"Mother Abbess. . . Mother Abbess!"
Marianne came flying into Great Hall, for the Abbess had returned there only a few minutes before, hoping to find solace. The young squirrelmaid's noisy entrance, however, forced her to give up all thoughts of peace and quiet.
"Mother Abbess, Sister Jane wants you in th' Library!"
She shrank beneath Abbess Elinor's stare. "What on earth could the Sister have to say to me that would warrant all of this shouting of yours, missie?"
Marianne had prepared her response already. "It's somethin' she's read about th' plague. Please, Mother Abbess, 'urry!"
Abbess Elinor needed no second bidding.
Marianne watched her departing back.
It had been a stupid lie, and would be a shortlived one. But, oh, with the Friar and Samuel insisting that they just knew that some sort of misfortune would befall them if they failed to act immediately, she'd had no time to think of a better plan. Now she could only hope that the tale she had told would buy Skipper and Samuel a small amount of time.

The walltop sentries had been watching the horizon for any sign of movement or disturbance. They had seen nothing as of yet - all was relatively calm.
The sun was bright, and almost uncomfortably warm, as the Mossflower summer sun often was. Several yards south of the Abbey, the branches of a massive, beautiful oak, thickly-clothed in green, moved with the stirring of the wind - a wind that seemingly never blew anywhere else, or, at any rate, never travelled far enough to touch the hot, weary creatures who were also facing south - and shadows, cool and tantalizing, darkened and deepened against its foliage.
The silence was broken, at last, not by an attacker, but by a shout from Skipper Johndam.
"Ahoy!"
Every wallguard snapped to attention, surprised and bemused, forgetting the horizon for the moment. They had been told to expect Skipper around noontime, but the sun had not been awake for two hours, and not only had Skipper Johndam come out, but the ferret siblings accompanied him, carrying a haversack apiece, as if prepared for travel.
"What's the trouble, Skipper?" Alder, a young squirrel archer, shouted back. "Something's happened, hasn't it?"
"Aye - the Abbess 'as decreed th' ferrets are t' leave. Th' quarrel between them an' Rashe ain't our quarrel!"
The sentries stood there, struck dumb for a moment, uncertain what to think.
An ottermaid named Silt spoke up. "But, Chief, that'd mean leavin' everythin' t' fate! Rashe'll still attack us unless he gets wot he wants, only now we won't 'ave a choice as t' whether he gets it or not!"
"It ain't for me t' say, nor for you t' say! Th' Abbess says Salome an' Samuel never did aught t' 'arm us as far as we know, and if somebeast 'as never fought th' Abbey, we've no right t' decide whether they die or live. So, unless ye'd like t' 'old us all up an' go argue with th' Abbess, go on an' open th' gates!"
The hesitation that followed this command lasted for a few seconds, but, to Samuel and Salome, it seemed like an eternity. At last, however, the gates began to inch open, and Samuel and Salome made their way across the lawn, with Skipper Johndam bringing up the rear.
Salome felt a gentle tug upon her ear.
"Keep yore eyes straight ahead, Salome," Samuel whispered. "Stop castin' about like a thief in a shop an' quit fiddlin' with yore tail. Try not t' look so devil-blasted frightened."
Salome, in spite of her current feelings, had to suppress a shaky little laugh. It was so like Samuel, concerning himself with her fidgeting and where her eyes were at a time such as this. "Try not to look so frightened" - exactly how much fear was a creature allowed to show when he was being turned out, as far as the woodlander guards knew, into a forest where plague-ridden creatures who hungered for his blood were lurking? Surely fear, under these circumstances, would arouse no suspicion in the woodlanders - leave alone the risk, however slim, of the Abbess appearing upon the scene, putting an end to the escape plan.
As the distance between their feet and the gates grew shorter, Salome's heart beat faster, and with every step she took, it became more difficult not to shake and stumble.
Samuel encircled her with his arm now, pulling her closer, as if she might be torn away otherwise.
"Well, this is it, Baby Sister," he murmured. "We're on our own again, an' if we get out o' this alive, we'll stay on our own. Leastways, we'll never go t' lodge with any big group or live in any sort o' huge community again. Seems if they aren't catchin' th' plague an' wantin' you t' die along with 'em, they're gettin' attacked by beasts wot are mad 'cos you don't want t' die along with 'em. An' if 'alf o' these woodlanders start t' think of tossin' you out when somethin' like this 'appens, there's no group o' beasts in th' world you can rely on t' show you mercy."
