Disclaimer: As this is a FANFICTION, which implies that this is FICTION written by a FAN, which implies that this is NOT written by the actual AUTHOR, which implies that I did NOT create Redwall, I think it's safe to say that I am not making any money off any of these ideas, and only those characters that have not been mentioned in ANY books (Specifically Swiftpaw, Rawhide, Gilde, and Ripear, but not limited to those four) are 0wned by me. Hmm, and those characters you do notice, well, they're all copyright to Brian Jacques. Those places you recognize too... Oh heck, let's save the rambling for the Author's Note, shall we?

Author's Note: Erm, well, needless to say, I am a procrastinator. It's true, it's true, I admit it; this hare is the biggest procrastinator I bet you'll meet. Put that together with a busy schedule (timetable) and writer's block, and you'll find that these chapters take FOREVER to get out. I promise, PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE, that I'll try to get over my procrastinating and do this story in my spare time, and make these chapters worth the wait, in both content and length. Okay so like, maybe nobody reads these, but I'm still going to update because maybe like only one person does and is it really fair to make that one person wait for an update just because I'm a stupid no-self-confidence-what-so-ever freak?! Yeah, that's what I thought. And this whole plot? Erm, I realize now that the whole skipping-such-and-such-an-amount-of-seasons is kind of like Taggerung, but I mean, well I'm sorry, I'm not trying to rip off that book's plot or anything, 'cause the plots ARE rather different; that's just one event that's the same. So erm, I'm done ranting - FOR NOW - and here's the actual chapter. The time period? Taking place after Taggerung, but before Triss, I suppose. I dunno I haven't even read the book yet; maybe I'll tell you the REAL MORE EXACT time period NEXT chapter. Well, looks like I'm still rambling, so erm... I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY done now! ENJOY THE CHAPTER! ....Oh yeah, thanks for reviewing, Martina ^^;

2

Extract from the writings of Sybil Squirrel, Newly Appointed Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower Country.

Such a dreary day it is. Even Mother Nature knows this; the birds have stopped singing, the sun has stopped shining, and all the plants have wilted. Alas, what can one expect; our recorder, Rosabel, has passed away.
Out of respect, Skipper of Otters and Log-a-Log, leader of the Guosim shrews, have been informed. Skipper, I believe, is on his way with his otters to give his blessings right now, but Log-a-Log is nowhere to be found. I doubt, no, I know for a fact that the old shrew would never avoid Redwall, so I've gotten very worried. Said has told me I get too worked up over things and that Log-a-Log will be fine, but still, I can't help but hope the old bloke's okay...

Sybil looked up from her pile of papers as someone knocked at the gatehouse door. Trying to look as important as possible, the young squirrel removed her half-moon spectacles from the bridge of her nose. "Now, who could that be?" she muttered under her breath to no one in particular.

Tripping over unorganized papers scattered about the floor, Sybil put her full weight on the door and leaned on it. Being a young, weak squirrel and due to the strong, fast wind blowing against the door, she manages to only open the door a crack. Luckily for her, her visitor was a big, burly otter named Skipper, and he threw the door open with ease, almost knocking Sybil flat on the ground.

"Ah, Skipper," Sybil said, trying to remain dignified. "What brings you here this fine day?"

Skipper's left eyebrow shot up as he decided that Sybil was nuts. "Er, well, marm, I don' know what planet yer from, 'cause on this one, the weather is far from 'fine.' In fact, it's downright lousy. Not to mention that I know for a fact that you knew I was coming here today."

Sybil blushed slightly, quickly coming up with an excuse for her question. "Well, um, I meant, why are you at the gatehouse?" Her voice was sounding more and more like that of a Dibbun's as she fumbled nervously with her bushy red tail.

Skipper grinned, winking at the young squirrelmaid. "Well, I came here for he feast that's going on tonight, as long as there'll be hotroot soup!" His expression quickly turned grim. "But, the reason I've come to the gatehouse is because I need someone's assistance fast."

Sybil looked confused as Skipper pulled her into the rain. "Wait- where are we going?" The squirrel's anxious words, however, were lost in the wind and rain.

Sybil half ran and was half dragged over to the west wall. Slipping, she fell in the mud and was pulled up by Skipper. Taking advantage of this, she yelled, "What's wrong?" Skipper just shook his head in reply and got a stronger grip on the young recorder, shoving the west gate open.

