None of the twelve squirrels scouts that the Abbess had sent to gather information would see the inner walls of the Abbey again.
The Walking Dead had been careful to erase their tracks after every visit they had paid to the Abbey. The squirrel scouts had found and followed the furrows that the wheels of Samuel's wheelbarrow had cut into the ground, had come upon the clearing in which they believed Samuel had done his chopping, recognizing it because of the trees that he had described, the branches that appeared to have been cut off in a strange manner. The axe he had abandoned was found lying near a patch of grass, upon which a considerable amount of blood seemed to have splashed - the sun had dried it so that the clump of grass now resembled a head of scraggly, horribly matted scarlet fur, bejeweled with reddish-black beads.
But they had found nothing more, and, as they had cast about for clues as to the whereabouts of the vermin horde for which they had been asked to search, were unaware of the fact that they were being followed, for Rashe and his companions had learned to be as stealthy as the squirrels were agile.
When the right time had come, half a dozen of Rashe's creatures had dropped out from the boughs of trees, where, like the scouts, they had been concealing themselves, and had began to run as if fleeing. Being fleet of paw, most of them had been able to keep out of arrow range of the squirrel archers - though two of the vermin had been slain - till the scouts were forced to leave the safety and height of the tree boughs to pursue them, having thought better of killing them all, deeming it wiser to try to take captives for questioning.
They had been lured into another clearing, where rat's fleas had begun to rain down upon them from the tree-branches overhead. A pandemonium of terror had erupted, and, in the mid of the confusion, arrows had also come raining down from above to claim their lives.
Now, outside of the Abbey, a dozen vermin - all that remained of the Walking Dead - had assembled upon the largest branch of an oak that stood outside of the Abbey walls.
"The woodlanders rejected the chance that we offered them. We will not offer them a second chance."
Rashe scanned the faces of his creatures - now little more than bone, bruised fur, and baleful eyes.
"They were not intimidated by the threat of a horde. They outnumber us. We must never speak with them face to face again, even to negotiate, no matter how desperate they grow - should we show ourselves, they could easily slay us all.
"But, if they cannot allow the ferrets to be burned, then all of Redwall Abbey will burn down with them.
"You will all die before long - every one of you. Some of you will perish more slowly, more painfully. Some of you abandoned our cause and took your own lives to spare yourselves the pain. Some of you will not suffer the agony of a slower death, because you will fall to the arrows of woodlanders.
"But one thing I swear will be true - none of you, who stand before me now, will take the easy path to Dark Forest before you've sent a woodlander on his way; otherwise, you will die trying. Should anybeast attempt to escape this world without having lent a paw to our cause, he should pray that he succeeds, for, if he survives and is caught, his fellow fighters will make him suffer in ways that he could never imagine."
The truth of this statement was evident in the eyes of every creature present. Of those who had sworn vengeance upon Jamar and the offspring of Matt, only the strongest of will, those whose hatred was the most powerful, were alive today.
"Raaji!"
The archer who had been the most skilled in the settlement stood now. Pain had wracked his lean frame, erupted with the bending of any joint; still, where shooting was concerned, he surpassed all of his companions. It was he who had launched the first sack of fleas onto Redwall Abbey grounds.
Today, however, he would send his gift in an apple-sized earthen jar.
Rashe watched as he set off for the farthest end of the tree bough. There he perched, facing the Abbey, and began to test out the best way to brace the jar, bottom-first, against the string of his bow.
"We will hide ourselves in the hollow in the base this tree while Raaji shoots. Tonight we move to our third base - the alder Akra found, east of this tree. Najis will clear up our tracks again. If the woodlanders get Raaji, Emhet shoots tomorrow.
"For at least twelve days - one day for everybeast who stands here - Redwall must be put under siege."

OoooooooOoooooooOooooooooOoooooooooo
By this time, breakfast had ended in Redwall Abbey.
Friar Jerome had prepared a tray of breakfast favorites for Marianne, who had been allowed to sleep late without assisting him with the cooking or the tidying up. She had more than enough to worry her, poor child, the Friar opined; it would not harm her to take a bit of additional rest.
When at last he came to the stove's corner to wake her, however, he was startled to find that those great brown eyes were open already.
"Morning, Friar," Marianne said quietly.
Friar Jerome concealed his surprise. "How long 'ave you been awake, my dear, an' why are you still hunkerin' behind that stove, waitin' t' scare somebeast 'alf to death?"
