Chapter Four
On the fringes of Mossflower, a small fire burned. Bodies lay around it, trying to keep warm. Only one beast, Sergeant Sapwood, was awake. He stared into the fire, thinking about the battle that was destined to come. Alone, Vulpes was a dangerous beast, as was every member of his horde. But Brockkill was a different matter. Sapwood shuddered at the memory of the beast. Larger than anything he had seen, Brockkill was a sight. At the battle for Salamandastron only three seasons earlier, Brockkill had slain three veteran hares, single-pawed. Only through a miracle had the hares beat back the horde.
"This isn't going to be easy," Sapwood muttered to himself.
"Ay, sah. It won't."
Sapwood looked up at the voice. Twobob stood there, leaning on her spear, eyes twinkling in the firelight. The young hare smiled. "Come to take over guard duty, sah."
The sergeant stood up with a grunt. "Well then, off t'sleep with me, eh?" He passed the Greenpaw, stopping to ask a question. "Twobob, d'you remember the battle with Vulpes' horde?"
She shifted uneasily. "Yes, sah. Even though I was still a leveret."
"D'you remember those hares he killed?"
"Yes. One of them was my pater, sah," she replied, her voice quavering.
"I want you to remember that when we're fighting." The sergeant placed a paw on the hare's shoulder. "Your father, those hares, fought to keep you alive and free. Do the same for the Redwallers when the time comes, even if it means your death. Please." He removed his paw and walked to the fire, laying down in his bedroll. With a sad sigh, Twobob sat down on a tree stump. She wiped her eyes and began the watch.
Deep in Redwall's cellars, Droony the mole awoke. He scratched his stomach and rose from the large half-barrel he called bed. His nose twitched and he smiled. "Hurr, deeper'n'ever poi baking oop in 'e kitchers." He climbed the cellar stairs.
"Foremole won' moind Oi taking some poi, so long as Oi don't tell it were Oi," he laughed to himself. He opened the oven door, inhaling at the rich scent of the pie inside. He cut out a piece and placed the pie back in the oven. Giggling like a Dibbun, he took the piece to Cavern Hole, where he was surprised to see the Abbot. Tugging his snout, he greeted Samkin. "Burr, hullo, zurr."
Samkin looked up. "Oh, hello, Droony. Having some of Foremole's pie, I see."
Droony grinned sheepishly. "Yes, zurr. 'Tis gurtly tasty. Why be you'm up at this toime o'night?"
Samkin was silent for a long time before he spoke. "Methuselah had a dream last night. In it, beasts of gold were fighting us, here at Redwall. But that wasn't the worst part. A huge beast, totally black was killing many, but could not be hurt itself."
"Sounds loike a dreamer to Oi, Father."
"It did to me too, Droony, but I then remembered a story about a horde of beasts who wore golden clothes and traveled the world. It was said they managed to capture a beast so dangerous that it killed a badger be itself. We all know that Methuselah is kind of strange. He has great intellect and insight, even though he's still a Dibbun. So I thought that maybe this wasn't a dream, but a premonition."
"So, you'm be thinkin' that we moight be attackered by evilbeasts?"
The abbot nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. I've sent Thrugg to go get Skipper and his otter crew already. Please, Droony, tell nobeast about this. I don't want anybeast worried."
"Moi lips be sealed, Abbot."
Samkin placed his paw over Droony's. "Thank you friend. Now, I'm off to bed. You better go to when you finish that pie."
The squirrel woke with the sun. One eye caked over with blood, he looked about him. Smoke rose over a wooded area a few hundred yards east. He pulled himself up on the rock and limped toward the small wood. Deep inside, the rage began to build.
On the fringes of Mossflower, a small fire burned. Bodies lay around it, trying to keep warm. Only one beast, Sergeant Sapwood, was awake. He stared into the fire, thinking about the battle that was destined to come. Alone, Vulpes was a dangerous beast, as was every member of his horde. But Brockkill was a different matter. Sapwood shuddered at the memory of the beast. Larger than anything he had seen, Brockkill was a sight. At the battle for Salamandastron only three seasons earlier, Brockkill had slain three veteran hares, single-pawed. Only through a miracle had the hares beat back the horde.
"This isn't going to be easy," Sapwood muttered to himself.
"Ay, sah. It won't."
Sapwood looked up at the voice. Twobob stood there, leaning on her spear, eyes twinkling in the firelight. The young hare smiled. "Come to take over guard duty, sah."
The sergeant stood up with a grunt. "Well then, off t'sleep with me, eh?" He passed the Greenpaw, stopping to ask a question. "Twobob, d'you remember the battle with Vulpes' horde?"
She shifted uneasily. "Yes, sah. Even though I was still a leveret."
"D'you remember those hares he killed?"
"Yes. One of them was my pater, sah," she replied, her voice quavering.
"I want you to remember that when we're fighting." The sergeant placed a paw on the hare's shoulder. "Your father, those hares, fought to keep you alive and free. Do the same for the Redwallers when the time comes, even if it means your death. Please." He removed his paw and walked to the fire, laying down in his bedroll. With a sad sigh, Twobob sat down on a tree stump. She wiped her eyes and began the watch.
Deep in Redwall's cellars, Droony the mole awoke. He scratched his stomach and rose from the large half-barrel he called bed. His nose twitched and he smiled. "Hurr, deeper'n'ever poi baking oop in 'e kitchers." He climbed the cellar stairs.
"Foremole won' moind Oi taking some poi, so long as Oi don't tell it were Oi," he laughed to himself. He opened the oven door, inhaling at the rich scent of the pie inside. He cut out a piece and placed the pie back in the oven. Giggling like a Dibbun, he took the piece to Cavern Hole, where he was surprised to see the Abbot. Tugging his snout, he greeted Samkin. "Burr, hullo, zurr."
Samkin looked up. "Oh, hello, Droony. Having some of Foremole's pie, I see."
Droony grinned sheepishly. "Yes, zurr. 'Tis gurtly tasty. Why be you'm up at this toime o'night?"
Samkin was silent for a long time before he spoke. "Methuselah had a dream last night. In it, beasts of gold were fighting us, here at Redwall. But that wasn't the worst part. A huge beast, totally black was killing many, but could not be hurt itself."
"Sounds loike a dreamer to Oi, Father."
"It did to me too, Droony, but I then remembered a story about a horde of beasts who wore golden clothes and traveled the world. It was said they managed to capture a beast so dangerous that it killed a badger be itself. We all know that Methuselah is kind of strange. He has great intellect and insight, even though he's still a Dibbun. So I thought that maybe this wasn't a dream, but a premonition."
"So, you'm be thinkin' that we moight be attackered by evilbeasts?"
The abbot nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. I've sent Thrugg to go get Skipper and his otter crew already. Please, Droony, tell nobeast about this. I don't want anybeast worried."
"Moi lips be sealed, Abbot."
Samkin placed his paw over Droony's. "Thank you friend. Now, I'm off to bed. You better go to when you finish that pie."
The squirrel woke with the sun. One eye caked over with blood, he looked about him. Smoke rose over a wooded area a few hundred yards east. He pulled himself up on the rock and limped toward the small wood. Deep inside, the rage began to build.