Chapter 4 A Shadow in the Night

The late afternoon sun looked to be a perfect golden ball is it slowly made it's decent over the horizon to the west of Redwall Abbey. It's last streams of light cast long and narrow shadows and made the thick trees of Mossflower Woods appear like a soft green carpet that rolled and wavered under the touch of the chill wind that swept in from the north.

Songbreeze stood on the west wall of the abbey, watching the sun set and letting her thoughts wander. Try as she might to let her thoughts step around the events in Cavern Hole, she found her mind kept running back to the unsettling news Dippler had brought to Redwall.

"Hordes," Dippler said, his face drawn tightly into a blank expression, trying to hide the grim sund behind his words, "Dozens of 'em, moving right on through Mossflower Woods like the Lord of Hellgates was after 'em. Me and my Guosim ran into the first batch o' the blighters not more than a few days ago. We were ready for a brawl but them vermin went right on past us. I sent scouts out after that and from what they saw it looks like the whole of the eastern lands is coughing up its whole vermin population."

"This is unheard of…" muttered Janglur, almost to himself. "Why would so many Hordes just start moving? And you say they just ignored you Guosim?"

Dippler nodded, sinking back in the stout oak chair. Cavern Hole was the customary meeting place for those of Redwall, a cozy and well constructed lower chamber, it had served as both a hall for councils and a place of refuge in troubled times for the creatures of the abbey. Dannflorr, Songbreeze, Janglur, Rusvul, and Dippler were all seated at one of the large varnished tables against the far wall.

"Not entirely ignored," Dippler admitted, "A few smaller bands took pot shots at us, a few badly organized raids, but nothing serious. With so many vermin out there they could of overrun us easily but from what I saw they just don't have any solid leadership. Most of 'em aren't even fighters by the look, and I doubt among a score of 'em they got only a pawfull of weapons. Whatever this is it ain't an attack…they're fleeing from something."

Rusvul leaned forward in his chair, his expression like stone but his eyes shining with an intense light that could be heard in his voice. "I might not know much about vermin ways, but the only time I've ever seen them move like this is when it's for an attack. It could be that some vermin warlord's been gathering up a big enough Horde that all the smaller ones are running."

"That's certainly possible," said Dann, scratching his chin thoughtfully "But something doesn't add up father. Think of it for a second, if what Dippler says is right then there's got to be at least a few thousand vermin on the run, and that's just what's been seen so far. Maybe a warlord conquering all the other Hordes could cause a few smaller Hordes to run off, but not thousands at once. No, I got a gut feeling that something out east has stirred up enough fright in the vermin that they'd do anything to get away."

"Still," said Janglur, "It's not unlikely that with so many vermin passing through at least a few will get the idea to do a bit of raiding while they go. Redwall is a tempting target and with thousands of vermin, I wouldn't put it past a fair number thinking it a grand idea to try their luck at us."

Rusvul nodded agreement, "If they do I can have a nice little ol' welcome for them. With so many youngbeasts in the abbey now and all the weapons left over from last season we can shut this place up and make sure not a single vermin gets in fifty paces of our wall without a fist full a' sling stones or arrows to make them think twice."

Songbreeze sighed loudly in her chair. Her face looked almost, resigned. "Rusvul, we're not here to talk about fighting a war. These vermin are obviously scarred of something, and only want to get away from whatever it is that frightened them. It's not impossible that some might even ask for sanctuary here in the abbey. Let's not forget why Redwall is here. I want it to be known to all those living in Mossflower that our gates are open if any want to take shelter, and that offer extends to any of the vermin."

Rusvul looked to be ready to say something but Song continued "I understand your concern. I have no objection to being prepared for the worst, but let's hope for the best. If we are attacked, we will respond in kind, but we will not be the ones to shoot first."

Looking ashamed, though just a small amount so, Rusvul rested back in his chair, "Of course Abbess, I did not mean to imply we start loosing arrows at every vermin that came up the path. I just want us to be prepared."

"And we shall be, in fact I would expect nothing less from a Reguba. You and Dann can go about any preparations you deem needed to protect Redwall," she smiled then at a polite cough from her father, "And of course you dad."

Janglur returned her smile, though Song noted her father's face had taken on it's warrior's visage, grim determination. The meeting broke up soon after that. Dippler stayed behind with Dann to go over the details of what the shrew knew of these Hordes, specifically about location of groups and the condition of each. Janglur and Rusvul left, going off to plan the abbey's defenses no doubt. Which left Songbreeze to her own devices…and her own thoughts.

