Juniper, Erwin, and Clemm walked briskly along the north-running path. They had been traveling for a few days, and made great progress. A light snow had begun to fall, but Juniper could not feel the cold; her blood ran hot through her limbs, heated by the thoughts of avenging her parents and retrieving Martin's sword. Erwin and Clemm also felt the warmth brought by knowing their service to the Abbey and Martin, and they wondered at what they would encounter along the way.

"Did you hear that?" asked Clemm as a twig snapped a little bit away.

"Yeah," answered Erwin. "Juniper, did you?" Erwin looked around for her friend, but saw no trace of the squirrel. More twigs snapped, closer this time. Clemm drew his hatchet and Erwin readied her sling, but when the small furry head appeared over the dead grass on the trail's edge, they lowered their weapons.

"Hello," Clemm said. "Who are you?"

The small, nervous-looking vole walked towards them. "I'm Fiffen. Who are you?"

"I'm Erwin," said the otter, "and this is Clemm. We're traveling also with a squirrel named Juniper, but we don't know where she is at this moment."

"Oh. I'm sorry if this seems rude, but I haven't eaten in almost a week, and, that is, if it's not too much trouble, could you spare some vittles for a poor traveler?"

"Of course we can," said Erwin, not giving it a second thought. She opened two haversacks. "Take what you need."

The vole reached in and pulled out several packages of food. Both Erwin and Clemm, who had been raised in Redwall and were therefore hospitable, begrudged nothing to the little vole. The haversacks were nearly empty when the vole turned, laden down with food, said a quick good-bye, and disappeared. Soon afterwards, a vicious zip of two arrows broke the winter silence, and two screams pierced the air. Erwin and Clemm ran to the source of the scream, and found Juniper, bow in paw, standing over two dead stoats, and Fiffen trembling by the side.

Juniper looked up at Erwin and Clemm. "Be more careful, next time," she stated flatly. She rummaged through the still vermin's supplies, and produced a short dagger in a scabbard; she threw this to Erwin, who buckled it on. After finding nothing else, she turned to Fiffen.

"So, let me guess: You were captured by these two vermin here to be their little slave, to claim to be a 'lost wanderer' to passing woodlanders, steal their food, and bring it back to the stoats, hopefully getting a crust or two in addition to staying alive for another day, correct?"

Fiffen burst into tears, and Erwin comforted him. "Poor little mite," she said. "He's hardly more than a dibbun. Have a heart, Juniper; he's been through an awful ordeal." She looked down at the sniffling vole. "Dry those eyes, Fiffen. Now, do you have a family to go back to?"

"Yes," he managed with a nod. "They live up by the ford."

"Well, that settles it, then," Erwin said. "We'll take little Fiffen here to his home on our way." Fiffen smiled and Juniper tried to hide her disappointment, knowing the little vole would probably slow them down and get in the way. But, they continued down the path, with the smiling Fiffen, who had replaced the haversacks' food, skipping and smiling along with the three travelers.

Skipper and Hoffy stood out in the forest, with the otter looking for dead tree limbs to make into spears and arrows and bows. The work was not what Hoffy had anticipated. He had imagined wearing a nice uniform and making medals for which to commend himself, like the ones his older brother at Salamandastron had earned. However, now he was freezing, just as he had been earlier, and now watching dibbuns seemed tempting.

"Cheer up, Hoffy," said Skipper, taking an ax and chopping at a fallen oak tree. "Don't you want to be part of something great, the defense of the abbey?"

"Not really," he muttered.

"Oh, stop being like that. The abbey needs defense. Like that time a little bit ago when Dweemo got attacked by that bird in the abbey. Do you want that for the dibbuns, to be attacked without any defense?"

Hoffy thought about the chubby little mouse that still bore a few scratches and scars. Though he was a little troublemaker, Hoffy had a soft spot for the little mouse. "Fine, I guess you have a point," he admitted to Skipper. Hoffy took an ax and started chopping.

In the abbey, Song and Dann cleaned out the spare room that would become the armory.

"Dann, do you remember when Glendor was little, when you were still the warrior of Redwall?" Song looked over at the aged squirrel.

"Yes; why?"

"Do you remember the time, after that small invasion of ferrets in the Abbey, when we won the battle, and you hung your sword back up, Glendor came over and told you he was going to be warrior someday? And then, you got this sad, far-off look in your eyes, and you told him, 'Yes, son, you will, but for you, the warrior life will not be what it was for me.' And then you walked off, and became melancholy for days."

Dann nodded slowly. "Yes, I remember."

Out in the forest, Hoffy and Skipper rolled a dead trunk from its original position, to see if anything could be salvaged of the rotting timber. Hoffy surveyed the tree, and then did a double take. Did he just see—yes, he did! He bent down and examined the dull, flat strip of yellow metal.

"Skipper!" he yelled excitedly. "I found something."

Skipper bounded over and bent down. "Well, bless my tail. What do you think it is?"

Hoffy tore away the loam and dirt surrounding the piece of metal. The item finally came loose, and he examined it. The flat piece of dull gold bore strange markings and four small jet stones, one in each corner of the rectangle.