"I don't know." Marianne used the edge of the stovetop to haul herself to her feet; Friar Jerome took her paw, drawing her out from behind it. "I never meant t' sleep there, any'ow. I went t' sit down be'ind th' stove 'cos Salome 'ad curled up an' gone t' sleep there, an' then I woke up t' 'ear Master Samuel sayin' th' scouts are dead an' there's nought but a dozen Walkin' Dead." She sifted the dust from her frock. "Friar, wot did he mean?"
Friar Jerome patted her head, carefully, to avoid spiking her. "Knock me down if'n I know, little one. He walked off from me without tellin' me more, but when I spoke t' the Abbess about wot he'd told me, she said she'd 'eard all he'd 'ad t' say on th' topic an' would 'ear no more of it, an' t' get back t' my duties."
Marianne remembered the dispute she had had with Salome. "Friar, please, can I go off, just for a moment? I promise I'll tend t' all my chores when I'm back, but I've got t' find Salome an' th' Abbess!"
Friar Jerome held up a paw, halting her. "I know wot you want t' speak t' Miz Salome for; I 'eard you raisin' yore voice. You'd best praise God th' Abbess didn't."
Marianne tensed.
"You can be a right firebrand of a little squirrelmaid when you want t' be, missie, but you'd do well t' be more discreet. I spoke t' Master Samuel about leavin' an' he balked, sayin' it was riskier for his sister than stayin' in th' Abbey an' talkin' t' th' Abbess. I'm not sure I agreed with 'im an' I asked 'im t' think it over.
"I want you, missie, t' try an' see if they'll talk t' you about it. Haply he's reconsidered. If he 'as, I'm sendin' some supplies."
"Oh, I know they'll let me talk t' them. Salome's my . . .why, I think she's my best friend!" Marianne came over to fling her arms around him. "Oh, Friar Jerome, you're th' best!"
Friar Jerome forestalled the embrace, chuckling softly. "Mind those 'ugs of yores, missie, or you'll end up as full o' spikes as I am. Go on, now!"
Marianne needed no second bidding.
Friar Jerome watched as she dashed off. "An' tell him if he's goin' t' try it, I think he ought t' make 'aste. Some'ow I sense that somethin' bad is comin'."
Marianne muttered to herself as she left the kitchens. "'Somethin' bad is comin.' Wot's come t' us of late that 'ASN'T been bad?"

It was not as simple to gain access to Salome and Samuel as Marianne had anticipated. Skipper Johndam appeared, just as she was preparing to rap on the door of the chamber - while his otters were guarding Redwall, the Abbess had commanded him to serve as a sort of sentry outside of the ferret's lodging quarters.
Curtsying to the Skipper, Marianne managed a smile. "Mornin' t' you, Master Johndam. I only came to - well, t' bring a bit o' breakfast for th' ferrets."
Skipper Johndam eyed her empty paws. "Where's th' vittles, then, missie?"
Marianne could have sworn aloud. "Oh - well, I - it's Master Samuel - you know 'ow he is."
"Aye, a bit. Wot of 'im? Spit it out, missie."
"Well, he's right fussy when it comes t' food. Wouldn't want t' bring 'im somethin' he didn't like - that'd be wastefulness, wouldn't it?"
"I never knew Samuel t' be particular about food, missie." Marianne flinched. "Wot've you really come for? You've got guilt an' shiftiness written all over yore face. Come on, out with it, afore I send ye back t' th' kitchen!"
"Oh, Master Johndam, please!" Marianne cried. "I just want t' talk t' them for a moment."
She began to fumble with the fur of her tail.
"Salome was a - a sort o' chum. We've only three days till th' Abbess casts her vote, an' if she says we can't fight th' Walkin' Dead, then . . .then . . ."
She allowed her sentence to trail off, cast her eyes down, hoping to give the impression of being close to tears, as well as to use the Skipper's displeasure with the fact that the Abbess seemed inclined to surrender to her advantage. Inwardly, she was closer to panic than to tearfulness.
Her plan seemed to succeed. Skipper Johndam snorted - he had trailed the Abbess for hours, determined to persuade her that recruiting all of the Abbeybeasts to battle against these Walking Dead was the best course of action to take, and suspected that she had only asked him to guard the ferrets' chamber so that she would hear less of him.