She had not really made much progress on the problem that faced her. She already had decided that she would make the official announcement of the news Dippler had brought after breakfast the next day. And while she busied her mind with picking and choosing the words she'd use to bring this disturbing news to those of the abbey, a back corner of her mind continued to speak to her of a matter that Song could not ignore.

The twins, they had been brought here by a wounded creature who was fleeing from something, not unlike the Hordes that now were roving through Mossflower. Song could not help but wonder if somewhere among those vermin was the other parent to her two charges. What if some vermin did indeed ask for shelter in the abbey, and among them was the twin's father, or another relative? Would they want the two ratbabes back? Could Song bring herself to give them up if they did?

It seemed foolish to Song that she would be so worried over that in light of such a large possible threat to Redwall. She was of course disturbed by the idea that so many vermin would be passing close to her abbey, but she held confidence in Dann. Though Abbey Warrior for only the same short time Song was Abbess, he had already learned much from his father and Janglur Swifteye. The three of them combined were a strong force and Song knew they could handle the abbey's defense as well as anybeast alive. And on top of that the abbey was indeed now full of the young and strong, and any band of vermin would find the abbey no easy target.

In truth it was not the Hordes that worried her, or even the possibility of having to give up Leon and Terra, though the thought of that made her heart ache like it was wreathed in a thorn bush. No, what truly was bothering the Abbess or Redwall was that somehow there was something out there so terrible, so powerful and frightening, that it had thousands of vermin marching with apparently no intention of stopping until they reached the ocean.

Songbreeze knew Redwall could weather vermin attacks, but unlike the vermin Redwall could not pick up its footpaws and shuffle off. Whatever was driving the vermin was coming this way, and Redwall would still be standing right where it was when that force arrived.

"A scone for your thoughts?" came a familiar voice to her right.

Song turned her head, a content smile painting her face as her paw came up to catch the scone that Dann tossed to her as he walked up beside her. The warrior squirrel looked surprisingly composed and calm, as if he had not a care in the world, as if Redwall might not be facing another war. She had always admired that quality in him. Even when things looked their worst Dann could be counted on to keep his head and inspire confidence in you with a simple relaxed smile.

"You missed dinner," he said, "So I thought I'd bring some of it to you, though with that Wilffachop fellow around there wasn't much dinner left to be brought." Song noticed he carried a small tray with a pitcher of cider on it and a small assortment of pastries and a bowl of salad.

"Thank you Dann," she said, accepting the tray and setting it on the red stone rampart in front of her, "I'm amazed there was this much left with that hare sitting at the table."

Florian Dugglewoof Wilffachop was the self-proclaimed leader of the Wandering Noonvale Companions. A troupe of actors and performers that had seemingly taken an extended residence in the abbey. Their presence was hardly minded, and more often than not they livened life in the abbey tenfold. But of course that also meant that with a hare like Florian about it was likely the abbey's food stores depleted ten times faster.

Song was just glad that Dann had managed to get any spare food past the ravenous hare. More than glad in fact as she bit into one of the scones with enthusiasm. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was.

Dann stood by her side and waited patiently while she ate, making small talk about the casual happenings of the abbey, how Alora wanted to go out to procure more medicinal herbs soon, that Garlin had finished up with repairing the infirmary doors, Cregga was again requesting more help with the dibbuns since so many more had been brought to the abbey over the past season. Song relaxed and let the flow of words drown out her worries for the time being. She really did appreciate what Dann was trying to do, but with a resigned sigh she set aside the now empty tray and looked at Dann full in the eyes.

The young squirrel looked back at her with simple confidence radiating from his deep brown eyes. It made Song feel a little awkward, him staring at her so, but it reassured her as well. He was doing all he could to support her in what was becoming troubled times.

"What did you learn from Dippler?" she asked in as level a tone as she could muster.

Dann rested back against the ramparts and said in a perfectly casual voice, "Nothing much more really. At best he guesses that at least two-thirds of the vermin out there are just tired and ragged refugees, few even armed and less looking like they'd have the spirit for it. As for the rest, Dippler said they had the look of starving and desperate creatures, and you know just as well as I Song what desperate creatures are capable of."

Song nodded slowly, her eyes resting on the floor, and a slow wind ruffled her fur and habit. She did not like admitting it, but even with her father and Rusvul directing defenses and Dann leading what Song was sure would be an all too willing but untrained group of young abbeybeasts in that defense, Redwall might not be able to survive if even a portion of ten thousand vermin decided the abbey was too tempting a target to pass up. Even in the worst of times the abbey had never faced such odds.

She looked up as she felt Dann's paw rest on her shoulder. He was wearing that familiar old smile, and it made something inside Song warm upon seeing it.

