CHAPTER FORTY
Once it was decided that the rats would be going to Redwall, the debate began as to just who would be taking them there.
"I want all th' Guosim along on this march," Log-a-Log insisted at first. "There might be family beasts 'mongst this rabble, but there's still plenny o' armed fighters mixed in with 'em too - mebbe enuff fer 'em t' try 'n' take Redwall, if that's what they've got in mind. Could be the babes 'n' ratwives 'n' oldsters're all just a ruse, to hoodwink us inta helpin' them get closer to their target."
Winokur stood steadfast against these suspicions. "I think we've pretty well established that there's a lot more to what's going on here than just some hordesbeasts trying to trick their way into Redwall. But even if that were true, I suspect you'd not need anywhere near your full complement to quell any trouble."
But it was when Foremole weighed in that the final logistics were determined. "Burr, if'n et be's all ee same, gudd gennelbeasts, uz molers wudd gurtly loik to aboide yurr an' start on ee quorryen work. Et be what uz cumm yurr furr, arfter all, an' wuddn't make sense if'n uz went all ee way back to ee H'Abbey with ee, no zurrs et wuddn't."
"That clinches it then," Monty declared. "The moles are stayin' - which means some of us hafta stay here with 'em too as a defensive force, in case th' next hunnerd rats who come upon this quarry ain't as friendly as this crew was. Log matey, you leave half yore Guosim here with me an' a few of me otters, an' the rest will escort Wink an' these rats to Redwall. An' if any of 'em do have trouble in mind, you'll have plenty o' shrew blades an' otter javelins t' put 'em in their place."
"And once we reach the Abbey," Winokur added, "there'll be the remaining otters, plus Alexander's Mossflower Patrol, plus Colonel Clewiston's Long Patrol, plus all the other able-bodied Abbeybeasts - including all the former slaves, many of whom might relish a crack at any rat who'd dare to threaten their new home. I'd say Harth would be a fool to start anything under those conditions."
Once the allotment of their numbers was finally agreed upon, that left the question of when to begin the journey - a matter on which Latura showed considerably more clarity than usual.
"Gotta leave soon's we can. Gotta leave t'day. Warrior bought us some time, but not much."
Harth looked to Monty and Log-a-Log. "My rats have had a nice long midday rest; we're ready to go anytime you are. Can we make the river by nightfall?"
"The river? No problem," answered the shrew chieftain. "But as to gettin' ev'rybeast across 'fore darkness falls? That'd be more of a challenge. We'll make what time we can."
"Better t' be across," Latura chimed in. "Much better t' be on the other side."
"Mebbe you'd like t' take along a few lamps with ye?" Monty offered Log-a-Log. "In case you wanna travel by night?"
The shrew leader shook his head, graciously declining. "Nay, you'll need all of 'em here, fer Foremole's crew t' work by. We'll be a'right on our own. We can allers craft torches if need be, if'n we decide on a night crossin'. They're easy t' cobble t'gether with what we'll have on paw."
And so it was settled. Those Guosim and otters who elected to return to the Abbey quickly threw together their travel supplies, bade farewell to their fellows and the moles, and trod up the long ramp to join Harth's company up atop the quarry. Winokur gathered up his Recorder's satchel, Latura never far from his side; the simple-minded ratmaid seemed near to infatuated with the otter historian, and hovered close to him constantly.
"You know, you don't have to stay within arm's length of me at all times," he told her at one point, growing mildly exasperated.
"But I feel safe 'round you," she replied with childlike directness. "Ye're a good Greenpup. Gonna get us to Redwall!"
"Yes, uh, that seems to be the consensus we've reached, so no need to be quite so ... clingy. We'll be seeing plenty of each other between here and the Abbey - and after we're there too, I'm sure."
"Okay. So, we're goin' now?"
"Yes. We're going now."
"Yay!" Latura latched onto his arm. "We're goin' t' Redwall!"
