CHAPTER TWO

Redwall Abbey.

The name instilled comfort and warmth into everybeast who heard it. A great, colossal redstone structure, it towered above Mossflower, its wonderful architecture sending a message of protection to its surroundings. The sun bounced playfully off of the walls of the Abbey, creating an illusion of mahogany-shaded stone. The wonderful summer dawn marked the day of the Midsummer Feast Jubilee at Redwall.

Despite the early hour, Redwall was bustling with activity. Good-natured banter aplenty combined with eager anticipation doubled the speed of the working Redwallers.

"Ahoy, gimme an 'and wi' this keg o' wine, will ye, Father?" The voice belonged to Cellarhog Barwin, a rotund beast with white whiskers surrounding his face. The Father Abbot Nathanael gladly lent a paw, rolling the keg down the busy corridor with Barwin.

Father Nathanael was a hamster, an uncommon beast in Mossflower country. His fur, a brilliant gold, protected a chubby stomach and wrinkled paws. Small glasses were perched on the end of his snout, granting him a wise appearance befitting of his intelligence.

"This here is me finest October Ale, Father," grunted Barwin proudly. "Took me the better part of the autumn season to brew it, then I let 'er rest fer the spring. That's wot it takes to make a good ale, don't it, h'Abbot?"

A twinkle in his eye, Nathanael shoved Barwin playfully. "Gerroffit, Barwin! Ye know that ye took advantage of your position and tasted the good stuff all season. Shame on ye, I say!" Chuckling, Barwin righted himself and pointed to a small mob of Dibbuns (the name given to the babes of Redwall) that were begging the berry-picking party to spare some of their profits.

"Oops, looks like trouble o'er yonder, Father h'Abbot. Aye," he tapped a paw to his snout sagely, "those Dibbuns cause more trouble than a drunk sparrow on a winter morn, pardon me example, Father."

Shaking his head mirthfully, the kindly Abbot continued their dogged trek to the Great Hall with the keg of swishing wine. "Let the young 'ns have their fun. Don't ye remember your Dibbun days, Barwin?"

Barwin looked wistfully off to the ceiling. "Aye, that I do, Father. Especially when ye pushed me into the lake to fetch yer strawberry!"

The cheerful banter continued as the two friends meandered to their goal, remembering old times.

The Dibbuns were indeed causing trouble. Having formed a small army of 'furragers,' as they called them, they were either stealing food or begging for morsels from the creatures invloved in the food they fancied. A small mole was a self-appointed leader, his bass voice resembling the call of a foghorn.

"Yurr, move out on moi call," the mole ordered his anxious henchmen. "We steal ee vikkles offen ee foebeast's paws, ho urr."

"Yah, Soilsnout, but whaddo we do if'n they see us?" A small squirrel inquired.

"Hurr, then we run furr it, so we do." Soilsnout shook his head knowingly. "You'm be a gurt puddenheaded mouser!"

With that, the score of hungry babes spread out to all sides of the berry-picking party's area. Soilsnout waved his digging claws, and the Dibbuns charged with squeals of excitement towards the victuals.

Brother Camden, one of the berry-picking party's members, turned and gasped. "Great seasons! Hide the vittles, mates, put 'em outta the Dibbuns' reach!"

There was great commotion as the party struggled the baskets of berries from the paws of their foebeasts. Growling fiercely, Soilsnout looked up at a hare whom he was battling. "Burr, leggo of me vikkles, ee fiend!"

The hare, named Bomren, held Soilsnout up with one paw, shaking his grizzled head pityingly. "Rank and file bad form, sah, bad form, stealin' vittles from your elders. Fye on you, I say, eh wot!"

Brother Camden shoved the Dibbuns gently away. "Shoo, young'ns, or we won't 'ave time to prepare the feast!"

Grumbling rather resentfully, the Dibbuns retreated.

Altogether, Friar Minsum considered the cooking of the feast to be going quite well. A score of hardworking Redwallers hustled about the kitchen, chattering good-naturedly with one another and sharing advice on preparing victuals.

"Hoi, somebeast, come 'elp me put some nutmeg on this cheese!"

"Harr, matey, that soup won't be complete 'til ye add some hotroot, ho aye!"

"Somebeast, help! The bread is burning!"

"Oi got ee cuvverd, zurr!"

"Gerroutofit, ye young hooligan! That isn't fer swimming in!"

"Yah, go boil ya snout!"

Abruptly a frantic plea for help rang out. "Hoi, fire, mates!"

With the speed of a madbeast, Friar Minsum abandoned his great cake and dashed to assist the trembling young mouse that had called for help. Indeed, a blazing inferno was raging in the stove, and the smell of burning rubber was present. With the urgency of one in love with food, Minsum heaved a great bucket of water used to wash vegetables and dumped it unceremoniously over the flames. Without further ado, the fire died, leaving a small wisp of smoke in its memory.

Minsum panted heavily, withdrawing the burnt bread from the oven. He glared at the mouse, who trembled. "What did ye do this time, Bentup!"