"Go on, then, missie - you've five minutes t' talk t' them. Try an' get up t' any more trouble like wot ye got up to with Miz Muryet, though, an' I'll 'ave your 'ide for an army standard, and ye won't ever see them agin, 'ear?"

Marianne was admitted after the first knock. As Salome hastily shut and bolted the door, Samuel groaned at the sight of the squirrelmaid.
"God's name, Salome, this ain't th' time t' 'ave company!" It was apparent that he was on edge. "No offense meant, Miz Marianne, but if you've got somethin' t' tell Salome, you'd better make it brief as you can. We've got t' do somethin' important an' I've got an uncanny, bad feelin' that we ought t' do it fast."
Marianne seized his paw, only to be shaken off. "Then you're goin' t' try for runnin' off, Master Samuel!"
Salome cut in. "No! I ain't leavin'."
"Hush, Salome," Samuel growled, "or I'll gag you with this 'ere blanket! I told you we're goin' t' try an' escape."
Marianne's eyes darted from face to face. "'ow 'ave you an' th' Friar planned this? Th' Skipper's standin' outside o' th' door now!"
Salome folded her arms. "Ask Samuel. I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm goin' t' stay an' fight. I'll fight th' Walkin' Dead if they come knockin' on th' gates, I'll fight th' Abbess if'n she tries t' toss me out - I'll fight everybeast!"
Samuel caught Salome by the ear, startling Marianne.
"Salome, stop talkin' madness!" he hissed. "Come with me like I told you to. Th' otters are guardin' th' walls, an' I don't see 'ow we'd manage t' sneak out. We can only do as th' Friar said we ought to an' tell th' Abbess we're not in need o' her protection any longer."
Salome pulled away, breaking Samuel's grip upon her ear. "That'd never work!"
Marianne sank to the edge of the bed, beside Salome.
"I think she's right, Master Samuel." Her voice was small. "The Abbess'd 'ave t' see you turn yoreself int' th' Walkin' Dead before she'd believe you."
Samuel snorted. "Well, then, if she decides she wants t' give us up t' th' scum, an' thinks she's goin' t' see us turn ourselves in then, she's out o' luck. Rashe an' his eleven or twelve cronies ain't ever goin' t' show themselves if they can 'elp it."
Salome frowned. "Eleven or twelve? Wot are you on about, Samuel?"
Samuel shook his head. "Never mind it. Miz Marianne, if you want t' make yoreself useful, run back t' th' kitchens an' get th' food th' Friar said he'd give us, quicklike!"
Marianne rose, but hesitated.
"It won't work, Samuel!" Salome burst out. "Just think of it - we could stay in th' Abbey, an' know we've got a chance we might live, or we could turn ourselves in t' Rashe, knowin' for sure we 'aven't got a chance in 'ellgates! Why would anybeast believe we'd go off t' kill ourselves?"
Marianne kicked a nearby pillow, sending it flying across the room.
"Oh, if only we could just tell th' Abbess you wanted t' leave an' go about your life. It's not fair!"
"Oh, for God's sake, Marianne!" Salome cried, before she was aware of herself. "A lot o' 'elp you're being."
Against her will, she was beginning to awaken to the reality of her situation. The truth was that she could NOT saunter up to the Abbess and inform her that her protection was no longer needed, that she was leaving.
Danger had come to Redwall Abbey on the heels of the offspring of Matt; the price of all of this was the loss of the freedom they had had to go where they chose and do as they wished. They were prisoners now, and their lives were, as the Friar had said before, "tradeable goods."
It was a simple concept to grasp, speaking logically, but, for little Salome, it was far harder to swallow, to accept or to believe.
Subconsciously, she had pushed this truth to the back of her mind, telling herself again and again that she had a choice in the matter, and that she chose not to "turn tail," to abandon the Abbeybeasts when she was to blame for having endangered them. These things were true - but they made up only half of the truth.
Marianne could see all of this in Salome's eyes, and so her own were soft with understanding.
"We can't start t' panic now, Salome. There's got t' be some other way. Good Lord, Skipper Johndam'll be callin' for me before long!"
"I tell you there's no other way, th' Walking Dead wouldn't let th' Abbeybeasts see 'em if we really were turnin' ourselves in! Th' Abbess 'as just got t' see sense - an' you, too, Salome!" Samuel gave her a little push. "I won't tell you again t' come on!"
