Earlier that same afternoon, Abbess Vale was having tea in the gatehouse at Redwall Abbey, with the hedgehog gatekeepers, Tudd and Faith Spinney, and an otter named Thrugg.

"You look troubled, Vale," Faith said as she poured the mouse Abbess another cup of tea. "Is aught amiss?"

"Martin the Warrior appeared to me in a dream last night," Abbess Vale said.

"Well, that's good news, ain't it?" said Faith's husband Tudd.

Thrugg snorted. "The spirit of Martin only appears when our Abbey is in danger. What did he say, Vale?"

Vale closed her eyes, trying to remember. "The dream is fading now, but I know he said something about having to face a new enemy, unlike any we've ever seen before."

Tudd patted her paw. "Mayhap the new enemy won't arrive for a while yet."

Just then an arrow came smashing through the gatehouse window and buried itself in Faith Spinney's hat! "I spoke too soon!" Tudd cried. "He's already here!"

"Ooowhoo, help, murder!" Faith wailed. "We're bein' attacked by vermin!"

Thrugg remained calm. "Don't get yore prickles in an uproar, marm. That was no vermin arrow, it came from inside the Abbey grounds. I'll stake me rudder it was young Samkim up to his mischief again!"

They all stepped outside to see a young squirrel and a young mole standing out on the lawn. They had guilty expressions on their faces, and the squirrel held a bow in his paw.

Thrugg snatched Faith's hat, which still had the arrow sticking in it, and waved it in the squirrel's face. "Recognize this, Samkim?"

Arula, the little mole girl, burst out, "Tis moi fault! Oi were the one 'oo axed Sankin if ee could shoot an arrow over ee h'Abbey wall!"

"No, Arula," said Samkim. "I'm the one who shot the arrow. Don't blame yourself for what I did."

"If that arrow had landed a couple of inches lower, I'd be dead now!" said Mrs. Spinney.

Samkim shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, I never meant to hurt anyone."

"A bow and arrow is a weapon, not a toy," Mr. Spinney said sternly.

"It seems like we have this conversation every week," said Abbess Vale. All eyes turned to her. "Maybe we need to find you a more constructive hobby, Samkim."

"But someday, we might get attacked by vermin!" said Samkim. "You'd be glad of a young squirrel that could fire a bow then."

"Come with me," said Vale. She led him into the main Abbey building and up to the attic. Up there, she rummaged around for a while until she found a long narrow box. She handed the box to Samkim.

Samkim opened it and found a flute inside. "What's this?"

"This flute belonged to Gonff the Mousethief, Martin's best friend," said the Abbess. "Gonff was fond of composing his own tunes and playing them on his flute. Maybe you should learn to play it. It might take your mind off weapons for a while."

"Cool! Is it magic, like Martin's sword?" Samkim asked.

"No, I think it's just a regular instrument."

Samkim put the flute to his lips and blew. He liked the sound the instrument made. He put his fingers on the holes and played a full scale of notes.

"You might have a real talent," said Vale.

Samkim squeezed her paw gratefully. "Thanks, Mother Abbess!" He ran off to his room, where he fooled around with his new flute all afternoon. By evening, he had figured out how to play a few simple songs for Dibbuns.

At dinner, Samkim sat next to Arula in the Great Hall. "Hurr, did you'm get an orful tickin' off from ee h'Abbess?" she asked in her quaint mole accent. "Did she tan yore tail and make you'm wail?"

Samkim laughed. "You know the Abbess doesn't do things like that. No, she gave me this." He held up the flute for her to see.

"Hurr, it be vurry shoiny," said Arula admiringly. "Can you'm play it?"

"A little." Samkim put the flute to his lips and played a ditty called "Otters in the Rushes." Everybeast in Great Hall broke off their individual conversations and stopped to listen to his music.

"Where did you get that flute, young un?" Thrugg asked when he was finished.

"Abbess Vale gave it to me."

Foremole, leader of the Abbey moles, whistled in admiration. "And you'm already learned that much in one day. Moi o moi!"

"Keep it up," said Faith Spinney. "You've got a gift."

"So, you're not still mad at me about what happened this afternoon?" Samkim asked.

"Bless your 'eart, no," Faith chuckled.

Later that night, when Samkim was dreaming in his bed, he had a vision of a heroic looking mouse with a sword. He knew it was Martin the Warrior, founder of the Abbey.

"Keep playing that flute," Martin told him. "Soon a time is coming when Redwall will have great need of both it and you. Seek out the mare with six colors in her hair."