She clung to him all during his final farewells to the moles and all the way up the rock incline to the top rim of the vast pit. Monty awaited the departing beasts, wanting to see them off from there. As Winokur and Latura tramped up to join them, the otter Skipper observed, "Well, Wink, looks like ye'll not be here t' witness th' full openin' of this quarry after all. Hope you ain't too disappointed - know how you had yore heart set on it."
Winokur dismissed this concern with the wave of a paw - the one that wasn't weighed down with an adoring rodent. "Nonsense, Skip! The main reason I wanted to be here for the reopening was because of its historical significance - and I'd say a much bigger story has found us." He looked over all the rats assembling to march. "Yes, a much bigger story indeed."
"Shore 'nuff, I'd say yore right. Well, say hullo to the Abbey for me. Hope to be back there again m'self, soon's may be."
Then the procession was off, a hundred alert Guosim headed by Log-a-Log himself, suspiciously flanking a hundred and a half rats as the whole massive living conglomerate plodded toward the River Moss under the afternoon sun ... and, far and high away, the watchful gaze of Foxguard. The pace was set by the older rats and mothers tending babes, along with Turma and one or two other ratwives also in a family way. The few older children - too old to still be under their mothers' constant care, but too young to have been permanently scarred by exposure to the full horror of Krayne's cruel tyranny - scampered back and forth between their fellow rats and even between shrews and otters too, laughing and joking and chasing each other in a loose game of tag without rules or boundaries, exhibiting the same exuberance that Latura had displayed to Winokur over their impending deliverance.
Winokur, marching at the column's head with Log-a-Log, glanced from Latura at his side back toward Turma and her husband Mathurin sticking by her with obvious dedication and devotion, to the rat children running and squealing with joyful abandon, to the oldsters being helped along by diligent family members. Shaking his head, he commented to the shrew chieftain, "You'd think they were just plain, ordinary woodlanders, looking at them like this. Such a palpable sense of relief coming from them, like a dread has been lifted from their shoulders and they're finally free to breathe easier than they have in a long time. This can't all be a ruse to trick their way into Redwall for some dark purpose. It just can't be."
Log-a-Log remained more jaded, his attention on the armed fighters within the rat column rather than the family beasts among them. "Yah. Tell ya what, Wink: You worry 'bout what we're gonna do with this lot at the Abbey if they turn out to be tellin' th' truth, an' let me worry 'bout what t' do with 'em if they're playin' us false."
As the slanting sun dipped below the treeline to the west, the leading tip of the column came to the banks of the freely-flowing Moss. Stopping above the various moored rafts and barges, they stood regarding the river.
"Is it my imagination," Winokur remarked, "or are the currents stronger now than during our outbound trip?"
"Wouldn't surprise me," Log-a-Log replied. "May've only been a light rain we got here two nights ago, but that ain't sayin' it didn't rain much harder somewhere upriver. T'would take a day or so fer all the runoff from side streams 'n' feeder tributaries t' add all that extra water to th' Moss, so the timeline's about right."
Harth eyed the broadstream with clear concern. "Will there be any problem crossing it?"
Log-a-Log unleashed a sharp bark of laughter. "We're th' Guosim! An' we got Redwall otters with us too! Fer seasoned waterbeasts like us, an' unruly trickle's still just a trickle!"
The rat leader's qualms remained, not entirely quelled by these assurances. "We'll hold you to that. Ain't many good swimmers 'mongst us rats."
Log-a-Log rolled his eyes. "I swear - moles on th' way over, rats on th' way back ... awright, then we'll make sure t' seat alla you in th' middle of th' rafts, so's you don't get yer toes 'n' whiskers wet!"
"Shall we start the crossing right away?" Winokur asked.
"Don't see why not. Still got a good stretch o' daylight left to work by, an' Miss Future Ratmaid 'ere sez we should be across, so let's be across!"
