8

Unbeknownst to the vermin, they were being watched. Overlooking the camp, they were being observed by a very special audience indeed.

"It appears our informant told no lie." Voll said to the hare at his side, "There has to be at least a score and a half of the red-furred vermin down there, and they are indeed with Jugga."

The hare nibbled the butt-end of his spear thoughtfully, "Score n' a 'alf, eh? Thinkin' that's a bit o'a stretch there, eh stripedog?"

The badger smiled, "It's probably best to over-estimate than to underestimate. Who knows, maybe I counted a few of them twice; think you can give a better guess?"

Gre looked out over the camp with disgust, "All blinkin' look th'same t'me." He spat, and then put his weapon back in his mouth.

"Exactly my point, my habit-suffering friend of mine." The badger remarked, pointing to his mouth, "Where do you suppose they'll go with those?" his hand swept out to regard the half-finished machinations on the other side of the river.

"F'I were ta take a guess, I'd say they'd be goin' fer wherever they'd get to bally well first." His next words were muffled by his determined gnawing, "Ith pwrob'bly go'ah be a' tha lil… whtsch i' call?"

Voll nodded, "Redwall… it'd be the first logical choice; they're close by, and completely defenseless if Jugga wanted to attack with a force of his supposed magnitude." He held up a paw before Gre could comment further, "Get that silly thing out of your mouth before you speak again."

"Sorry, chap. Well den, if you're so bloomin' sure o' this, ye wann'us t' call Salamandstron 'er take 'em out now?" He was now juggling the weapon from paw to paw, and eager smile spread on his face.

"Hold. We need more information. Send a party out to scout the area, but don't engage the vermin unless it's absolutely necessary. If we give ourselves away, it will be that much harder to make our move. Go now, leave me to my thoughts."

Gre bounded off, nibbling thoughtfully. He was biding his time, that much the hare was certain of. Why, though, would he waste time and sympathy on these animals? It's not like they were simply throwing a party, and they were foxes! The durned Red-Tails weren't deserving of pity or mercy; heavens knows they wouldn't show it to them!

Gre decided at that point that this problem needed speeding up. He was told not to fight unless absolutely necessary, but perhaps he could make it so fighting was necessary. He snickered with malice, and then winced as a splinter bit into his tongue.

Somewhere in the camp…

A vixen plopped into Codger's tent without warning and sat facing him, her demeanor anything but affable. "What do you want from me this time, old beast?"

Codger snarled, "All these seasons, whelp, and you still can't show your father some respect, eh?"

"Ah, pipe down! You called me in here on my mate's last night for a while. Do you know how rude it is to interrupt a beast when she's in 'er element? 'S a good thing the pup you sent caught us after…"

"Hey! Enough of that!" Codger growled, "An' whadd'ya mean 'last night?' What happened to him?"

The daughter looked wistfully out of the tent flap, "Half-Tail's goin' with a few o' the others to check out some prowlin' bunnies. If they're part o' that Long Patrol, who knows what's gonna happen to my big strong mate…" she sighed, dismay evident on her face.

Codger's face was unchanging, "Good, then you're both workin' fer the same end then. I need yer help dealin' with a problem in dis here camp."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste at her father's callous behavior, but her anger abated ever so slightly. "So? What is it you need me to do that's so important that…?"

"It's about the pup." Codger explained before she could finish her thought, "The one I brought in from me travels."

"Oh? I saw him, posturing around like he was Chief or somethin'. He's gonna be in some serious trouble if he keeps…"

Codger cleared his throat, once again having to silence her. However, once he began the fake coughs, his throat acted up, leaving a few minutes before he got over his coughing fit enough to choke out, "I want him killed."

The vixen, who had made no motion to aid his father, stared at him with disbelief, "Killed? Whad'id'ee do, dance on yer future grave?"

The old beast took a swig of whatever it was he kept in his water skin and gave her a warning glance before starting, "The whelp's from the Abbey." He raised his hand to stem the impending chatter from his talkative counterpart, "He's the traitors' kids, you know which. I'm just a lil' worried he's gonna side with dem Fluffies when 'ee figgers out what we're up to. I want 'im dead 'fore that 'appens, I makin' myself understood?"

"And you want me to do it? Do you honestly think…?"

"Don't matter what I think, now don' it?" Codger bit back, his anger rising, "I want 'im dead an' I ain't askin' nobody else but you! Now do as yer father says, an' figger it out!"

The vixen rose, saying nothing in protest or agreement, and silently stormed away. Codger wheezed out a laugh, "That's a good girl there…"