Hamlet, thanks for the review. Also, thanks for letting me know about what you thought about the story's tone. I was trying to go for something that had light and dark moments (plus I wanted to show that the three rats could be an actual threat instead of just 100% bumbling idiots like a lot of the antagonists' minions are), but I'm guessing I was being a bit too dark there.
Again, sorry for taking so long to update.
After a quick snack, the three rats left the hut and began to make their way along the river as fast as they could…and unfortunately for them their fastest wasn't that much. Within minutes of setting off, all three rats had stitches and they wheezed heavily as they ran to catch up with whoever was following the map. Weezel moaned the whole time, asking for a quick rest every couple of minutes, but Skally would either ignore him or tell him to shut up. All Blunttooth could think of was beating whichever beast they were chasing to a pulp when they would catch up.
They eventually arrived at the edge of the vast lake, just like the map had shown. Secretly, Skally was thankful that they'd reached the lake because it meant Weezel didn't have to complain for a moment.
"This is it, lads," said Skally. "Right, yers can have a sit down, but be quick, will yers?"
"Thanks," sighed Weezel, and he slouched forward to catch his breath. Blunttooth let himself fall back over, making the ground rumble slightly in the process. Skally was also out of breath but he didn't want to show it. His eyes scanned the horizon, looking across the vast lake and surrounding woodland on either side. There was no sign of movement aside from the rippling of the lake.
"Those beasts'll be tryin' ter get ter th' other side o' the lake, won't they?" he commented. "We'll go round an' try ter cut 'em off."
"But we don't know which way they went," said Weezel.
"It doesn't matter which way we go," said Skally. "Either way we'll still find 'em, an' I say we go that way," he said, pointing to the left.
"What? We can't!" Weezel protested. "There's lizards that way!"
"See this?" Skally asked, holding his sword up. "We're armed. We can take care of 'em if they try ter do anyfin' ter us."
"Hur hur, that'll be a laugh," Blunttooth chuckled at the thought of it.
"Aye, it will!" said Skally in agreement. "Anyway, it'll be quicker than steppin' round quicksand."
"But they'll be armed an' all…" Weezel began.
"Ah, quit with the complainin'!" Skally shot back. "Yer'll never get anywhere with that kind o' thinkin'. If yer were our leader instead o' Thornclaw, yer'd give up jus' like that!"
Weezel's head sank lower and lower with every word Skally said.
"Right, we've 'ad our rest. Let's go," Skally ordered. He immediately set off without hesitation, and Blunttooth jumped to his feet to follow. A still-exhausted Weezel forced himself to get up and he sauntered in the direction the others were heading. He was used to being ignored, but why did they never listen to him? Imagine if they did, he thought to himself…
Rowing.
That's all the two friends did for the rest of the day: rowing. They must have travelled for miles in the little boat, but the opposite shoreline of the lake still wasn't visible. The sun was now setting, and there was still no sign of the opposite side. Skipper was still rowing at a steady pace, but Stephen had begun to struggle and slow down gradually over the course of the day and it was now at the point where he could barely put any effort into it due to exhaustion.
"This is my kind o' life – out on the water," Skipper mused.
"So I gathered," said Stephen. He felt a little queasy as the boat rocked in the cold water. "How big is this lake anyway?" he groaned, exasperated. He'd wanted to ask that question for some time, but now he finally felt like saying it.
"You didn't expect it to be a small lake, did ye?"
"No, but I didn't expect it to be this big either. We've been rowing all day. I mean, look," Stephen said, pointing to the evening sky. "It's getting dark and we still haven't reached the other side yet." He looked around at the sides of the lake. The tempting sight of nearby land was almost too much to bear. "I wish we could just row to land now and walk the rest of the way. My arms are aching …"
"But we can't," Skipper added. "Besides, it'll be quicker to go on boat."
"Can't we stop and rest the night?" asked Stephen. "I know you want to get to Redwall Abbey as quick as possible, but we're not going to make it there tonight so we might as well turn in for now, and honestly I really don't feel like I can row any longer until I rest a bit."