"I ain't goin' anywhere!" Salome shot back, though with far less conviction than before. "I ain't afraid of anybeast."
Seeing that Samuel was, perhaps, on the verge of resorting to more aggressive methods of compulsion, Marianne touched Salome's paw, a wordless plea for eye contact.
"But yore brother's goin', Salome," she reminded her, soft-voiced. "An' you can't tie him up an' force him t' stay 'ere. Are you goin' t' 'ave him go off by 'imself? Redwall's goin' t' be all right. Come on - you've got t' 'elp us think!"
Salome was forced to admit defeat. They, the refugees of Redwall Abbey, might soon be runaways. And yet - somewhere in those Woods, or between them and the gates of the Abbey, Rashe and his creatures awaited them, and there was no other source of asylum for them to turn to.
"Right, Miz Marianne!" Skipper Johndam had not budged from his spot. "Time t' get goin' with yore chores! Ye 'aven't got all day t' dally about with yore friend."
Samuel stepped forward. He inhaled deeply, and, after a moment, opened the door, emerging from the chamber, with Salome and Marianne following.
Skipper Johndam eyed him. "Wot's brought you out 'ere? Th' Abbess told me she wanted you t' keep t' yoreself till further notice."
"Can't. I need t' speak t' her."
Skipper Johndam shook his head. "If it's yore story about dreamin' o' twelve vermin an' th' dead squirrel scouts, or about why we ought t' fight those beasts wot call themselves th' Walkin' Dead, th' Abbess won't want t' hear anymore of it - from anybeast."
He laughed bitterly. "They injured an 'elpless little maid who ain't right in th' 'ead an' now they're shootin' fleas into our Abbey - but th' Abbess doesn't know whether she wants t' fight. Sometimes I can't believe th' things I see an' 'ear!"
"We ain't goin' t' try an' convince her of th' dream again," Samuel told him flatly. "I'm goin' t' tell her I've decided t' try an' straighten things out with Rashe."
Skipper Johndam sputtered. "Wot d'ye mean, you'll 'straighten things out with Rashe'? Ye came t' us shoutin' for shelter. Yore vermin knocked little Muryet senseless, attacked our Abbey, we've all been dashin' about like birds with our 'eads chopped off, an' now you're tellin' me you'll straighten things out with Rashe?"
Beneath Skipper's unswerving eye, Samuel flinched.

As always, Salome could read his face - and, oh, how he hated this, every moment of it - standing there, forcing out feeble, foolish lies, unable to make eye contact. He might as well have been reduced to the state of a court defendant, weeping at the feet of the executioner, pleading for his life; to Samuel, there was almost no difference, for the similarity lay in the helplessness.
But it's MY life he's tryin' t' save.
"Aye." Salome made an effort to appear taller. "It's - well, it's vermin business. We ought t' 'ave given in an' sorted it out long ago . . .er, sorry about th' trouble we brought. We'll tell th' Abbess an' then we'll be on our way, Master Johndam - that is, if'n you don't mind terribly."
Both Skipper J. and Samuel regarded Salome as if she had sprouted a second snout.
"Wot vermin business? Ye'd best spill it t' me, missie, especially as all this vermin business o' yores concerns our Abbey!"
Salome managed an uneasy smile. Vulpuz, why do I ever unzip my fat gob any'ow? "Oh, you needn't fret about that, Master Johndam - it ain't goin' t' concern your Abbey. It's just a bit of - er -"
Skipper Johndam slammed his rudder against the wall behind him, causing Salome to jump. "If 'it' ain't goin' t' pose a threat t' our Abbey, then tell me exactly wot it is! I'm beginnin' t' lose patience with ye, missie - you're talkin' a 'eap, but ain't tellin' me a God blasted thing! A day ago, ye were tellin' us all th' vermin meant t' kill you -"
"Aye, they might, but, heh, that's th' way vermin business goes, you know -"
"- An' our Abbeybeasts could be gettin' th' plague, an' now you're goin' t' go up t' th' Abbess an' ask her if ye can go waltzin' out t' talk 'vermin business'? 'Ave ye 'it yore 'ead on somethin' 'ard?"
Marianne tried to intervene. "But, Master Johndam, they -"
"Miz Marianne!" The Skipper rounded on her. "I told ye long ago t' get back t' th' kitchen with Friar Jerome! 'ave you 'ad a part in this?"