"No need to get that serious look on your face Song," said Dann, keeping the smile "Whatever comes our way you can count on all of us here to back you up every step of the way, you know that. And I know for a fact you got enough strength in you to outlast all the rest of us combined. So don't worry, come what may Redwall will survive."

Song didn't say anything, couldn't think of anything too say. She wanted to believe what he said, she knew she should considering what they'd been through together in the past, but a small nagging doubt still festered in the back of her mind. A season as Abbess was hardly enough it seemed to prepare her for all she would need to do if things ever did come to a war and it wasn't her ability to fight personally that she questioned, but her willingness to order others to fight and quite probably die. Could she bring herself as Abbess, even in such a dire situation, to look upon creatures she knew and cared about and make decisions that might get them killed?

And what of the twins? Song had come no closer to an answer on that than she had when she'd first started letting the concept roll around in her mind. She did not want to give them up, they were so important to her now. She knew she wasn't their real mother but the more she listened to what her heart was telling her the more she began to realize that the way she cared for them was not much different than if they were of her own flesh and blood. The mere thought of curious Leon and pure hearted Terra no longer being in her life made her want to scream.

She hadn't notice that she'd been crying, that Dannflorr had wrapped his warm and strong arms around her and was murmuring slow comforting words to her. She didn't really hear the words, and for a wonder felt no compulsion to pull away from that embrace. Feeling exhausted suddenly and curious as to why that warmth inside her kept growing, she buried her face in Dann's shoulder and let her tears flow freely like small crystal shards in the dusk sunlight.

"Goodnight Dann, and thank you. Tomorrow morning if you can I want you to start taking an inventory of our food supply. If we are going to start housing half of Mooslfower we will need to be prepared."

Dann looked at Song in wonder. She had composed herself quite quickly up on the wall, though he would have been glad to hold her well into the night had she wished. Now calm and cool, Songbreeze straightend her habit and stood tall, looking ever inch the Abbess of Redwall save for the slight redness around her eyes. Dann could not help but think that she looked…graceful, in that posture.

"Sure thing Song, I'll have Mortran scribe up a list while I count off to him, that moles got a better hand for writing than anybeast else in the abbey."

Song nodded in a detached way, her eyes not seeming to really see Dann. "Of course," she said softly "By then it won't matter, the abbey will know." She seemed to snap out of wherever she'd been and looked a little embarrassed, the image of the all-wise Abbess slipping back into that of just Songbreeze. "Well…goodnight."

Dann watched as she turned and walked up the stairs towards her quarters. Once she was out of sight he started across the Great Hall, intending to head back out into the courtyard. He decided that if he was going to get a inventory of the whole abbey's storerooms he'd best get an early start on it. He wasn't tired anyway and chances were Montran, being the incessant day sleeper that he was the mole was likely up and about in his customary spot by the abbey's small south gate. The mole had for quite some time now been fumbling about the idea of reinforcing the gate and modifying it so that it would open only from the inside. Being a almost paranoid stickler for security the mole was convinced the south gate was a " 'ole n' th' permitor' ans' n' needin' o' a gud fixin' uper wit propor thinymagigs an' doodads."

Dann was not looking particularly forward to spending what was likely going to be several long hours with the mole, listening to Montran's almost constant chatter, but he had to admit he wouldn't mind the distraction. As long as he wasn't sleeping he wouldn't think about Song. Whenever he closed his eyes it seemed he would see her face, and if she knew half of his dreams involving her chances were she'd boot him right out the abbey and be perfectly right in doing it. Dann felt no lack of shame for thinking of a friend in such a way, even though he didn't think he was consciously doing it.

Halfway across the courtyard Dann's eye caught movement near the gatehouse. Like a shadow upon shadow Dann could see just the slightest outline of a creature slowly and deliberately moving with careful steps towards the gatehouse, as if planning to sneak out. Dann didn't think that whoever it was that they'd seen him, and he continued walking as if he hadn't seen. No reason to alert the intruder that they'd been spotted.

Very slowly and as natural as he could make it look, Dann altered his course, trying to get behind the moving shadow without drawing attention to himself. Even getting closer he could not really make out any details behind the shape, just short and roughly like a otter, maybe a mouse though with the lake of a plank tail. Or maybe…

Dann circled around until he was following the form now, moving in the shadows himself as he followed the intruder. The dark form that looked as if black had been painted upon black reached the door to the gatehouse and Dann could hear the slight click as something metallic was placed into the lock. He almost smiled, knowing now that this was definitely no abbeydweller. No one living in Redwall would ever assume that any of the doors were locked save the final one outside and that one rarely enough.

