With his inky black plumage, deep crimson eyes, and sharp yellow beak and talons, Lord Krocta presented a fearsome sight. He was possibly the only black eagle in all of Mossflower history, and through his fearsome image and intimidating ways, had amassed an air force of various crows, magpies, ravens, and other nasty birds. The eagle now perched in the bare branches of an oak outside of Redwall, surveying the great fortress. How great the large building would be for him, to shelter himself and his forces from the bitter winter days.

Krocta looked over and saw his two right wings, the crows Klazna and Ordim, wing up to his side.

"My Lord, the scouts have reported that the inhabitants are becoming suspicious," said Klazna, nearly reading her master's mind. "The creatures venture less and less outside their buildings, and when they do, they run quickly, looking alertly about them. Not one creature has ventured past the outer walls in many a day."

Krocta nodded his head thoughtfully, and looked at Ordim for his report.

"Basic woodland animals live in there, my Lord," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I have seen a few otters and hares, but they are the largest animals in there. Besides, these animals are peace-loving; they are not warriors."

"Still, this locale has a reputation of bravery," stated Klazna. "I have heard many stories of small creatures that defeated great forces here."

"But those leaders who led them were foolish," added Ordim, his eyes narrowing. "You have probably heard of General Ironbeak, who tried to invade this same place. He failed, but he was not as fierce or intelligent as you, Lord Krocta."

Klazna was nearing a frenzy. "These creatures, I hear, house a great badger, and have ties to the mountain in the west…" Any further argument was cut off by Krocta spreading his wings and clacking his beak fiercely, his red eyes flashing. The two crows cowered and remained silent.

"We attack tomorrow," Krocta murmured, his voice gravelly. "You know the plan."

The two subordinates nodded and flew off to tell the forces of the strategy.

Far to the north, Vandar sat in his tent, staring at Wenva performing her talents. She threw about the shells, feathers, stones, and sea glass.

"It is still unclear, my Lord," she lied. "You say these dreams plague you every night?"

"Yes, yes," he snapped. "And if I hear of you speaking of these to any of the horde beasts, you'll be sent to Hellgates in your carrying basket."

"Yes, sire, I understand that the army needs no more discouragement." She tossed the shells again, wanting to somehow please her master. "Ah, I now see something. Your fearsome sword, my Lord, is shown slaying many beasts."

"And it is I holding the sword, Wenva?"

"You do hold a sword, my Lord."

"But is it this sword," he tapped the Sword of Martin, "that I hold?"
Wenva paused a moment. "Yes, my Lord."

Vandar sighed in relief. "Good. You are dismissed, Wenva."

Wenva scurried from the tent and met up with Tirb outside. She crawled into her carrying basket and whispered to the weasel, "That was a close one this time, Tirb. Yes, I saw in my visions Vandar slaying many with that great sword, but only for a short time. It was then seized by another beast, and they wielded it. We must keep silent about this, though; tell no beast!"

Tirb nodded dumbly and strode off, leaving behind the ferret Whitepaw, who hid in the shadows. So, he thought, Vandar nears destruction. He slid off to tell his cronies of all he had heard.

Farther south, Dappo led her newfound friends northward and a bit to the west.

"You see, the Guosinom keep to their rivers, mostly, and it's a good thing the rivers up here are too deep to freeze over," she explained. "If we do happen to run into them, it would be great if they could take us up White River, a tributary of River Moss. White River goes northeast; it would let us surpass Vandar and his forces, and carry us toward the Wandering Whites."

"Sounds like a good plan," Juniper said. "But how will we get the Guosinom to take us that far north?"

"You leave that to me, hopefully," Dappo chuckled. "Have you anything to barter with?"

"Not really," Juniper admitted, "except for the food we carry, but we need that."

Dappo nodded agreeably and continued to lead the group.

After a day's march, the five creatures came upon a fortunate sight. Several log boats lay moored in a small cove of the White River. Dappo hailed a group of scruffy-looking shrews on the other side.

"Hello!" she called.

The shrews looked at her and her friends, and fired back argumentative responses.

"Don't be firing off 'ellos to us, squirrel!"

"Aye, shouldn't you be off fighting with the rest of the white pelts?"

"Get yourself and your rag-tag group out of here."
Dappo cringed a bit and muttered to Juniper, "See? They're much too unfriendly." Her voice reflected resignation, but Juniper would not have it. She had been sent on this mission by Martin, and by all her strength and resources, she would rescue her family and the sword.

"Oi, you little scruffy, impolite, backwater-swilling, ignoramuses of shrews," she roared, "I am Juniper Reguba, daughter of warriors! I demand that you help my friends and I, so that we can destroy Vandar and his forces, or else you can enjoy watching him hunt you down and killing all that you hold dear. Now you get over here in one of your boats and help my friends across, or we shall send our crazed otter over there, and I will not feel pity for you!" Juniper nudged Erwin, who adapted a fierce look and growled terribly.

The shrews on the far bank blanched visibly; the battle-eyed squirrel and tall, enraged otter had not been expected. A taller shrew, obviously their Logalog, came bounding out from behind.

"What's with the bellering out here?" He looked to the opposite bank. He nodded welcome to the travelers, then went about belaboring his shrews. "Get that boat unmoored and help those travelers. Just 'cause we're Guosinom don't mean we're tyrants of the rivers! Move!" Soon, a boat was unmoored, Logalog hopped aboard, and he paddled to the other side. He jumped onto the bank.

"My sincerest 'pologies, marms and sirs," he said. "I've got a few too many renegade shrews in my tribe. Let's help ye across." The travelers sat down in the boat and were paddled across to the other bank. Once on land, Logalog led them to the shrew camp, where they received the best in shrew hospitality, namely good food and a warm fire. Introductions were made, and Logalog became quite interested in helping them.

"We have lived too long being terrified of Vandar," he said. "Many of our shrews wish to leave the north and settle elsewhere, somewhere away from the Wandering Whites." He looked over at Juniper and Dappo. "No offense, marms."

"None taken," Dappo said.

"If we defeat Vandar, the Wandering Whites and all of Mossflower can live in peace again," Juniper said. "Will you help us?"

"Of course," said Logalog. "We shall strike out tomorrow!"

The next morning, the refreshed travelers traveled north with all of the Guosinom warriors. Juniper, Erwin, and Alec sat in one boat, and Dappo and Clemm sat in another. They wrapped themselves in special waterproof shrew blankets, to keep out the cold wind and spray of the rushing water. The shrews paddled fast and hard, keeping the boats skimming down the river to the north.

Two days passed, and they still traveled onwards. On the second night, Logalog signaled to stow paddles. The shrews obeyed, and huddled down in the boats for the night, with one shrew on each boat keeping watch. Juniper's eyelids drooped, and she was about to fall asleep, when Erwin whispered in her ear, "Look!"

The land past the eastern bank flickered with the flames of camp fires. "Vandar's army," Juniper said aloud. They had now gained ground, and would soon pass them. Juniper's heart lightened. Two score of shrew warriors were coming to her brother's aid, and the element of surprise would come greatly into play.

Juniper stayed awake a while longer, and watched the river curve slightly to the east. She eventually fell asleep, and did not witness the sun rise over the horizon, illuminating the home of her mother's family: The far northlands.