I hope that things start to make sense soon, as more chapters are posted. I find I am editing more as I go, and I hope that this will help.
I'm from Canada, so I have no idea of they have skunks in England, but I wanted to throw something different in. Keep the skunks in mind though, they might become important!
I find that the plot might be jumping because there are so many different story lines that don't converge until later.
Thank you all for your reviews! Keep them coming.
Chapter Three
Lady WarWing, Queen of all Sky Sparra, was in grave danger. Single-handedly she fought a half-grown adder. He was more than a match for the small bird, whose wing was hanging in tatters at her side. The adder reared and swayed, singing its name, while WarWing hopped desperately to evade him.
"Ssserperan, Ssserperan," its hypnotic voice called. Suddenly, a piercing war cry shattered the air.
"Log-a-log-a-log-a-loggg!" Five Gousim shrews leapt into the clearing to the Queen's aid. One shrew pulled Lady WarWing to the edge of the clearing and started binding her wounds. The other shrews were locked in deathly combat with the adder. Their colorful rapiers flashed in the sunlight.
One male, slightly bigger than the rest, called out to a short, tough looking female, "Renegald, run back to camp and rouse Log-a-Log. Bring back the best warriors we have. This adder isn't giving up without a fight!"
Renegald, an unusual shrew with light cream flecks in her glossy brown fur, leapt from the fray, streaking away through the trees.
WarWing lay exhausted, but she called to the healer who had dragged out of the fray, "My dear shrew, would you be as kind as to bring me my bone whistle lying over there, by the elm?" Tallum was slightly taken aback by the sparrow's educated talk. Few could speak in such a manner, except for the Redwall mice. Tallum crept silently towards the tree, snatched the whistle, and hurriedly brought it back to the Queen.
A shrill blast startled the fierce warriors, but all were soon engaged again. Just as the situation seemed to be turning in the favor of the serpent, a number of shrews leapt to the rescue. Bravely they fought. Very soon a number of sparrows joined in the fray, darting, confusing Serperan. Finally the great beast laid still, and the warriors left.
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When the group of bedraggled warriors arrived at the Gousim camp, they were beseeched by a group of young shrews. Over the clamor of their adoration, Tallum invited Lady WarWing and her fellow sparrows to her tent.
"My husband, Brawn, is a far better healer than I am. I much prefer being a warrior." She was interrupted by a burly shrew ducking out of a tent behind her.
"I beg your pardon my dear, but I do believe you are gravely mistaken." Brawn hugged Tallum gently and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Tallum," he continued, "my sweet little buttercup, you do wonders with your healing. Though first we must invite our guests in."
As the other sparrows hopped after Tallum, Brawn motioned WarWing aside. He cleared his throat, obviously unsure as how to address the Lady.
"Lady WarWing, Queen of all Sky Sparra." She provided.
"Yes, WarWing," he cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you would stay back from the festivities this evening? I feel the need to treat you wounds, as adders are very dangerous. We need to make sure that your wing doesn't get infected." WarWing nodded in agreement, and Brawn continued. "I won't be able heal your wing to a flying state, but I know where you could go for that."
"Where might that be?" Lady WarWing inquired.
"Redwall Abbey." Brawn replied, smiling. "They have many accomplished healers. Their knowledge extends back farther than anybeast can remember."
Soon Brawn was mixing a paste to spread on WarWing's wounds. "This should stop them from getting dirty of infected." He commented as he worked.
Brawn spread the tar like mixture on sparrow's wounds and rebound them with fresh, homespun bandages.
"There, that should do for now." WarWing nodded her thanks, and Brawn continued, "We should probably call Log-a-Log in to discuss your transportation to Redwall."
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As Log-a-Log, Brawn, Tallum and Lady WarWing sat down to discuss their predicament, Banock and Renegald came in.
Banock snapped to attention, saluted smartly, and reported, "Log-a-Log, we have important news."