Latura and her fellow villagers, along with Winokur and a number of Harth's rats, were ushered aboard the first of the big rafts and pushed off by the Abbey otters from their stern. As the craft edged out into the main currents, one of the shrew-crewed logboats butted up against its trailing timbers, and Guosim rowers dug in with their oars to propel the barge toward the far shore. While most of the rodents demonstrated an almost mole-like apprehension and distrust of the open water, Latura beamed and grinned like a youngbeast in the midst of some grand adventure.
"Fwee! This's fun!"
Patreese laid a paw on his daughter's shoulder. "Mebbe not so spirited, eh? Not ev'ryrat's relishin' this voyage like you are, Lattie."
Log-a-Log, rowing within earshot of this, openly scoffed. "Pah! Voyage, he calls this? Like t' get 'im out on th' Big Inland Lake, with no land to be seen in any direction, an' see what 'ee makes of that!"
Ignoring her father's low-key plea for restraint, Latura got up and pranced to the side of the barge. "I'm gonna paddle my paws! An' tail too!"
At an unspeaking nod from Patreese, Castor rose and followed his sister to the raft's edge, wanting to stay close to her for her own safety. In spite of this familial reservation, however, the mood among the other rats on board lightened; if Latura could treat this crossing so frivolously, then surely everything would turn out all right.
Winokur, freed from Latura's constant clinging presence for a few rare moments of solitary freedom, looked on at the glee with which the prophetic ratmaid greeted this river outing, and was reminded anew of a similar excursion four seasons earlier, when his small company bore back to Redwall an Abbess forever changed. Indeed, the seeming link between Vanessa and Latura only deepened his sense of history replaying itself here, and left the otter Recorder with the undeniable impression that the currents of fate and destiny were swirling around them all now, as surely as the restless waters of the Moss swirled around their crude assemblage of timbers and vine lashings.
Latura lifted her footpaws from the water. "Brrr! Too cold! Hey, anybeast got anything t' eat? I feel like sumpthin' sweet ... like mebbe candied chestnuts, or acorn crunch!"
Castor knelt on the rough deck, steadying Latura with a paw around her waist. "But, Lattie, y' ain't never had vittles like that ... "
"Don't care. Want 'em now. Got a real hankerin' fer sweetened nuts!"
Harth and the other rats waited to board their own rafts until they saw that the first party had been safely ferried across to the opposite banks. Not that they doubted the professed watercraft expertise of the shrews and otters, but with so much of their venture riding on Latura, everyrat felt that her safety remained their paramount concern. If some mishap should befall their demure oracle, even now that their company was so close to Redwall and in the presence of some of those very Abbeybeasts, they nevertheless all shared the conceit that such a misfortune might well bring disaster down upon them all. Thus did a huge collective sigh of relief rise up from the onlooking rats as Latura stepped off her barge and onto the far shore, where she continued to cavort on dry land just as she had on the raft during her passage.
"Okay, enuff lollygaggin', ya skintails!" one of the Guosim gruffly called out. "We got a whole slew o' rafts here, ready 'n' waitin' to be filled! So all you landlubbers get yerselves shiftin' 'fore this season's over!"
Grota made a face of sour scorn. ""Not sure how I care fer these bossywhiskers bossin' us 'round like that, Gen- er, sir. It's like they think we're all jus' grunts t' their officers! Don't it stick in yer craw?"
"There's a lot I'll swallow if it means gettin' us all t' Redwall safely. Don't let it bother you, Grote - once we're at the Abbey, we'll be in th' paws of much gentler beasts than these shrews, an' we can tell 'em all to go soak if we want."
"Wouldn't mind soakin' one or two of 'em right now, until their breath runs out, if'n y' know what I mean. But, guess I can't, can I?"
"No. You can't. Now get aboard that barge there an' join th' crossin'."
"What about you, sir?"
"I'm stayin' here with the rearguard until the last trip. Want t' make sure ev'ryrat gets across a'right."
