and placing a paw flat on his chest. "We'll just make them scoot over, then."
"Wh-what do you vermin want?!" Tigand strove to put up a bold front in the hopes to evict the intruding foxes, but he could not keep himself from shivering. The big cloaked fox looked him over with hard eyes.
"Who do you think you're calling 'vermin'?" he said, "We are foxes, you see. Not vermin. Now, are you to do your duty as a fellow woodlander and offer us a seat through this storm?"
Tigand noticed for the first time that none of the foxes were armed. The only things at their belts were pouches and traveling flasks. Grudgingly he motioned for them to take up the floor on the opposite side of the cave chamber as his family. Lima gave a late sob of fear.
"That's better." the chief of the foxes smiled. The vixen was still occupied with Kellos's limp body, "How goes that one?"
"Better than I thought, when first I saw this treejumper," she answered, lifting the arboreal rodent's head up and resting it on her knee, "He is cold but alive. I shall use my powders to warm him, methinks..."
"What are you going to do..?" Tigand challenged her uneasily. The vixen gave a short reassuring smile.
"I will place powders on him which when put together make a great heat." she explained, "It will do well to revive your friend."
"It had better!" the mouse growled, his hostility a mere front. He knew that in his condition he would have no hope in fending off three good-sized foxes, especially when he had to keep them from his family and the inert Kellos.
The vixen seemed to ignore him. She went on ahead with her administrations, taking out several small pouches filled with brownish-gray powder and spreading it thinly on the body. Then a layer of whitish-silver powder was added to the patient. Tigand stared hard at the places where the two were meeting but saw nothing happen. He shouted angrily as if betrayed.
"Liar! I bet you've poisoned him!" the vixen took a step back, her paws up in a calming gesture.
"Keep thy tongue! Give the reaction more time, my friend. Your friend will wake, and then you will see that I am truthful," she said. The cheif fox snorted.
"Now that we all hate each other," he grinned. "Why don't we bother to learn each other's names? I think that we may be here together a good while."
The younger fox nodded sadly, listening to a distant puff of the howling winds outside.
"I'm Tigand, woodlander and friend of Redwall Abbey. This is my family." he said. He glared as he spoke the words "Redwall Abbey", as if hoping the name would set off a frightful reaction among the maligned beasts. But the foxes batted not an eye. "My wife, Twinflower. My sons, Keemo and Koffera. My daughter, Lima. And that is our companion, Kellos Silverbirch."
"I see. A pleasure," the Chieftain said, not looking nearly as pleased as he had expressed. "We are three of the tribe of the Waterfoxes. I am Chief Euran, this is my healer, Sitra. And here is my son, Ioran."
"A pleasure." the mouse gritted his teeth. Ioran the young fox stretched languidly and yawned, showing every one of his cream-colored fangs.
"Do you have vittles?" he asked. Chief Euran cuffed his ear roughly.
"What a thing to ask of these wayfarers!" he growled, "Of course they have none. We shall share ours if need be. Let your elders and betters do the talking."
"Aye, cub. Do as thy father commands."
Ioran slumped, tailbrush whipping and chin resting on fists.
"What're we supposed to do in this dank cave, then?" he said. "Couldn't we at least have a story to drive away this nasty silence?"
Euran looked about to strike the younger fox again when he stopped. Turning with a strange look on his face to Sitra, he nodded.
"Aye, 'twould do well to occupy us," he said. "Very well! Do you know many stories, Sitra?"
"A great many. You have heard most of them, my Chief," she said. "I do have one which you did not hear over the hearth many seasons ago. I think now would be a good time to tell it..."
Lying on his side, Ioran the fox cub scooted closer to the family of mice, oblivious to their aversive stares and attempts to shrink away. Drawing in a breath of icy air, Sitra the Healer began her tale... Of the most revered figure in all of Mossflower history...
And so the tale begins! Be sure to review and tell me what you liked, or didn't like! I like both kinds of attention! *wink*