Disclaimer: I don't own Redwall.
Melting snowdrifts with grass poking through, let the
inhabitants of the Mossflower woods know that spring was on
its way. Birds sang and crickets chirped their mellow tunes.
Once frozen lakes, now melted and flooded the shallow waters
of the forest. The old mole, Durtclaw relaxed and let his frail
body collapse on a bolder, letting the sun warm his bones.
"I am to old to be doing this, alas, at least I have arrived." said
Durtcalw to no one. Several meters ahead was the Redwall
Abby. Unfortunately this would not be the time when
Durtclaw would play with the babes, or drink Elderberry wine
with his friends. It would be a time of fear and depression.
Sadly, the old mole trudged to the Abby.