What in the name of Martin, Matthias, and Methuselah was that all about?!
Mattachin was livid, confronting Nyctllr and Troyte with his full rodentine rage, gesticulating madly at the trees and the path for several seconds after he finished speaking.
That was Raglé, Nyc told Mattachin flatly, still squinting unadjustedly in the daylight.
Redwall's champion swung his arms about in wide exaggerated circles. I know that, she told us that, that's the only part any sane beast could make anything of. But why's she here, what about the rest, you obviously know something about this beast, so spit it out!
Nyctllr remained polite. We met once. If you could really call it that. She just showed up and talked at us, inaccessible as she just was, then disappeared in much the same way. Whatever she said had little consequence.
Mattachin didn't seem to approve of this description. But those faces she made at you, that definitely meant something, though what it was wasn't clearer than anything else!
I think she just wants us to agree with her that she's crazy, Troyte casually interjected. 'Cause there's no doubt on that one. She caught up with us when we were jaunting over to Redwall. All sorts of stuff about crimson quadrangles and similar rot. Wasn't a help, but it wasn't hampering either. I think the beast just loves to see such pleasantly confused countenances as your own, my dear Matt.
Mattachin did not want to see the expression that provoked that remark from the hawk. Fortunately, there were no reflective surfaces immediately at paw.
Come to think of it, Nyc mused, backing a bit into the trees to let the shadows rest her eyes, she's probably giving directions in her own little way. She mentions objectives, directives, proximities, and destinations quite a bit.
Oh great. So those are directions. Last time I checked, directions were supposed to make sense! Mattachin exploded again, causing notable vibrations of foliage.
That crimson quadrangle is probably Redwall, Troyte concluded, proud of himself even in the face of tirade.
Mattachin kept at it. If we're getting directions, it'll be because I ask for them, and I know the way! Well, er, you two know the way and I trust you in your noble goal! And I can understand both of you! So you said it's this path, and that it'll be, and you can even fly ahead to be sure!
Mm, don't think that's a good idea, Nyc offered from the shade. 'Airborne be not' is pretty clear to me. And duplicate towers.'
And whatever it was about high places that see stuff, Troyte interpreted before even hearing out Nyc's entire point.
the bat noted. Simply, they'll see us as we approach regardless, but they'd see us better in the air than on the ground. You can camouflage an army, but not a speck against the sky.
That won't be a problem, Mattachin hissed, because my army cannot fly!
Nyc extended a wing. They can't. Nadal's can. Not by their own means, of course, but they can. They're the aloft multiples,' I believe. So we stick to this path and watch out. Which, I suppose, is common sense, but we take it as advice and not as malice.
Arms crossed, Mattachin noted, So if it's common sense, we didn't have to figure it out, and we'd have taken less time.
Troyte folded his wings. You didn't get it.
Shut up. We're marching now.