Cregga, Arven, Craklyn, and Tansy sat on the east wall, enjoying the sun as they tried to figure out what Martin's prophecy meant.

Cregga sighed and took a sip of cold mint tea. She turned in the direction of Craklyn. "Read it again."

The squirrel recorder took a sip of her tea and cleared her throat.

"When summer ends look to the east,

See a single slave fleeing her past.

On the Abbess's final feast,

Three warlords will attack fast.

Ten warriors must unite their blades

To save the Abbey then.

The first will blend with the shades

The second shall not journey far,

The third is worshiped as a king,

The fourth has no memory.

The fifth like a bird does sing,

The sixth bears my name.

The seventh has eyes like a hawk

The eight is a simple traveler

The ninth cannot walk

The tenth shall be one you would never choose."

The blind badger repeated the first part of the rhyme. "'When summer ends look to the east. See a single slave fleeing her past.' That part is easy. It means at the end of summer, we will see a slave running from the east. 'On the Abbess's final feast, three warlords will attack fast.' That's also easy. It means-"

Abbess Tansy interrupted Cregga, "It means on my last feast, we will be attacked by three warlords."

"But we don't know when your last feast is, Tansy."

Cregga took the parchment from Craklyn. "That's what worries me. It may be the Autumn Nameday feast, or it could be seasons and seasons from now."

"Or it could be the feast I was planning."

Arven, Craklyn, and Cregga were baffled, "What feast?" They echoed.

"Well, I was planning on having a feast in honor of Russano. He's getting older, and we should celebrate. After all, it's not that often that we have a male badger at the Abbey."

Cregga was nervous. "When were you planning on having this feast, Abbess?"

"In about three weeks. You don't think-"

Arven took the parchment from Cregga, "Yes, I think. That could be the feast Martin's talking about. 'Ten warriors must unite their blades, to save the Abbey then'. When the three warlords attack, it's going to take ten warriors to protect the Abbey."

Craklyn took back the parchment. "Yes, but who are the ten warriors. 'The first shall blend with the shades.' Who could that be?"

Cregga shook her head, "We'll have to find out. 'The second shall not journey far'. Maybe that's someone in the Abbey?"

Arven took the parchment from Craklyn again. He reread it. "I know who the first two are, but the rest I don't understand. The first warrior is a black squirrel. I saw her in my dream. She was being chased by a fox, a weasel, and a wolf. She's probably the one in the first part of the rhyme."

"What about the second one, Arven?"

"The second one's me."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I don't have to journey any where at all."

"Well if you say so… What about the rest of the rhyme?"

---

Sven Sixblade was small for a fox. He stood half a head shorter then any fox in his band, but that did not make him any less savage. Sven was feared and respected by all in his wandering band of foxes.

"Sven, Sven!" A tall lean fox came scrambling into his leader's presence. He bowed quickly and then made his report. "There's a…another band of…vermin over there…I saw them…they didn't…see me." The panting fox took a deep breath. "I heard one of them saying that they were headin' fer Redwall Abbey."

Sven flicked his tail excitedly. "Interesting…that's where we are bound."