Dark days are upon the Abbey. Showers of stars warned us of the evil to come, and the great serpentine wizard Calmasis is even now gathering forces for an attack...

Alas, I lie. Abbot Crocker would surely scold me, but there are only so many ways one may write "everything is safe, the crops are wonderful, the weather is perfect" before it becomes unutterably dull, and my dear cousin Roxy agrees with me that wizards make everything more interesting. Perhaps I was more cut out to be a bard than a recorder.

Ah, Roxy, poor dear. I fear she was cut out far too well for her chosen profession of cellarmaid. Her drinking has only increased over the past season, and the Abbot, my mother, and I have had to hush many comments about how we run out of ale as fast as we make it. Fortunately our friend Dirk Strider keeps an eye on her, but he has his own problems. I suspect the issue is grief. Some seasons ago, Roxy's mother (my aunt, the previous Recorder) and Dirk's oldest brother (bearer of Martin's sword, which was fortunately not with him at the time) disappeared in the woods, and no sign has been found of them since. Roxy puts a brave face on it, swearing that they will return one day and citing the tale of Bragoon and Saro. I have not the heart to remind her how that turned out.

For shame, Rose, using the Abbey's records for gossip. Paper is precious, I must save my calculations for slates and not permanent books, especially not ones everybeast may read. But there is so very little of importance to write about! A hazard of living in times of relative peace, I suppose.

Well, I run low on ink, and so I must go and pluck violets to make my favourite shade. Even the dull and routine may be made interesting by fair penbeastship and attractive ink.

-Novice Rose, apprentice recorder of Redwall Abbey