Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

Bees droned lazily in the still summer warmth. Birds called back and forth as a gentle breeze played through the trees of Mossflower. The sun-warmed sandstone of Redwall Abbey seemed almost to glow as the inhabitants bustled about on their daily chores. Dibbuns chased each other across the emerald-green lawn of the abbey courtyard, laughing joyfully in their play while under the careful eye of old Brother Rollo. Up against the abbey wall the laterose nodded peacefully. The beautiful flower had been true to its name this season, and promised a long, hot summer.

Martin the Warrior, son of Mattimeo and grandson of Matthias, made his way slowly around the abbey walls. There was no need to rush his patrol, as Mossflower had been peaceful ever since the return of the Seaking six seasons prior. Looking out over the surrounding forest, Martin felt the pull of Mossflower Woods stronger than ever. A deep longing for adventure, which Martin knew was instilled in every Redwall Warrior. Today was not for adventuring, however, so he tore his gaze from the forest and turned in toward the abbey grounds. He soon found the little creature he was looking for, sitting beneath an apple tree in the orchard.

Arven, an orphan who had been ward of the abbey for as long as he could remember, looked up at the approach of the warrior. Martin could see that the young squirrel had been crying, though he had dried his eyes as best he could. "What ails you, Arven," he said, sitting next to the little squirrel.

Arven sniffled, rubbing a paw across his nose before answering. "Mr. Stump told me I'm not needed in the cellars anymore, and that I should find something else to do."

Martin nodded. "And what's wrong with that?"

"I work just as hard as Diggum and Gurrbowl," Arven said, his voice beginning to waver, "so why would Mr. Stump want me out of the cellar? I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"

Martin could see fresh tears building in the youngster's eyes, and he placed a comforting paw around Arven's shoulders. "You did nothing wrong, Arven." He stood abruptly, helping Arven to his footpaws. "Come, walk with me. There is something I need to speak about with you."

The pair walked side by side toward the abbey, Arven still sniffling and with his face downcast. They were nearly to the doors of Great Hall when Martin spoke. "Furmo Stump told you to leave the cellars because I asked him to do so."

Arven looked up sharply, confusion written plainly across his face. "Why would you do that?" he asked. He held the door of Great Hall as they entered, walking slowly down toward the image of the first Martin sewn into the tapestry that hung along the wall.

"I've been keeping an eye on you," Martin said, "ever since I returned to Redwall." He paused before the picture of his namesake, gazing up at the armored mouse. "The night before the Seaking arrived on the shores of Mossflower, I had a dream. It was a message."

Arven stood silent, eyes riveted to Martin as he recited the message he had been given.

"Seek ye now the final pearl,

Keep the finder in thy sight,

For he shall be six seasons hence,

Redwall's Champion by rite."

Silence filled the hall once again as the final words faded away. Arven was staring at the warrior as though he'd grown a third ear. "You mean…" he could not finish the thought, breath catching in his throat as Martin took a wooden sword from behind the tapestry.

"You will begin your training with this," the warrior said. "Once you have learned to handle it I will give you a proper blade. Someday you will carry the sword of the Redwall Champion."

Arven's paws shook as he took the wooden sword, his mouth still hanging open. "I'm not dreaming, am I?" he asked, suddenly finding his voice.

Martin smiled at him. "No, you're not dreaming. I asked Furlo Stump to keep you in the cellars until it was time for the message to be fulfilled. Today marks the sixth season since I returned, and tomorrow you begin your training."

Arven was practically bouncing with uncontained energy, his face wreathed in smiles. "Thank you!" He cried, flinging his arms around Martin in a hug. "Can I tell Tansy?"

Martin ruffled Arven's ears. "Of course you can," he said. He watched as the young squirrel bounded away, his earlier sadness utterly forgotten. "He'll do well," he murmured. The little squirrel and young hedgehog maid had grown much since the night he'd found them running from 'skallingtungs' in Mossflower Wood. Strange to think, but never in his wildest dreams would he have imaged that night that he was leading the future Mother Abbess and Redwall Champion back home. He chuckled quietly to himself, slowly walking after Arven, whom he could still hear yelling for Tansy down in Cavern Hole. Who would have thought indeed?