Chapter Five
The next morning, a heavy mist enshrouded the Abbey and the whole of Mossflower. The four chosen for the trip shouldered haversacks of food and equipment. Rukkachun, eager for adventure, hopped about on the limb of a tree near the main gates. Good luck and advice were said before the travelers set on their adventure.
"Oh Nik, take care of yourself and Kippit. Don't die or anything, and don't let Kipp get slain."
"Don't make such a fuss over it, Mum. Kipp and I will be fine."
"Hurr, doan't eat t'much, zurr Pointtoil."
"Oh, I'll jolly well try not to, wot. G'bye, Guddle."
"Knock 'em dead, Mista Runn! Good luckers t'ya, Kipp."
"I will, messmate. I'll knock an extra un jus' fer you."
"Thanks, Tibbin. Don't get into trouble. If'n you do, Mother Cregga skelps your tail! Heeheehee!"
Rukka flew from his branch and landed on Nik's shoulder. "Kchakcha! Come onna now. Sto'paw norra waitin' any longer! Lessa gooooo!"
With that, Rukka took off. The four Redwallers went after him, following the River Moss southwards. The others watched them run, yelling the time-honored war cry of the Abbey.
"Redwaaaaaaaall!"
* * *
A day of running went by quickly. The group was halfway to Salamandastron at the moment. Counting their good fortunes, they huddled around a small fire, preparing supper.
"Wot ho, chaps, look!" Painttail exclaimed suddenly. He pointed to a shadowy figure limping behind some ferns.
"What could it be?" Nik wondered, stirring the small pot of soup.
"A pore traveler, mayhaps?" Runn growled, a paw slowly moving towards the otter javelin hidden underneath some bracts. "Or a scoundrel an' a vermin?"
The creature hobbled warily into the campsite. It was an old frail mouse, seasons and seasons of traveling weighing down upon his worn footpaws and small shoulders. Behind him came three young ones. The first and obviously the oldest was another mouse, around five seasons old. The second was a hogbabe, younger than the little mouse by a season. The last one—the smallest and the youngest—was a little female leveret.
"Great seasons!" Nik exclaimed when he saw the four. "An old mouse and three young ones. Sit down, old sir, and rest your paws."
"Thank you, young squirrel," the mouse said hoarsely. The mouse, clad only in a frayed cloak held securely by a rope around his waist, set down his walking stick and sat on the ground by the fire. "My name's Ralar Creekhawn. Ooh…seasons of walking sure put a cramp in my back. Yowch! Stop poking me, Pinidap!"
The young hedgehog stuck his tongue out at the old mouse. "Mamma an' Papa no here!"
The mouse squinted fiercely at the hedgehog. "Introduce yourself to our new friends."
Turning around to face the four, the hedgehog said, "Good day, sirs. I be Pinidap Spikeback. Mamma an' Pappa Spikley an' Lunkin."
The young mouse saluted to the four. "I'm Verleaf Creekhawn, grandson of Ralar, son of Darrial and Lili."
He nudged the tiny leveret next to him. She twitched her nose. "I Filian Starcot o' Sal'man'st'on, wot. Pap 'n' gran Tammo an' Pasque."
Nik, Runn, and Painttail had perked up to the name Lunkin, and Painttail jumped up to the names Tammo and Pasque. They continued with the introductions anyway.
"Niklur Reguba. Son o' Dannflor an' Song Reguba."
"Runn Rivereye. I can't 'member me parents that well. They died when I was on'y a liddle babe."
"Painttail, sahs an' gel. Painttail Tussock, son o' Tammo an' Pasque."
Filian perked up this time. She jumped up and ran to the older hare. "Ukkle Painttail, sah, 'tis me, Filian!"
"How did you find them, Ralar?" Nik asked the old mouse, handing him a bowl of soup.
"Oh, I was on one of my quests again. Verleaf loved adventure like I did and came with me. After a few seasons, we found Pinidap wailing like mad. Bless his heart, he was separated from his parents. His mother died while trying to ward off vermin. His father had told her to take care of Pinidap while he went to fight them. They escaped a back way but ran into another mob of rats and weasels and such. Pinidap was thrown into the bushes, but his mother never made it. The howl of agony that escaped his mother's throat when she was slain was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness. We picked him up, he told us what had happened, and now we're off to find some place to live. I'm getting to old to wander now."
