Disclaimer: Okay, so I didn't do one in my first chapter. I own Marla,
Tallfang and his hoard, Riverose, and anybeast else that didn't come from
the Taggerung or Marlfox. Oh yeah, and I own my notebooks, my school
supplies, etc..
Since this is my first for Redwall, um, lessee. please don't flame it, no bad language, and I'll take criticism if it is CONSTRUCTIVE!!! Anything about little boxes or whatnot is not constructive, b/c I cannot do anything about it. Thanx!
Chapter 1
Marla woke up out of a snooze and blinked her strange, large, golden-brown eyes lazily, bating her eyelids at a midge that had landed on her cheek. She was a quite cub, with a keen sense of smell and a keener sense of sight. Without a rustle, the otter painted with green and brown plant dyes, strange red ones, and extraordinary gold ones, clad only in a barkcloth tunic and cape and armed only with a silver dirk thrust into the back of her belt, stood up and opened her small mouth in a silent yawn.
"I know you're there, Tallfang," she said in her soft, high voice. A tall brawny ferret with two large, gleaming fangs, colored with a shining red dye, walked into the small clearing.
"Very good, my cub," he said, barely moving his thin lips.
"I'm not your cub," Marla answered in a clipped and slightly annoyed tone. "I joined your hoard with my own will." With that, she walked to the edge of the tiny clearing and stopped. "Oh, and your creatures can come out of hiding," she added seemingly careless. Swift as lightning, she hit a bush with her otters' rudder-like tail, sending leaves everywhere. There was a muffled yelp, along with a young weasel that limped out of his now-ruined hiding place.
"'S no good, m'lord. She's got magic, an' ken sense a hoardbeast better'n all o' us put together. Yer might'ness," he added quickly after.
There was a dangerous whirring sound, and the weasel gave a surprised sort of cough and fell to the hard ground, with Tallfang's decorative, amber- hilted dagger fixed in his throat up to its blue-pommel-topped hilt.
"I am Tallfang Coldeye, son of Sawney Rath, leader of the Juskaeye! I am the merciless one, the one of death! You do not dare defy me!" Tallfang screamed in a quick rage, performing an angry dance, and spitting foam that was brought away by the spring breeze.
"Father, calm down," somebeast said hesitantly. It was Marla.
Tallfang's red-painted face slowly relaxed, and the foam was carried off by the zephyr. "Marla, my cub, let us go back to the camp."
"Aye," she responded, grinning, showing pointed teeth to the ferret she called father.
An argument had broken out in the large Redwall kitchens.
An impatient friar was slowly raising his voice at three young 'uns, called dibbuns, who were sitting in a particularly dangerous spot.
A young ottermaid, an even younger hedgehog, and the ringleader, a rebellious young squirrel a season older than the ottermaid sat in the oven, almost painting each other with honey and berries they had stolen from the counter, and generally making a mess of themselves.
"Get out of that oven this instant, you young scallywags, unless you don't want raspberry tarts for tea-time!" angry Friar Bluepine barely prevented himself from shouting.
"Bu' bruver, we's makin' rasbewy tarts, too," Adrian, the reddish squirrel, said.
"Yeth," added the tiny hedgehog Burble.
A tiny voice piped up in the back, thick with honey floating in the speaker's mouth. "Yah, bruver. We's making'." She paused to think, dropping her sticky paw on her fuzzy head.
"We's makin' strawbewy tarts," Adrian whispered loudly in the otter's ear. She rubbed some honey out, asked what he had said, and he repeated, almost speaking.
"Just a moment ago you were making raspberry tarts," Friar Bluepine said, covering up a smile with one paw while wagging the other at the dibbuns and trying to look serious.
"Ah, phooey!" Adrian could be heard muttering.
As the trio climbed out of the honey-coated oven, Abbess Willowbreeze entered the kitchen.
