Tarnell the otter splashed onto the bank of the River Moss; her attempt to catch a crafty grayling had failed. The young otter shook off droplets of water from her dark brown fur, the movement starting from the head and working its way all the way down to the tail. When the excess river water had shaken off, Tarnell scampered off towards the direction of Redwall, heading upstream. The summer sun shone merrily upon Mossflower Woods as the river gurgled happily beside the otter. She began to skip without a care in the world, even though the fish she'd been trying to catch earlier now swam freely in open water. She would try again later, but not now. Not in such a perfect moment as this.
Suddenly, the otter came to a halt, nose and whiskers twitching. Tarnell sniffed at the breeze headed her way, a curious scent riding upon it. She couldn't make out what it was, though it was indeed some creature. Not mouse, nor rat, nor shrew, nor badger. No woodland creature had that scent anywhere in Mossflower. Puzzled, the otter stood still as a statue, trying to make sense of the odor.
Then her eyes saw what her nose couldn't. Making its way through the brush, not one hundred yards away from the otter, was a horse. Its black coat was dusty and scraggly, the mane and tail covered in brambles. Tarnell sniffed again at the odd creature and found that it was, indeed, a stallion. Curiosity was fading, and Tarnell wondered whether to be frightened of the great beast or to welcome him as a possible ally. She stood stock still as the black plodded towards the River Moss and waded in until the cool waters ran over his knees. He drank deeply for a minutes on end before stopping for a breath. To Tarnell, it seemed like an eternity.
The breeze shifted so that the horse was downwind of the otter. The scent of the woodlander flew into his nostrils and suddenly, the great brown eyes were upon the young otter. Her legs shook from the exertion of standing still for such a long time, but Tarnell remained upright, staring without fear into the eyes of the black.
"I am Tarnell of Redwall. Who may you be?" she asked, her voice loud and clear.
The stallion gave no answer, merely standing there in the river, staring at the otter. The eyes gave no emotion, no hint as to what the beast thought. Moments passed. Tarnell began to feel uneasy.
"I say, who may you be?" she repeated.
In a flurry of water and hooves, the stallion turned in one swift movement and dashed up the bank and into Mossflower Woods, leaving behind him a very bewildered river otter.