"At ease my son, and you, Renegald." Log-a-Log saluted back with his rapier. "Report away."
Banock began, "Well, after you sent us on our way, we met a group of otters from Redwall. They have extended and invitation for you and a small group to join them at their Nameday Feast. It is in three days time. They also told us of a group of woodlanders they came across. They were on the run from Tragon the Traitor, and have now taken refuge at Redwall Abbey. Tragon seems to be on the move; he is slowly coming southward. This also seems to be the first that any of the Redwallers have heard of Tragon. If he was to attack this area, I fear that we would not come out the victors. Redwall Abbey is woefully unprepared, as are many in Mossflower, having experienced many years of peace." He shook his head at the end of his statement and sighed. Very carefully, Renegald brushed her paw against his in a comforting gesture.
Log-a-log sighed at this new predicament. "There is not much we can do right now. Please continue scouting the area, but widen our searches, and double the amount of patrollers. Make sure they are going out more frequently, but be sure that no one, absolutely no one, is alone. Make sure that our shrews are in groups of at least two, preferably three. Dismissed."
The two shrews exited their leader's tent, and Log-a-log turned to his companions. "We must get to Redwall Abbey as soon as possible. This is terrible news. Runners will have to be dispatched immediately to Salamandastron and any surrounding colonies. Those not strong enough to fight will have to band together and seek refuge, whether at Redwall or Salamandastron, I don't know. I fear greatly for our safety." The other nodded in grim agreement.
On a slightly happier note, Log-a-log continued, "We can think of these things tomorrow, though. Tonight is to be a night of celebration; let's keep it that way."
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That night, during the festivities, Banock and Renegald snuck off. They met under the shadows of a huge elm tree. Its leaves glowed silver in the moonlight.
"You know I love you, don't you Renegald? Answer me truthfully."
"Banock, I wear the colors of my warrior, don't I?" She gently showed Banock the scarf tied around the upper part of her left arm. It was the same color as the headband tied around Banock's forehead.
"I know. It's just that with everything going on and Tragon headed south, I might never see you again."
"Don't talk that way," she chided. "We'll be together always, whether now or in the dark forest."
"I'd prefer now." Banock commented ruefully.
"I know." Renegald softly replied.
The moonlight played through the trees while the couple below danced the night away to the faint trilling of a flute.
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Serperan was slowly stirring. The shrews and sparrows had attacked him furiously, giving no quarter. The silver and black snake slid slowly through the clearing, and into the welcoming trees beyond.
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The mutterings were growing in Tragon's army. Everybeast was pawsore and tired, though no one openly questioned the Traitor's rule. Even though no beast lived after defying his word, the mutterings continued.
"What are they saying?" Tragon questioned his rat captain.
"They are saying you are pushing them too hard." He answered.
"Then give them a rest. A few days, no longer. Continue, though, with all scouting parties." Tragon smirked evilly.
"W-w-what?" the captain stammered, shocked at the statement his leader had just offered.
"I think you have forgotten what happened last night…" Tragon said coldly, eyes narrowing. His claw was slowly fingering the handle of his whip, reminding the rat captain of just what it could do.
"N-n-no, m'lord, I d-d-didn't."
Tragon pointed outside, to where a pole stood in the middle of the camp.
"Don't forget again." Tragon said on a dangerously sweet voice.
Something long and thin lashed through the air.
Tragon slowly pulled in his whip, the limp form of the rat captain falling to the ground.
"Take him away," he said dismissively to the raccoons standing nearby. "We don't want his useless body smelling up my tent, now do we?"
"No m'lord, never." The two raccoons simultaneously intoned.
"Good. Then get going."
The Traitor's whip cracked the air one last time.
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I hope you all liked this chapter. This is the last of what I have written down, so all the next stuff will probably be comeing much slower. I am desperately looking for a beta; one who knows Redwall stuff. If you are interested, please contact me. And review! I thrive off reviews, they keep me going. If anything, at least drop a line and say you read some!
Kennedy