The pair was hit with such a strong gust of wind that Sybil was certain she'd have flown off into the night if it wasn't for Skipper's grip on her. Skipper continued to drag Sybil down the path to the south, against the force of the wind. Because of this, after ten minutes or so of fighting the gale the two had only traveled a few feet. So, it took them a while to reach their goal, and by that time, Sybil has grown very impatient.

"Ski-ip, aren't we there ye-" Sybil's eyes widened as she saw what was laid out in front of her- a young hare and his blood-covered mother, both appearing to be dead.

***

Swiftpaw had traveled far that night and hadn't stopped until a large and violent storm had kicked in. Swiftpaw, unable to see anything, had gotten off course and got more lost than ever. Sighing, he looked for some shleter, deciding on a hollow space made of tree roots, and looked at his mother's still form.

"Aye, mum, we're almost t'the Habbey of Redall. Just h-hold on a likkle l-longer, a'ight?" The responce Swiftpaw got was silence. After all, dead beasts are silent beasts.

Swiftpaw yawned. "Hmm, I suppose resting here for the night is a jolly ol' sp-splendid p-plan... let's m-make camp, wot?"

Swiftpaw dragged his mother's corpse under the roots of the large oak tree. Shivering something horrid, he gave a weak shudder and collapsed down next to her. He was shaking and panting from the cold and wet, already showing signs of a severe case of pneumonia. He cuddled up next to his mom and fell asleep shortly after.

Now, Swiftpaw had been lying here asleep for only ten minutes when Skipper tripped over the roots of the makeshift shelter. He quickly grabbed hold of a root to pull himself to his feet, but as he rose he fell back down again, this tiem in horror. Underneath him lay two dead hares, or so he thought, until he noticed the leveret taking quick, shallow breaths. His eyes widening, he quickly ran off to grab some help from the close-by Abbey, where he found Sybil. Now, both were sitting in the small shelter, discussing their options.

"Well, um... we should probably bury the mother here, you know, then just bring the babe back to Redwall..." Skipper's voice trailed off and the uncomfortable silence was resumed.

A little time passed and the scene didn't change in the least. The hare slept on and the rain came down, and no ideas were foiced or thought. Skipper was staring at the sky, or at least in the direction of it, and Sybil's face was scrunched up as she stared at the ground, deep in concentration. Lightning struck, folowed by a deafening roar of thunder. and Sybil's head jerked up. "I've got an idea."

Skipper's gaze slowly turned to the squirrel, giving her his full attention. His eyebrows rose, an interested look on his face. "Well, let's hear it."

Sybil cleared her throat importantly. "Alright, you know that we're holding a ceremony for poor Rosabel's death, right? If we could somehow get the older hare back to Redwall, we could have a double parting ceremony. I mean, a good-bye feast in the name of Rosabel and the nameless hare! Then, the small one, I'll bring him up in the Abbey and be his adopted mother. We've got all the Abbey beasts to help, I'm sure he'll be fine! No, better than fine- he'll be the best Abbey beast there ever was!"

Skipper gave a small smile and nodded, grabbing the dead hare and slinging her body over his shoulder. "Well, let's get going now."

Sybil frowned. "It doesn't look like you need any he-" The squirrel's observations got cut short as the babe was thrusted in her arms and the pair was off again.

The trip back to the Abbey was much easier and faster than the one to the hares. Due to the fast that the wind practically blew the four to the open gates, Sybil had no time to dwell on the question boggling her mind- where were the other otters? As soon as she and Skipper stepped into the Entrance Hall, Sybil shot her question at him.

"Skip, where's your crew?" she opened the door to the infirmary, nodding to Brother Aren as she did so.

"Well, they're out checking up on a nearby holt- Holt Odell. Seems some rotten fox attacked them, and now we're checking for any stranglers. Oh, Brother- what should I do with this?"

Brother Aren's face paled as Skipper dropped his burden on one of the beds. Aren looked at Skipper as if he had just dumped a dead beast onto one of his clean dormitory beds- which, incidentally, he had. "What are you playing at, Skipper? She's not... not..."

Skipper frowned. "Aye, she's a dead un. We're going to bury her with the recorder. Hold onter her until then?" Aren's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, causing Skipper to grin.

