Randangza Steelclaws cut an impressive figure. He was large and powerful, even for a wildcat. Randangza was unique--instead of leading his horde from the back, he fought alongside of them, cunning and bold. Half his face was tattooed with strange silver markings, and the other half was pure black, like the rest of his body. His stripes and the bands on his tail were a shimmering grey. Randangza's claws were coated with hard steel, and served as a weapon for him, aside from his wicked cutlass. A crimson cloak swirled behind him as he stalked about the camp, his spiked helmet glinting dully in the sunlight.
"Trattak, what's the report for today?" He demanded, digging his namesake steel claws into a weasel's shoulder.
"Our trackers 'ave spotted a goodbeast camp, though they've gone long ago, chief. Almost a week old, were th' remenants. Are yew gunna track 'em?" Trattak bit into his roasted sparrow carcass.
Randangza's claws dug deeper into the weasel, who was dyed black like the rest of the horde, as he kicked the autumn loam at the Trattak's face. "I wasn't asking fer yore opinion, fool! A week old camp, is that it?"
Trattak nodded miserably.
"Hmm, we could track them, then slay them. How many are they?"
"Er, er, ask Verang. She knows, she's the chief o' the trackers!" Trattak pointed at the vixen, who was throwing some twigs onto her fire.
Randangza released the whimpering weasel and strode off towards the vixen. Verang smiled.
"A score and nine, Milord. Mostly rabbits an' hares, but there's a squirrel, a little over ten seasons old." The vixen said, without looking at Randangza.
"Good, good. We shall have no trouble." The wildcat turned on his heel, and was about to stalk off before Verang interrupted him.
"But they are the ledgendary Sajjainn tribe, Randangza. Be wary." The vixen turned her one good eye toward him.
"Nobeast has defeated The Black Ones. I'm not afraid o' any tribe, ledgendary or not!" He walked off to check on his horde.
Verang shook her head, throwing another twig into the fire. She knew that her leader was not short of cunning or courage, but this Sajjainn tribe was something to be reckoned with. That was how the vixen had lost her eye.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Twyst could see the spire of Redwall Abbey in the distance. It loomed above her, red and majestic. Raindance smiled, nudging her friend in the ribs.
"Jus' another day 'till we get there, Twyst!"
Sandsliver grinned as he caught up with them. "Phew! Ye cut a quick pace, missies. The food itself at Redwall is ledgendary, not to mention the abbey itself. I'll bet ye can't wait!"
"No sir!" The pair beamed back, straining to see his face in the night.
"Well, that's good. 'Twill make marching quicker fer ye. We'll make camp 'ere fer tonight. Two sentries per shift. Raindance an' Clyff, yore firs', then get Twyst and Sylver." Lyght came up behind them, dropping his haversack onto the ground. Unpacking some stuff, he laid down his blanket and groundsheet, falling asleep instantly, holding his sword. Soon, the whole camp was slumbering, except for the two sentries
Amongst the foilage, something moved.
She is free.
"Trattak, what's the report for today?" He demanded, digging his namesake steel claws into a weasel's shoulder.
"Our trackers 'ave spotted a goodbeast camp, though they've gone long ago, chief. Almost a week old, were th' remenants. Are yew gunna track 'em?" Trattak bit into his roasted sparrow carcass.
Randangza's claws dug deeper into the weasel, who was dyed black like the rest of the horde, as he kicked the autumn loam at the Trattak's face. "I wasn't asking fer yore opinion, fool! A week old camp, is that it?"
Trattak nodded miserably.
"Hmm, we could track them, then slay them. How many are they?"
"Er, er, ask Verang. She knows, she's the chief o' the trackers!" Trattak pointed at the vixen, who was throwing some twigs onto her fire.
Randangza released the whimpering weasel and strode off towards the vixen. Verang smiled.
"A score and nine, Milord. Mostly rabbits an' hares, but there's a squirrel, a little over ten seasons old." The vixen said, without looking at Randangza.
"Good, good. We shall have no trouble." The wildcat turned on his heel, and was about to stalk off before Verang interrupted him.
"But they are the ledgendary Sajjainn tribe, Randangza. Be wary." The vixen turned her one good eye toward him.
"Nobeast has defeated The Black Ones. I'm not afraid o' any tribe, ledgendary or not!" He walked off to check on his horde.
Verang shook her head, throwing another twig into the fire. She knew that her leader was not short of cunning or courage, but this Sajjainn tribe was something to be reckoned with. That was how the vixen had lost her eye.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Twyst could see the spire of Redwall Abbey in the distance. It loomed above her, red and majestic. Raindance smiled, nudging her friend in the ribs.
"Jus' another day 'till we get there, Twyst!"
Sandsliver grinned as he caught up with them. "Phew! Ye cut a quick pace, missies. The food itself at Redwall is ledgendary, not to mention the abbey itself. I'll bet ye can't wait!"
"No sir!" The pair beamed back, straining to see his face in the night.
"Well, that's good. 'Twill make marching quicker fer ye. We'll make camp 'ere fer tonight. Two sentries per shift. Raindance an' Clyff, yore firs', then get Twyst and Sylver." Lyght came up behind them, dropping his haversack onto the ground. Unpacking some stuff, he laid down his blanket and groundsheet, falling asleep instantly, holding his sword. Soon, the whole camp was slumbering, except for the two sentries
Amongst the foilage, something moved.
She is free.