The intruder didn't see the squirrel's charge until he was close, but Dann was surprise by how fast the shadowy form moved, deftly stepping out of the way of his charge and darting off towards the stairs leading up the wall.

"Intruder! Intruder in the abbey!" Dann called as he gave chase, his legs pumping wildly to keep pace with the shadowy form. By the Spirit of Martin whoever it was they were fast! It took Dann moving at a full sprint just to keep the form in sight as it launched itself up the stairs and sped down the wall.

Dann was just barely hearing the start of movement in the abbey grounds, creatures responding to his call, when he finally managed to catch up to the intruder. The form had stopped by one of the ramparts and fiddled with something on the ground that Dann suspected to be rope when with a heaving push of his footpaws he flung himself at the shadow.

He felt his own body connect with that of another's, somebeast wearing very little clothing and with a particularly slim and curved frame that identified the creature as female. A high pitched voice screeched in his ear as claws started scratching at him.

"Le me go! Ah' ain't done nothin' to ya! Get offa me ya big oaf! Doncha' know nothin' 'bout how ta treat a lady?"
Dann held her down with the weight in his legs, using his arms to restrain her arm's wild flailing. And he blinked in utter shock. It was another squirrel!

Dann looked down upon a gaunt face that was slim and gaunt, almost as if she hadn't eaten for a long time. Deep set eyes gazed up at him with fiery intensity, their sapphire blue color seeming to blaze with anger. A slight scar, like a gray blemish, ran across her throat, as if some time ago somebeast had tried to cut it open but hadn't quite gotten enough strength in the cut for it to do more than leave that scar.

Dann was so distracted fully by her that he didn't prepare himself in time when she kicked up with one knee. She caught him right between the legs. With a grunt he feel to the side, gasping for breath.

"Ha! Serves ya right fer tryin' ta take advantage o' a helpless lady! Hmph!"

Dann glared up at her in indignation, and saw that she had the gall to smile at him! Take advantage? Why the nerve of…and she was the one who was slinking about in the shadows like some confounded Marlfox! He was about to say as much, opening his mouth with the words ready on his tongue, but instead his mouth just hung open gaping and his eyes went wide.

She didn't have a tail! No wonder he hadn't been able to recognize the shadow as a squirrel. Where a big bushy tail should have been was only a slight bump of a stump. Also he saw that her fur was almost completely pitch black, such a unusual color for a squirrel, but perfect if you wanted to move around at night without being seen. It was then Dann noticed the next odd thing about her…she wasn't wearing any cloths.

The dynamics of the situation completely forgotten under a wave of embarrassment Dann stood up straight and turned around, barely noticing the ache between his legs, babbling. "M-my apologies marm, didn't know you were…uh…indecent."

He heard her scoff again; muttering something under her breath Dann did not understand but guessed was some kind of very un-ladylike curse. A few seconds passed and the sound of creatures running up the stairs towards Dann reminded him of the situation and that she was the intruder and he had no reason to be polite to her.

Wheeling around and planning to detain her, cloths or no cloths, he paused in confusion, then groaned. She was gone. Vanished like the shadow in the night she so much resembled. Dann rushed to the spot he last saw her, peering over the edge of the wall into the darkness below. He noticed there was no rope to be seen, meaning that whoever she was she must have climbed without such help. The fact that the feat should not of have been possible did not bother Dannflorr Reguba , what bothered him was that he'd just let a intruder and possible foe of Redwall Abbey escape because he'd been too concerned with being proper!

He couldn't see her clearly, but he did see a patch of moving shadow quickly and nimbly scaling down the wall and upon reaching the ground, scurry off into the tree line. Who was she? And what had she been doing in Redwall?

"Good questions both me boy." Came he father's voice from behind him. Dann had not realized he'd spoken his thoughts aloud and turned to see that not only his father, but Janglur, Florian, and oddly enough Montran were there. Behind them Dann could see other abbeybeasts had gathered, a few armed with makeshift weapons of ladles, shovels, and quarterstaffs. Most of them were in their sleeping cloths, only Rusvul and Janglur looked to still be in their daily attire.

"I do say young laddybuck, wat's tha ruckus an' shoutin' all 'bout here, wot wot?" Florain's voice was a loud and boisterous as ever. The hare was wearing what looked to amount to a rough leather jacket hastily thrown over a nightshirt. A flimsy yet oddly sharp saber, a supposed stage prop, was held tightly in the hare's right paw.

"I was going to see Montran there," said Dann, gesturing to the mole "When I saw a shadow moving a bit too much for it to just be a trick of the light. Sure enough there was somebeast sneaking around the abbey, looked like she was trying to get out through the gates."

