titr1

Part One- Strawberries

Greyfletch was small for a hare, but stockily built. His once sandy-brown coat was now silver-grey, but none of his warrior skills had been lost with age. He was not Colonel of the Long Patrol for nothing.

"Swing that mace a liddle faster milord!" he cried, dodging the heavy club as it thrummed by his head. "Feint, pretend, just don't be so bally obvious!"

The young badger holding the mace grunted, feinting down at his tutor's footpaws, but suddenly swinging up at the old hare's head.
"Oof!" cried Greyfletch, as the club intercepted his ears. "W-well done young 'un! Jolly nice swing there! Ten points I say, wot, wot!"

The young badger chuckled at his tutor.
"Ten points aye? Not long ago you'd have given me a clip round the ear."
"I s'pose that was payback, sah, wot?" The badger shook his head.
"Greyfletch, Greyfletch, how many times have I told you? There's no need to call me sir, or lord, or any of that. My name's Juniper. I'm not Lord of Salamandastron yet, nor am I likely to become so in the near future. In the meantime, I would prefer to be called by my real name."

"Sorry sah, but we're bound by bally tradition. The Lord of Salmandastron, and his heir, are t' be addressed in a respectful manner. Fates alone know what 'Is Lordship'd do t' me if 'e heard me callin' you Juniper. He'd box me bally ears at least!" Juniper suddenly threw his mace at the mountainside, turning to yell at Greyfletch as it bounced off the hard rock.

"Can't you hear me! I don't want any of it! Nothing! I don't want to be the Lord of the Mountain, or the Mace reborn, or anything! I just want to be me! Just Juniper, not son of Lord Oakpaw, not Flash of the Sun! Just me!" Breathing hard, he stormed off, away from the mountain that shadowed his life.

Greyfletch gazed after him sadly. He had been there, when Kia the Scholar had come running up from the caves, full of excitement. Been there when she had breathlessly told Lord Oakpaw and Lady Rosemary that their son was Sunflash the Mace born again. Been there when she had flourished the ancient book- Cycle of the Ages, and shown them the prophecies of the Three.

From that day forward he had been Juniper's personal trainer, teaching him how to handle weapons. He had majored in mace study- one day, or so the prophecies said, Juniper would wield the great mace that hung on the wall of the forge, the mace of Lord Sunflash. But when he grew older, Juniper had suddenly realised exactly what it meant to be himself. And he had hated it.

"He's gone off again, aye?" said a voice behind the old hare. Greyfletch nearly jumped out of his skin, until he recognised the voice. Lord Oakpaw the Bold, Ruler of the Mountain, Guardian of the Western Shore. Countless badgers before him had held those titles, and countless would after. Sadly, he nodded. Oakpaw's voice had a sad sound to it, a feeling of regret.

"Trying to escape himself. Trying to hide." The big badger shook his head. "Juniper my son, can you not understand? You cannot run from something embedded deep in your own soul! You cannot run from who you are! None of us can!" Oakpaw shook a stern fist at the retreating back of his son.
"Sah, there's nothing bally yellin' at him will do, beggin' y' pardon. He's got it inter his young head that he c'n get away by runnin'. He'll come back when he's hungry, wot?"
"I hope you are right Greyfletch."

***

"Align de bow wid yer shoulder. Sight down de arrow, an' lookit the centre o' de target. Now breed in, deep bred, an' breed out an' lose de arrow at de same time."

WHOOSH-THUNK!

The brown-flighted arrow thudded into the centre of the target. The tall, slim female otter holding the bow relaxed, and turned smiling to her trainer.
"I told you I could hit bullseye. So where's my hotroot soup?"

"Lessen thad cheek, yung rogue!" The squirrel beside her reached up, trying to cuff her round the ear, but he succeeded only in clipping her shoulder.
"Oi!" cried the otter, fending him off. "We had a wager! I hit bullseye, you give me a pan of hotroot soup. I miss, I make you a pine cake. And I won, fair and square."
"You wudden have got bullseye if I notta say whad to do. Dat mean I win. You'da missed if I hadden tol' you."

"You bet?" The young ottermaid's blood was up now. "I bet you, that I could still hit bullseye from double this distance. Without help." The squirrel chuckled.
"Nobodee on'y half way troo da trainin' hit bullseye four hundred. Even I prob'ly not hit bullseye four hundred. No liddle trainee do it." Suddenly, the ottermaid grabbed his tunic collar. Lifting him off the ground bodily, she slammed his back into the nearest tree. Her eyes, strange sparkling green eyes, were burning in anger.