She was a tall squirrel, half as tall again as most of her kind. Her beautiful hazel eyes were partly hidden by thick, long lashes that were black and beautiful, on lids that were half-closed. She was no specific color, just a patch of grey here, a reddish-brown there. She was a Swifteye, quick to notice details and always up with the sun. She never walked; she glided.
Without flicking an eyelid, she knew what was going on in the giggling kitchen. Scarcely being able to keep a straight face, she told the dibbuns to wash up in the pond and keep themselves busy.
As the three left, they heard something that sounded suspiciously like the Mother laughing.
Toddling down to the Abbey pond, the intrepid trio met a young otter, who was gathering watershrimp for the hotroot soup, for dinner. She was Riverose, daughter of the Skipper of river otters.
"Why are you down here, mateys?" Rose asked the tiny dibbuns, noticing the honey that they were caked and covered in from tip to tail.
"We's bin makin' pancakes, an' fatty ol' Friar Bluepine maked us go out."
Adrian's two companions nodded vigorously, muttering savagely, or rather, as savagely as they could ("Yah, yah, fatty ol' friar.").
"Steady on there! Don't go a' calling the friar a fatty. Anyway, in we go, mates!" Rose shouted playfully, splashing water on them using her broad tail.
She dutifully herded the sticky dibbuns into the clean water, laughing and yelling with the little ones.
Twice, the litter ottermaid Auma nearly got away from her, swimming "to see d'er bigga fiss," a fat, lazy trout.
They were enjoying themselves, Rose had just caught Auma in an escape to the trout, and then, quite suddenly, there was a loud splash at the opposite end of the little pond.
"Wait here, mateys," said Rose, disappearing under the water with scarcely a ripple.
As soon as Rose got to the edge of the pond, she began searching in the water and reeds.
Some good rushes for mats here in the water, Rose mused to herself, scraping at mud using her webbed front paws.
She stopped searching after a fruitless investigation, muttering at herself. Standing up, she noticed a few bent reeds that seemed to be broken in some places. She waded over and began looking vigorously.
Half-submerged in the still pond water was a peregrine falcon, flapping its grey wings in semi-madness but very weakly, and muttering.
Rose moved closer to the creamy-colored chest, giving a wide berth of its hooked talons, and curved beak, which was clashing together feebly, trying to hear what it was saying.
"Must.get.Redwall.." Then it fainted dead away.
Marla and Tallfang entered camp, a noisy group of ill-assorted rats, foxes, stoats, weasels, and ferrets, along with a few rebellious mice, otters, squirrels, one or two moles, and a single hedgehog.
Tallfang led Marla to cliffs rising high behind the camp with a waterfall cascading down its side. Tallfang jumped into the small pond at the foot of the falls, rubbing away dirt and grim, spitting out some of the clean, cool water, drinking some. Marla followed, and began playfully wrestling the ferret in the water. Her strength in the water was that of a Taggerung; her father was once Taggerung himself, and she had finally persuaded him to teach her everything. She was the best bowbeast, swordbeast, and fightingbeast, as well as the best cook, having learned her latter skills in the Abbey Redwall. She grinned at the ferret under water and released him. He swam up to the surface with a smile pasted on his pointed face, panting and gasping for air.
They had gone under the waterfall while wrestling, seemingly magic to the hoardbeasts; they had disappeared and would not reappear for a time. On the opposing side of the waterfall, the place where none could see, was a huge tent painted with red and black symbols, telling of the Taggerung Deyna. Tallfang stopped in front of the tent, and a strange vixen limped out from behind the material, strange even for a seer. Compared to her leader, with only his red zigzag tattoo on his left cheek, blue wavy stripes around both wrists and a single red fang on his right cheek, she, in herself, was nearly invisible. Her limbs, brow, and neck were nearly undetectable due to carved bone, coral, gold, silver, and copper jewelry, some that were hollowed to hold powders and some with bones and feathers tied to them, clacking hollowly. She wore a barkcloth cloak that she had also covered in red and black symbols.