"She?" said Florain, raiseing an eyebrow "Ye sure twas a lass? Hmph fine days it be now wit lasses brekin' inta abbeys and such, sheer disgrace wot! Ah, wat can ye be expectin' from vermin, eh?"

Danns shook his head, "Wasn't a vermin though…she was a squirrel."

Both Rusvul and Janglur exchanged looks, then both pairs of warrior eyes turned on Dann. "I don't like repeting the hare's question, but are you sure about that? It's dark, maybe you-"

Dann cut off Rusvul's oddly guarded tone with a raise of his paw "I saw what I saw dad. She was a squirrel, not a pretty one but a squirrel." That was not entirely true, he had to admit. Save for the tail and the scar she had been...well not pretty but not exactly an eyesore either. Dann frowned and forced the thought away upon remembering that swift knee she'd possessed. And that sharp tongue.

"Well it looks like there's nothing to be done about it now." Said Janglur, looking over the wall, searching as if he might be able to see more in the night than Dann had. "Me and Rusvul can find a few volunteers to keep up a night watch. You look tired Dann, you'd best get some sleep."

Dann started to protest, saying he had business to take care of with Montran. The mole wasn't much help, gladly stating that "Oi dun be n' no rush mista' Dann sur. Rust yusulf an' oi' be roight 'ere t' 'elp w' yer troubles."

As it was between both his father and Janglur insisting he get some rest, never mind that he was supposed to be the Abbey Warrior, Dann found himself in no short amount of time in his own bedroom. The small house near the gatehouse traditionally belonged to all the warriors who wielded Martin's sword and called themselves by the title of Abbey Warrior. It was a cozy enough house, with a small parlor in the main room where the door outside sat on the far wall opposite a stone worked fireplace. The strong oak table that sat in the center of the room was empty save for a single candle in the center that gave off a soft orange light that cast all sorts of flickering shadows amongst the other humble furnishings of the house.

Dann always felt strange when he entered here, almost as if he did not belong. Of course that was ridiculous, him being Abbey Warrior and all, but he could not shake the feeling. He chalked it up to the fact that the house was really designed for a family instead of just one creature, and it just felt too roomy for him.

Walking past the table towards the door that led to the bedroom, Dann paused to look at what hung over the fireplace. In the low light given by the candle, the sword of Martin the Warrior had an almost haunting look to it, small rivulets of light streaming around the blade like currents of water. It was a long well balanced sword, to a point that some might call it the perfect sword…Dann knew better after having trained with it for this past season. Yes the blade was balanced, and it felt like it was alive in your paw when you wielded it. The blade was made of a metal unlike any other Dann had seen or heard off, stronger than steel and sharp as a razor's edge. Yet, it was still just a sword, and Dann refused to let himself believe that the sword alone made him Abbey Warrior.

Every morning he spent several hours with that sword, working through the steps of various combat forms, diligently studying every aspect of sword work. Sometimes he trained alone, at times his father or Janglur would spar with him, and on a few rare occasions the two had worked together to train Dann, teaching him how to fight multiple opponents For all his training though, Dann still knew he had much to learn. His skills were far from where they could be, and it irked him somewhat to admit it.

Always it was a tradeoff. Dann enjoyed peace, loved his life here in Redwall. Yet he knew that without real combat experience all the training in the world would not amount to anything. Even during his adventures when the Marlfoxs had attack Dann had not truly used his blade. The thought sickened him, but he had never actually killed anybeast before. He'd seen death, but never delivered it himself, and he wondered often if when the moment came, he'd be able to do it.

One time, a season past, he'd succumbed to a terrible rage. His friends had been threatened by some vermin brigands and when the time came Dann had felt an anger unlike any he'd ever felt well up inside him and explode in a fury of biting teeth and raking claws. Honestly, Dann was afraid of that rage, what he might do when it took him again. Would he come back to himself covered in blood?

He shuddered and turned away from the hung sword, walking into his bedroom. He had no time for such doubts anyway. Too many creatures would be counting on him in the coming days to act as the Warrior of Redwall should. Song would need his support every step of the way, Dann knew, and he could not afford to let his own doubts bog him down while his friend's pain was so obvious.

Dann actually liked Song's two adopted ratebabes. Leon was a pest at times but Dann could see the little rat had pure intentions at heart when he went on one of his escapades. Terra was a quiet but sweet dibbun, and though Cregga raved and shouted about all the drawings that sprung up around the abbey, Dann could not help but smile whenever he walked past Terra's interesting artwork in the abbey halls.

