5
In the Redwall Abbey cellar the captives sat, wrists bound by rope, eyes blinking in the dark midst the stacked barrels of ale and fizz that lined the walls. The only light came from a single candle on a round table around which sat Captain Jareck and a posse of five or six cronies, each with their own bottle of drink freely pilfered from the cellar stores.
Jareck retrieved a ragged deck of cards, edges torn and bent. Abbott Walden, watching from the cobblestone, had used such a deck before, to play solitaire during moments of contemplation. Solitaire was not the game the vermin were going to play.
Jareck clopped the side of the deck against the table and started to shuffle. "The lot of ye seem a raggy lookin' bunch. 'Ow many of ye've played afore?"
"Played wot," said a vermin of indeterminate species near the fringe of the candlelight.
Nibbling on his ruddy coin, Jareck flicked the cards from paw to paw. "Played wot, 'e asks. Played wot."
"Stow it, Switz," said a rat on the opposite end of the table, "Yew wouldn't unnerstand anyway."
"But 'ow's I s'posed t'play if I don't know wot we're playin', Letcher," said Switz.
"You ain't playin'," said Letcher, who had a nasty overbite. "Yer in charge of watchin' the prisoners while we play."
"Now now," said Jareck. He dealt around the table, hardly moving his paws but landing the cards where he wanted. "There's room enough for everybeast, an' this's the kinda game's the more fun the more's playin'."
The various vermin gathered round the table eyed Jareck incredulously. "We ain't playin' fer fun," sneered Letcher.
"Alright then," said Jareck. "Put yore bets on the table, mates."
A clatter and bustle arose as a pile of items appeared in the center of the table, ranging from sheathed daggers to small trinkets of metal and bone. Jareck took the ruddy coin from between his fangs and dropped it on the top of the pot.
"Who'd want yore gross ol' coin," said another vermin, a female ferret.
"Be deceived not by its appearance," said Jareck. "That coin's one hundred per cent solid gold, I tell ye, worth more'n the lot of yore junk combined. I figger I oughtta put in somethin' extra since yer all still beginners, 'twouldn't be fair otherwise."
"Ah come on," said Letcher. "Put in yore weapons."
Jareck held up his paws. "I ain't carryin' no weapons," he said. "'Tis not my forte."
"Wot's a fore-tay," said Switz.
"If he's bettin' a gross ol' coin," said the female ferret, "I ain't playin'."
"Me neither!"
Jareck, sensing the discontent, relented. He took back the coin and bit into it. "Okay, okay, have it how ye like. Anybeast beats me they're relieved from guard duty fer the rest o'the night, how's that sound?"
This settled much better with the other vermin and they leaned back over the table with murmurs of affirmation, seizing at the cards arrayed before them, jostling and heckling each other over their respective chances of victory.
Abbot Walden, studying their behavior from below, felt somebeast tug at his habit. It was Laramie the Recorder. "Over here," she said, "A few of us are having a meeting on what to do next."
Walden nodded. Unnoticed by the vermin, he scooted across the cellar, following Laramie on a makeshift path between the other Redwallers to one of the far corners tucked between a pair of stacked barrels. Foremole Griggs, Cellarhog Gilmer Delapinn (brother of Friar Alger), and Brother Roane the Abbey Bellringer were gathered there.
"Allow me to apologize," said Roane as soon as Walden had made his way into their tightly-knit circle. The young squirrel had always been skittish and clumsy, trying and failing at jobs as both gardener and cook's assistant before Walden had appointed him to one of the simpler tasks at the Abbey. "If I had—If I had been at my post, where I was supposed to be, if I could have rung the bell in time, then maybe—"
"Then maybe you would've gotten yourself killed," said Walden. "Did you see the vermin in the gatehouse that Fannin pointed out, before he—before he fought with that warlord? They had archers in full view of the belltower. Vermin aren't stupid, at least when it comes to ways of battle."
"Even if they'd shot me, I could've sounded the alarm," said Roane, kneading his paws. "Two good rings—it's all I would've needed. I would've prevented all this. I would've saved Fannin."
"A lot of things could have been done to prevent what has happened here," said Abbott Walden. "I'm fairly certain the vermin got in because the gates have gone rotten and soft with seasons of disrepair. It was my responsibility to manage this Abbey to prevent such a thing. However, we cannot allow ourselves to sink into a cycle of regret at events already passed. Fannin did not die regretting that he had not been ready for the attack—he died trying to save us. Until Redwall Abbey is back safe and those vermin ousted, I will not allow a shred of self-blame for what has transpired here—even on the part of myself. There is only one creature to blame, and that is Alagadda of the Many Blades. We must not forget that."
Roane bowed his head in a stilted nod, and murmurs of assent went up from the others in the circle.
