II

Away from the cold north-eastern beaches, down in the south, stood the grand Redwall Abbey. The large red sandstone building stood at the side of the path, with a beautiful blanket of trees to the east, rolling plains to the west. The sun had just begun to set in the gargantuan vault of sky, tingeing it a mix of orange, lavender and coral pink.

Herding the Dibbuns to the orchard after a good paddle, the Abbeybeasts wiped sweat from their brows after enduring the summer heat for most of the day. There were many chores to do about the Abbey in the warmer months, but being stuck with Dibbun duty was one of the worst.

Dibbuns were the babes of the Abbey. Most were usually calm and quiet, until one bold Dibbun would start a resistense against the elders. This would put all the Dibbuns into a frenzy, dashing about in different directions; making sure the elders could not find them and take them to bed or bath.

This was one of those days. As two hedgehogs and a mole dibbun tried to run into the reeds, the Skipper of Otters; naturally acting as lifeguard, swam over and easily scooped them up in his strong paws.

One mouse ended up in a tree, and a half a dozen others whooped and hollered as they raced on up to the wallstairs. An old campaign hare, name of Mury Cluff halted their ascent as he came down from the parapet.

"What's this we've got here, eh? Dibbuns racin' away from their beds? Not the done sort of thing, wot."

A particularily rude squirrelbabe tried to push past the old hare. "You go move 'way, Missa Cuff. We gonna goo up 'ere."

"Hmph. A trouble maker, eh? We'll just have to find a suitable punishment for the little chap, won't we? I hope you aren't as naughty as young Roffle here." Mury Cluff winked at the Dibbuns as he had the other five surround Roffle, so that escape was impossible.

Gathering in the orchard after giving a good scrubbing to the Dibbuns, they settled down for a hardy supper of carrot and barley soup, hot oatscones, a large meadowcream and spongecake trifle for afters and beakers of raspberry cordial or chestnut beer for the elder beasts of the Abbey.

Gossip and banter flew across the tables almost as fast as Mury Cluff could gobble down a pastie.

"By the looks of things, we're probably gonna be out here awhile," an old hogwife commented while cutting herself a slice of the spongecake trifle.

"I still don't know why Abbess Laurelyne would let the Dibbuns stay up this late," the Infirmary Sister grumbled.

"Ho, ho! Ain't that jus' like Sister Hereene! Worryin' over nothin'!" a big, brawny otter yelled, showering a few others with chestnut beer as he waved his tankard about to somehow emphasize his proclamation.

"That's not nothing! I'm concerned for the little ones, mischievous as they are, Skipper," Sister Hereene shot back.

"Haharr! Ya here that Skipper Kovestream! She's tryin' to challenge you!" an old otter sitting next to the Skipper added.

"You could be right there, father! Can't never tell what crafty tricks she'll try and pull!"

Glaring frosty daggers at the rambuctious father and son, Infirmary Sister Hereene chewed her forkful of salad with anger stamped clearly on her features.

"Oh come now, Sister Hereene, they're just goofing around. No need to bring on the rain with that face," a young mouse whispered from behind the Infirmary Keeper.

Turning to face the speaker, Sister Hereene was completely mortified to see Abbess Laurelyne standing behind her with a smile which hardly contained the laughter dancing in her eyes.

"Uh, uh... Mother A-A-Abbess... I-I'm so s-sorry about that," Sister Hereene stuttered.

"No need to apoligize Sister. I'm sure others were wondering about the Dibbuns, Abbess Laurelyne replied, patting the embarrassed Sister on the shoulder.

Standing beside a torch held by a long wooden pole thrust into the ground. Waiting patiently until all eyes settled on her, Abbess Laurelyne spoke. "As you well know, we have had a late dinner. But what you do not know, is why I have kept everybeast up so late. We shall be having a midsummer feast!"

This announcement brought cheers from everybeast, especially the Dibbuns; who for most, this would be their first midsummer feast.

