Redwall and its world are copyright to Brian Jacques. All characters in this story are copyright to me. This is a fan work. Well, mateys, here we are again, another chapter for you little lot to get your teeth into. I'm a little disappointed that I'm not getting more reviews: I do appreciate the ones I'm getting, but I was hoping for a few more by now. But oh well. Saber-otter: awkward phrasing is a habit of mine. Don't ask what it is, but there are occasions where my brain insists on finding the most awkward way of expressing something. Oh well. Clouded Horizon: AHA! I was wondering when someone was going to notice that. Have no fears, all shall be explained in time. On with the show!

Tailbite and Stripfang moved stealthily through Mossflower Woods, the experienced trackers making little noise as they moved through the trees. The green canopy above provided shelter from the warm spring sun as shadows played over tree and bush. The sun began to set slowly, the sky turning a deep crimson. The beauty of the forest was lost on the two weasels as they made their way back to their leader's camp. Tailbite muttered quietly to himself, his constant grumbling grating on his companion's nerves. Finally, Stripfang whirled on him.

"Will ye stow the gab, ye bloody great fool! What's wrong wid ye?"

Tailbite glared daggers at the other weasel. "Ye shoulda let me stick that otter with an arrer!" he growled in reply.

Stripfang shook his head. "Listen, me ole matey, we ain't gonna start a war with somebeast hidin' behind a bloody great wall, right? Besides, Gripjaws wouldn't be 'appy with us if we dragged the whole crew inter a scrap!"

"'E won't be 'appy when 'e finds out we lost the target," Tailbite said quietly.

"Aye, well, there's nought we kin do about it now, mate. But if ye think about it, we ain't lost the target. E's gotta be in that big stone buildin', and 'e ain't goin' nowhere after that fight."

Tailbite's eyes lit up. "Aye, true. Them runts must 'ave took 'im in after layin' us low wid pebbles."

"Shut yer gob! Dun let the chief know we was clobbered senseless by a couple otters, right?" Stripfang growled. "We're meant ter be the best trackers in the horde, an' if Gripjaws finds out we was sloppy, e'll skin us alive!"

The other weasel nodded. "Aye, we gots a reputation. But what about that 'uge lump on yer 'ead? That ain't gonna go unnoticed."

"Good point, mate," Stripfang agreed, gingerly touching the large swelling. "Alright, 'ere's the story. We was chasin' that fox, an' we 'ad 'im cornered. The coward fainted at the sight o' us, an' just as we grab 'im, we gets jumped by a score o' beasts from that fortress, right? So we fights 'em, tooth an' claw, beatin' 'em back, but we gets jumped from be'ind, and clubbed with stones an' knocked out. Chief can't blame us if we was outnumbered."

"Good plan mate. You reckon the chief'll go for it?"

"Go for what, my friends?" The two weasels jumped at the smooth voice. A large, shadowed form stepped out from behind the bush he had used to conceal his presence.

"Oh, ah, chief, it's yew," Tailbite said quickly, his voice squeaking.

"We was just comin' ter report to yer," Stripfang added.

The beast threw back his cloak, revealing a large, black furred fox. He was muscular and powerfully built, much bigger than most foxes. His yellow eyes were sharp and piercing, never missing a detail. As he grinned, his sharp teeth glittered in the failing light. A wicked curved sword hung from his belt, a large, green gem imbedded in the pommel, the cross guard studded with smaller red stones. This was Ynalk Alkan, the feared Lord of the Black Gates.

"No need, my friends, I heard everything," he said, clapping them both on the shoulder. "I couldn't expect my trackers to fight off a score of armed fighters!"

Tailbite and Stripfang were shaking. They knew their leader all too well. He was acting friendly, but they could see in the fox's eyes that he was angry. They ducked down, bowing low to the ground before him.

"Chief, we're sorry! We let ye down!" Tailbite said woefully.

"We tried, chief, we really did, we 'ad 'im, but we was caught by surprise," Stripfang sobbed.