"What 'bout 'er?" Runn asked, gesturing to Filian, who sat on Painttail's lap, licking a bowl of soup dry.
"She's from Salamandastron, the mountain stronghold of the Badger Lords. This time it's Lord Russano the Wise. Filian's an orphan as well. Her grandparents, Tammo and Pasque De Fformello Tussock, raised her. They're still there, you know. Verleaf, Pinidap, and I visited there and Filian loved us to death. She stowed away in our haversack and ate one fourth of our rations! Anyhow, that's how she came to be with us."
The three adults glanced at each other. Then Painttail told Ralar, "Y'say Pinidap's pater was an 'edge'og named Lunkin? Why, we jolly well know 'im! He resides at Redwall now. Would y'like t'go there?"
"Oh, bless my aching paws, yes! I have heard tales of Redwall from many. I have heard of its grandness and its fine banquets. Is it true many forms of evil have come to conquer it in the past, but Redwall stood strong, sheltering the old and young and letting its grand warriors fight? Oh, I'd love to live there. My old bones aren't fit for traveling any more. Why…"
Verleaf whispered in Runn's ear, "Don't worry too much about granpa. He's a babbler and loves to talk and listen to stories as much as he likes to travel. Someday, when the time comes, he'll be telling stories to his great-great-great-great-great granbabes."
Runn tried to hide a grin. "I don't think yore ancient un 'ere'll live that long."
Nik was busy explaining to Ralar their situation. The old mouse listened carefully, eating some extra rations the travelers had. When the squirrel had finished, it was well into midnight. The little ones were sound asleep and the fire was down to almost nothing.
"So you're telling me you're off to fight a war? Against how many?"
"We 'ave no blinkin' clue, sah," Painttail replied.
Rukka suddenly appeared by the fire, holding his wings out to the fire to warm them. The chipping sparrow jerked his head around like usual, looking at the newcomers.
"Who ole mouseybist?" Rukka asked Nik.
"Rukkachun Beakblur, meet Ralar Creekhawn, his granson Verleaf, an' their friends Pinidap Spikeback an' Filian Starcot."
Rukka ignored the babes and hopped over to Ralar. The bird retorted, "Yousa ole mousey. Norra fight? Warra comin' soon." Rukka then hopped back to Nik, Runn, and Painttail and informed them of news. "Sto'paw killad five 'ordebists arready. Rugval lucky stoatbist. Norra killad yet. Sarrico gather morra fighters. Two 'undred now, Rukka thinks."
Nik's eyes widened in shock. "Two hundred vermin? I can't believe it! First 'tis a shipfull, now 'tis a forest full! Where'll we get more fighters?"
Painttail waved a paw dismissively at the squirrel. "Where? Why, the bally Salamandastron, wot! The Long Patrol—me pride an' joy, wot! Was Colonel afore I met Rayna. Then I came t'the Abbey. Y'know, I'm sure Lord Russ'd fancy me returnin' t'find an army, wot wot!"
"But does Salamandastron 'ave 'nough warriors?"
Ralar shook his head. "No. It's too small a patrol for two hundred hordebeasts. Any more useful ideas, though?"
Slapping his tail upon the ground, Runn told Rukka, "Rukkachun, find Skipper at Redwall. Ask 'im t'tell yeh the exact location o' Creekstar's, Lurrana's, an' Portred's holts. Then contact all three an' tell Creekstar, Lurrana, an' Portred that Runn Rivereye sent yeh. Me ole brothers an' sister'll 'member me, I 'ope."
Rukka was off in a flash without further delay.
Nik watched the chipping bird fly off in the black of night, then turned, grinning, to his otter friend. "Also hope that Luna won't be all over you when you next visit."
Runn shuddered. "No, messmate, don' remind me o' Luna. Please don't. That young un's more o' a nuisance than anythin' else." The big otter shuddered again.
Ralar, Runn, and Painttail went swiftly to sleep after that. Nik poked the fire to help rekindle it, then he too went to sleep.
