The green forest leaves of Mossflower rustled slightly in the breeze above a camp in a clearing

The green forest leaves of Mossflower rustled slightly in the breeze above a camp in a clearing. A fire was just burning out, and a dark red creature was trying to rouse it from its slumber by prodding it. Surrounding him were other foxes, curled up against the bitter night wind, longing for sleep.

The dark red fox cursed loudly as he failed to relight the fire and straightened up. You could now see his face, a grotesque face, a face split by a long, ugly mark, turned black and rotting. He was wearing a long black cloak fastened with a golden broach, hiding the jagged blade he kept round his waist. He strode over to one of the sleeping foxes and kicked him roughly in the side. The fox howled with rage and stumbled to his feet to face the culprit. When he realised who it was, he cowered into the shadow of a large oak tree, trembling with fear.

'My, my Lord?' he stuttered. 'What wilst thou have me do?'

'The fire, damned beast, the fire!' the dark red fox spat back. 'I am cold, and need the warmth.'

The other fox muttered a yes and staggered over to the fire, frantically throwing dried wood and leaves onto it. As he worked, the lord fox paced thoughtfully up and down the clearing.

'Doest thou know what I am thinking of, my faithful servant,?' he asked of the other fox.

'No my Lord Regnor,' the fox said nervously.

'I am thinking where we should go next,' Regnor said.

'Oh, my Lord?' the fox asked, not really knowing what to say.

'You see, my friend,' Regnor said. 'We have been wandering round this godforsaken place for a whole moon now, and yet we are no closer to finding the fabled red treasure, the legend of foxes in the lands of ice and snow, ever since the great Gulo the Savage was slain trying to capture it. Now, I do not know what this treasure is, or where it is. Neither do you know what it is, but thou hast promised me that thou saw it in a dream and would take me there. Is that not correct?'

'I did say that my Lord,' the fox answered, looking terrified now.

'You understand my frustration then,' Regnor said, still pacing thoughtfully. 'I feel that I would have better luck finding the red treasure myself.' He swooped down towards the fox so that his disfigured face was inches away from the fox's shaking one. 'Do you not agree?'

The fox swallowed. 'My Lord, I do not believe this. I believe that we are very close, we will find the red treasure soon. Please trust me, I think-'

'You think wrong!' Regnor growled as he drew his jagged blade and plunged it into the unlucky fox's chest. His eyes bulged in shock and pain, and he fell backwards, moaning and gurgling as he died. Regnor stood over him.

'I will find it myself,' he whispered to the dying fox, then raised his head and howled to the skies. 'Do you hear me? I will find it myself!'

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Redwall Abbey stood gloriously in the light of the morning, its red sandstone walls looking almost pink in the rays of the sun. No one was awake yet, as it was quite early, but one lone figure stood on the top wall, looking over his beloved abbey.

Abbot Humble, the kindly hedgehog was growing quite old now and had been Abbot of Redwall for many seasons. He was thinking of transferring the position to someone else, as he had an idea he was not going to be around for much longer. He was not saddened by this; he had lived a good, and a more than exciting life. The attack on Redwall by foxes under the command of Gulo the Savage was thrilling, almost too thrilling for a peace loving hedgehog. Yes, he was ready to move on.

As he surveyed the calm scene below, the air was suddenly slashed by the screams of laughter of young creatures. As Humble watched, two young maidens, a squirrel and an otter came running out, followed by a huffing and puffing mouse, trying to keep up. The squirrel streaked across the grounds and easily scaled up the outer walls, calling to her friends to follow her. Humble thought that this was the time to intervene.

'Hey,' he shouted out to them. 'Melanda Macburl! Where do you think you're going?'

'We're going to play in Mossflower forest!' she shouted back, happily.

Humble shook his head severely. 'Oh no you're not young lady,' he said. 'Not you or your little friends. You don't know what's in Mossflower forest; it's too dangerous to go there unless you're with someone older. Why don't you as your father to take you on a walk? He'll make sure you're safe.'

'I guess,' Melanda grumbled.

'Come on then,' Humble said, kindly. 'In to breakfast, all three of you.'

In the breakfast hall, aged Friar Glisum and his young mole assistant Mudge were spooning out generous helpings of baked apple and carrot pie with strawberry fizz to the ravenous Redwall beasts. As usual, there was loud talking, jollity and laughing that was common at breakfast time. Melanda, her otter friend Terith and her mouse friend Fopp were sitting sulkily in a corner, watching the other Redwallers eat. The young cook Mudge came over to them.

'Boi 'okey,' he said in his typical mole way as he gave them their vittles. 'Hurr hurr, yous faces look loik ee bin rained on, hurr aye.'

'We're just a bit annoyed, Mudge,' Melanda sighed. 'Old Abbot Humble wouldn't let us out on our own in Mossflower. He said it's too dangerous.'

'Too dangerous!' Terith said with contempt. 'Nothing in there, not since my great uncle an' your father,' she pointed at Melanda, 'chased all them foxes out.'

'Oi, aye,' Mudge said reminiscently. 'Oi were on'y a Dibbun wen tha' happened. Don' remembers much, bu' oi heerd ee were gurt fun!'

'Good old Doogy Plum and Tam,' Fopp said. Melanda groaned at the mention of her father.

'My father drives me mad sometimes,' she confessed. 'He was a great warrior, him and Doogy Plum fought of Gulo the Savage himself. And now he sits in Redwall, eating the food, playing with the Dibbuns and has not even wondered if he could go back out there. I mean, hasn't he ever wanted to go and be a warrior again, to fight and slay evil vermin, to have an adventure? What happened to the Highland spirit he had?'

Mudge seemed at a loss at what to say to this. 'Oi expec' ee changed, moi dear,' he said. 'Ees a peaceful luvin' creature now.' And with that he walked off to serve more hungry creatures.

'He's right I suppose,' Fopp said to Melanda. 'People do change. I guess he's had enough of adventures and is ready for a quiet life.'

'But I'm not ready for a quiet life,' Melanda said defiantly. 'I want to go out and fight vermin, and have adventures and be like my father, like he used to be.'

'Maybe we should just face it,' Terith said. 'We're too young, like Humble says. Anyway, there aren't any vermin to kill.'

'Maybe an opportunity will come along,' Melanda said hopefully. 'Maybe there'll be a time when I can fight vermin and defend Redwall, just like my dad and Wild Doogy Plum.'

And later that day, when Melanda was passing the tapestry of the great Martin the Warrior, she stopped and looked. He seemed so grand, and so powerful, yet also kind and caring. Melanda found herself wishing that an opportunity would come along, so she could try and prove herself to be as brave as Martin and her father, Rakkety Tam Macburl.