Redwall and affiliated characters are copyright to Brian Jacques. All characters in this story are my own.
I didn't expect that many reviews so quickly. Wow, thanks peoples. I'm glad you liked that first prologue. So, here's the first chapter. I could have made this longer, probably split it into 2 chapters, but if I did that I'd be breaking the flow, since this was written all at once. But oh well.
The woods of Mossflower were quiet in the pre-dawn light, the occasional song from an early woken bird sifting through the cool morning air. The stars were fading as the rosy light from the rising sun touched the sky with delicate pink fingers, hinting at the warm day to follow. The River Moss snaked her way through the forest, her gently flowing waters lapping at the banks as trout swam playfully through the shallows. The leaves rustled softly as a gentle breeze caressed the branches of mighty oaks and beech trees.
Amidst this calm beauty lay Redwall Abbey, home to the mouse order of monks and to many beasts that called the forest their home. The Dibbuns, the young babes of the abbey, snored uproariously in their beds as the sun slowly crept ever higher into the sky, banishing the darkness of night. Hedgehogs and squirrels slept soundly in their beds, mice and otters slumbered peacefully in their dormitories. Few beasts were up before the dawn.
Friar Ginger, a portly mouse, made his way quietly down to the abbey kitchens, his paws padding softly against the cool stone floors. He rounded a corner, and nearly bumped into a small figure.
"Oh, good morning, Abbess Sorrell," the Friar said quietly.
"Good morning, Friar Ginger. Off to the kitchens to prepare breakfast?" the female mouse asked.
"Yes, got to get those fruit scones into the over, there's oatmeal to prepare, and butters to dish."
The Abbess nodded as she raised a paw. "I shall take your word for it, Ginger!" she said, smiling. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a walk out to the pond."
Friar Ginger returned the smile. "Of course, mother Abbess."
The mouse threw her hands in the air in mock despair. "Oh, stop that, you rascal, I don't feel old enough to be dubbed a mother yet!"
The Friar laughed as he continued on his way to the kitchens. The Abbess huffed to herself, before walking across the hall and to a doorway. She was past her younger days, but Sorrell was still fit and spry as anybeast. Sorrell often disliked the more formal title of 'mother Abbess,' preferring instead to be more open to those who stayed in the Abbey. As she stepped out onto the dew-covered lawns, she sniffed, and sighed contently. The scent of damp grass was a delicious aroma, one that the Abbess enjoyed greeting every spring morning. Sorrell walked across the lawns, passing the abbey gatehouse as she made her way to the pond.
She sat, staring into the cool, smooth surface of the abbey pond. She could see a fat trout lazing near the surface, his tail barely flicking as he floated there easily. "Sometimes I envy you, my large friend," the Abbess addressed the fish after a while sat in silence. "All you do is swim in your waters and catch flies, not a care in the world." The trout, as always, stared back noiselessly, his mouth opening and closing in silent reply. Sorrell shook her head. "Ah, but you're just a fish, and I'm an Abbess. I don't know if a trout would be accepted as abbot of Redwall. Anytime you want to trade places, however, just let me know." The Abbess giggled to herself. "I wouldn't mind lazing about in those cool waters for a day or two!" She stood, noticing the dawn progressing. "Well, my friend, it has been a pleasure talking with you, as always, but now I must attend breakfast. Good day to you," the Abbess said, giving a small curtsey to the big fish.
The trout, in reply, turned his head and gave a small flick of his tail.
"Oh, that's your answer to everything!" the Abbess chided the trout.
In the main hall, breakfast had been laid out upon the tables. Mice, otters, squirrels, hedgehogs and moles all sat, gazing longingly at the food before them: hot oat porridge topped with thin patterns of honey, steaming sliced bread covered in butter, fresh apple and cinnamon pie, and flagons of strawberry cordial and fresh sweet spring water. The Abbess sat at the head of one of the table, the large chair to her left seating the large form of the abbey guardian, Bella the badger. Abbess Sorrell stood, and every creature fell silent.
"Friends," she began, "we have had a beautiful spring, which will soon give way to summer. The seasons roll on, and our lives are happy and fulfilling inside our abbey. All are welcome here, friends and loved ones. I am pleased that we can be gathered here on such a wonderful morning with such a delightful spread from Friar Ginger and the cooks in the kitchens, and I am sure you will all thank them for their continuous work to prepare such excellent meals for us." Everyone in the hall gave their thanks to the friar and his helpers, who all blushed brightly at the compliments. "I can see you are all desperate to dig in, so I shall not keep you waiting longer. Enjoy your meal."