Grota eyed some of the lingering Guosim, paws resting nonchalantly on their rapier hilts. "Looks like ye'll have company, right up to th' last."
"Nuthin' more'n we were expectin'. They don't trust us, an' we've no choice but to trust 'em. It's a devil's bargain, awright, an' we can only hope it'll get better once we reach Redwall. Just be glad Lattie was able t' find her Greenpup, 'cos without that otter, I think our journey would've ended at that quarry back there."
Without the oversized Gawtrybe carts taking up so much space, many more passengers could be crowded into the middle of each big raft, and it quickly became apparent that only two group crossings by this modest flotilla would be required to ferry all the remaining rats and Guosim across. Grota stepped down onto the barge indicated by Harth and took his place near the center of the lightly-bobbing timber platform. He found himself seated next to Tibball, who'd decided to get this ordeal over with sooner rather than later.
Looking aside at the rabbit as several Redwall otters pushed off from the bank, Grota admitted, "Y' know, when you came up from th' quarry an' told us Harth wanted us all t' pull back, I wasn't sure whether it was a trick or not, or whether or not t' do it. Coulda been you an' them other woodlanders only wanted us t' think those were Harth's orders, as part o' some battle stratergy. I took a big chance, doin' what you said."
"But it all turned out all right, didn't it, yes?" Tibball responded dismissively, in no mood to tolerate any implied recriminations, accusations or reproaches from this second-fiddle rat whilst so much potential watery death surrounded them on all sides, demanding his attention. "Bet you're glad you listened to me, hm?"
Grota shrugged off Tibball's impudence, hardly enamored of their nautical situation himself. "I asked m'self, what would Harth's reaction have been if those WERE his orders, an' I disobeyed? Figgered I'd be worse off that way than if I was bein' played false, so I went with the odds. Lucky fer us, these woodlanders turned out t' be as good as their word." He glanced at the otters aboard their vessel, standing down from their poling duties now that a Guosim logboat had clunked up against their stern to push the craft across the currents. "Reckern these folk ain't used t' rats - 'specially so many of us all at once."
The otter Overholt stood close enough to overhear Grota's remarks. "Oh, don't be too shore o' that, matey," she laughed. "We Redwallers've rubbed elbows with our share o' rats. Matter o' fact, we played host to a small horde of 'em not two summers ago."
Grota looked up in surprise. "A horde o' rats, y' say? At yer Abbey? How'd that come t' pass?"
"They were part o' Lord Urthblood's army - he's the badger who's foreseen a great crisis afflictin' all th' lands, and is tryin' to unite all creatures under a common rule. He had all manner o' beasts under arms - mice 'n' rats, otters 'n' weasels, hedgehogs 'n shrews 'n' foxes too, all servin' alongside each other under his banner. They all stayed with us for a spell, on their way to Salamandastron."
"Salamer ... what?"
"Oh, that's th' big mountain fortress away by th' sea. That's where he rules from now."
Grota, who'd not been privy to the conversation down in the quarry when Harth was first told of Urthblood, mulled this revelation over in amazement. "He saw a great crisis comin', y' say? Mebbe it's the same disaster Lattie's seen, that's got us goin' to Redwall. But a badger who's got rats in 'is service, now that's really sumpthin'! That'll surely help our respecterbility in the eyes of other beasts! I'd like t' shake 'is paw if'n ever we meet."
A stern-looking male otter standing alongside Overholt grimaced. "I'd be happy t' speed you along t' meeting him if ye like. I'll just chuck you overboard right now, an' you can ride these currents all th' way to th' sea."
Grota bristled at this sudden and unexpected display of hostility. "Hey, ain't no call fer that, mate! I never did anything to you t' rate such talk!"
"Mebbe you didn't, but some o' yore ilk did - an' I got the scars 'neath my fur t' prove it. If t'were up to me, I'd capsize th' whole lot o' ye an' swim back to shore, leavin' you t' sink or swim on yore own!"