* * *
Pawpike leaned casually against the rock window sill of his quarters. The young hare stared longingly down at the sandy and rock-strewn beach surrounding Salamandastron. Down near the base of the mountain, Lieutenant Tammello De Fformello Tussock, old as he was, busily instructed a group of new recruits for the Long Patrol. Pawpike's older brother, Earlop, and older sister, Lin, were two hares amongst the ten recruits, being they were old enough to sign up.
Sighing heavily, Pawpike left the window and flopped down on his bed. His greatest wishes were to join the Long Patrol, no matter what he had to do, but his father had always told him that he was too young. That is, before he died, leaving Earlop, Lin, Pawpike, and their little sister Filian as orphans.
A sharp rap on the door brought Pawpike to reality.
"Who is it?" he asked whomever was on the other side of the door.
"'Tis me, Paws. Why, doncha recognize yer ole bally comrade, wot?" the otherbeast replied.
Pawpike smiled half-heartedly. "Y'can come in, Dune."
The female hare opened the door, stepped inside, and shut the door silently. Dunelily, or Dune for short, had been Pawpike's old playmate since they were tiny leverets. Now the two were inseperable partners, both in scoffing food and in short practice battles.
"Oy, Paws, why the blinkin' sad look? Lack a day, y'look beaten out o' yore skins!"
"Aye, I 'ave been. Earlop 'n' Lin are down there." Pawpike gestured to the open window. "I'd absoballylutely love t'join the Long Patrol, Dune. Y'think y'can 'elp sign me up, wot?"
Dune laughed uproariously at the question. Pawpike waited patiently for his friend to stop laughing, frowning the whole time.
"Wot's so flippin' funny, Dune?"
The female hare buffeted her friend's ear lightly. "C'mon, Pawpike, doncha get silly on me now, wot wot! Y'know the bally Long Patrol's got more 'ares in its paws than yeh'll ever get wallnuts in the thing 'twixt yer ears y'call a brain."
"That was mean," Pawpike said insolently.
Dunelily smiled warmingly. She took her friend's arm with her paw. "C'mon, y'liddle rascal, up on yore paws. Lieutenant Tammo wants a word with you."
"Granpa Tammo wants ter talk with me?" Pawpike jumped delightedly at the statement. "Oooh, Long Patrol time, m'gel! Lead me to him, wot!"
Lieutenant Tammo stared stonily at the ten young hares standing in a single file line, facing him. The old veteran was still in the Long Patrol due to his expert fighting abilities. It didn't matter whether he was old, and he had sworn he would die fighting, not of old age or of sickness. A changed hare since his encounter with the Rapscallions, the Lieuteneant was now the head of the Long Patrol.
"Kirp, don't slouch. Hold that pike straight, wot," the Lieutenant rapped swiftly. "Lin, footpaws t'gether. Frizfoll, don't just stand there mindin' yore bloomin' business, act like a soldier!"
The youngest of the Long Patrol recruits trembled slightly. He stiffened, reaching his full height without standing on tip-paw, grasping his lance handle tightly.
"Don't hurt y'self, wot," Lieutenant Tammo added, twirling his old battle-scarred dirk in his paws.
Frixfoll nodded and relaxed, keeping his posture straight.
At that moment, Pawpike and Dunelily came running as fast as they could. Dunelily was in the lead, and she stopped immediately in front of the old officer, throwing a smart salute. Pawpike, not as quick as his friend, skidded to a halt but was too late. He bumped into her and the two crashed upon the sand at Tammo's footpaws. The Lieutenant looked down at the two.
"Right on time, m'gel an' m'laddo. Up on yore paws, wot, let's go," he ordered.
Dune stood up first, threw another salute, and dismissed herself, knowing she was not needed anymore. Pawpike awkwardly got to his paws and saluted as well, though he was flushed red to his eartips with embarrassment; some of the recruits' giggles had not been stifled.
"Pawpike reportin' fer duty, sah!" the young hare told his grandfather, trembling slightly.
Lieutenant Tammo raised an eyebrow at Pawpike. "So, y'think yore ole granpa sent yeh out 'ere t'do somethin'?"
Pawpike hesitated. He then nodded slowly. "Er, yessah."
A slow smile appeared upon the Lieutenant's face. "Well, yeh'll have t'prove y'self first, m'laddie buck. I know yer young, but Lord Russ wants more flippin' recruits. He says there'll be a great bally war, wot, but we'll win. Us an' Redwall."
