Chapter One
Far on the western shores of Mossflower stood the mountain of Salamandastron. Once inhabited by fire and molten rock, it had long since cooled and was now the home of badgers lords and hares. Lord Urthwyte sat on a ledge high on the mountainside, scanning the northern horizon. He was a strange badger, having snow-white fur and no head stripes. Beside him, a hare leapt about, throwing punches and ducking imaginary foes. Continuing his gaze to the north, Urthwyte addressed the hare. "Do you see them, Sapwood?"
"Aye, sir, I do," the hare said, still concentrating on the invisible vermin he was boxing.
"Its Vulpes, isn't it, Sap?" inquired the badger.
"Seems to be, wot! Few o'the runners say they've seen a bally old fox leading," remarked the hare. Sergeant Sapwood was every inch a veteran Long Patroller. Battle scars crisscrossed his body while medals decorated the beige jerkin he wore.
Urthwyte continued to stare northward. After a short period he stood up and sighed, "This isn't good. The horde's marching southeast and Redwall Abbey is in that direction. Except for the Skipper and his otter crew, the Redwallers have no defenders."
Sapwood stopped his antics temporarily and looked up at Urthwyte's snow-colored face. He noted the dangerous red glint in his lord's eyes. "D'you want me to take a force over to Redwall, sire?"
"That's exactly what I was thinking. Take four with you and help the Redwallers prepare for an attack from those vermin. Pikkle Ffolger and Big Oxeye would be good choices. Maybe two Greenpaws as well."
"Aye, sir. We'll leave first thing t'morrow at daybreak!" said Sapwood saluting smartly and briskly walking off towards the mess hall. As he crawled into an entrance on the hillside, he heard Urthwyte talking to himself. "One day, scum! One day you will pay for all the pain and hurt you have brought upon this land." Sapwood then felt the fur on his back rise as his lord emitted the time-honored battlecry of badgers and hares: "Eulaliaaaaaaaaa!"
Meals in the Salamandastron's mess hall were no fancy affair. Creatures ate what they wanted and plenty of it. Hares are notorious scoffers and those at Salamandastron were no different. Sapwood filled a plate with potato and celery pie, cherry tarts and a beaker of Mountain Ale. He scanned the crowd seated around the dining tables until he found who he was looking for. He walked over to two hares, their plates piled high with food. They were deep in discussion when he arrived.
"Are you sure you wanna try an' outscoff me, Oxeye?" asked Pikkle Ffolger, a young lean hare. Although his body didn't show it, Pikkle was the greatest scoffer Salamandastron had seen in dozens of seasons.
The hare opposite him nodded. "Sure do, Pikkle," replied the large hare. "I'm sure I can beat ye this time."
"Alright, old chap. D'you still remember the rules in your old age?" Pickle laughed.
"Aye, I does you young snip! We tuck in until we can't scoff anymore an' plates with food on 'em don't count as done. Most plates wins."
Both beasts shook paws and went at it with a will, while Sapwood watched. Soon, a crowd had gathered and began to cheer the two hares on.
"C'mon, Oxeye! You can win it this time!"
"Nah, he won't. Ffolger's got a stomach on 'im like he's survived a seven-season famine."
"Oxeye's gonna win. I seen Pikkle scoff a whole tray of scones only a while back."
In the end, it was Pikkle who turned out to be the victor. Hares clapped him heartily on the back and shook his paw. Oxeye dropped a tart clumsily. "Ho! Good scoff, young one. But I'll beat you nex' time. I swears I will."
Pikkle bowed, proudly accepting the applause. Still stuffing the odd bit of food in his mouth, he exclaimed, "Thank you, thank you. All in a days work for a Ffolger. Oh, hullo, Sap! Wot're you doing here? Come to try and beat me in a scoff?"
Although there were cheers of approval for Pikkle's comment, Sapwood waved the audience away. "Actually, mate, we're taking a patrol," replied Sapwood after the crowd had dispersed. "Ol' Whiteghost wants us to rally the bally old defenders."
Oxeye asked, trying to chew through the tart he had dropped, "What defenders?"
"Why, the ones at Redwall, chap! The fox's horde, y'know, the ones we gave a jolly ole drubbin' to a few seasons ago? They're headin' in that direction. If we don't help organize the Redwallers, they could be taken over," said Sapwood through a piece of pie.
A dreamy look crossed the face of Pikkle and he twisted his ears together. "This is fanbloomintastic! I haven't had Redwall vittles for seasons," he exclaimed.
Big Oxeye was no less excited, but he managed to contain it. "Who's going? Us three?"
"Aye," replied Sapwood. "An' two Greenpaws as well. I was thinking Twobob and Shortears. They're both young, but they have the experience. I still need to talk with them."
"Alright. When do we leave?" inquired Pikkle, rubbing his paws together in anticipation of the famous Redwall dishes.
Sapwood finished off his last tart and addressed the two hares, "Tomorrow at dawn. Be ready."