"Now arrives Tallfang Coldeye, son of Sawney Rath, leader of the Juskaeye and Marla, son of Deyna, the last Taggerung!" she began in a thin wailing sound like the wind on the sea.
"All is well, cease your prattle, vixen," he said. He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise from Marla's glare, and he sighed, adding "Please;" because, even though Marla lived with vermin, she still had good manners.
"And take off the part about Sawney Rath," he added, taking out his annoyance in his words. "He was great once, but now he is long gone and dead. Due to his stupidity," he muttered under his breath.
"Let us in, please," Marla commanded of the vixen.
"As thee wish, for I am lost daughter of Grissoul, the Seer, and I know that thou art great."
Tallfang brushed past the still-bowing seer, with good-natured Marla in tow, who shrugged at the ferret.
The two sat down on a rug of a wolf pelt, of which Marla had slain in self- defense, waiting for the fox to come in with their food.
Lazily, Marla pulled out her dirk. It was a weapon somewhere in-between the size of a sword and a dagger, a double-bladed thing, like the double- dealer who wielded it. The handle was amber that was inlaid with sapphires and other stones that glinted dully in the light of the warm fire in the center of the tent. There was a blood-red pommel stone set into the top, with strange carvings and words on all of its facetted sides, written by the seer. She spun in skillfully in one of her paws, watching the glittering blade and noticing the gnarled vixen come in out of the corner of her eye. With a flip of the blade, she tucked it artfully back into her belt. Two plates of steaming cream-colored food was placed in front of both leaders.
Tallfang nodded his head, but Marla spoke. "Thank you, Moonstrike."
Moonstrike the seer bobbed her head, smiling through broken and sharp teeth.
"Aye, 'tis a good thing when thee can have manners. Milord, try to follow in the footsteps of the old Taggerung and thy father."
Tallfang growled and flicked a knife out of his belt, and clipped two whiskers off of the bent old seer; she smiled, because she knew that the was the only seer for leagues around.
In a moment, one of the otters swam into the cave, one of the only beasts that knew that there was a cave behind the falls. He walked into the tent bowing, and handed the dagger that had slain the weasel to Tallfang, cleaned of blood. Tallfang nodded at the otter Junebrush and he scurried out, bowing all the way.
The ferret and otter remaining in the tent ate their meal in a stiff silence, Tallfang in his thoughts and Marla in hers.
"Did it say anything to you?" A soft voice wormed its way into the falcon's brain, hammering painfully.
Eyes fluttering open, the first thing the falcon saw was a mouse, an otter, and red walls enclosing it.
There was a screech from the bird, and Sister Sage, the Redwall healer, and Rose jumped.
Smiling wryly, Rose said quietly, "It has now."
However, the sister was not in a good mood, frightened as she was by the fierce eagle. "I mean before you brought it up here."
Rose nodded. "He was muttering, sort of in a daze; he said something about having to get to Redwall, then he fainted."
"Ah. Um, what do you want?" Sage said in a slow voice, shaking a bit with nervousness.
The falcon screeched again, and opened one beady eye at the mouse.
"Ah unnerstan' you well, ye ken. Don' be chatterin' so loud," it begged.
"All right," Rose said quietly. "May I ask you something?"
The falcon nodded its great head slowly.
"Um, are you male or female, and what's your name, please."
"Ah'm a ma'hle, an' mah name is Mighty Megraw, second nephew twahce remooved of Mighty Megraw, King of ther Island of ther Inland Lake. D'ye ken?"
"Yes, um, Mighty Megraw," Rose said, fluent in northern speech, "do-" She was cut off by the eagle. "Noo, don' call me Mighty Megraw, jis' Megraw."
"Ah," Sage said as soon as Rose had finished translating for her.
"So, Megraw, do you have a message or anything for Redwall?"
"Aye, so I do. 'tis for the Abbess's ears only." he suddenly seemed to remember something at this point, and began to flap his wings weakly but obviously desperate to get out of the room.