"Don't EVER call me 'little trainee'. Ever! I'll hit that bullseye from anywhere you like. The O'Liaths are a warrior family, we've been archers for more seasons than a score of cringers like you could count. And Caitrin O'Liath is no exception."
"Ooh yes Miz Caitrin. Den would you like ta try de four hundred pace?" Caitrin dropped him, gathered up her bow and quiver, and marched off, calling back to him.

"I won't try Tac- I'll succeed!"

She smiled as she scratched a line where the four hundred pace mark was. The target was distant now, she could not see the bullseye exactly anymore.
"Oh well," she said, then muttered a little saying under her breath. She had heard a traveller saying it once, and she found it helped her concentrate. "Win or lose, loss or gain, all's just thunder in the rain."

Nocking an arrow to her bowstring, she lifted the small shoulder bow, and pulled back the string to eye level. Carefully sighting down the arrow, she imagined it speeding towards it's target. She took a deep breath, then breathed out as the loosed the arrow.

WHOOSH! It sped along, its course prefectly straight, zooming towards the target. Tac watched it with a rather dismayed expression as it thudded deep into the dead centre of the target. Caitrin felt the exhaltation of winning build up inside her. She yelled to the sky.
"LUTRAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

"Yesyes Miz Caitrin, so you won. You be wantin' dat pan o' hotrood soup now, s'pose?"
"Well what do you think?"

***

Rowena ran along the abbey lawn, her basket of strawberries swinging from her arm. She must get to the kitchens. Suddenly, she felt her paw connect with a hard surface, and she went flying.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed as she landed hard on her face and skidded along the ground. Her strawberries were littered all over the surrounding ground. Slowly she picked herself up, trying to wipe the mud off her pale green novice's habit.

"Oh acorns!" she said, seeing the scattered fruit. She picked up her basket, and went to collect them.

"Here let me do that," said a voice behind her as she bent to pick up the first. She turned, and saw Orion standing behind her. The young mouse was roughly the same age as she, and he too was a novice. Oh seasons! , she thought. I've got mud all down my front! What will he think? Blushing furiously, she scrubbed at the offending dirt with a paw.

"Look," said Orion kindly, taking he basket from her and grabbing a strawberry."I'll take these into the kitchen. You go and get cleaned up. You must've tripped on a rock or something sticking up."

Her cheeks still bright red, Rowena mumbled a 'thank you', and scampered off to the dormitories.

When she had closed the door of the small room she shared with two other novices, the young mousemaid sat down on her bed with a thump. Why do I always make a fool of myself around him? she asked silently. I looked so stupid, fumbling around with mud all down my front. Why can't I just be sensible? I'll never become a Sister of Redwall if I keep tripping over my own paws, and fumbling for clouds. Mother Holly says I need to learn to have more patience. But I can't!

She rolled onto her back, and stared at the plain ceiling.
"Why can't I?" she said to herself. "What's wrong with me? Why can't I become calm, and sedate? Why can't I make Orion think I'm not just some idiot?" She clenched her paws in anger.

Down in the kitchens, Orion passed the basket of strawberries to one of the helpers, and meandered off. He was not sure where to go, but his paws slowly carried him in the direction of the dormitories. He stopped briefly in his own, but something told him to carry on down the corridor. He stopped outside Rowena's.

Orion did not need to press his ear to the door to detect the sound of sobs coming from within. He knocked softly. There were scuffling noises, then a murmured
"C-come in." He pushed the door open.

Rowena was seated on her bed. She had changed her habit, but her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She gasped when she saw Orion, and scrubbed at her eyes, making them look even redder.

"O-Orion, wh-what do you want?" Orion sat down next to her on the bed.
"I just came to see if you might have hurt yourself when you fell, that's all. So are you okay?"
"Y-yes, I'm f-fine." Orion smiled wryly.
"I suppose you don't want to tell me why you're crying, aye?"
"C-crying? No, I j-just had something in m-my eye, th-that's all. I wasn't c-crying at all."

The young mouse raised one eybrow, stood up, and held out his paw to Rowena.
"Well come on downstairs then. I'll bet Friar Danno's got more tasks for us novices to do- what with the spring nameday feast tonight." Rowena managed a weak smile. She took Orion's outstretched paw, and he led her out of the dormitory and down the rickety old wooden staircase.

All around them, abbey creatures bustled about their daily lives, but each one harboured a spark of excitement. The Summer Nameday feast was tonight, where Abbot Thistle would announce the season's name. Food, fun, music and laughter, all were waiting. For the evening.