Overholt tried to laugh off this bitter diatribe. "Aw, don't mind Tourki here, he'd never do anything like that. He spent 'is seasons as a slave to searats, an' it's colored 'is views of all rats. Understandable, really, but 'ee's a good cove at heart, an' would never harm anybeast who didn't give 'im good cause t' do so. Ain't that right, Tourki?"
Tourki wrinkled his muzzle in disdain. "There's a first time fer ev'rything, ain't there? If there hadn't been a rabbit 'mongst them, vouchin' fer 'em, an' if Wink hadn't declared 'em fit fer conveyin' to Redwall, I'da said let 'em all rot. Ratkind's no business of ours, 'cept fer slayin' 'em when they try'n harm goodbeasts. An' you can bet I'll be watchin' close, t' make shore no Abbeybeasts come to harm at th' paws o' these vermin."
"Hey, easy there! We ain't no searats, an' we ain't never made slaves outta woodlanders, nor anybeast else!" Grota pointedly refrained from mentioning all the atrocities Krayne's horde had committed against nearby goodbeasts, or that the vermin fighters pressed into the ambitious fox's service might as well have been slaves, for all the freedom allowed them. "I dunno who these searats are, or what they did to innocent beasts, but we weren't never any part o' that! So don't go holdin' what some other rats did t' you against us!"
"Words, rat. Just words. I'll wait an' see what you actshully do, an' judge you by yore actions. An' woe to ye if they ain't to my likin'."
Tibball forlornly rested his chin in his paws. "Well, what a cheery little party this has turned out to be, eh?"
Grota and Tourki somehow managed to reach the far banks without coming to blows, and the rat lieutenant joined his fellow rodents in hastily disembarking so as to be away from the grim otter with all speed. The emptied rafts were turned about and ferried across the river again to retrieve the remaining rats and Guosim. By the time everybeast had finally been crossed, evening was fading toward a deep spring twilight.
"Well, that was a good job of it - didn't even hafta light any torches." Log-a-Log turned to address Harth. "Now, do we wanna press on for Redwall through th' night, or make camp here an' wait fer dawn?"
Rather than answering directly, Harth looked to Latura. "What say you, Lattie? Do we keep movin', or rest here 'til mornin'?"
"Here's fine. Wanna lay down now. Should be safe. No bad red 'round - left it b'hind us now."
"There's our answer," Harth told Log-a-Log, then gestured to Grota. "Get some fires lit for the oldsters an' young ones to sleep by. We'll still stand the usual watches, despite what Lattie says. Six oughta do, with relief at midnight."
"Watcher think ye're doin'?" Log-a-Log demanded of the rat commander.
"Setting a watch. Why do you ask?"
"T'ain't necessary. Ye're all under our watch now, so you rats can all rest easy an' catch up on yer sleep, an' leave sentry duty to us."
"Thanks for the offer, but if it's all th' same, I'll do what's best fer my own rats. You woodlanders can do as you please."
"That wasn't a suggestion, friend."
Harth squared his jaw and stood straighter. "Wasn't exactly throwin' out idle requests myself. Standin' watches is what we've been doing during our entire slog to Redwall, and it's served us well. We look out fer ourselves, an' we ain't breaking good habits now, just because you're here."
"Oh? An' what would have ya thinkin' it's so all-fired vital fer you t' have some o' yer rats standin' watch 'sides us otters 'n' Guosim?"
"You mean besides yer murderous, rat-slayin' squirrel friends?"
"You let us worry 'bout them, if they show their brushtails again. We'll keep yer unsavory hides safe, don'tcha fret."
"It ain't just them. Mossflower's a big place, an' we ain't the only 'unsavory' beats abroad in it."
Log-a-Log cocked an eyebrow. "Sumpthin' ye'd care t' share?"
