The boat was a startling shade of sea green, a tribute to the long seasons the great vessel had held out at sea. The ship only saw the shores once or twice every few seasons, and for that, Syra the Cruel stocked her boat with enough vittles to last. Now was one of those times she was landing into shore, and restocking wasn't the thing on the fox's mind. Plunder was.
As soon as she had discovered the scrolled map written by her father, she had embraced true piracy. And for that, she would need a larger crew. The scarlet fox turned her head to her meager crew of five, and immediately felt self-contempt. The best she could get were searats? "Aye, Tanz!" She called, and immediately the rat turned to Syra.
"Yes, cap'n?" He asked, shrinking in his brown pelt. He had true fear in his eyes, an emotion permanently beat into him.
Syra grinned. "We're headed in. And we ain't headed ashore for simple food. Ha! I've heard of a place attacked many a time, but still remains unbeaten."
Tanz tried to smile half-heartedly, but Syra could see through his facade. "Wot place, miss?" He reached for his sheath, but of course, there wasn't a single blade around his belt. Syra noted to herself that weapons would need to be collected as quickly as she hit beachsand.
"They call it Redwall abbey. Full of mice, and other goodbeasts for the plunder. Not to mention the tales I've heard." She reached into her coat's front pocket and pulled the only weapon on the ship out. An intricately carved blade, made from a stone that fell from the sky. The blade had been passed down for generations among her family, and she was going to be the only fox to put it to good use.
The otter on the crew, Verrik, was guiding the rudder, and smiled greatly. "Aye, cap. I've 'urd the tales meself. Since twas built..." Syra saw him hold his webbed paw to his face, counting the fingers. "Bout five times the place been attacked. Not once 'as it actually turned over. And I say, t'will be nice to have a challenge." Zann smiled and tugged his undersized tunic down. Syra liked the otter, and knew she'd have to give him a better outfit. She was a corsair, by the claw.
Tanz swiveled around now, his pelt bristling. "I say Redwall will be too much of a challenge!" He shouted. "I just want ta live out here, and go where the wind takes us."
"Tanz, look at me here." Syra immediately intercepted. "I'm the captain, not the wind. You follow me. And if you don't, overboard you go." Syra padded over, the tall fox brandishing her dagger. She flicked her paw to the side, indicating the green waves below. "The ocean seems happy to meet you, doesn't it?" Syra said, an edge to her smooth voice.
Tanz nodded in understanding. "Got it, completely." He said, and Syra focused her green eys on him, when Tanz corrected himself. "Yes, cap'n."
Syra bared viciois fangs, and climbed up the middle mast. In the solitude of the crow's nest, she stared long and hard at the map. "We're in the sea right now..." She muttered, pointing the scrawled thing.
She pulled a pin holding a seam in her coat together and rubbed it on her fur. She had a small canister, and took the lid off of it. She placed the needle on the surface of the canister's water, and a makeshift compass was made.
In a second, the needle pointed north, and Syra could realign the Mosshull to the map. "Turn Starboard, Verrik! To Mossflower we go!"
With the turning of the boat, and the rise and fall of it on the waves, Syra the cruel was lulled into a deep sleep.