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write more! If you've been here before you'll have noticed that I've split
the first part up into smaller chapters. It makes it easier to read, and a
heck of a lot easier for me to update! If you like this story, please check
out my other writings!
Noonvale Returns Chapter 1
Martin the Warrior mouse was not at all happy at having to leave so soon after just coming back from a long journey. He had recently travelled all the way back to the Northlands where he was born. He had been half hoping to find his father there; instead he had met a hare and three mice, his father's companions, who had told him the long sad tale of how his father had died fighting evil.
After bringing Vurg and the others back to Redwall Abbey, where he lived, he had hoped he would have some time to reflect on everything that had happened; instead, he was trudging around in the mud in the dead of night in Mossflower wood, and it was pouring with rain.
"Any sign of 'em Gonff?" He called softly.
"None matey," said Gonff the Mousetheif. "Not a twitch of a greasy whisker, not a flash of a filthy hide. They must have moved on."
Martin, Gonff and their friends the Guosim shrews were off on the trail of Flichaye, a tribe of runty weasels who had been attacking small families in that area.
The leader of the Guosim, (Guerrilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower) the Log a log, climbed out of a Bush a short way away, rubbing rainwater out of his eyes and shaking it out of his fur.
"We're all on a wild goose chase mates," he told the two mice. "There's nothing here for miles around." Other shrews began appearing from all directions, shaking their heads and wringing out their tails.
Suddenly there was a shout from behind Martin. He whirled round and drew his sword. So did the whole Guosim, and Gonff had a sharp knife in either poor. They could hear voices, but not the Barbarian shouts and noises the Flitchaye usually made.
"Are you alright, Gurbo?" called Log a log.
"Aye, chief!" called the shrew that had shouted. "There's a load of mice and squirrels over here!" Log a log cut a small path through the bushes with his rapier. Gurbo was waiting for them in a clearing, accompanied by a score of mice and squirrels. They were all drenched to the bone, thin and bedraggled.
Martin sheathed his sword. "Are you lost?" he asked the ragged assembly. One of the mice stepped forward.
"Our home in the north was destroyed sir," he told Martin bravely. "We've been wandering around for seasons trying to find food. We're sorry if we've trespassed, but we were only looking for vittles to keep skin an' bones together, on me oath."
Martin sighed. They'd have to continue the search tomorrow, until they at least found a recent camp to show that the Flichaye had moved on.
"Are there any more of you? He asked the mouse. "Oh yes sir," said the mouse, nodding his head vigorously. "We are only a scouting party. The other went west, the main party lies still to the north." He pointed.
Martin frowned. There was something about that mouse, something oddly familiar.
"Right," he said loudly, gaining everyone's attention and cutting sort the excited chatter. "Gonff, take half of Log a log's shrews and this young mouse and find the main party he described." He turned back to the mice and squirrels. "Which of you knows you can find the other scouting party?"
"I could find them sir!" said a sturdy squirrel at the back, almost shouting over the incessant torrents of rain.
"Good," said Martin. "Log a log take the rest and go with him. Leave five with me and I'll take this lot back to Redwall." He smiled at the pitiful, hopeful looking creatures before him. "You need not be afraid," he told them. "You are among friends now."
Noonvale Returns Chapter 1
Martin the Warrior mouse was not at all happy at having to leave so soon after just coming back from a long journey. He had recently travelled all the way back to the Northlands where he was born. He had been half hoping to find his father there; instead he had met a hare and three mice, his father's companions, who had told him the long sad tale of how his father had died fighting evil.
After bringing Vurg and the others back to Redwall Abbey, where he lived, he had hoped he would have some time to reflect on everything that had happened; instead, he was trudging around in the mud in the dead of night in Mossflower wood, and it was pouring with rain.
"Any sign of 'em Gonff?" He called softly.
"None matey," said Gonff the Mousetheif. "Not a twitch of a greasy whisker, not a flash of a filthy hide. They must have moved on."
Martin, Gonff and their friends the Guosim shrews were off on the trail of Flichaye, a tribe of runty weasels who had been attacking small families in that area.
The leader of the Guosim, (Guerrilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower) the Log a log, climbed out of a Bush a short way away, rubbing rainwater out of his eyes and shaking it out of his fur.
"We're all on a wild goose chase mates," he told the two mice. "There's nothing here for miles around." Other shrews began appearing from all directions, shaking their heads and wringing out their tails.
Suddenly there was a shout from behind Martin. He whirled round and drew his sword. So did the whole Guosim, and Gonff had a sharp knife in either poor. They could hear voices, but not the Barbarian shouts and noises the Flitchaye usually made.
"Are you alright, Gurbo?" called Log a log.
"Aye, chief!" called the shrew that had shouted. "There's a load of mice and squirrels over here!" Log a log cut a small path through the bushes with his rapier. Gurbo was waiting for them in a clearing, accompanied by a score of mice and squirrels. They were all drenched to the bone, thin and bedraggled.
Martin sheathed his sword. "Are you lost?" he asked the ragged assembly. One of the mice stepped forward.
"Our home in the north was destroyed sir," he told Martin bravely. "We've been wandering around for seasons trying to find food. We're sorry if we've trespassed, but we were only looking for vittles to keep skin an' bones together, on me oath."
Martin sighed. They'd have to continue the search tomorrow, until they at least found a recent camp to show that the Flichaye had moved on.
"Are there any more of you? He asked the mouse. "Oh yes sir," said the mouse, nodding his head vigorously. "We are only a scouting party. The other went west, the main party lies still to the north." He pointed.
Martin frowned. There was something about that mouse, something oddly familiar.
"Right," he said loudly, gaining everyone's attention and cutting sort the excited chatter. "Gonff, take half of Log a log's shrews and this young mouse and find the main party he described." He turned back to the mice and squirrels. "Which of you knows you can find the other scouting party?"
"I could find them sir!" said a sturdy squirrel at the back, almost shouting over the incessant torrents of rain.
"Good," said Martin. "Log a log take the rest and go with him. Leave five with me and I'll take this lot back to Redwall." He smiled at the pitiful, hopeful looking creatures before him. "You need not be afraid," he told them. "You are among friends now."
