• • •

A general sensation of wariness set over the two dozen Long Patrol hares as they marched the next morning.

Rips cursed under his breath. He knew what had happened: Quinn had told everybeast of the parchment. Even he had to admit, after reading those records, every shadow and creak of a tree branch and rustle of leaves caused a feather of disrest to brush down the spine, speculating what lay in the woods on each side of the path. More than once, Rips could swear he saw the flicker of eyes in the sunlight, staring out from the uncharacteristic darkness of Mossflower.

Soon, Rips refused to let himself even investigate any sense of being watched. The group of Long Patrol hares marched in a closer and closer formation to each other, becoming quite nervous, despite their brave Salamandastron spirit.

Then they saw it, set against the sky of mixed gold and red rubies and purple satin, set in a hue of dark red shadow.

• • •

In the dim light, as they neared the Abbey entrance. They saw the gate was half open: still closed just enough that anything could be hiding on the other side.

Rips was the first to step nearer to the gate, and he saw the scratches in the woodwork. His company of weathered Long Patrol hares were fidgety and jumpy, standing in the shadow of this building that should have brought them hope. Instead, the shadows felt to be scrabbling at their souls.

As Rips pushed the gate further open, the hinges creaked, enough to set the fur on the back of all the hare's necks to stand on end.

Their hearts froze, when they saw a shadowed form standing there in the gloom in the gate causeway, just revealed by the opening of the door.

The eyes of this being glowed, collecting the dying light of sunset, cutting into the minds of all the hare's that saw them.

Contradiction smashed the moment as a completely harmless looking young otter stepped out from the gloom and warmly grasped Major Rips' paw.

"Oh my, you must be members of the Long Patrol. We've read all about the Long Patrol and now you are here. It is an honor that you should come to our Abbey. Redwall is always welcoming to any prospective guests to nurture and care for as long as they stay, mateys."

Everything gloomy and sinister was forgotten as Rips listened to this young otter's jovial and excited dialogue. Young was a good description, the beast couldn't be gauged as long past Dubbinhood. "Who are..."

"Skipper of Redwall Abbey, sir. Actually, still Caskade, though appointed as Skipper also if you require that information," the otter explained. "Please, you all shouldn't have to stand here as the cool of night embraces. Come in if you may. I'm sure we can compose a meal for your company, no matter your extent of appetite you shall be appeased. Come, come..."

The otter motioned them to come in and disappeared into Redwall Abbey.

Rips turned to his company, a mess of mangled thought trying to smooth itself in his head. He shrugged, sighed, and motioned for the hares of the Long Patrol to enter.

As he passed the gates, he still couldn't shake the feeling they were heading into the unknown.

• • •

The meal was modest, nothing extravagant, good though, casual Redwall fare.

Rip could see that the number of beasts was very low and those Abbeybeasts here were young like the otter, the oldest of them maybe just four seasons past Dibbunhood. Nothing seemed to be wrong with them, the opposite appeared true. They were blissfully happy and talkative and ever ready to show their guests the meaning of Redwall hospitality. Rips became so caught up in their optimism and good cheer that he almost forgot the intentions of their mission.

It was late into the night by the time he got to asking whether the Abbot was available.

"Sorry Miter Rips, we haven't elected one yet, you see. Been busy keeping up with the chores and upkeeping of the Abbey. Needs some work in many places, we were going to start repairing the tapestry tomorrow. But if you are staying, we would be glad to show you around..." a young mousemaid, Tula, said.

"What happened to the tapestry?"

She shrugged, "Oh, the bottom is torn up a little. We decided it deserved to be fixed up, in honor of our guardian, Martin."

"Martin…"

"Oh yes, a few seasons ago, we were visited by Martin the Warrior, in a dream, and he left us a message that we were the Chosen, to uphold the name of Redwall Abbey and to rebuild the Abbey to be a beacon of hope for the seasons to come." She took a breath of reflection, then asked, "Miter Rips, what brings you to our Abbey this season? We know it is not a simple trail to follow and whatever you seek we are willing to help."

The hare didn't want to bring up the parchment, the past that it lay out, the disaster it portrayed, the truth which these young beasts didn't seem to know. How could they? There were only Dibbuns and in some ways they still were. Rips couldn't bring himself to crack that innocence, and he knew the rest of his company would not also. He caught the look from Quinn, that expression of a smile, telling so much more, that this was a place not to be marred by darkness they would bring in investigation.

Tula was still talking, "...if Geoffrey hadn't helped us this last winter season of the Frigid Breeze..."

"Geoffrey?" Rips exclaimed, despite his resent resolution.

"Sorry, you wouldn't know of Geoffrey, I should have explained, or better yet, we can introduce you to him."

Rips' mind was spinning, "Oh...yes."

Tula called the young Skipper to retrieve a lantern and they headed up the Cavern Hole stairs to the Great Hall.

"I would have introduced him when you came, but he was still out in the wood somewhere," Skipper explained, "He always comes back every few days or so. Hopefully he there now to meet you."

"Oh he's a wonderful squirrel," Tula said, grasping onto the hare's paw, "He taught us much about how to be proper Abbeybeasts and how to survive and showed us the stories, those wonderful stories."

"Aye, he is a great squirrel," Skipper agreed.

Rips remained silent the whole way, as they walked though the Great Hall, over the moonlit Abbeygrounds, until they stood in front of the gatehouse. The inside was dark. This didn't cause reaction from Tula or Skipper. Tula stepped up, opened the door halfway, and knocked upon it. She then placed something on the ground just outside the doorway, Rips saw it was a candied chestnut.
"What...?" Rips began, the Skipper placed a paw over the hare's mouth.

"Geoffrey is startled easily at this time of night," he whispered.

The seconds passed slowly. A sound came from within the Gatehouse, a creaking and sound of rustling papers. A face peaked around the doorframe, its nose twitching, a few jerky moments as it looked the creatures over. The creature, a squirrel, Rips could now see, leapt out of the Gatehouse onto the candied chestnut, and rotated it in his paws, chewing away at it quickly with its sizable incisors. There was no sign of humanity in the beast, no clothes, no thought, just action.

Tula held out another chestnut. The squirrel cautiously leapt to it, sniffed her paw, and took it, going about eating it about the same way as the first, now looking at Rips.

"Geoffrey..." he murmured.

Skipper explained, "Geoffrey doesn't say a word. We think he knows more than he shows. We can't remember really what happened in our Abbey and we think that Geoffrey does." Skipper rubbed the squirrels head.

"Oh," Rips said, he knew now why the parchment had mysteriously appeared at their camp. These Abbeybeasts, practically Dibbuns didn't understand the full story, and they wouldn't if they had just found he parchment. Somehow Geoffrey had known to...

"Is something wrong miter Rips?"

The hare paused, looked to the squirrel, who was looking at him intently.

"I have a story to tell..."

"Really?" said Tula, "Could Geoffrey listen? He loves hearing us when we read stories."