Butter came headed for the kitchens early every morning. Besides being the assistant to Peter, she also relished her job as an assistant to Friar. She took her usual route this morning, a path along the edge of the room, so that she have to pass the tapestry. Some might think it would be to reflect the Abbey's past, to remember her roots, or to even marvel at the feat of art.
It happened to be none of these things.
It happened that Butter had a crush on Martin the Warrior.
Her heart went aflutter every time she went under that strong gaze and when she knew no one was looking, she blew a kiss at him.
That almost happened if it weren't for two things, for one, as she got near to that point of blowing a kiss, she noted that the door of the Great Hall was completely blown off it's hinges and shattered every, for the other, she tripped over the prone body of the unconscious Abbot.
• • •
As Peter tucked the Abbot into the infirmary bed, he questioned the Skipper of Otters, with the 'usual' questions.
"Where was he found again?"
"Next to the tapestry, mate. Right under ol' Martin to be exact. Pale and unconscious." Skipper couldn't for the life him figure how any beast could look pale though it sounded like the word fit in the way he had used it.
"Very strange," Peter commented, placing the back of his paw on the Abbot's forehead to check for fever, "Completely in good health from what I can tell, and he's young for an Abbot. I don't get it."
"There's something else."
Peter was oddly tired despite having a perfectly good sleep last night. He was having trouble keeping focused. There was an odd taste in his mouth this morning. "What?"
"You see, there was muddy paw prints everywhere in the Great Hall and...well...the door was...destroyed."
"Destroyed?"
"Shattered everywhere. It looks like the Abbot tried keeping something from getting in."
Peter was confused, "But what?"
"Only the Abbot knows."
• • •
No explanation were found in the course of the day and the Abbot still didn't awake. The rubbish was found spread everywhere along one side of the main Abbey building, strange paw marks everywhere, though none clear enough to make any conclusions of who the creature was. By the time dinner came, a sense of uncertainty had spread over everybeast's heart.
Peter stared as his plate, not hungry.
"Wow. The clouds are infinitely all over this party since last night. Eh, Pete?" Dringer placed his plate next to Peter and stared digging into the food. "I mean, everybeast is being really gloomy."
"It's the Abbot he..."
"Oh, I know, just commenting and making some brief conversation, no need for fake coujiality on my account. That's flippin' weird, I don't feel hungry anymore and, just to mention sorry about...well, bye for now." The mouse got up and walked out of Cavern Hole.
What was that about? Peter thought. Something about the extra disjointedness of that brief conversation didn't set well.
Friar Sink filled the empty seat where Dringer had just been sitting.
"I still think something about that mouse is amiss."
Peter murmured some form of agreement.
The Recorder sat on the other side, "The fogs of dismay and misfortune have fallen upon our Abbey. Foreboding doom stalks the ramparts of the Redwalls."
"Ah-ha, you're the reason Lily can't get any of the Dibbuns to sleep. You're telling scary stories again!" Sink exclaimed.
"Posh, the time of year embraces the oratory of the morbid and young ears should hear it," the Recorder murmured.
The squirrel was bopped lightly by a huge paw of the mentioned Lily, the impressive Abbey Badger. "You keep your maw tight around those Dibbuns or I'll have you attempting to keep a dozen sobbing little beasts from escaping under their beds," she warned. She noticed Peter's down trodden appearance, "Peter, are you alright?"
"Yes, fine, why is everyone asking me that!"
"You ihave/i been looking a bit under the weather lately," Friar Sink agreed.
"Eyes sunken, movements like that of a ghost along the corridors, fur disheveled to levels of vagrancy, and even your appetite dispersed like that of green color of leaves."
"You're not helping," Lily said, lightly bopping the squirrel again.
"Yesterday you seemed off too..."
The straw broke.
"What is with you beasts? I don't need help! I'm fine, I'm perfect, there's is nothing that your petty comments are making better!" Peter yelled, "You are all worthless and everything is going to Hellgates!" He paused. In a shakey manner, he stood, appearing dazed. I'm heading to bed," he said, barely above a whisper.
The three Abbeybeasts and every otherbeast in the room watched Peter stalked out of Cavern Hole.
The Recorder was the first to find his voice, "The night cometh..."
• • •
"Would you look a that moon, so big and bright in the night sky. Amazing."
"Somewhat eerie too..."
Skipper threw a sideways glance in Slipback's direction, his whiskered face shadowed in the moonbeams. "Why so grim mate?"
"I don't know. The recent events I guess, just thinking too much about 'em," he sighed, "You ever get that odd sensation in your rudder that something is wrong?"
"That's an old Seadog's Tale right there, and just to be sure, that why we're out here. To make sure nothing iis/i wrong," Skipper said, giving a good slap on Slipback's back. The two otter's continued their patrol across the Abbey grounds in silence, now walking under the shadowed forms the orchard trees spread across the ground.
"What about the Abbot? He wasn't a beast easily shaken and something scared him into submission. And what about those shattered doors? Those were not rotten barriers, it would take a full grown badger charging at full speed to make the damage done to those doors."
