Chapter 32. You're a Canary

by Solgrim

Solgrim sunk his talons into his pillow and sulked, shoulders hunched. It just wasn't the same.

There were only a limited number of beds, but this one was his and he wasn't going to give it up for any earthcrawling scum. The buzzard barricaded himself in a fortress of blankets and pillows and snapped at anybeast who got too close, save the nursemaids who bustled over - much too often - to change the dressing on his wing. He could only glare at them.

The infirmary was a beehive of activity, woodlanders and vermin swarming over everything and chittering all the while. Solgrim could have burned them all alive with his hatred. Do they have to talk so much? Just go away!

Brisk little gusts tugged playfully at the curtains through the open window and the silvered clouds just beyond taunted Solgrim without mercy. He hunkered down, miserable and helpless. Where is that spikehog? It seemed he had been gone for ages…

Solgrim awoke confused. Everything was soft and white and hazy. A chill sort of emptiness radiated from within, as if he knew he was in danger but couldn't quite muster up the energy to care about it.

And then he noticed.

What... walls?

Electric energy pulsed through Solgrim, galvanizing him into action. He beat his wings but the simple action tore a screech from his throat and he tumbled to the ground in a tangled mess of buzzard and bedsheets.

"Goodness! Looks as though our patient is feeling better, wouldn't you say, Kap? Look out!"

Solgrim lunged for the fuzzy hedgehog and crashed into a bookshelf, nearly sending the construct tumbling.

"Careful! That's the B's! I really like the B's! Kap, be a -" the hedgehog ducked a flailing wing - "be a good vole and help me hold him down!"

Solgrim motored backward, nearly tripping over himself in the process, agony gnawing at his wing. A vole approached, but a snap of the buzzard's hooked beak gave him cause to reconsider. "Get away, eyesore!" he snarled.

The vole scampered.

The hedgehog held up his paws. "Cam down, please! We aren't going to hurt you."

Solgrim snorted. "Of course you aren't, earth crawlers. Even injured, I could slay a score of you." He lifted off an inch and buckled with an anguished bleat. Freedom was in a talon's grasp, but yet he could only watch it flutter away without him through the open window.

His captor approached and despair sapped the buzzard's remaining strength. Through half-closed lids, he saw the hedgehog kneel beside him and reach for his injured wing. Solgrim slithered backward, hissing like an adder.

"G'way!" Solgrim croaked.

"For goodness sakes, how am I supposed to work if you keep squirming around like that? I need to see if that wing is broken."

"And if its not you'll break it for me?" the buzzard bit back.

The hedgehog laughed in an exhausted sort of way. "Why would I go do a fool thing like that? I'm a doctor. Well, not a medical doctor, but still, my job is to help you get better for spikes' sake!"

Although his throat was cracked and raw, the buzzard gave vent to a squawk of laughter. "You want to help me? Were you hatched yesterday? Do you know how many of your brothers I've slaughtered?" he sneered.

The hedgehog's gaze frosted, and Solgrim grinned. Hate me, worm. Spite licked at his thoughts like greedy tongues of flame. I'll send you to your grave as well.

Silence rent the air like a blade through a creature's spine, and for a long moment buzzard and hedgehog glared at one another.

"You know," the latter finally spoke up, balling his fists. "Always comes down to killing, doesn't it? Many of them were ready to kill you. I was only barely able to change the abbot's mind on the matter. If it wasn't for me, Skipper would have finished what that brute of a badger started."

"What that... wha?" Solgrim was mired in confusion until clarity ran him through like a lance of white heat. "Badger!" He snarled. "Brooketail! Is he...?" The hedgehog nodded. Solgrim sagged.

The hedgehog's expression softened. "Now will you cooperate?" Solgrim allowed himself to be half-lead, half-dragged to the bed. His wing was poked and prodded at, but it was grace itself compared to his misery.

"Ah, excellent!" the woodlander piped up at length. Solgrim twisted his head, disturbed by the woodlander's lightning-quick mood change. "It's only dislocated. A small miracle, the way you were thrashing about. What marvelous tenacity! This will be a quick fix."

Solgrim fidgeted as the healer put his paw against his shoulder blade. "That hurts," he said. "You're going to make it worse."

"Nonsense! Now hold on..."

CRUNCH!

"Peea-ay!" Solgrim fell back into the pillows.

"Sorry, very sorry! It'll feel better in no time, promise. Doctor's word! I know it must be awful."

"I don't-"

"-need your sympathy, woodlander." the hedgehog finished.

Solgrim shut his beak and glared. The healer chortled. "I'm sorry, just glad I'm already starting to get t know my patient! Now..." His smile faded and he crossed his arms. "It'll take some time to fully heal, and until then there's going to have to be a few rules. You will not eat another creature within these walls."

Allowing himself the aid of a lesser creature who would have been lunch on any other day had already reduced the buzzard to a bundle of frayed nerves and he fluffed up with indignation. "You would have me starve, then?" he snapped.

"Of course not." The woodlander flicked the air with his paw. "Plenty of fish in the abbey pond. I can attest the friar cooks a marvelous trout. 'Course, he may still be mad about me on account of that one episode, but still, David could goad him."

"Oh good, the spikehog approves."

