It would only be logical to assume that when a bizarre rumor is mentioned within a densely-populated community it will spread like wildfire or disease. Nyctllr, though certainly no gossip, was counting on this effect to spread her news through Redwall. Which is why she was all the more depressed to not hear a word of it from any creature at all the next day. Apparently Amos and Gabbro hadn't quite comprehended the warning enough to deal with it. Nuthead had obviously never trusted Nyctllr or Troyte enough to take any of their words as fact. And true to his initial actions, the Abbey Warrior had made the issue a complete non-issue.
Bransles the hare and Rohan and Gregory the otters had readily accepted Troyte into their area of the abbey—that is, joking about, eating, and generally getting in the way. If her message had actually gone anywhere, Nyctllr would have certainly been beating the hawk over the head for being a goof-off, but now that she was in need of a new idea of how to spread the news, she didn't want to be a hypocrite and disturb the hawk from his socialization.
In a state of deep despair Nyctlltr ascended the abbey stairs on foot, her wings hanging limply at her sides. She knew not and cared not where the stairs led or how many there were. In fact, she was rather enjoying the length of the walk, as it gave her more time to think, with a little time to wallow in misery on the side.
Nyc wasn't sure of the sobbing noises she heard as she finally reached the final tier of stairs was her own or not, but as she lightly padded into the attic room she realized she wasn't being quite so open with her own emotions. Curled up fetally in an ancient plush armchair was a young female badger. Her eyes were screwed shut and welling tears.
Some deep instinct within Nyctllr—perhaps stemming from the interconnectedness of bat colonies—caused her to approach the badger. Did...something happen?
The badgermaid looked up, surprised ringed with red from crying. Nothing happened. At least not yet. She shuddered.
Nyc suddenly seemed oddly hopeful. What do you mean?
The badger convulsede again, then attempted to compose herself. I...I had a terrible dream. There was smoke and fire throughout Redwall, and creatures were running and screaming. And there was a mouse with a sword, our Martin, and he was explaining and giving advice and nobeast would listen to him... She paused, gulping at the air. And so many died...
A haunted look passed through Nyc's eyes. You dreamed that? she murmured. Louder, she noted darkly, When I spoke with your swordsmouse, he ignored my every word. Sounds like this Martin has mood swings.
The badger's eyes widened. Martin came to your dreams, too?
Dreams? No, I spoke to a warrior mouse in the flesh yesterday. But he seemed too thick to be a reall warrior. Nyc was clearly bitter.
No, that was Mattachin, the badger explained, slightly more at ease. He's our current Warrior. Martin's our founder. I'm Ustela. Who are you?
Nyc extended a wingsail in greeting, which somewhat puzzled Ustela. Nyctllr. Or even just Nyc. Pleased to meet you.
I'm glad you don't ignore me, like they did in the dream.
Folding a sail over Ustela's shoulder, Nyc attempted a sympathetic smile. As much as I hate to push it, I think you need to share your dream with some other beasts more important than I...

*****

Nuthead had been terrified of the wrong dark flying shapes. While he was still in Redwall and being suspicious of Nyctllr and Troyte, the dark shadows of a fleet of giant winged fire arrows glided over the treetops of Mossflower.