"This is all pointless speculation. For all we know the Abbot was wandering about and bumped his head and Lily was 'sleep-running' or something of that sort and hit the door."
"I can't help to get shivers down my spine at the thought of what if..."
"Oh come on, what do you think..."
A crack broke through the night. The two otters spun in the direction of the sound, they had not brought a lantern since it was a nearly full moon so all they could see was a silhouette of something, something big, in the shadows of a apple tree.
"What in Hellgates is that?"
• • •
Apples good. Hungry still. Hungry. Food. Itch. Hungry. Apples. Loud noise. Branch break. Little hurt. Apples. More food. Water. Food. Hungry and thirsty. Water over there. Yes. Food too.
• • •
Slipback and Skipper were running now.
"What is that thing?" Skipper whispered.
"Oh, 'pointless speculation' you said..."
"This is not the time for that..."
"It's the perfect time. That thing is massive."
"That thing is heading for the pond."
"No, in the pond now."
"I'm going in."
"Skipper, no, you..."
"This is not up for debate, I'll start on the other side of the pond and swim into get a closer look. The best place for a waterdog to sneak in is in the water, right?"
Before Slipback could object, Skipper had slipped into the night. The thing appeared to turn in Slipback's direction and he fell to his stomach, hoping it hadn't seen him or Skipper. What were they getting into?
• • •
Water. Cool. Nice on tongue. Something else. Food? Yes. Shrimp. Nice. Food. Hungry. Small things tasty. Something bigger. Nearby. What? Food? Danger.
Skipper slipped closer and closer to the beast, it's back to the approaching otter. It was so still. What was it doing? He dared to swim a few feet further.
Before he knew it, the beast exploded from the water with unbelievable force and landed square onto Skipper's body, and was pushing his head down into the water before he could even read what had happened. It is true that an otter can hold it's breath but under the circumstances, his body being contracted by the paws, pushing all the air out, caused his mouth to open and fill with water.
He struggled, trying to slip away, to no avail. Skipper was losing consciousness under the paws, his head being pressed into the cruel claws of drowning.
It stopped. Skipper felt himself freed from the pressure. Dazed, he floated to the surface. Slipback was next to him in a ripple and was pulling him ashore. Skipper coughed water and grabbed hold of the grass to steady himself.
"You're bleeding..."
"Where'd it go?"
"I lost sight of it."
Skipper breathed deep of the cool air and then hissed through his teeth, "How did you loose sight of that monster?"
"I was distracted by the thing trying to drown you Skip."
"Good excuse," Skipper sighed, rubbing his scalp, warm blood coming off onto his paw, "Maybe I should be listening to the feelings in my rudder I bit more..."
• • •
On a ledge, just outside the dormitory, a woodpigeon sat. Woodpigeons, by any stretch are not a smart bird and do not contain that much as far as impressive adaptations to avoid predation This woodpigeon was an exception to the rule by a pure stroke of luck since it correctly concluded that within the walls of Redwall, there wasn't much chance of being preyed upon.
Unfortunately, this wasn't the luckiest night of this certain woodpigeon's life, it turned out to be quite the opposite.
A slight sound awoke the pigeon and when she awoke, she didn't know what it was that had awoken her. She just thought about worms and grubs and whatever else sleepy woodpigeons think about.
She was distracted by a shadow on the wall nearby. If she had been more awake, she would have seen the eyes glowing in the moonlight, a mysterious form climbing up the wall towards here, the clicking as paws jammed into the crevices between the redstones. What she noticed was that she was itchy. So if came that when she rose her head after preening herself, an unfortunate occurrence bluntly occurred.
Not bluntly enough to be without a sound.
• • •
Kris awoke. What he awoke to was the startled squawk of a woodpigeon but he did not know that. Since Kris, a solid and sensible dormouse in all cases, was not as dim as a woodpigeon, he figured he should investigate the sound that had awoken him. He scanned the dark dormitory, only the sound of snores and mumblings of sleep could be heard.
Then something else.
Outside the window next to his bed, above the eerie autumn breeze, there was another sound, undistinguishable.
Curiosity being a curse of most protected and naive Abbeybeast, Kris slipped from the bed and stuck his head out the window. Below, nothing, to both sides of the window, nothing, only the Abbeygounds and Abbeywalls in the hues of moonlight. The sound came again: an odd crunching, cracking sound.
The dormouse's heart was thumping, coming up to his throat when he realized how close it sounded, and where it was. Kris was a steady beast of good reason and curious nature and naive reasoning, he was not courageous, yet he still diverted his gaze up. There, on the ledge above the window, he could see something, something massive something holding a odd mass in his paws. From the mass, something was falling, slowly. Feathers, Kris realized. Crackling again, something warm flowed down briefly from above, falling right onto Kris' face, something very warm, and thick. A bit of it got into Kris' gapping mouth, it had an odd tinge, something akin to the taste after he had been hit in the mouth in a snowball fight that prior winter, the taste of blood.
At that realization, Kris screamed. The creature disappeared into the night.