Back at Redwall, the abbey was turning into the opposite of what it was built for. Wooden stakes and spikes pointed outwards all over the perimeter of the abbey walls. Every few feet were quivers of arrows, piles of javelins, and heaps of stones ready for shooting at the enemy. Out in the woodlands were a different matter, the moles and other volunteers had liberally sprinkled Mossflower woods in a league radius with pitfalls, stake traps, snares, logs on a pinpoint balance, hidden boulders. Then there was also the marshes east of the abbey with their own natural traps. As Foremole put it,
"Them pesky vermun ar goin' to have sum bootiful und noice surproises hurr hurr hurr"
Abbot Taegan was practicing with bow arrow, see as he was staying and wasn't much of a healer, he decided to try out archery. Surprisingly he had a natural talent for it, hitting the bullseye on his fifth try. Lady Weoflun, leader of her band of Northern Archer squirrels chuckled admiringly and said in her odd accent
"Give it fev seasons Fader Abbot and you can probably hit a dragonfly on de ving mittout even trying, dead shot you are. I take it dis means dat you are going to be fighting on de valls mitt de rest of us?"
Taegan nodded,
"Aye, I would feel pretty useless if I didn't fight alongside my creatures for the freedom of the land."
Then he did something that was out of character for an Abbot of Redwall, winking roguishly at her he said
"Besides, that's where all the action is. I'm not gonna work in the stuffy infirmary while I miss out on the fight of all seasons. As you said, I'm a dead shot."
Lady Weoflun grinned with her sharp milky white teeth and went off to attend oversee defenses from her squirrels.
Done with his archery practice, he went to the main abbey building to see how the infirmary and the kitchens were doing. With the abbey working at full capacity, it was his job to make sure that there was nothing scarce in the event of a siege. He stopped by the kitchens first where Friar Kerr was busy keeping the kitchen in order. With so many creatures seeking shelter, Friar Kerr found that he had a endless supply of good cooks willing to work in the kitchens. Abbot Taegan called him over,
"Friar Kerr, a moment please."
The shrew friar wiped his paws on a bark cloth that he always over shoulder and asked the Abbot,
"Whot do ye need Father Aboot?"
"Are the kitchens running short of food yet?"
"Nae Father Aboot, now tha' a few 'undred moeths are gone, we 'ave less t'feed."
"And your staff?"
"They're well fed an' 'appy, I 'av dem workin' on shifts so they don't git overworked."
"Good, if you do run short, now is the time to forage in the woods for extra supplies, take moles with you just to make sure you don't run into any traps. Plus, we will leave nothing for Zan's horde to eat in the event of a siege."
"Will do Father."
As he left the kitchens for the infirmary, he couldn't resist dipping his paw into the meadow cream that the friar had left on the counter. Recorder Frey, who was watching, walked beside him eyes twinkling,
"Shame on you Father Abbot, for someone of your stature, you shouldn't be pinching the friar's meadowcream."
Abbot Taegan smiled,
"Hey, I'm the Abbot, it's technically my kitchen he's working in. Besides, I'm still young, haven't you ever pinched anything in your younger seasons?"
"Aye, as I recall, Old Abbess Dunham once caught me pinching her bedsheets."
"What did you do with them?"
"Turned them into a sail of course. Nope, she was not happy with two holes in her best bedsheets. She claimed it was me that turned her gray and bent. Ahhh, Dibbun days"
When they had reached the infirmary, Brother Phis "Ick", so aptly named for his pungent medicines, was busy ministering to a unfortunate otter who had stomach cramps.
"Now drink this up, Naira, t'will help ease the cramps in your stomach."
Bloooooargh
"Mercy Brother, please. I rather face a band of vermin than drink your concoction."
"Nonsense, this physick is made from the best of Mossflower. Some wild ransoms, a bit of greensap curds, and my own secret ingredient."
"Secret ingredient?!?! Mercy, I beg of you, Mercy!"
"Nonsense, now say ahh and drink the rest like a good riverdog."
"Neve--"
Brother Phis took advantage of his open mouth and poured the rest of his "special" physick down Nairn's throat. He twitched like a hyper squirrel and dashed out of the infirmary, almost running into the abbot and recorder and onto the lawn where he dived into the abbey pond. Brother Phis noted it through his window.
"Hmm, another patient successfully treated and a new record. Well, that made my day."
Abbot Taegan and Recorder Frey picked themselves up from the floor where they had fallen from almost colliding with Naira. Frey remarks,
"Huh, I guess that another victim of pickled physick. You really were enjoying yourself, weren't you Phis?
"Aye, It's not everyday here in the infirmary where an otter dashes out like a boiled frog. So, how can I help you two today Abbot and Recorder?"
Abbot Taegan inquires,
"Are you running short of herbs and dressings yet Brother Phis?"
"Aye, I'm just about empty on dockleaves, bark clothes, and prickly ash bark. I am planning to go out later to collect some extra of everything for emergencies."
"Make sure you have a mole as a guide, wouldn't want my only herbalist to get snared up in the tangles of some willow."
"As you wish Father Abbot."
As Recorder Frey and Abbot Taegan walked out of the infirmary, they met Naira the physicked otter coming back holding his stomach.
"Blasted poisoner, that stuff will kill me before it cures me, mate."