"Thanks, Aren, yer a real mate!" Wailing cries from behind Skipper made bother him and the brother turn to face Sybil in confusion. Sybil grinned apologetically.

"Sorry Brother, Skip, but the young one just woke up!"

***
Ripear was viewing the magnificent building of Redwall from atop a large hill. The fox was contemplating his options; he had heard of this building and its warriors. He had also hear it wasn't worth the trouble it caused. After all, it had no treasure hidden deep within it, and most warlords had failed to even get inside the area. Even then, the only reason these warlords had wanted the Abbey was as a fortress for their hordes. What did a group of wandering plunderers want with that old place? No, perhaps he could take over the rest of the country and then work on Redwall, but for now, it was doing him no harm just standing there, oblivious to the danger around it.

Sighing, Ripear headed back to his tent at the base of the hill. His horde's encampment took up the whole clearing, and there wasn't much room to walk in. Mind, it was a decent sized clearing, not small yet not overly large, but because of the horde's size it was a tight squeeze. 900 beasts... Ripear would take the time now to travel to other lands and gather more vermin. After that, he could return to Mossflower, overthrowing the land easily. It was set at a convenient spot with Redwall at its center. The sea was close by, the mountains not too far off, and the amount of wood in this forest could mean an endless supply of buildings and ships. On top of it all, an unsuccessful season wouldn't mean that the horde had to go hungry, but a successful one would just add to the pleasure. Smiling at his cleverness, for although arrogant the fox was brilliant, he pushed open the flaps to his tent and walked in.

Nightshade looked up from feeding her son. When she saw her visitor was Ripear, she quickly went back to her job, ignoring the warlord. Ripear removed his black gloves with the 5 inch silver claws, setting them on a hook attached to the tent's wall, then watched Nightshade, the black fox puposely avoiding his eyes. Suddenly, without warning, the blue fox reached out and grabbed the babe, receivign a death glare from his wife.

"Hmm, he's kind of scrawny, isn't he." Ripear turned his son upside down, frowning. "I mean, he's probably going to be a-GAAH!" Waving his paw around, he threw the foxbabe across the room, a stream of blood flowing from his finger. Nightshade rushed to the wailing babe. "Hmm, then again, he could proove to be a worthy soldier in furture seasons, what with an attitude like that. You're lucky, son; you'll live to see another day, harr harr harr." Smirking, the fox grabbed his gloves and left to go address his horde, a vase barely missing his head as he walked out of the room.

Captain Fleabit was trying to keep peace in the camp, but he was failing miserably. Having no battles or chances to plunder, the soldiers and footbeasts were turning against each other. Their leader had gone on a walk to think out things, and had been gone many days now. As a result, nobody knew what to do about anything. Already a score of beasts had been killed, and the chief wasn't going to like it. Looking around for help, Fleabit felt a weight lift off his chest as he saw Ripear walking towards him.

Whenever Ripear passed the vermin, a wave of silence washed over them. Nobeast dare talk in his presence, and when he halted all beasts turned their gaze upon him. Hesitating, an uneasy tension rose amongst the beasts, broken only by Ripear's announcement.

"Well, I have returned. I have thought up a plan worthy of discussion. I have had no aid from captains of visions; no, I come up with ideas from sheer brainpower. We will travel south soon to gather beasts and plunder, yet we will not take over any land. Instead, destroy all villages and take no prisoners. This land will be ours in later seasons, mateys, but for now we must prepare for the greatest battle you will ever see in your puny little lives. Pack what you need. We leave at sundown."

Without any discussion, no noise at all, not a complaint from anybeast, the horde went to gather what few possessions they owned, and burn what they left behind.

***

Silence filled the Abbey as two caskets were lowered into the ground near the orchard. One held the squirrel Rosabel, and the other the nameless hare. Her son had been of little help; he seemed to have caught such a cold that all he remembered was his first name, Swiftpaw. He was now in the care of Sybil, who had already become his protective mother. As Swiftpaw watched his mother go down into the earth, he felt no pain, as this hare's role in his life was naught but a forgotten memory now. Indeed, it wasn't until 12 seasons later that Swiftpaw heard the name Ripear, and the memories of his past came flooding back in a maddening fury.