Rose and Sage laid soothing paws on him, restricting him from rising.
"I'll get the Abbess," Rose muttered to the healer mouse. Sage nodded wordlessly.
Since this is my first for Redwall, um, lessee. please don't flame it, no bad language, and I'll take criticism if it is CONSTRUCTIVE!!! Anything about little boxes or whatnot is not constructive, b/c I cannot do anything about it. Thanx!
Chapter 1
Marla woke up out of a snooze and blinked her strange, large, golden-brown eyes lazily, bating her eyelids at a midge that had landed on her cheek. She was a quite cub, with a keen sense of smell and a keener sense of sight. Without a rustle, the otter painted with green and brown plant dyes, strange red ones, and extraordinary gold ones, clad only in a barkcloth tunic and cape and armed only with a silver dirk thrust into the back of her belt, stood up and opened her small mouth in a silent yawn.
"I know you're there, Tallfang," she said in her soft, high voice. A tall brawny ferret with two large, gleaming fangs, colored with a shining red dye, walked into the small clearing.
"Very good, my cub," he said, barely moving his thin lips.
"I'm not your cub," Marla answered in a clipped and slightly annoyed tone. "I joined your hoard with my own will." With that, she walked to the edge of the tiny clearing and stopped. "Oh, and your creatures can come out of hiding," she added seemingly careless. Swift as lightning, she hit a bush with her otters' rudder-like tail, sending leaves everywhere. There was a muffled yelp, along with a young weasel that limped out of his now-ruined hiding place.
"'S no good, m'lord. She's got magic, an' ken sense a hoardbeast better'n all o' us put together. Yer might'ness," he added quickly after.
There was a dangerous whirring sound, and the weasel gave a surprised sort of cough and fell to the hard ground, with Tallfang's decorative, amber- hilted dagger fixed in his throat up to its blue-pommel-topped hilt.
"I am Tallfang Coldeye, son of Sawney Rath, leader of the Juskaeye! I am the merciless one, the one of death! You do not dare defy me!" Tallfang screamed in a quick rage, performing an angry dance, and spitting foam that was brought away by the spring breeze.
"Father, calm down," somebeast said hesitantly. It was Marla.
Tallfang's red-painted face slowly relaxed, and the foam was carried off by the zephyr. "Marla, my cub, let us go back to the camp."
"Aye," she responded, grinning, showing pointed teeth to the ferret she called father.
An argument had broken out in the large Redwall kitchens.
An impatient friar was slowly raising his voice at three young 'uns, called dibbuns, who were sitting in a particularly dangerous spot.
A young ottermaid, an even younger hedgehog, and the ringleader, a rebellious young squirrel a season older than the ottermaid sat in the oven, almost painting each other with honey and berries they had stolen from the counter, and generally making a mess of themselves.
"Get out of that oven this instant, you young scallywags, unless you don't want raspberry tarts for tea-time!" angry Friar Bluepine barely prevented himself from shouting.
"Bu' bruver, we's makin' rasbewy tarts, too," Adrian, the reddish squirrel, said.
"Yeth," added the tiny hedgehog Burble.
A tiny voice piped up in the back, thick with honey floating in the speaker's mouth. "Yah, bruver. We's making'." She paused to think, dropping her sticky paw on her fuzzy head.
"We's makin' strawbewy tarts," Adrian whispered loudly in the otter's ear. She rubbed some honey out, asked what he had said, and he repeated, almost speaking.
"Just a moment ago you were making raspberry tarts," Friar Bluepine said, covering up a smile with one paw while wagging the other at the dibbuns and trying to look serious.
"Ah, phooey!" Adrian could be heard muttering.
As the trio climbed out of the honey-coated oven, Abbess Willowbreeze entered the kitchen.
She was a tall squirrel, half as tall again as most of her kind. Her beautiful hazel eyes were partly hidden by thick, long lashes that were black and beautiful, on lids that were half-closed. She was no specific color, just a patch of grey here, a reddish-brown there. She was a Swifteye, quick to notice details and always up with the sun. She never walked; she glided.