Far on the western shores of Mossflower stood the mountain of Salamandastron. Once inhabited by fire and molten rock, it had long since cooled and was now the home of badgers lords and hares. Lord Urthwyte sat on a ledge high on the mountainside, scanning the northern horizon. He was a strange badger, having snow-white fur and no head stripes. Beside him, a hare leapt about, throwing punches and ducking imaginary foes. Continuing his gaze to the north, Urthwyte addressed the hare. "Do you see them, Sapwood?"
"Aye, sir, I do," the hare said, still concentrating on the invisible vermin he was boxing.
"Its Vulpes, isn't it, Sap?" inquired the badger.
"Seems to be, wot! Few o'the runners say they've seen a bally old fox leading," remarked the hare. Sergeant Sapwood was every inch a veteran Long Patroller. Battle scars crisscrossed his body while medals decorated the beige jerkin he wore.
Urthwyte continued to stare northward. After a short period he stood up and sighed, "This isn't good. The horde's marching southeast and Redwall Abbey is in that direction. Except for the Skipper and his otter crew, the Redwallers have no defenders."
Sapwood stopped his antics temporarily and looked up at Urthwyte's snow-colored face. He noted the dangerous red glint in his lord's eyes. "D'you want me to take a force over to Redwall, sire?"
"That's exactly what I was thinking. Take four with you and help the Redwallers prepare for an attack from those vermin. Pikkle Ffolger and Big Oxeye would be good choices. Maybe two Greenpaws as well."
"Aye, sir. We'll leave first thing t'morrow at daybreak!" said Sapwood saluting smartly and briskly walking off towards the mess hall. As he crawled into an entrance on the hillside, he heard Urthwyte talking to himself. "One day, scum! One day you will pay for all the pain and hurt you have brought upon this land." Sapwood then felt the fur on his back rise as his lord emitted the time-honored battlecry of badgers and hares: "Eulaliaaaaaaaaa!"
Meals in the Salamandastron's mess hall were no fancy affair. Creatures ate what they wanted and plenty of it. Hares are notorious scoffers and those at Salamandastron were no different. Sapwood filled a plate with potato and celery pie, cherry tarts and a beaker of Mountain Ale. He scanned the crowd seated around the dining tables until he found who he was looking for. He walked over to two hares, their plates piled high with food. They were deep in discussion when he arrived.
"Are you sure you wanna try an' outscoff me, Oxeye?" asked Pikkle Ffolger, a young lean hare. Although his body didn't show it, Pikkle was the greatest scoffer Salamandastron had seen in dozens of seasons.
The hare opposite him nodded. "Sure do, Pikkle," replied the large hare. "I'm sure I can beat ye this time."
"Alright, old chap. D'you still remember the rules in your old age?" Pickle laughed.
"Aye, I does you young snip! We tuck in until we can't scoff anymore an' plates with food on 'em don't count as done. Most plates wins."
Both beasts shook paws and went at it with a will, while Sapwood watched. Soon, a crowd had gathered and began to cheer the two hares on.
"C'mon, Oxeye! You can win it this time!"
"Nah, he won't. Ffolger's got a stomach on 'im like he's survived a seven-season famine."
"Oxeye's gonna win. I seen Pikkle scoff a whole tray of scones only a while back."
In the end, it was Pikkle who turned out to be the victor. Hares clapped him heartily on the back and shook his paw. Oxeye dropped a tart clumsily. "Ho! Good scoff, young one. But I'll beat you nex' time. I swears I will."
Pikkle bowed, proudly accepting the applause. Still stuffing the odd bit of food in his mouth, he exclaimed, "Thank you, thank you. All in a days work for a Ffolger. Oh, hullo, Sap! Wot're you doing here? Come to try and beat me in a scoff?"
Although there were cheers of approval for Pikkle's comment, Sapwood waved the audience away. "Actually, mate, we're taking a patrol," replied Sapwood after the crowd had dispersed. "Ol' Whiteghost wants us to rally the bally old defenders."
Oxeye asked, trying to chew through the tart he had dropped, "What defenders?"
"Why, the ones at Redwall, chap! The fox's horde, y'know, the ones we gave a jolly ole drubbin' to a few seasons ago? They're headin' in that direction. If we don't help organize the Redwallers, they could be taken over," said Sapwood through a piece of pie.
A dreamy look crossed the face of Pikkle and he twisted his ears together. "This is fanbloomintastic! I haven't had Redwall vittles for seasons," he exclaimed.
Big Oxeye was no less excited, but he managed to contain it. "Who's going? Us three?"
"Aye," replied Sapwood. "An' two Greenpaws as well. I was thinking Twobob and Shortears. They're both young, but they have the experience. I still need to talk with them."
"Alright. When do we leave?" inquired Pikkle, rubbing his paws together in anticipation of the famous Redwall dishes.
Sapwood finished off his last tart and addressed the two hares, "Tomorrow at dawn. Be ready."