"Loik oi alwuss sez," said Foremole Griggs, "Et bain't no gudd worryin' 'bout the past, when the present's enough t'be worryin' 'bout on its own."
"Well spoken, Foremole," said Walden. "I've always been fond of your ability to condense my longwinded speeches into one concise sentence. I'll brook no further discussion on the subject. We must now plan for the present."
"And I plan we have," said Laramie. "I've already talked it over with Gilmer and Griggs. We think we can escape—all of us—as early as tonight."
"Aye," said Cellarhog Gilmer. He was every bit the size of Alger, with only somewhat less gruff and tumble. "These vermin watchin' us, they've wasted no time plunderin' my kegs. Normally I'd not be takin' too kindly to such thievery, but in this case it ain't such a bad thing. If they keep imbibin' at the rate they are for the rest of the day, the lot of 'em'll be laid out flat by bedtime."
Walden mulled it over. "The closest escape from the Abbey is the south gate. It's not a long trip, but it'll be difficult to get threescore Redwallers, old and young included, outside without any vermin noticing."
"Ah, but don't you remember what Alagadda said?" asked Laramie. "The vermin will be feasting tonight, enjoying their spoils. They wouldn't expect us to stage an escape attempt our first night captured. In fact, they probably expect us to moan and whine and cry, like the peaceful woodlanders they think we are. But we'll show 'em differently, won't we?" She nudged Brother Roane.
Roane nodded. "Right!"
"It'll be difficult to move with our paws tied," said Abbot Walden.
"Leave that to me," said Gilmer. With his bound paws he motioned at a nearby keg of seasons-old ale. "This ol' keg's been fallin' apart for awhile now, kept thinking to replace it, but never went through with it. But see here, the metal band that holds the barrel together's comin' off, leaving a nice strip of jagged edge. Watch." Putting his bound paws out, Gilmer rubbed the knot of the rope against the edge. Although the rope was thick, the metal band was able to make a small cut, severing a few strands. "It'll take time, but by nightfall I can have my bounds off, and from there untie as many of you as I can."
"Burr," said Foremole Griggs, "Oi'll sniff around an' see if thurr ain't nothin' else furr ussen's t'cut rope with."
"Good plan," said Abbott Walden. "I'm proud that all of you have put something like this together so fast. I'll go around and alert as many as possible as to what we intend to do tonight. Laramie, Roane, keep an eye on the guards—they may not all be asleep by the time we want to escape, and we may have to fight them. Watch for what kinds of weapons they have and where they keep them."
"Yes, sir," said Laramie with a salute.
Despite everything, Abbott Walden found he could manage a smile. Mustering an abysmal Long Patrol hare accent, he said, "Pip pup, ol' gel, you're actin' right military if I do say so myself! I'd never expect such mettle from the Abbey's chief Recorder!"
The younger members of the war council stifled laughter. Growing serious, the old vole Abbott adjusted his spectacles. "When and if we escape, our first course of action will be to meet up with Friar Alger and Sister Selma, as well as anybeast else with them. Once we get to that point, we'll discuss what to do next. Understood?"
The other members nodded in unison, before scattering to their respective tasks.
Friar Alger was lost, although he tried not to show it. In his youth he had romped up and down the woods and known every shrub, but it had been many seasons since then and now everything had changed, everything had become unfamiliar. The thickness of the foliage had only deepened and the River Moss remained nowhere in sight—indeed, nothing remained in sight except green, green, green, enough green to make a creature green himself. He kept telling himself if they continued heading east they would reach the river sooner or later, but sooner and later had both passed and still they had found nothing. Had they gotten mixed up under the canopy and gone in another direction? Squinting, he tried to peer through the branches and leaves above, but the sun had become an all-encompassing orb blotting out the small openings in the treetops; he could read nothing of it.
He didn't want to alarm the fatigued and frightened creatures under his jurisdiction, but there was no helping it. "Anybeast know where we are?"
Nobeast spoke. Alger scanned their blank, watchful eyes, but found nothing.
From somewhere in the middle of the pack came a jostling. "Come on Fen—tell him!"
It was Sullyana and her friend, the new otter Fentress who had had the dream. The much smaller Sully was shaking Fentress, pushing her forward despite the otter's protests. Alger liked the two of them—they were eager young goodbeasts who had helped many of the less capable through the more difficult patches of terrain. He beckoned them forward. "Have one of ye somethin' to say?"
Sully gave up on her friend with a sigh. "Fen says we're not far from the river—we just need to keep headin' the way we're going."
"Is there a reason why Fentress can't tell us this herself?"
"'Cuz she's a great big sillybeast," said Sully.