Without flicking an eyelid, she knew what was going on in the giggling kitchen. Scarcely being able to keep a straight face, she told the dibbuns to wash up in the pond and keep themselves busy.
As the three left, they heard something that sounded suspiciously like the Mother laughing.
Toddling down to the Abbey pond, the intrepid trio met a young otter, who was gathering watershrimp for the hotroot soup, for dinner. She was Riverose, daughter of the Skipper of river otters.
"Why are you down here, mateys?" Rose asked the tiny dibbuns, noticing the honey that they were caked and covered in from tip to tail.
"We's bin makin' pancakes, an' fatty ol' Friar Bluepine maked us go out."
Adrian's two companions nodded vigorously, muttering savagely, or rather, as savagely as they could ("Yah, yah, fatty ol' friar.").
"Steady on there! Don't go a' calling the friar a fatty. Anyway, in we go, mates!" Rose shouted playfully, splashing water on them using her broad tail.
She dutifully herded the sticky dibbuns into the clean water, laughing and yelling with the little ones.
Twice, the litter ottermaid Auma nearly got away from her, swimming "to see d'er bigga fiss," a fat, lazy trout.
They were enjoying themselves, Rose had just caught Auma in an escape to the trout, and then, quite suddenly, there was a loud splash at the opposite end of the little pond.
"Wait here, mateys," said Rose, disappearing under the water with scarcely a ripple.
As soon as Rose got to the edge of the pond, she began searching in the water and reeds.
Some good rushes for mats here in the water, Rose mused to herself, scraping at mud using her webbed front paws.
She stopped searching after a fruitless investigation, muttering at herself. Standing up, she noticed a few bent reeds that seemed to be broken in some places. She waded over and began looking vigorously.
Half-submerged in the still pond water was a peregrine falcon, flapping its grey wings in semi-madness but very weakly, and muttering.
Rose moved closer to the creamy-colored chest, giving a wide berth of its hooked talons, and curved beak, which was clashing together feebly, trying to hear what it was saying.
"Must.get.Redwall.." Then it fainted dead away.
Marla and Tallfang entered camp, a noisy group of ill-assorted rats, foxes, stoats, weasels, and ferrets, along with a few rebellious mice, otters, squirrels, one or two moles, and a single hedgehog.
Tallfang led Marla to cliffs rising high behind the camp with a waterfall cascading down its side. Tallfang jumped into the small pond at the foot of the falls, rubbing away dirt and grim, spitting out some of the clean, cool water, drinking some. Marla followed, and began playfully wrestling the ferret in the water. Her strength in the water was that of a Taggerung; her father was once Taggerung himself, and she had finally persuaded him to teach her everything. She was the best bowbeast, swordbeast, and fightingbeast, as well as the best cook, having learned her latter skills in the Abbey Redwall. She grinned at the ferret under water and released him. He swam up to the surface with a smile pasted on his pointed face, panting and gasping for air.
They had gone under the waterfall while wrestling, seemingly magic to the hoardbeasts; they had disappeared and would not reappear for a time. On the opposing side of the waterfall, the place where none could see, was a huge tent painted with red and black symbols, telling of the Taggerung Deyna. Tallfang stopped in front of the tent, and a strange vixen limped out from behind the material, strange even for a seer. Compared to her leader, with only his red zigzag tattoo on his left cheek, blue wavy stripes around both wrists and a single red fang on his right cheek, she, in herself, was nearly invisible. Her limbs, brow, and neck were nearly undetectable due to carved bone, coral, gold, silver, and copper jewelry, some that were hollowed to hold powders and some with bones and feathers tied to them, clacking hollowly. She wore a barkcloth cloak that she had also covered in red and black symbols.
"Now arrives Tallfang Coldeye, son of Sawney Rath, leader of the Juskaeye and Marla, son of Deyna, the last Taggerung!" she began in a thin wailing sound like the wind on the sea.