"Well…come to think of it, I could have a rest myself," Skipper admitted, and he relaxed for a moment. He looked up at the sky, and then down at the water. "But if we stop right now we'll just be driftin' round. I'll tell ye what we'll do: we'll row t' land an' tie the boat up for the night. I'd take me chances with the quicksand over the lizards, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," Stephen replied quickly. Was it really this dangerous to wander around Mossflower? It felt like he'd faced some sort of danger or hazard everywhere he'd gone, and as they rowed their way to land, Stephen knew they were going to encounter even more on the remainder of their journey, despite not wanting to believe it. Thank goodness Redwall sounded safe.
The boat arrived at the shoreline. Stephen slouched forward and let his arm dangle down by his sides. Skipper picked up one end of the rope that had tied the boat to land when they found it.
"I'll get out first," said Skipper, "an' check for quicksand."
Skipper climbed out and waded slowly through the water, taking the end of the rope with him and making sure the ground underneath him was safe. He made it to the shore and carefully stepped around, checking for any quicksand. After several minutes of checking, he was satisfied they'd found a safe spot for the night.
"Right, it's safe here!" Skipper called over.
Stephen hesitated for a second and looked over at the shoreline, and then down at the water. He made a jump for the dry land to avoid getting his feet wet, but it was further away than it looked and he ended up landing in the water with a loud splash. Cold water shot up to above his knees, making Stephen yelp in shock. He stumbled wildly to the shoreline, making even louder splashes in the process. By the time he was on dry land, he was soaked through to the skin and, judging by him hanging his head low, was very embarrassed. Skipper had tied the boat to a nearby tree with the rope and he couldn't help but laugh at Stephen's misfortune.
"It's not funny," Stephen huffed.
"Oh come on, a little water won't do ye any harm!" joked Skipper, though he could tell Stephen didn't find it amusing even without him saying so. "How about we make a fire an' you can dry off?"
"That'll be grand…" mumbled Stephen. Hopefully Skipper would forget about this by the time they got to Redwall. Even though he'd only stepped in the water for a few seconds, he certainly didn't want to find himself back in it again.
The night air was quite warm compared to what it had been the night Stephen had first spent in Mossflower. The sky was cloudless, and thus the full moon and stars could be seen clearly hanging and twinkling up above. The trees on the other side of the lake appeared as black silhouettes against the night sky, looming in the distance. Stephen sat close to the fire, shivering and drying himself off from his stumble earlier that evening. He was looking up at the stars again like he had on his first night in Mossflower, transfixed. Skipper was sitting closer to the water, and he was throwing some pebbles at the lake, making them skim across the water's surface.
"Skipper," Stephen began, "you know how Birro told us about mountains and going through some underground tunnel?"
"Aye," the otter replied as he skimmed another stone across the lake. "Why?"
"Well did you ever see any mountains or go through this tunnel or cross this lake?"
"No?" Skipper was unsure what Stephen was trying to get at.
"Well how come you never met any lizards or had to get around quicksand like what Birro told us about if you came this way?" Stephen asked, genuinely confused.
"I've never been here before. I must've taken the long way round when I left Redwall. Wouldn't surprise me if that's what happened; it's a big place, Mossflower Woods, an' it's easy to get lost, even for beasts who live here. I'd been wanderin' round for a few days before I got captured."
"Oh," Stephen responded. Even though they had been wandering through the woods for a couple of days, secretly he'd been hoping Skipper had some kind of familiarity with the landscape. Thank goodness for the map Birro drew, Stephen thought.
"How big is Mossflower Woods exactly?" he questioned.
Skipper breathed out heavily as he thought. "Oh, I dunno…a few hundred miles across? Might be more though."
"Good grief…" said Stephen. He hadn't expected that. "It could take days to get to Redwall if Mossflower Woods are that big."
"But we'll get there," said Skipper. He picked up another pebble and skimmed it across the water.