He fully understood why Song did not like the idea of giving them up, if indeed the babe's original family did arrive at the abbey seeking refuge. And he understood her doubts about her abilities, he understood all too well, but unlike himself he believed Song had enough inner strength that she could overcome any doubt and he had every confidence that when the time came Songbreeze Swifeye would do Redwall Abbey proud as Abbess.

With a sigh, removing his tunic and trousers, Dann moved himself into his bed. He just wished he could dispel his own doubts. Forcing his eyes closed he focused on trying to get some sleep. With any luck the coming days would see him too busy to dwell on his inner doubts.

Sleep brought no true rest to the young warrior squirrel however, for the familiar image of Song was there to greet him in his dreams…and oddly enough, a tailless black squirrel who's name he did not know.

Diane moved with a smooth grace that after so many seasons had become as natural to her as breathing. The shadows were her home as much as anyplace else and she darted from patch of blackness to patch of blackness with the practiced ease of those seasons guiding her every step. She prided herself, her ability to go unseen and unheard.

An' a blasted soft woodlander squirrel caught ya easy as pie, eh? she berated herself. She still could not quite believe the male had spotted her, kept pace with her, and managed to hold her for even a little while. Nobeast manhandled Diane Shadowdancer! Oh when she got her paws on that squirrel, what was his name, she hadn't gotten it, not that she wanted it, she was going to do more than just give him a knee to the groin!

Though she had to admit that it was kind of cute the way he had acted all chivalrous when he saw her in her "work cloths", stupid yes, but cute. Course he was lucky she hadn't been carrying any of her many knives with her this time, otherwise he might have thought twice about turning his back on her.

The forest around her comforted her, its sounds and smells soothing her anger and reminding her of her present situation. She might have been spotted, but she'd succeeded in her task. Jobs like this were second nature to her, her specialty in fact. Ol' Darr wanted her to scout out the big red sandstone building, and that's exactly what she had done. She had the layout memorized, knew roughly how many fighting beasts lived there, how much food and water they had, what kind of weapons they used, everything Darr wanted Daine had found in one simple hour in the dark hours after dusk.

Now she sped through the underbrush of Mossflower towards where she knew Darr's camp would be, not more than two miles east of the red building. The cool night air brushed over her fur and she reveled in it as she ran without making the slightest sound. How she loved running free like this through the forest, or anywhere for that matter. She felt truly alive, her blood pumping fast and hot in her veins, her legs swiftly and easily carrying her over the terrain.

She's spent much of her life running. Born to a lowly slave family owned by the Horde of Darr Notch the Ravager, Diane had first acted as a courier, the only real job for a child slave that didn't involve backbreaking labor. Her early years had been fraught with perils from her family's captors. Back then slaves had been in easy supply and it was not uncommon for a hordebeast to get angry with a slave and kill them outright for some minor infraction, or worse yet decide to have a little 'fun' with a slave that caught their eye. Yes, Diane had become quite the runner during those times, ferrying messages and items back and forth through the massive camp.

Seasons passed and one by one her family had died. Her mother to an illness, nothing that would have been fatal by itself were it not for the slave master who had slain her because she was 'too weak'. Her father had died soon after, mindlessly attacking one random hordebeast and being flogged until death as punishment. Her sister, Tuni, might have still been alive for all Diane knew. Tuni had vanished two seasons ago during a freak snowstorm. Diane suspected Tuni had tried to escape, and most likely froze to death in the blizzard. Either way Tuni had just not been on her sleeping palate one morning and the slave masters had only organized a half-hearted search. Just as well, Diane thought, since she really hadn't wanted to see her sister's frozen corpse.

At first Diane had wanted revenge upon the vermin, but as time passed so did that desire. Her father had died under whips because he was a fool who couldn't see facts. What good was slaying one hordebeast in a fit of rage when you ended up dead yourself? Maybe he wanted to just be with mother but Diane figured that any way you looked at it, her father had wasted his life in a futile attempt at revenge. And escape? Ha! Tuni had tried that and more than likely had ended up food for the crows because of it! Even if she could escape what would Diane do? She did not fool herself into thinking she could survive off the land on her own. Like it or not Darr and his Horde were her family now, her home, and she'd adapted to it very thoroughly.

A scar across the neck from some fool who had thought that even when she'd grown up she would be easy to push around. A dead fool now. A tail gone, bitten off by a hungry silver pike when she'd had to swim across a river to escape a band of ravenous wolves, she'd been lucky that day with Darr's camp so close where she had the wound burned closed before she could bleed to death.

Yes, Diane knew a harsh life and she was tough as rock because of it. She had to be to survive, just like any other hordebeast.

