A/N: The long-awaited third chapter! Read! Enjoy! Be confused! But not as confused as you will be!
A Warrior No More, Chapter Three-
Gubbio the mole rose from his bed, stretching his arms and yawning ferociously. He stumbled sleepily to his window and looked out across the Abbey grounds.
It looked to be a nice winter day, more mild than those occuring over the past week. Most of the woodland refugees who had packed the Abbey when the sudden blizzard descended on the land had returned to their homes, and most Redwallers seemed to have forgotten about the possible attack by vermin. But not Gubbio.
The old mouse he had helped that fateful evening stuck in his mind like a dirt clod between his digging claws. There was something in his face, his tone of voice
~@~
The eyes of Amira Tallbrush snapped open. Where was she? Where was everyone else?
Amira, a squirrelmaid of about thirteen winters, was one of the eight surviving villagers of the town attacked by Itharos. Her father had been a wealthy merchant, and the family owned a beautiful mansion in the center of the town of Mossbank. Amira had lived a comfortable life in the sunny riverside village.
But now she was a nomad, a refugee of the ill-fated utopia. And she was hopelessly lost.
She struggled to her feet, attempting to take stock of her surroundings, with little luck. Trees, trees, more trees, and a big rock. None of her companions were in sight.
~@~
The seven missing survivors were, in fact, just on the other side of "the big rock." But, of course, they did not realize this. All they knew was that the young, slightly spoiled squirrelmaid was missing, and that they appeared to be tied up.
The cloaked figure with the spear stepped forward out of a tiny hut concealed in the brush, and lowered its hood. It was an otter.
"Who'm you, marm?" a mole ventured, fiddling with the hem of his tunic as he did so.
"I am Vanda," replied the grizzled otterlady, "And you are my captives."
~@~
Itharos' army marched closer, ever closer, to Redwall.
Redwallers marched closer, ever closer, to their beds.
The seven captives struggled in vain against their bonds, as Vanda marched closer, ever closer, to her hut, leaving her hostages alone in the vast expanse of Mossflower Woods.