"I hope…" muttered Stephen. "Mossflower looks like an easy to get lost…"
"Don't ye worry," said Skipper optimistically. "Once we get to Redwall, you'll know the journey was worth it. Everybeast's so nice you'll think they're the family you never knew ye had. The first thing I need t' do is warn everybeast about Thornclaw. He'll have sent another beast to Dacnirah's lair by now. It's about time he gets put a stop to, don't you think?" He looked over to see Stephen looking down at the ground. "Is somethin' wrong?"
Stephen continued to stare at the ground. "When you said about family…It's just…" Stephen trailed off for a second. "…I had a strange dream last night. I was in a room, and in the distance there were other humans like me just standing there and looking at me. I saw my parents and other people I knew…or at least, I think I did. I couldn't see them properly, but it just felt like it was them, you know? They weren't too far away from me, but I couldn't get to them. It was like my feet were stuck to the floor or something."
Skipper nodded, a little unsure what to say.
"I know it was just a dream, but I want to have it again, just to see my family and friends again," Stephen continued, "but I'm worried that if I wish to see them too much, I might go mad." He put his hands to his head. "Urgh, I'm so confused…"
"About what?"
"About…everything," Stephen replied. "I've only been here for a few days but I've got loads of things on my mind and it's eating away at me. It's like one minute I'm telling myself to think something, the next minute I'm telling myself to think the opposite. I don't know what the right thing to do is."
Stephen didn't say it aloud, but he was referring to his old life. Throughout his short stay in Mossflower, at times he'd felt disillusioned and ashamed of what his kind had done and was thinking about keeping the war a secret, but then other times he was missing the people he'd known all his life and was thinking he may have been too quick to judge the whole of mankind. He'd known plenty of others like him who were caught up in the war when they didn't want involvement, and they had all been kind people who hadn't done anything wrong in his eyes. Was it right to judge every single person who had ever lived based on what some leaders and generals had ordered and carried out? It certainly didn't seem so. The atrocities had been their ideas and no one else's. Surely he should just concentrate his anger on them, the people who were genuinely responsible for mankind's downfall due to their paranoia, as opposed to billions of others who just happened to be caught up in it? But what of those who did support it? There was no way of telling who did and who didn't unless they said so.
Was it the case that he was experiencing these conflicting feelings because of trauma after being part of something so devastating? Of course he knew the war had been a horrible thing to witness, but had it affected him more than he knew? Perhaps if he let time pass and then think about it, he'd be able to come to some conclusion about everything that had happened?
So many questions…When he tried to make sense of everything, it just led to more and more questions and he felt more confused and caught up as a result.
"Why's all of this happening to me?" Stephen whispered to himself.
"It's probably homesickness, ye know," said Skipper, unknowingly interrupting the human's thoughts.
"Probably…" Stephen responded. "My last few years in my time weren't exactly the happiest. I try to think of when things were fine, but –"
"What was your family like?"
Stephen looked over at Skipper. "Why do you want to know?" he asked.
"It might make ye feel better," the otter replied. He skimmed another pebble across the lake surface. "Whenever I feel confused or upset, I always think of my family. There was a great sickness when I was a young'un and…well…not everybeast survived if ye know what I mean. When you think of your family, it makes you feel like they're lookin' out for you, ye know?"
Stephen nodded. He looked back up at the stars, reminiscing. "Well, there were my parents. My dad was a joiner and my mum was a teacher. I didn't spend much time with them outside of summer, but they were very kind and looked after me well. Then there was Diane. I'd been seeing her for a couple of years."
"'Seeing'?" Skipper repeated, unsure of what the human meant.
"You know, in love?" explained Stephen. Skipper nodded. "I met Diane at a pub of all places, we talked for awhile, exchanged numbers, met each other some more, got to know ourselves better, and so on. We moved in together and I was going to propose to her, but then…" He thought of what to say next, "…things got in the way."
"Do you miss them?" asked Skipper. He knew what the answer was going to be, but he felt compelled to ask.
"Yeah. It's hard knowing everyone you knew for years is gone forever just like that."
"Well ye might find another one o' those domes you told me about an' they'll all be inside."