"All is well, cease your prattle, vixen," he said. He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise from Marla's glare, and he sighed, adding "Please;" because, even though Marla lived with vermin, she still had good manners.
"And take off the part about Sawney Rath," he added, taking out his annoyance in his words. "He was great once, but now he is long gone and dead. Due to his stupidity," he muttered under his breath.
"Let us in, please," Marla commanded of the vixen.
"As thee wish, for I am lost daughter of Grissoul, the Seer, and I know that thou art great."
Tallfang brushed past the still-bowing seer, with good-natured Marla in tow, who shrugged at the ferret.
The two sat down on a rug of a wolf pelt, of which Marla had slain in self- defense, waiting for the fox to come in with their food.
Lazily, Marla pulled out her dirk. It was a weapon somewhere in-between the size of a sword and a dagger, a double-bladed thing, like the double- dealer who wielded it. The handle was amber that was inlaid with sapphires and other stones that glinted dully in the light of the warm fire in the center of the tent. There was a blood-red pommel stone set into the top, with strange carvings and words on all of its facetted sides, written by the seer. She spun in skillfully in one of her paws, watching the glittering blade and noticing the gnarled vixen come in out of the corner of her eye. With a flip of the blade, she tucked it artfully back into her belt. Two plates of steaming cream-colored food was placed in front of both leaders.
Tallfang nodded his head, but Marla spoke. "Thank you, Moonstrike."
Moonstrike the seer bobbed her head, smiling through broken and sharp teeth.
"Aye, 'tis a good thing when thee can have manners. Milord, try to follow in the footsteps of the old Taggerung and thy father."
Tallfang growled and flicked a knife out of his belt, and clipped two whiskers off of the bent old seer; she smiled, because she knew that the was the only seer for leagues around.
In a moment, one of the otters swam into the cave, one of the only beasts that knew that there was a cave behind the falls. He walked into the tent bowing, and handed the dagger that had slain the weasel to Tallfang, cleaned of blood. Tallfang nodded at the otter Junebrush and he scurried out, bowing all the way.
The ferret and otter remaining in the tent ate their meal in a stiff silence, Tallfang in his thoughts and Marla in hers.
"Did it say anything to you?" A soft voice wormed its way into the falcon's brain, hammering painfully.
Eyes fluttering open, the first thing the falcon saw was a mouse, an otter, and red walls enclosing it.
There was a screech from the bird, and Sister Sage, the Redwall healer, and Rose jumped.
Smiling wryly, Rose said quietly, "It has now."
However, the sister was not in a good mood, frightened as she was by the fierce eagle. "I mean before you brought it up here."
Rose nodded. "He was muttering, sort of in a daze; he said something about having to get to Redwall, then he fainted."
"Ah. Um, what do you want?" Sage said in a slow voice, shaking a bit with nervousness.
The falcon screeched again, and opened one beady eye at the mouse.
"Ah unnerstan' you well, ye ken. Don' be chatterin' so loud," it begged.
"All right," Rose said quietly. "May I ask you something?"
The falcon nodded its great head slowly.
"Um, are you male or female, and what's your name, please."
"Ah'm a ma'hle, an' mah name is Mighty Megraw, second nephew twahce remooved of Mighty Megraw, King of ther Island of ther Inland Lake. D'ye ken?"
"Yes, um, Mighty Megraw," Rose said, fluent in northern speech, "do-" She was cut off by the eagle. "Noo, don' call me Mighty Megraw, jis' Megraw."
"Ah," Sage said as soon as Rose had finished translating for her.
"So, Megraw, do you have a message or anything for Redwall?"
"Aye, so I do. 'tis for the Abbess's ears only." he suddenly seemed to remember something at this point, and began to flap his wings weakly but obviously desperate to get out of the room.
Rose and Sage laid soothing paws on him, restricting him from rising.
"I'll get the Abbess," Rose muttered to the healer mouse. Sage nodded wordlessly.