Harth gazed at the wide river, its darkening waters a sure and formidable barrier to any pursuit. "When we get to Redwall, mebbe. No need t' go into it now. Like Lattie says, we're safe."
"Well, if we're that safe, then there's no need fer you t' post watches, is there?"
Harth opened his mouth to challenge Log-a-Log further, but before he could, Winokur stepped forward, laying a restraining paw on each of the confronter's shoulders. "It seems to me that this part of Mossflower is free, and nobeast is bound to another's will. Redwall has fought hard down through the generations to ensure that our woodlands stay that way. With this in mind, Harth has every right to have some of his rats stand watch tonight if that is his desire, and nobeast has any place to forbid it. By that same token, the Guosim and the otters of Redwall have every bit as much right to post watches of their own, for whatever reasons they see fit. Now, I hope that settles this matter, and that we can accept that we all have the right to set watches - even if what we mostly end up watching is each other."
Harth's gaze went from Winokur back to Log-a-Log. "This otter speaks with wisdom beyond his seasons. Reminds me anew why Lattie was so determined that we seek out this 'Greenpup.'"
The shrew chieftain swallowed his umbrage. "Aye, 'tis oft been remarked - an' Wink's hadta play peacemaker on much bigger battlefields than this. I'll abide by his counsel, rat - but be assured yer guards'll have lots of company durin' their shifts t'night."
"Fine. Trust as much or as little as y' like, makes no difference to me, long as it still gets us to Redwall."
The tense situation thus defused to everybeast's grudging satisfaction, Harth and Log-a-Log set about assigning their respective watches and getting their large mixed encampment established for the night. Not long after, as full dark fell over Mossflower and the ability to see far across the landscape limited itself to how far the flickering campfires cast their light, Winokur huddled around one modest blaze with the shrew leader at his side. Latura was there too, not wanting to stray too far from her green-robed deliverer, although she seemed content for now to share the firelight without clinging as close to Wink as before. She was the only rat present, so the woodlanders felt free to discuss the situation openly.
"I dunno, Wink. D'you really reckon we're not makin' a whopper of a mistake in leadin' this crew right to Redwall's gates? If that fangface couldn't even resist givin' us a hard time over a liddle thing like postin' watches, how's he ever gonna agree t' live by Redwall's ways?"
"It will be up to Abbot Geoff to decide whether they'll even be allowed past those gates, and to lay down the law to them if they are - and then it'll be up to Alex and Colonel Clewiston and Mother Maura to make sure they follow those rules. And you too, if you decide to stay for awhile."
"I'm guessin' that'd be wise. Th' more paws on paw t' put down an uprisin', th' better." Log-a-Log glanced aside at his son, seated alongside him on their log bench. "At least Droge 'n' Buddy'll be glad t' see their old playmate agin, ain't that right, Pirkko?"
Pirkko gave a scowl that made him look a lot like his father. "I don't trust 'em, Dad. Not th' fighters, anyways. Durin' our march from th' quarry, I spent some time talkin' to some o' th' younger rats, ones 'round my age. Them an' th' mums 'n' dads seem awright, but a couple times they let slip things that made me 'spect they came from someplace that had a lot more beasts'n what we're seein' here now."
"Wouldn't surprise me if there's a lot they're keepin' from us," Log-a-Log snorted. "Like mebbe havin' a hidden contingent of their forces waitin' t' creep up behind us in a surprise assault now that we've left the safety of th' quarry. Could even be that's why Harth is so set on puttin' some o' his rats on watch t'night - so's they can watch out fer their buddies, an' help them find their way to our camp while most of us're slumberin'."
Winokur showed doubts over this assessment. "I'm not sure that really makes sense. If that were their plan, wouldn't they have attacked us before crossing the Moss? Now they'd have a wide river to cross to get to us, and all our rafts are on this side. They'd need boats of their own, and I didn't see signs of any other traffic on the Moss besides us."