"Maybe…" said Stephen, but he knew that wasn't ever going to happen. "Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
"A what?"
"Have you ever been in love?" Stephen rephrased. "That's if you're not already married, that is."
"No…Well," Skipper began, "there is one ottermaid I've had my heart an' eyes on for some time…"
"What's her name?"
"Remina," Skipper answered a little dreamily. "She comes from Redwall Abbey like me. She's kind to everybeast, she's caring, she's smart…and I think she's pretty."
"If you feel that way about her, you should ask her if she'd like to go out with you," said Stephen. He figured the otter would know what 'going out' meant. "She might feel the same way about you too, you know."
"Honestly, I've never tried to. I'm fine fightin' vermin, but maids are somethin' else, mate," Skipper chuckled. "I've always been worried she'd say 'no'."
"She might not. You'll never know unless you try," said Stephen.
"Hmm…I'll think about it," Skipper replied.
"Good luck then," Stephen said light-heartedly. He never thought he would've been giving advice like that to someone before, especially to someone who wasn't the same species. "Speaking of Redwall, how many days do you think it'll take to get there now?"
"Hard to say, really. We don't know how far we have to travel."
"Could you tell me what's there at Redwall Abbey?" asked Stephen. "I've got an idea of what it's like, but I don't know what exactly to expect when we get there."
The otter's face lit up, like he'd wanted to tell the whole world but had been waiting for permission. "Well…where to begin?" he said. "Ah, I know!"
Over the next duration of time (Stephen wasn't sure how long), Skipper told him about Redwall Abbey, the bell tower, the orchard, the great hall, the tapestry…It all sounded so…utopian. Of course Stephen reminded himself to take everything he was being told with a pinch of salt because he was a newcomer and an outsider and Skipper had spent his life at Redwall so he may exaggerating things, but the descriptions he was being told were so enthralling it made him feel like a child hearing a fantastical story and being drawn right into it. It sounded like the perfect place to rebuild his life after going through so much. But Redwall wasn't the only thing on Stephen's mind. He didn't say it aloud, but he was glad he'd finally talked to someone about his family. He still wished to see them again, but it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Perhaps talking about his family to someone – anyone – was all he'd needed to do?
However, on the other side of the lake, the three rats weren't having such a pleasant night. The rats were huddled around a tree, looking around them in the dark for any sign of movement.
"I knew we shoulda gone the other way," Weezel said nervously.
"Well we ain't goin' all the way back jus' ter do that!" Skally hissed.
Blunttooth's legs were aching from standing for so long. He shifted his weight to try and lessen the aching, but as he moved he stepped on a twig, making it snap.
"Yargh!" Weezel and Skally cried out.
"O-oh…What're yer playin' at?" Skally demanded. His heart was racing.
"Noffin'," replied the large rat.
"I wish we were back at camp," said Weezel.
"Well we ain't!" replied Skally. "Now shut up or the lizards'll 'ear us!"
The rats fell silent once again, and they shuddered as the sound of leaves rustling filled the air. It was going to be a long, tense night.
As the sun began to rise the next morning, Stephen and Skipper set off again in the boat. The weather was fine; it wasn't windy and there weren't too many clouds in the sky, but the air wasn't stifling either. However, there was something that was unbearable to the two friends, at least to Stephen: the repetitiveness. The sun was rising higher into the sky as each hour passed, and they were still in the boat. The same scenery of dark water and trees passed them as they rowed the boat across the vast lake, and it didn't take too long for Stephen's arms to tire again. He wasn't ever going to get the hang of rowing.
Stephen paused briefly and turned around to see what was ahead of them. To his amazement, in the distance he could see a shoreline. Was he imagining it? Stephen blinked, almost in disbelief, but when he opened his eyes the shoreline remained there. It was real!
"Hey, Skipper! Look! There's the other side of the lake!" he said with excitement.
Skipper looked over and his eyes lit up at the sight of the new stretch of dry land. "Oh aye, so it is!"
"Before we get there, can I rest my arms for a minute?" asked Stephen.