They were closing in on the threshold now, but Salome was scarcely aware of it. She listened wordlessly, intently, as Samuel lifted her chin with his paw, looking into her eyes.
"Baby Sister, you're goin' t' learn t' look after yoreself, 'cos aside from me, you can't ever be really certain anybeast is goin' t' rush t' look after you. One thing you're goin' t' learn about lookin' after yoreself is t' mind yore own business, an' never pull anybeast, besides me an' a handful o' good mates, into yores. Th' Skipper's goin' t' take us to these otters o' his, an' we'll 'ide our in th' marshes for as long as we've got to. But soon as we can, we're leavin' Mossflower Woods, never t' come back."
By this time, they were standing upon the unmarked line between the Abbey and the Woods - standing, because, against Samuel's wishes, Salome had halted, having felt the punch of reality.
"But . . . Sammy." Her voice was small, unsteady, beginning to break. "Marianne . . . Friar Jerome. . . an' . . .an' Martin . . .what about . . .we . . ."
Behind them, Skipper Johndam shifted with impatience. "Wot's all this? We've got t' get a move on!"
Samuel's demeanor changed completely. His eyes narrowed, and he spoke through clenched teeth in the way Salome had learned to beware of.
"I ain't keepin' you 'ere t' die so you won't 'ave t' suffer th' pain o' not seein' Friar Jerome or yore squirrelmaid friend first. C'mon, Salome, now!"
The forcefulness of his words and tone galvanized Salome into walking. She blinked, allowing the wetness to gather at the corners of her eyes, then roll away.
Two steps, and they were no longer on Abbey grounds, and never again would be. Salome made an effort to steady her voice.
"Marianne didn't mind it, though - th' thought that she could get slain for me - still doesn't."
Samuel, without stopping, reached over and dabbed at her whiskers with his sleeve. "Baby Sister, Miz Marianne's fourteen seasons old; nobeast is goin' t' let her do anythin' that could get her slain. Even if'n she did, I'm sure she isn't chompin' at th' bit t' be allowed t' get slain fightin' so you can stand about 'ere an' risk gettin' slain along with her."
He cast a worried glance behind him, having heard the tread of footpaws across the lawn. Little did he realize that danger lay not in his rear, but in the direction in which he was travelling, many yards off and high above.
Raaji's gift was ready to be delivered.
"You'd better 'urry up. They're shuttin' th' gates; pull th' hem o' yore 'abit out o' th' way."
Salome turned back for half of a second to attend to her habit.
Raaji released the bowstring.
The jar came spinning, appearing, to every onlooker, to have been spit out by the branches and leaves of the tree itself.
It landed first, with a loud crack, upon the top of one of the Abbey gates. The gatekeeper, who had been closing the gates, stopped abruptly, startled, uncertain whether they were under attack, whether Skipper J. and the two ferrets needed to retreat onto Abbey grounds. The jar glanced off of the gate, then, and came sailing downwards.
A burst of pain, an explosion of many-colored stars, and Salome crumpled to the ground. In an instant, Samuel was on his knees beside her.
"Open th' gates, we're bein' shot at! Open th' gates, 'urry!"
The gates swung open. Skipper Johndam swept the senseless form of Salome up into his paws.
"Archers, pelt that tree with arrows! Young 'un, get inside th' Abbey, or ye might be a deadbeast in a moment. Well, don't stand there lookin' pale, move!"
Samuel did as he was bidden, leaving Skipper J. to get Salome safely behind the Abbey walls.
An ugly pink knoll had formed upon her head. The jar had shattered on impact; its shards had drawn blood. Fleas, about a score or so of them, frolicked between the strands of fur.
Skipper Johndam swatted at them, hoping to crush them or send them flying. "Get off, ye nasty, bloodsucking little abominations! Off, I say!"
Unbeknownst to him as if yet, Rashe, using Raaji's arm, had sent many, many more of his grain-sized hordebeasts. After Salome's fall, they had landed into the grass, unnoticed by Samuel and Skipper J., and were making their way across the lawn now.
All was going according to plan.