"Unless'n they're already here on this side, lyin' in wait fer us ... "
"Well, it seems to me we've got somebeast here who might be able to shed some light on this matter." Winokur turned to Latura. "Lattie, what can you tell us about where you came from?"
The ratmaid seemed not to have heard the question at first, staring into the campfire's flickering flames for several long moments. Then she flinched as if being suddenly brought awake. "Oh, that. Came from a small village by th' sea, way far south an' east o' here. Crashin' waves by th' cliffs. Won't be there no more come summer's end."
Log-a-Log snorted again. "Small village, eh? She expects us t' berlieve that, when she's travellin' with a hunnerd an' a half rats?"
"Well, it's true, half-mousie! Me, an' Da, an' Cass, an' Empty, an' th' big one, an' th' small one, we all seven came from our village. Late winter, right 'fore t'was too late, been marchin' all that time ever since, right up to now."
"But, that's only six you named. What about - "
"Seven. T'were seven o' us from our village."
Winokur refrained from challenging her further, since it had long been apparent Latura was somebeast prone to getting a lot of the little things wrong. "Okay, so then, what about all the others? Where did they all come from?"
"Oh, them? Th' valley."
"The valley?"
"Ayup. That's where th' badbeasts took us when we were jus' tryin' t' get t' Redwall. Held us up too many days, almost made it too late, too late ... "
"What badbeasts're these?" Log-a-Log demanded, jumping in at this juncture.
"Th' foxie whose head went pop, an' 'is fraud witch, an' th' mean rat too - 'ee yanked on my whiskers, pained me sumpthin' awful."
"You mean Harth?" the shrew probed, and Latura nodded. "Yeah, I c'n see 'im doin' that ... an' lots worse b'sides. So, these bad beasts, they're th' ones who're with you here now?"
"Well, th' rats are, but most o' them ain't so bad. We left all the others b'hind."
"Others?" Winokur and Log-a-Log asked as one.
"Oh, aye. Weasels, an' stoaties, an' ferretses, an' more foxies too. Meanrat hadta slay a few of 'em who tried t' stop us leavin'. But he's on our side now, knows we gotta get t' Redwall t' be safe."
Shrew and otter exchanged knowing glances. "A horde," Winokur deduced.
"Aye, that sure explains a lot - an' from th' sound of it, Harth might've been one o' their highest-rankin' hordebeasts. Jus' look at how ev'rybeast snaps to attention when he starts barkin' at 'em! That rat's used to bein' obeyed, an' that's fer sure!" Log-a-Log looked to Latura. "What's he plannin' on doin'? What's 'is scheme?"
Latura stared blankly for a moment, then replied, "T' get to Redwall, an' be safe. Like I said, he's on our side now."
"An' what of th' rest of th' horde? What're their designs?"
"Designs? They don't got any ... 'ceptin' fer that foxie witch. She's got designs on 'er face, all painted with ash. Kinda spooky, but mostly silly, since she's such a fake."
Log-a-Log tried again. "Do they mean any harm to Redwall?"
"Um, no. Meanrat thought they might try'n foller us, since they wasn't happy 'bout us leavin', but they ain't. All still back in th' valley. Couldn't be sure at first, but things're clearer now."
"And where is this valley?" Winokur inquired. "How close?"
"Few days away, north an' east. Now that we've got th' river 'tween us an' them, no way they'd be able t' foller, even if they wanted to."
"But Harth doesn't know that for sure," Winokur surmised. "Hence, his insistence on posting his own watches."
"Well, he's also got th' Gawtrybe to worry about too, so I'll grant 'im that much. T'ain't squirrels we Redwallers hafta worry 'bout. Lattie, are y' certain them other vermin ain't gonna be cause fer concern t' us?"
"Nay, they ain't." Latura glanced out into the night, far beyond the circle of light around their small fire, toward the tower of Foxguard, a barely-visible needle of shadow against the darkening night sky. "Not t' us."