"Let me continue!" the Abbess called, holding up a paw for silence. "As I was about to say, I will allow one day to arrange everything. This means food, activities, contests, prizes, and yes, a bath for the Dibbuns-"

Boos and hisses and even a few wails greeted this last point, until Sister Hereene gave many of the Dibbuns her frosty glare.

"Now everyone! Finish up soon and get some rest! We've got a long day of cleaning and preparation tomorrow!"


Skrikeweb landed back on Piketail's shoulder, screeching a report to him, though t'was a wonder how he could be understood by the otter.

"Harr! A big mountain comin' up to the south of where we are? Well, to be safe I ain't goin' over there, never know what creatures live there," Piketail conversed with the gull in low tones.

Another skrike sounded from the seabird.

"Why am I whisperin'? Last time I was near a possible enemy camp, I was with two hedgehogs. We were quickly ambushed because my hedgehog companions talked too loud, an' I was the on'y one who survived. I have no problem dying, but I have an important mission to complete before then, an' I won't let meself die until it's done!" Piketail had accidently worked himself up to a soft yell.

Hissing through his teeth, the otter turned his head in the direction that Skrikeweb had pointed out earlier, and headed to the sound of loud, arguing creatures.

Upon reaching a bush which overlooked the scene below, Piketail barely dared to breath.Hundreds of foul-smelling, hideous vermin assailed his eyesight and nostrils. Clapping a paw to his nose only blocked a small amount of the putrid vermin.

Glancing over at Skrikeweb, Piketail gave the bird instructions by pointing his head in the direction of the horde, and pointed his claw up, but not letting the paw be seen by the vermin.

Nodding slowly, the seagull soon took flight far above the heads of the horde. Many looked up, but Skrikeweb ignored them as he mentally calculated the amount of creatures sitting on the sand. He was just about to turn around and circle into a grove of trees when he heard one lone call.

"First teh shoot that bird down gits it!"

His small eyes grew wide as he realized their intentions. Flying as high as he could go without tiring himself, Skrikeweb had just enough energy to stay in the air.

Screeching at the top of his lungs, the seabird hoped that his message would reach Piketail. He screeched, did whatever he could to try and gain the attention of his long-time companion.

Behind the bush, Piketail could see his friend, clearly in trouble, and soon heard the message. Eight hundred creatures; mostly rats, some weasels and stoats. Need help.

Closing his eyes, Piketail quickly decided on the only solution possible. Biting his lip he took a deep breath, then unleashed a roar so loud, it reverabrated off of every hill which formed the deep valley. "ARGHHHHHHAAAA!"

Before the echoes faded into the late afternoon air, the reckless otter hurled himself on the nearest rat. Although it was a fairly long drop down, Piketail's fall was cushioned by the rat unfortunate enough to be closest to him.

Laying about with his hardwood polished staff, he drove many of the vermin away with the ferocity of his attack. But he could only keep it up so long without a proper blade. Only one or two were felled by the staff, most of the others suffered bruised or cracked ribs; maybe the occasional broken limb.

Piketail was able to see a glimpse of his seabird friend Skrikeweb zoom away from the battle. Soon enough, the otter's thrusts would become lathargic and sloppy if he did not run or find help. Both those options were impossible. He would die fighting if he had to, he would not become a slave of these vile beasts.

Just as he brought his stick down to hit a fallen weasel, a sword appeared in the claw of the vermin. Easily deflecting the staff, the weasel grinned evilly as he thrust upward with his weapon, which would have plunged into Piketail's stomach, had a rock thrown from above not crushed his paw. Screeching in agony for only a few seconds, the otter knocked him clean out.

Turning to face any other foes, he was whacked in the face with an axe handle. Stars burst before his eyes and he began to slip away from consiousness. The last thing he saw before he hit the ground and fainted was a stout creature bowling down the steep hillside.

To be continued...


Yep, this is the second chapter up. Hope you like it. I might have gotten into bloodshed a little early, but I felt it would make a better chapter ending. Anyway, thanks for the reviews everyone, and I hope to see more reviews and write more chapters.

-Zealak Silverdirk