"Yeah, go ahead," the otter replied. "I tell you what; I could do with some fish right now."
"But we don't have any, and besides, we've already got some food," said Stephen, indicating the bread.
"I know, but I'm so sick of eatin' bread. It's all I've lived on since I was captured, apart from that soup." Skipper picked up the long string with the hook on the end. "Look, they even left us a fishing line. I'll have t' hold onto it, mind; there's no fishing rod."
Skipper took a piece of the bread and stuck it on the hook. He then unravelled the fishing line and lowered the hook into the water.
Stephen looked over the side of the boat and watched as the bread and hook slowly faded from view as they sank deeper into the lake. He got an uneasy feeling inside – perhaps it was because the sight just reminded him of how deep the lake was? He couldn't explain how, but there was something about deep water that unnerved him.
"Have ye ever been fishing before?" asked Skipper.
Stephen got back from the side of the boat. "My dad took me fishing once when I was a kid. I just remember sitting there for most of the day doing nothing. And it rained," he added.
All of a sudden, Skipper jerked forward. The boat rocked slightly, making Stephen jump.
"Got one!" he announced excitedly.
"Already?" asked Stephen, bewildered.
"That's what a lifetime of experience can do," said Skipper. He was pulling the fishing line up as quickly as possible. After a moment, the silver-coloured fish was in sight, trying to wriggle free as it was pulled up closer and closer to the surface.
"Almost got it!" Skipper announced.
Suddenly, the fish thrashed aggressively on the line in a desperate bid for freedom. The otter lurched forward, still holding onto the line.
"Oh no you don't!" Skipper yelled at the fish. "Stephen, get hold o' the line! This is a feisty one!"
"Hit it with the oar! Hit it with the oar!" yelled Stephen.
"Nah, I've almost got it!" said Skipper.
Stephen wrapped some of the fishing line around his hand to secure it to a degree. Rather than try and help haul the fish up, he quickly grabbed an oar and proceeded to thwack the water with it in an attempt to hit the fish.
"Hey, watch it! Try not to hit me!" shouted Skipper, who was still trying to pull the line up.
"Come on, you little bugger!" Stephen yelled down at the fish, and he brought the oar down again. Water was splashing everywhere.
"Stop! It's not close enough to the surface yet!" exclaimed Skipper, but Stephen didn't hear.
As Stephen continued to try and hit the fish with the oar, the boat rocked back and forth violently. Stephen sat down, dropped the oar for a couple of seconds and clutched his stomach; he felt more ill than ever.
"Ooh, I don't feel well…" Stephen moaned. He couldn't blame anyone else for bringing about his queasiness other than himself.
"It's still puttin' up a fight!" Skipper cried out.
Stephen took a few deep breaths to ease his stomach. He picked up the oar again and went to the side of the boat.
"No, put that down! Help me bring the fish up!" said Skipper.
Stephen let the oar fall out of his hands, and it landed in the water with a splash. For a second he contemplated going to pick it up and put it back in the boat, but he reasoned it would still be there when they set off again so he went to help Skipper. The two of them pulled on the line, trying to bring the fish to the surface. It was like a game of tug of war between them and the fish, and both sides were determined to win.
"You're right – this is feisty," said Stephen.
"Well it won't be long now…" said Skipper.
All of a sudden, the line was pulled out of their grasp with a sudden tug. The end shot into the water with a little splash, and it was gone.
Stephen and Skipper stared down at the surface of the water where the line had disappeared, surprised and unsure how to react. Stephen took a step away from the side and sat back down.
"Looks like it was stronger than we thought," he said with a laugh.
Skipper remained staring at the surface of the water, the startled expression remaining on his face. "I don't think it was the fish on the line that did that," he said gravely.
"What do you mean?" asked Stephen, noticing the tone in Skipper's voice. Whatever the otter was thinking, it couldn't be anything good. The thoughts of the deep water beneath them started to return.
All of a sudden the boat jerked violently, like something had slammed into it. Skipper lost his balance and fell back over, while Stephen lurched forward and stuck his hands out to grab onto the side of the boat in order to avoid falling overboard. His arms took the impact of the fall, and he winced as the pain shot up through his wrists and lower arms. Luckily neither of them had broken any bones or even received bruises.