Bentup stuttered. "I-I didn't do nothin', Friar! Young Yiggum did it!" A shaking paw indicated a shrewbabe swimming luxuriously in yet another bucket of water. The Dibbun grinned disarmingly at the glowering cook. "Dat was fun, wudnn't it, Friar?"

Laughter filled the room as Minsum pursued Yiggum around the kitchens, shouting dire threats. "I'll see to it ye get a bath early, ye ruffian! Aye, an' no dessert for ye! Bedtime right after the feast!"

In another part of Mossflower, Oren, Tyson and Camron were traversing the thickly wooded heart of the forest. Oren was tiring quickly, as he was used to a far less rigorous regimen. Tyson and Camron plodded on, the only sign of weariness being the rugged breath they drew. Oren didn't much like this part of Mossflower. The trees were so many that sunlight had no opportunity to penetrate the thick barrier formed by the pines and oaks. The air was hard to breathe, but most of all, there was a feeling of being watched.

Tyson gestured to the north with his claymore, breathing rather heavily. "Yonder seems tae be a likely place for us to lay our weary paws. Ah'm for some lunch afore we reach the fringe o' the wood, eh, Camron?"

Camron nodded. "Aye, me poor stummick's callin' for some braw comfort. How are ye fairin', mah bonny wee bairn?"

Oren looked ready to collapse where he stood. "I just want a break, n'uncle!"

Camron chuckled cheerfully. "Ach, I'd get used tae it, Oren. Ye'll have much more tae live through if'n ye plan to avenge yore family!"

Oren simply sat down at the designated camp. "Do you two feel like we're being watched, mates?"

Tyson's ears perked up. "Bein' watched, ye say? Must be vermin—they're not uncommon this neck o' the wood. Aye, I'd best go check it oot. Stay here, lads." Then he skillfully bound up a tree and disappeared.

Belril and Horgeon were ferrets and slavers to the core. They made a small fortune of victuals of of their enterprise, something they would kill for without a second thought. They showed no mercy to their victims, all of whom ended up in the claws of searats or other conquerors. Belril was a scrawny ferret with a bow and arrow that suited his lithe build, while Horgeon was a hulking, awkward beast with a large cutlass, notched for every kill he gained.

Horgeon held up his bag of food and turned it upside down, making a grimace as nothing fell out. "By the tooth and claw! We're outta vittles, mate!"

Belril scuttled forward, holding a paw to his mouth. "Hush, mate! I found some likely beasts around yon corner. If'n we sell this lot, we'll make a fortune, mark me words!"

Horgeon rose with a speed that belied his bulk. "Lead me to 'em and I'm yer beast, Belril!"

Without warning a squirrel dropped from an oak above them, clad in a green traveling tunic and wearing a cap at a jaunty angle. What drew the attention of the vermin was the claymore in the squirrel's tightly clenched paw.

Belril smiled disarmingly. "Ahoy, mate! Bootiful day, ain't it?" He pointed a claw at the squirrel's blade. "Wot do ye have a weapob fer, friend? We don't mean ye no 'arm, do we, Horgeon?" He nudged him hard.

Horgeon shook his head, a fiendish smile hovering about his fangs. "Cetainly not, Belril!"

The squirrel grinned. "Ah ken that ye were watchin' us all day, lassies!"

Belril kept the smile plastered on his lips. His paws discreetly lifted his bow behind his back. "Watchin' ye? I dun know what the bushtail's talkin' about, do ye, mate?"

Horgeon took a step forward. "Nary a clue wot he's talkin' about, Belril!"

Tyson played along, though his eyes shone with battle. "Aye, an' Ah bet ye two are just havin' a wee picnic oot here?"

Belril nodded. "Aye, a pikkernik, eh Horgeon?"

Horgeon nodded dumbly.

Tyson grew tired of the façade. The smile left his face and he lifted a cupped paw to his snout. "Hawaaay the Braaaawww!"

Immediately another squirrel plopped out of one of the trees. This one held a bow trained on Horgeon's large bulk. "Ah ken, Tyson! An' what are these two braw saucy beasties doin' out here?"

Tyson gave a grim smile. "Ach, enslavin' what they can find, mate!"

No longer were the ferrets smiling, either. Belril shook an arrow at the pair of warriors. "Nobeast'll be 'armed if'n ye drop yer weapons!"

Camron laughed drily. "Aye, an' then ye'll shoot the two of us and steal our bairn right oot from under our snouts. Nice try!"

Belril gurgled angrily and nocked an arrow to his bowstring. Seeing the indication to attack, Horgeon bellowed loudly and charged the two squirrels, brandishing his cutlass. "Kiiilllll!"

Without a single trace of effort, Tyson lifted his claymore and blocked the heavy slice from the big ferret. With one fluid movement, he drew his Sgian Dhu from a hidden spot in his cap and thrust into Horgeon's neck. The ferret dropped his blade and crumpled to the ground, his last sight being his partner shot with an arrow from Camron.

Tyson wiped his blade on the grass. "Och, we shouldnae mention this to the bairn. Do ye ken what this means, mate?"

Camron nodded grimly. "Aye, the vermin are spreadin'. But where are they comin' from, is what I'd like tae know."

Tyson and Camron set back off to their camp, not knowing just how dire Mossflower's situation was.