Prologue
The dark room was suddenly ablaze with light, as a deadly lightning bolt streaked past. Like a large drum, thunder could be heard throughout the abbey.
A molebabe shrieked as he leapt from bed and lay shivering on the cold floor, his little heart almost beating out of his chest.
A squeaking was heard from the corridor. Gradually getting louder as whatever it was came closer to the dormitories. Several Dibbuns thrust their blankets over their heads, crying and screaming in fear of what was coming upon them.
The oak door creaked open, then the sound continued. Not a breath was heard from the Dibbuns, they were scared stiff. Then another lightning bolt was fired, exposing the creature in a yellow light. An aged mousemaid was seated on a large chair with wheels.
The molebabe who had fallen to the ground cried out as he leapt onto the chair, calling out "Hoiler!" he clung to the old mouse without letting go.
"I though I heard some ruckus from over here" she said, smiling, though nobody could see. She looked around as she heard noises from all around. "Couldn't sleep young ones?" she asked, cradling the mole.
She was favoured by the Dibbuns; they all looked up to her as a second mother.
A small mousebabe climbed up her leg and snuggled against her to stay warm "We're scared! The ghosts and monsters are gonna eat us!"
The old mouse chuckled "As long as the spirit of Martin the Warrior stays with us, the ghoulies will know to stay far away."
"Miss'rs tell us'ns a stoiry!" the molebabe said in an odd mole accent.
There was an excited murmur through the Dibbuns, they loved stories. The old mouse sighed "Well, if it will get you little rogues to sleep. What'd you like to hear?"
"A tale of adventure, warriors and friendship, of course!" a hedgehog replied. All the other Dibbuns called out in agreement, those were their favourite stories.
There was silence as the old mouse sat, staring at her legs. She suddenly snapped back "Oh of course! Let's go down to the hall by the fire. You'll love this story. It's about a young herbalist and" she suddenly stopped "Maybe it's too sad to hear."
The Dibbuns cried out, pulling at the mousemaid. She just laughed and said "All right, follow me, easy now, it's pretty dark!" They made their way to the hall, the aged mouse in the squeaky chair in the lead.
Eventually they were all settled by the fire, eyes set on the old mouse. She closed her eyes tight, sighed and began. "This is the tale of a Herbalist..."