"What was that?" gasped Stephen.
As he steadied himself, Stephen noticed something that made his heart skip a beat. Near the surface of the water was a huge olive green fish swimming away from the boat. Although it was a distance from them, he could tell that the fish was much larger than the boat itself. It looked even bigger than a shark.
"Look! Did you see that?" Stephen frantically called over. He pointed at the fish as it swam away.
Skipper got up and scrambled to the side of the boat. As he looked in the direction Stephen pointed, he gulped.
"It's a pike," Skipper realised.
"That's a pike?" gasped Stephen.
"Aye, and that's what must've hit us."
"Deliberately or accidentally?" asked Stephen, fearing the worst.
"On purpose, definitely," replied Skipper. He picked up the oar nearest to him and rushed to the other side of the boat. "It'll come back! If we don't get t' shore quick, we'll probably end up as its next meal!"
"Bloody hell…" Stephen uttered. He made a grab for the oar that was floating in the water. "Oh, I wish I hadn't left it there…" he whispered to himself. As he reached out, he had a feeling of dread that the hungry pike would suddenly shoot out of the water and drag him under, but to his relief it didn't and he was able to retrieve the oar.
"Row as quick as ye can!" said Skipper urgently.
Stephen was only too happy to oblige, and they began to row towards the shoreline in a hurry before the pike could succeed. Because the lake was extremely wide, the opposite shoreline they'd been trying to reach appeared to be the closest bit of dry land. Panic was beginning to take over the two friends. Even though they were rowing as quickly as they could, it felt like the other side of the lake was moving away from them in their panic. Stephen was the more scared of the two; he knew pikes were aggressive fish, but now in this world they had grown to gigantic proportions and were capable of hunting prey that was even larger than he was!
Stephen noticed the pike swimming towards them again and the approaching ripples in the water, and as it neared he braced himself for another sudden impact. Sure enough, the pike slammed into the boat, almost making the two friends lose their balance and let go of the oars.
"Why's it suddenly attacking us?" asked Stephen.
"It probably noticed all the splashing an' thought it was some injured beast in the water," Skipper guessed.
There was another crash as the pike slammed into the boat. A crack appeared on the side, and some water began to trickle through into the boat. Skipper placed a foot over the crack in an attempt to stop the water, but the crack was too big to cover and water continued to pour in.
"We're not going to make it!" Stephen cried out.
Before either of them could do anything else, the pike rammed into the boat again. This was all the boat could take; it shattered into pieces and Stephen and Skipper were thrown into the ice-cold water.
Everything felt like it had gone into slow motion as Stephen hit the surface of the water and went under. At first Stephen felt like he was paralysed from the impact with the water and he couldn't tell which way was up or down. The temperature of the water made it feel like icy daggers were shooting through his body. As Stephen drifted down, he caught sight of the sun shining through the surface of the lake. He came to his senses and began to swim towards it. Because of the impact with the water he'd experienced, his whole body was hurting and he was struggling to swim, but the thought of survival was enough to help him push on.
Stephen resurfaced, and he took a huge gasp of much-needed air. The time it took for them to fall out the boat and resurface probably took only a few seconds, but to Stephen it felt like it took an eternity. Their troubles were far from over though. The boat had been destroyed and pieces of it were floating on the lake surface. Now they were alone in the water, completely defenceless and with a giant hungry pike hunting them.
"Grab 'hold one o' the planks! Use it as a float!" came Skipper's voice from nearby.
Stephen swam up to a plank of wood that belonged to what was the boat and clung onto it with both hands. He hauled his body forward until the plank was under his arms. Skipper also swam up to the remains of the boat to do the same thing.
They looked around and caught sight of the pike again, or rather the ripples in the water that indicated something large was approaching them beneath the surface. Every muscle in Stephen's body froze at the sight of impending doom.
"It's coming back!" Stephen cried out. There was no chance of trying to swim away – the pike was too fast. Was this how he was going to die?