"Oy! Don't call me that!" The hedgehog flailed his paws. "See here, I haven't called you any names." He sighed. "Listen. Once you're healed and this badger problem is taken care of, you must promise me that you'll fly far away from Redwall and never harm another one of our creatures as long as you live. You can eat whatever ghastly thing you please then." He held a paw out. "Deal?"

Solgrim fought to perch upward on the bed. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, shoulders hunched. Once I'm healed there will be nothing stopping me from plucking your eyes out, idiot spikehog. "Deal."

Talon met paw. A smile spread across the healer's snout. "There! Now - oh! I just thought of something. Be back in a bit - you rest there, all right?"

Solgrim shifted; it seemed he'd dozed off a bit. The room was blissfully quiet, with most of the beasts either gone or resting. And yet that healer was still missing. Tch, he probably forgot all about whatever it was.

Restless and bored, he hopped off his bed but unbalanced and performed an awkward landing, claws skittering against the floor. He was glad that nobeast had seen him, but it was a hollow victory and he stalked toward the window in a bad humor.

"Oh!"

Solgrim spun. The hedgehog raised a placating paw. "Didn't mean to surprise you, I just didn't expect to see you up and about so soon. How is that wing feeling?"

The buzzard noticed that the bandage was gone; one of the nursemaids must have unbound it before leaving. He flexed it tentatively and his eyes widened. "It's... much better." He looked away and muttered something that could have been an apology.

"I brought you a little something for being such a good patient."

The hog set a plate down in front of Solgrim, who cocked his head at the thing that it contained. "This is food?" he asked.

"Is it ever!" The hedgehog grinned so brightly it could have lit up the entirety of mossflower wood under a new moon. "It's not meat, but in all my years I've never met a beast who didn't enjoy a good slice of pie."

The buzzard appraised the pie. Rubbish. It is through proper blood and flesh that a beast gains strength. Only lesser creatures don't understand, and that is why they are worthless as anything but food. He looked the hegehog in the eye. "This is not for me."

The hedgehog crossed his arms. "This is a direct order from your doctor, and I won't take no for an answer. I'll bother you about it for the rest of the day and follow you around chanting 'pie pie pie!' until you lose your mind."

The bird's eye twitched.

"See, it's working already! Just one measly taste..."

"Argh!" Solgrim stalked toward the plate, his expression pure venom. "Enough!" If there's no choice I might as well pretend…

He tore into the crust.

"Poor thing had a scone and two little cakes waiting for him at home."

Solgrim ignored the comment, picking at the pastry's innards. At the very least it was pleasantly squishy and warm inside, and he snapped up chunky bits of something every now and then.

It was - how was a buzzard even to describe such a thing? It was far sweeter even than the honey he sometimes pilfered from bees nests. It was unlike any sort of savory flesh, even dormouse, and the texture of the crust was strange to him. But the most disturbing was that he liked it.

Not that he would admit it.

"What did I tell you? Hits the spot doesn't it?" The healer asked.

"What is inside?" the buzzard asked before snapping up another beakfull.

"Apples."

"Mm."

"My wife loved apple pie best of all. If you didn't hide it from her, she'd finish it all before you had time to tell her to leave some for any other beast. There was just no getting in between her and a pie, let me tell you that. Why, one time - "

Solgrim looked up from the remains of his meal. "You talk too much, woodlander."

The hedgehog harumphed. "I have a name, you know," he said. "Call me Russel."

But Solgrim returned to his food without a word, seemingly ignoring the woodlander. Russel turned away to work on other things, leaving the buzzard in stony silence.

Solgrim, pie finished, hopped onto the windowsill, staring out into the distance. A sparrow flitted nearby and Solgrim eyed it with longing hatred. Wretched little twit.

Russel padded up to him and set his elbows against the sill.

"Say, Solgrim..." the bird's hopes that his companion would remain silent were dashed. "About that ferret, Brooketail was his name?"

The buzzard felt the pie inside of him curdle. First Avery and now this creature... why does everybeast have to bring it up? What do they expect of me? "I don't want to talk about it," he said.

"You know, we could probably send a search party for his body and give him a proper burial."

None of you filth are touching him! Feathers flared, Solgrim whirled on the hedgehog. "I said I don't-" He blinked. "... Hold on. Did you accept any ferret kits into the abbey recently?"

The hedgehog scratched at his head spikes. "Hmm... I want to say yes, but I don't exactly remember how many, if any. Why?"

"On the march, Brooketail often told me about his grandkits and how he left them here to be taken care of," Solgrim said. "But I only noticed one earlier, before Brooketail went out to fetch his son. What if the others are missing?"

Russel's expression clouded with worry. "That's a problem. I'll check with the others and see if I've missed them; it's entirely possible. But if not, we'll just have to go look for them."

"We?"

The hedgehog nodded. "Of course! You look so miserable cooped up inside, little bit of a walk will do you good."

"And what of the badger?" Solgrim asked.

Russel waved a paw. "We'll worry about that when it happens. You've got to wash one paw before the other, after all... er, although I guess that doesn't quite work for you."

Solgrim turned to the window. He opened his beak. "Do-

"-what you like," Russel finished blithely.

"Will you stop that?!"