The fox smiled, a genuine touch of humour reflected in his eyes. "Rise, my trackers. I'm not angry that you lost our foe. No, not at all, you did well to gain so much ground on him in only the space of a day." His face changed abruptly as he dealt them both swift, sharp kicks, sending them sprawling back in the dirt. "But if I ever catch either of you stupid weasels calling me 'Gripjaws' again, I'll kill you both!" he roared.

The two weasels sobbed in reply. "Yes chief, sorry chief."

The fox was suddenly calm again as he helped the two weasels to their feet. "Now then, my two fine trackers, come with me. We'll have some roasted woodpigeon by the fire, and you can tell me what really happened."

Stripfang and Tailbite were led through a cluster of trees, and emerged into a large clearing. A stream flowed nearby, the water trickling and gurgling over stones. Camped on either side of the stream were the fox's gang, five score of foxes, weasels, stoats and rats. Some were sat around small campfires, roasting trout and woodpigeons, mixing assorted roots, fruits and vegetable to supplement the meat, while others were setting up tents and lean-tos for shelter. The big fox walked to the largest campfire, the two trackers in tow. He passed by the guards, foxes armed with large spears and long red capes. As Stripfang and Tailbite tried to follow, two of the guards crossed spears across their path, glaring at them.

"Let them through, they're my guests," Alkan said. Immediately the spears were lifted, allowing the weasels to pass.

Darkness was creeping over the camp, the fires casting their light across the clearing. Alkan offered each of the weasels a leg of roasted bird, which the trackers tore into with relish. The fox leaned back, spearing a slice of meat on a dagger and eating it slowly.

"So, what really happened?" he asked the weasels once they had finished their meal. "And don't give me anything about scores of armed woodlanders, I want the truth."

Stripfang and Tailbite looked at each other nervously, before the larger weasel spoke. "Well, chief, we set out an hour afore dawn and headed north, jus' as ye asked," Stripfang said. "We found our prey's tracks leadin' to a small stream. 'E must 'ave 'eard us comin' though, 'cos 'e'd already scarpered. 'E couldn't 'ave been gone long, as 'is supplies were all over the place."

Tailbite took up the narrative. "So we followed 'im. 'E was goin' north again, but 'e was sidetrackin' to the west. We knew 'e was tryin' ter throw us off, so we kept goin' north. We spotted 'im comin' out of a big river, so we dived right in an' gave chase."

Stripfang continued as his friend took a draught of spring water from a flagon. "Well, chief, we chased 'im through them trees, when we comes across this big buildin', an' the fox is hammerin' and wailin' at the door! So we closes in on 'im, and tries ter capture 'im, as ye ordered. Well, we 'ad 'im down, injured, but alive, when we gets 'it by sling stones an' knocked out cold!"

Tailbite spoke again. "Aye, an' when we wakes up, the target's gone, an' an otter starts 'ittin' us with stones again! We came straight back ter report to ye."

Alkan looked at the weasel pair before speaking. "You did right to come and report to me. Tell me, this large building you speak of, was it just a large house or an inn?"

Tailbite shook his head. "No chief, it were a grand sight. We couldn't see much from the ground, but from the looks of it, it were a big outer wall, with the main buildin' inside. Looked like a fortress or summin'."

Alkan nodded. "And tell me, what colour were the stones this structure was made from?"

"Kinda reddy orange, chief," Stripfang said.

The large fox grinned. "Well well, it seems you've found the famous Redwall Abbey."

The weasels' eyes widened in surprise. "You mean the Abbey what's stood against 'ordes of enemies?" Stripfang asked.

"Ally of the stripedogs an' 'are patrols?" Tailbite continued.

Alkan nodded. "The very one. And, from your report, it seems the Abbey dwellers have taken our prey into their home." The large fox stood, brushing at his legs. "Go and get some sleep, you two. Tomorrow, you will lead me to the Abbey."

The weasels saluted clumsily. "Yes, chief!" they said in unison, before leaving the fire and heading off to find a space to sleep, passing the unmoving fox guards.

Alkan stared into the flames, watching them flicker and spark. The fox smiled slightly, his fangs gleaming in the firelight. He spoke quietly.

"Tomorrow, I will find you. Your days of running from me are over. Sleep well, brother, for tomorrow you die!"