The dull flickering light of camp fires could be seen through the dense foliage and Diane slowed her pace to that of an easygoing walk. No need to frighten the poor sentries, though she probably could have slipped past them at a dead run without any of the fool guards noticing her.

With confident strides she moved out of the protection of the shadows and into the shifting light given off by the campfires. Taking up the entire space of the large clearing, the camp had the disorganized and mismatched look that was common among Hordes, though it was much smaller than it had been not more than a month ago. A part of the mass of vermin that was moving west, Darr's Horde had dissipated with countless creatures deserting and many more dying of sickness, starvation, or other less natural causes.

Still, there were at least around two hundred vermin still in the camp, perhaps half of those actually armed and prepared to fight, or at least scared enough of Darr's wrath to fight when the hulking ferret told them to.

It wasn't much more than a minute before one of the guards who circled the camp's perimeter spotted her. The mangy rat wore a half rotted leather vest and a rusted conical helmet for armor and carried a short spear that might have once been a mere staff, but now had a dagger tied to the end to serve it's new purpose.

Running up to her the rat poked the spear in her rough direction and said in a gruff voice that didn't seem to really match with the young if not particularly well groomed face. "Halt an' declare yerself, or be facin' the end o' me spear."

Diane rolled her eyes and with one finger casually moved the spear aside. "Shut yer gab Murt, ya know who ah' am s'point yer pigsticker elsewhere an' take me to see Darr."

The rat looked her over once carefully, as if to make sure she was indeed who she said she was, though Diane figured he was just looking for an excuse to enjoy the view. Maybe she should put on some cloths when she worked, but they were just too constrictive and none of the cloths available here were clean enough in her opinion. Better naked with a few leers directed her way than wearing that lice infested stuff they called cloths.

Murt didn't waste too much time though, and was quick to lead her through the camp. Most the tents were small lean-tos, big enough for maybe two if they bundled up close, however most the camp consisted of vermin gathered around campfires in groups of about six, sleeping around the fire in rough wool blankets and little else. There were just as many females as there were males, most of the females either going about caring for the young that ran about the camp or cooking what little meat the hunting parties managed to bring back. Of course not all the females were doing chores; a few of them were unmistakably female, and each gave Diane a respectful if not friendly nod as she passed by.

In the center of the camp a larger tent, this one a tall round one big enough that half a dozen creatures cold comfortably sleep in it, stood with a pair of guards flanking the entrance flap. Darr had had the tent sewn together seasons before Diane's family had been enslaved, and it was in various stages of disrepair. Different colored patches criss-crossed the tent canvas, which at one time might have been white but over the seasons had dulled to a nearly brownish color.

A few paces in front of the entrance a tall tree branch had been cut and pruned to serve as a flagpole, a tattered old banner hanging loosely towards the ground. Diane knew that in full flutter in the wind the banner was all black and had a tall woodcutting axe crossed by a curved sword all sewn in gold on it. That was Darr's personal banner and he took an almost obsessive amount of pride in it.

Walking right up the guards, Murt was about to announce Diane and ask permission to enter, but the black squirrel ignored both him and the other guards and brushed right on past them and into the tent.

Inside the tent seemed smaller than it had on the outside, its domed ceiling feeling lower and more cramped. The floor was still dirt, though well packed and clear of rocks or grass. A wood desk was set to the left of the entrance with a crooked three-peg stool sitting in front of it. A few rough drawn maps and a plate with a few bird bones sat upon the desk. The center of the tent was dominated by a circular table with a few poorly worked chairs around it, an oil lamp on the table giving the room light.

Darr Notch was sitting at this table with two others, another ferret and a stoat. Diane recognized the ferret as Darr's old slave master, Eies, a tall and bulky female who's cream colored fur did not quite match the dark patches around her eyes but fit in quite well with her tan leather jerkin and pants. The sneering look that always seemed to be on the former slave master's face did fit however with those black brooding eyes that never seemed to have held any kind of liking for anybeast. Now that the Horde had no slaves to master, Eies found herself working as Darr's secretary, hence doing all the hard work of keeping the Horde supplied while Darr lazed around and gave orders. A situation that had never helped Eies' already volatile temper.

The stoat was Darr's second in command, named Hal for the moment; he always seemed to be changing his name with his appearance. Now he wore a bright green vest and scarlet trousers, a kind of eye jarring sight especially with his even brighter green cap with a blue feather sticking up lengthwise from it. A short fellow if not overly so, Hal had fine brown fur and no trace of another color on him, almost plain in comparison to his clothing. His face was all sharp angles and contrasts, as if carved from a block of wood, but he always seemed to be able to put great expression into every twitch of that face. Deep set brown eyes looked at Diane and Hal did even bother to hide the fact that he liked the view.