"Skipper, I -"
"'Ow many times 'ave ye got t' get stung afore you learn yore lesson about stickin' yore snout in matters that ain't none o' yore concern?"
"Skipper." Samuel broke in, turning Skipper J.'s attention away from Marianne and to him. "Stop shoutin' at th' youngsters. There ain't no vermin business; Salome doesn't know wot she's on about."
There was no anger in his voice, Salome noticed, nor did it carry the chilled reserve with which he often spoke when the presence of others was preventing him from lashing out against her.
His paw brushed the nape of her neck, then, after a moment, he began to stroke her ears gently.
"I was tellin' you lies, but I suppose we never were much good at inventin' stories on a moment's notice. We were plannin' t' get out o' th' Abbey, an' I 'ad no intention of goin' anywhere near Rashe if I could 'elp it."
Skipper J.'s eyes narrowed. Marianne, who still had yet to return to the kitchens as he had bidden her, kept her eyes fastened to his face and her breath bated.
"I'm sorry about yore Abbeybeasts an' yore Abbey, Master Johndam - more'n I can say. But I ain't killin' my sister t' pay for it."
Skipper Johndam was silent for a long while, throughout which Salome pressed closer to Samuel. Marianne looked as if she might erupt if she was forced to hold her peace for a moment longer, but both young maids knew that it would be unwise for them to involve themselves again.
"So yore plan is t' kill yore sister an' yoreself by dashin' out int' th' Woods, with th' vermin who are supposed t' want yore blood, instead o' 'avin' th' Abbess toss you out 'erself? I don't know whether you're lyin', or yore sister, or if ye've both just lost yore minds."
"If we were lyin' about fearin' Rashe an' not wantin' t' run int' him, we wouldn't be in a 'urry t' get t' them before th' Abbess could 'toss us out,'" Samuel retorted. "I can't fight twelve creatures myself, an' if you all can't take my word for it about th' numbers, 'angin' about t' see whether th' Abbess is goin' t' feed my sister t' th' Walkin' Dead is about th' daftest thing I could do. Now you can tell th' Abbess th' truth about me. You an' all th' others can gather t'gether around me an' do what you feel you've got t' do, an' I'll do what I feel I've got t' do."
Samuel's paw was still resting upon the back of Salome's head, and she felt the tightening of his muscles.
"But know this - if'n I get out o' 'ere alive, I'll never forget th' face of any creature wot tried t' stand in my way, includin' yoreself, Johndam."
Skipper Johndam drew himself up to full height. "An' I'll never forget yore face, Samuel, son of Matt, especially if'n I ever come t' learn o' you betrayin' us, so I'd be careful slingin' threats about an' stop with th' grand speech-makin' if I were you.
"I've been sayin' for days that we ought t' fight, an' we ain't so weak we need th' 'elp of a pair o' ferrets, one a twelve-season-old ferretmaid. So I'm goin' t' get you out o' 'ere."
Salome's eyes widened. "You! But, Master Johndam - you an' th' Abbess -"
Skipper J. cut her off. "Aye, I know what th' Abbess said, an' I intended t' respect her decision, wotever she decided. But no matter wot she decides, th' fact is Redwall's under attack already, an' I've an inkling that givin' into Rashe's demands ain't goin' t' get rid o' that fact. When I think o' 'andin' a creature who ain't yet Marianne's age over t' be 'armed, if yore brother's speakin' th' truth, an' then th' chance that it won't 'elp th' Abbey a bit, it doesnt seem worth th' prick t' my conscience.
"My otters 'ave mates - bankvoles - wot 'ave a 'ome 'idden in th' marshes near th' river, not far from 'ere. I'll send two or three of 'em t' take you on a raft. Master Samuel, you keep goin' on about that dream o' yores, with th' dead scouts an' th' twelve vermin. If th' squirrels 'aven't come back by eve tonight, I'll send more otters out t' investigate. We'll see whether yore dreams are any good. Miz Marianne!"
Skipper J. spoke so sharply that Marianne froze. She waited, expecting a blistering reprimand for her disobedience.
"As it seems ye can't be bothered t' listen t' yore elders these days when they tell you t' get back t' yore duties, you might as well run off an' find a way t' divert th' Abbess. See that she doesn't come roamin' past 'ere. Go on, be quick about it!"