"I've got an idea," said Skipper. "It's risky, but I think I know how to get rid of the pike."
"Brilliant! What?" Stephen asked frantically.
"The knife! Gimme the knife!"
Stephen reached into his pocket. His hand was shaking and it took him a few seconds to retrieve the pocketknife, but every second was crucial for their survival and he hurried as fast as he could. As he took the knife from the human, Skipper dived back under the water. After a couple of seconds, the ripples on the surface died down, meaning the pike had gone further down into the depths of the lake.
Then there was silence.
Stephen remained at the surface, keeping tight hold of the plank of wood. So that was the otter's idea: to fight the pike off with the knife. Stephen had completely forgot about having the pocketknife, but he wouldn't have considered using it to fight a creature that was much larger than himself. Would the pocketknife even have any effect?
What if Skipper was in trouble?
Stephen was beginning to worry again. The only sound he could hear was the water sloshing around him and the trees rustling in the far distance. The atmosphere was incredibly uncomfortable, and once again it felt like time had slowed down as he waited there. Stephen looked around for any sign of Skipper, but he was nowhere in sight. The water was freezing and Stephen was also worried that hypothermia might set in if they stayed in the water for too long. They had to get to shore as quickly as possible, but what about Skipper? He couldn't leave without his friend. He guessed that Skipper, being an otter, could hold his breath for longer and move around swifter in the water than he could, but would that be enough to take on a huge pike?
Suddenly, Skipper resurfaced. He swam over to another plank of wood and rested against it. He was breathing heavily and he looked battered and bruised.
"Here's your knife back," said Skipper, and he passed the pocketknife back to Stephen.
"Did you kill the pike?" asked Stephen.
"No, but I got it in the face," Skipper replied. "It's gone away for now, but it'll come back if we don't hurry. We've got time t' swim to land. Come on!" he said as he began to swim away.
Stephen looked around for a second before following Skipper in the direction of dry land, leaving the remains of the boat behind him. He wanted out the water as soon as possible. Although the pike never reappeared, the thought of it being injured but still alive made Stephen worry it could very well be right underneath them, watching…
A few minutes later, and two exhausted friends finally made it to the opposite shoreline. They practically had to drag themselves out of the water and crawl onto dry land. Neither of them attempted to get to their feet – the otter remained crouched over while the human rolled over onto his back, gasping and coughing. Luckily the weather was not bad and they would probably dry off before nightfall which was hours away, but they were freezing from being in the cold water.
"That's the last time I'm ever going across water like that!" announced a dishevelled Stephen. If that was what the large freshwater fish were capable of, he dreaded how much damage seawater fish like sharks could do, or even other aquatic creatures such as leeches for that matter.
Skipper slowly got to his feet and helped Stephen up. "Well at least we made it in one piece," he commented. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm really sorry about all that," said Stephen.
"What are you sorry about?" Skipper questioned.
"The pike attacking us, that's what," replied Stephen. "If I hadn't been trying to hit the fish with the oar, the pike wouldn't have noticed us. Now we're soaking wet and we've lost the food and water Birro gave us."
"Ah, but if you didn't have the knife with you, we wouldn't have been able t' fight back," responded Skipper. "Think of it this way: we lost the stuff, but we're still alive and closer to Redwall. And speakin' o' which, I think we'd better set off again. Don't you?"
Stephen didn't reply, but he followed Skipper as they began to walk into the woods. Even though they'd evaded the pike, Stephen felt shaken from the encounter and had a feeling the memory of the attack was going to prey on his mind for a long time afterwards. Although he didn't want to admit it, he thought Skipper did have a point; had the knife not been in his possession, things would have turned out much differently for them if they'd been completely defenceless.
Stephen took the flashlight from his pocket to see if it had suffered any water damage. He switched it on, and thankfully some light shone out of it. Thank goodness, he thought. From what Birro had told them, they'd need every bit of light possible for the next stage of their journey to Redwall.
Let's hope we don't encounter anything else like that… Stephen thought.