"What's been takin' ye so long girl?" said Darr in his low baritone voice, rising from his seat. Broad of shoulder and girth the ferret had the look of a boulder with graying fur that really did seem to match the stone he so resembled. Under all that coarse fur Diane knew there was muscle as solid as any rock and bones as tough as age hardened oak. Darr was in control of his Horde through sheer physical power and the fear his presence caused in his underlings, and though he was not a complete fool Diane still thought that muscle power was a poor way of determining leadership.

Shrugging her shoulders and taking a relaxed stance by the entrance Diane said "Ran inta a bit o' trouble but nothin' ah' couldn't deal with. Now ye got a reason ta be givin' me that suspicious look o' your or are ya gonna sit yerself down an' listen to what ah' gots ta say?"

Darr frowned deeply, but he did gesture for her to take a seat and waited for her to sit down before doing so himself. "Fine girl, just get on with it and tell me what you did learn o' that red fortress."

"Yes," came Hal's voice, smooth as silk and light as a feather "Do regale us with the sights you beheld in yonder castle." Hal had a way of speaking that made him sound as if he were at every waking moment trying to play the part of some minstrel or bard.

Eies just kept her scowl and said nothing as Diane began her brief report. "Gettin' over the wall was no prob', plenty o' pawholds for nimble fingers, but ye ain't gettin' no army over it Darr. Walls are thick an' the main gates stout as iron. I circled 'bout the place an' found a smaller gate on the south wall, might be able ta break it apart with a good batterin' ram. Now them creatures in there gots a' fair number o' beasts that look fit 'nough ta be fightin', but after takin' a look at 'em ah'd say most ain't trained fer it. Which puts 'em on the same level as us I guess, not like most o' them sods out there in camp know much 'bout 'ow ta fight."

Darr shot her a dangerous look and Diane had the frame of mind to quiet down, though he knew she was speaking the plain truth of the matter. Trust Darr to not see what was in plain sight because of his foolish pride.

"I think we be a bit better at swingin' blades than a bunch a' softbellied woodlanders Diane, it ain't that I be worried 'bout, it's them walls an' what even softbelly's might do wit a few bows an' slings."

Diane nodded, willing to grant that Darr was not a complete fool when he used his brain for something beyond strong drink and carousing.

Eies piped in with her screeching voice that was only bearable because she spoke in such a low tone. "I can get the boys working on a battering ram and have it ready in a few days chief." She always spoke with a kind of odd cultured method, as if the normal slur most vermin had never quite entered into her bloodline. "I'd say it's about time those lazy fops did some real work."

"I doubt it 'twould be so easy my fair Eies," said Hal "Remember how bad our supply situation is. I do indeed doubt that we posses sufficient food to last more than a week. Not good conditions at all for heavy work would you not agree?"

Eies sneered at him, "Like you cared. Going softhearted yourself Hal? Or is it Gabil today, can't keep track of all those blasted names of yours."

Hal bowed slightly in his chair in a mocking fashion, going as far to remove his cap in a sweeping flourish. "Right first time my lady. I care not for our underlings personally as you well know, but it does us no good at all to waste such useful resources in futile tasks. You really must learn that creatures have their limits and at this point we can hardly afford to lose any more than we have."

Eies looked like she wanted to argue more, but Darr slammed his paw on the table and got all their eyes on him. "Enough! Eies, Hal be right 'bout we can't be affordin' to be wastin' good fightin' beasts. Bah if we had a few slaves we'd be set. Nah, direct attacks ain't the way ta be goin' this time 'round. But I gots another plan. These woodlanders be safe an' sound behind their walls, but their be a weakness in 'em that got nothin' to do with them walls."

As Darr went on to describe his plan Eise actually seemed to brighten a bit, smiling with a almost sadistic light in her eyes. Hal merely listened calmly, leaned back with his paws behind his head, but nodding in agreement with the plan as Darr laid it out. Diane merely felt a slight pit growing in her stomach. It was a good plan, too good really, and though Diane was sure it would work like a charm, she had a bad feeling that would not go away. This reminded her too much of a story she'd heard long ago about the traveling gambler. His luck had been perfect, his scheme flawless, with the right dice and a quick paw he never lost, but even perfect luck runs out, and most often at the worst possible time. Darr's plan was good, but Diane had a sinking feeling that luck might run out at just the wrong moment. The story had ended with the gambler's dice breaking in a game with a badger who was not fond of finding his opponent had been using weighted dice.