With that, the abbey dwellers dove into the food with gusto, the aromas proving too powerful to resist any longer. Bella leaned across to the abbess as she placed slices of nut bread onto her plate. "Why such a gathering for breakfast, Sorrell?" the old badger asked, reaching across to pour herself some strawberry cordial. "It's been quite a while since our last abbey gathering for the morning meal."
The abbess nodded. "Indeed it has, Bella, which is why I wanted to hold one. I enjoy these meals, with everybeast chatting and joking with each other." Sorrell looked down the table at two hedgehogs that were laughing at each other while stuffing their faces with porridge. "There's something so heartening about watching them all, seeing them so happy and joyous. No troubles at all."
Bella peered down at her friend. "Something troubling you, Sorrell?"
The mouse sighed. "I had a dream last night, Bella, a terrible dream. I don't want to relate it now, but maybe later. It just made me realise how precious these days are, and that we cannot take them for granted." The mouse looked up at her friend, and smiled. "But let's not ruin our breakfast over such discussion." With that, the abbess started shovelling bread into her mouth.
The big badger laughed to herself. Sorrell was still so young at heart. Her striped head snapped up as the door to the hall opened with a loud bang. An otter came running, panting hard and dripping wet. "There's some poor beast being chased through the forest by weasels!" he shouted.
The Abbess stood, trying to gain the attention of the chattering beasts. Bella stood, her voice roaring out into the hall. "Silence!"
Sorrell rubbed a paw inside her ear. "Yes, thank you, Bella. Friends, be calm. Stay in the Great Hall." She turned to look at the Skipper of otters as he trotted up next to her. "Skipper, I'd like you to take some of your otters and help this creature. Avoid fighting the weasels if you can, I don't want any unnecessary violence!"
Skipper nodded. "Yes, marm. Ruddertail, Finear, you're with me. Slings an' javelins ready, mateys, an' let's find this creature."
As the otters ran out into the bright morning light, the sound of loud hammering and shouting came from the main gate. "Quick as you like, lads! Up onto the walls there, looks like they're here!"
The fox was exhausted. He had been up since dawn, running madly through the forest as his pursuers found his trail. His fur was matted with sweat as he hauled himself onwards, not daring to look behind. He thought he had seen an otter as he crossed the river, but he couldn't take the time to check: as soon as he had made it to the far bank, two weasels had burst from the trees behind him, diving into the river waters as the fox had fled.
Even now he could hear the howl of the pack leader as the hunters drew ever closer. His paw clenched tightly over the hilt of his old sword, the short blade scarred in a dozen places. Ahead, the fox could see large walls between the trees. Almost not daring to hope, he put on a burst of speed towards the large building. Erupting from the trees like and orange streak, he dashed forwards, straight to the huge, wooden doors set firmly into the wall.
His fists hammered on the gates. "Open up!" he hollered. "Please, let me in!"
An arrow thudded into the huge wooden obstacle, and inch from his muzzle. The fox flinched instinctively. He turned to see the two weasels emerging from the trees a short distance away. Throwing a final, mournful glance at the unmoving doors, the fox turned to face the weasels, his face contorting into a vicious snarl as he drew his sword.
"Ha, lookit that, Stripfang!" one of the weasels remarked, drawing a curved dagger. "Caught between a rock and an 'ard place. Looks like 'e's boilin' fer a scrap!"
The second weasel placed his bow on the ground, withdrawing a short spear from the sheath on his back. "Aye, Tailbite, I kin see that! Shame ol' Gripjaws wants 'im alive, I got a terrible thirst fer killin'!"
"Just try it, scum!" the fox growled back, holding his sword level in front of him.
The two weasels ran across the short distance between the wood fringe and the trapped fox. Tailbite thrust forwards with his dagger, but the fox stepped to one side, catching the blade on his sword. The fox kicked out, catching the weasel in the stomach. Tailbite toppled over backwards as Stripfang leapt in, thrusting with his spear. The fox dodged as the sharp steel sliced through the air, barely missing him. He lashed out with his blade, slicing the weasel across the forepaw. Stripfang jumped back with a yell, before leaping forwards again. The fox, caught unaware, tried to turn the seeking spear tip with his blade, but was too slow: the razor edged metal sliced through his leg. The fox howled in pain, smashing his sword hilt onto the attacking weasel's head. Stripfang staggered backwards, stunned, as Tailbite returned to the fray. The fox, bleeding badly, panting and gasping, fought on, but his sword was getting slower. With a cry of triumph, Tailbite stabbed forwards, his cruel blade piercing the fox's shoulder.
The fox, with a final cry of agony, sank to his knees, clutching at the knife handle protruding from his shoulder, the sword dropping from his grasp with a clatter. As his vision dimmed, he could just see Tailbite and the recovered Stripfang moving towards him. He thought it odd that they should both suddenly collapse sideways, before he finally drifted into unconsciousness.