When night fell, so did Oak. The massive sable badger came crashing down, his last act a rebellion against the spears and swords that had taken his life as his corpse crushed dozens of corsairs. The bow dropped from his nerveless claws, and Oak lay in a fetus position, curled up like a slumbering babe.
Willow cried out in rage and pain as she saw her mate fall. And he was not alone. Four of the once-great Foresters had fallen; Birch, Elm, Beech, and Rowan. And now Oak. Strong, silent Oak. Something inside Willow's head snapped, and she roared, her battle-axe scything the air. Galpo Spike-Fist would pay for this! She could see him now, the fat, fur-clad Searat, sauntering about Oak's body. His unnaturally-long, razor-sharp claws glinted in the dying sunlight as he nudged the body with his spear.
Willow threw herself upon a knot of corsairs, hacking madly about. All she knew was blood, and hate, and steel. She felt a strong paw tap her shoulder, and she whirled around, panting wildly. Laburnum grabbed her shoulders and shook her, yelling in her face.
"Get yourself away, youngster! You can't save him now, only yourself!" The graying badger shoved Willlow in the direction of the last clump of Foresters, still battling bravely as the badgers sought for a way to escape the slaughter. Willow tried to resist, but, with a final push, Labernum sent her away from the carnage. With tears in her eyes, Willow joined her comrades, leaving Labernum to die with a final cry:
"Mossfloweeeeerrrrrrrr!"
Toodle-dum toodle-dum toodle-la-ra-lay
My mousemaid has run away
She grabbed her pet snail with a final scream
That scared the young 'uns and spoiled the cream!
Cried she "O I've had enough of you!
You've ruined me house with your rough-mannered crew
You mad warriors have made such a mess
I want this house clean, spotless nothing less!
I'm leaving you now on account for the smell
From the hedgehogs in the rafters and the toads in the well!
Until this den is cleaned, away I'll stay,"
Said I: "Good riddance! Close the door on your way!"
Abbess Wurthp sighed as the Dibbuns collapsed into giggles at the comedic ditty's conclusion. The homely mole berated the singer, a young squirrel named Tarjk, mercilessly.
"You'm be fillin' them young 'uns head with gurt nonsense, young Tarjk! Take 'ee care, or Oi'll have ee clean the kitchens from top to bottom, ho urr!"
The Dibbuns instantly began to whine. The ringleader, an infant otter named Bluggle, scrunched his eyes and squeaked in what he imagined to be a ferocious growl.
"You leave Mista Tarjk alone, 'ee's our matey, ain't 'ee?'" The other Dibbuns chorused their agreement. Falor Trempt, the hedgehog Abbey Warrior, sidled up and grimaced playfully at Bluggle. "What do we 'ave 'ere, Mother Abbess? A bunch of lazy scoundrels, eh?"
A young shrew piped up angrily. "It wassint us, 'twas Trajk!"
Falor eyed the sheepish squirrel imperiously. "Oho, was it now? Well, looks like someone'll go t' bed wi' no supper! Now off with yew lot, or I'll give ye to the cook! Bet he'll make something tasty outta ye, plump and juicy as ye are!" The Dibbuns fled, squeaking uproariously, towards the main Abbey building. Falor turned on Trajk. "Wot do ye have t' say for yerself?"
"It was just a bit o' fun!" the squirrel blurted out.
Falor glared at the young rip. "Fun it may be, but if yer abbess tells ye t' stop, ye better stop!"
"Yes sir," Trajk muttered sullenly, and he stormed off moodily. Abbess Wurthp carefully placed a heavy digging claw on Falor's shoulder-spikes.
"Don't be to 'ard on 'im, Falor. 'ee's just a young roip, boi hokey!" Paw in law, then headed towards the Great Hall, where a light autumn lunch was waiting.