Alger shrugged and let it be. From what he knew of Fentress, she was a shy one, as a result of something that had happened to her before she came to the Abbey, something Abbott Walden had requested not be mentioned if at all possible. Alger had understood at first, but after a season at Redwall she had not overcome her fears in the slightest, which Alger thought merited a little extra nudging. However, now was not the time. He wanted to keep moving. Stopping to break fast so soon and for so long had been a mistake. It was only a matter of time before—
"Shh!" said a young mouse near the back of the convoy. "Listen!"
They listened. Through the humid murk of the wood, voices emerged. Faint and muffled, impossible to tell how close or how far. The voices were unmistakably vermin.
Through gritted teeth, Alger whispered, "Everybeast, we need to get movin'—now!"
As he raised his ladle to knock a path through the nearest tree, Sister Selma stepped in front of him. "Alger, no. We can't outrun them. They're in much better shape than us and they're using the path we've already cleared for them, while we still have this bramble to cut through. We need to think of another idea."
"We don't need to go far," said Alger. "Fentress says we're close to the river. Once we're there—"
"Once we're there, then what?" said Selma. "We'll fare no better fording a river than we will racing through these woods. Running is not the answer!"
The encroaching voices had become close enough to be heard.
"Lookit, Lady Alagadda—the trail goes this way!"
"I can see that, Kludd. I'd have t'be blind not to see the big trompin' mess they've cut through these woods."
Racking his brains, Alger sought an answer. "We'll ambush 'em—hide in the shrubs and attack as they pass. If we surprise 'em well enough—"
One look at Selma told him all he needed to know about the feasibility of that particular plan.
"I know!" piped up Sully, who had pushed her way to the front. "I'll rush off in some other direction, making sure to make enough noise that they'll have to hear me. An' when they go chasing after me, the rest of you can escape to the river!"
"A distraction, eh?" said Alger. "'Tis a good plan, but you're too young to go it yourself. I'll be the one—"
"No, no, no," said Sully. "You're too old. No offense, but it's true. I'm young and fast, and I can weave in and out of the trees much quicker than a gang of vermin. You'll just get tangled up in the branches and stuck."
Sister Selma wagged a finger. "Now now, young lady, that's no way to speak to your elders."
"Ah, I was never one to stand on ceremony anyway. The girl's right—and we don't have time to press the issue further. Either now or never, the vermin're almost here."
"I don't know," said Selma. "How can we be certain she can evade the vermin? Or that they'll even go for her instead of us? This plan is too unsafe."
Sully stamped her footpaw and rolled her eyes. "Ugggggggh, Sister Selma, we don't have time for this! Look, I can't guarantee it'll work, but it's the only idea we got!"
"We have," corrected Sister Selma, to a collective groan from everybeast in earshot.
Fentress, who had been standing inconspicuously beside Sully the entire time, made a timorous step forward. "There's a swamp due north of here," she said. "It's not far, I've been there before, I know it well enough. If Sully and I can lead the vermin into it, we can give them the shake and meet back with you at the river."
"And now young Fentress is going on this foolhardy endeavor as well?" said Sister Selma. "I cannot abide this display of recklessness."
"Sister Selma," said Alger, "You're a dear an' all, I've owed you my life on more'n one occasion, but t'listen to you now I'd think you want all've us to just sit here an' wait t'be captured. Now, I ain't one to say that these young'un's plan is flawless, but unless you got a better idea, I suggest you quiet down, marm. Beside, Martin the Warrior came to Fentress in a dream—if he can put his faith in her, then I sure can."
A branch nearby snapped, causing everybeast to leap to attention. It had been nothing more than a mole shifting his weight, but the reminder of impending danger was enough to quiet further objections.
Not far away, Alagadda and the twenty assorted vermin Kludd had arranged pushed pell-mell through the forest. Although the path of the woodlanders was still quite clear, it seemed as though the woods had regrown much of the greenery destroyed during the exodus, so progress did not move as quickly as Alagadda liked. Kludd, well-attuned to his superior's moods, attempted to placate her.
"We're gettin' close, milady—I can feel it!"
"Well enough," said Alagadda. A ferret marching in front of her tripped over a vine with a clumsy shout. "Yew an' yore gang've made enough racket trackin' 'em that they'll've scattered by now."
Before Kludd could stammer a response, a pair of blurs came crashing out of the underbrush before the cavalcade, whooping and hollering, and immediately vanished back into the woods through a knot of branches.
The vermin stood gaping for a moment before Alagadda brained the closest on the back of the head. "Go on, after 'em!"
"B-but milady," said Kludd. "It's gotta be a trap!"
Alagadda knew it was a trap. Whoever had dashed in front of them had no reason to dash in front of them unless they wanted to grab their attention, and the only reason anybeast would want to grab their attention was to misdirect them and thus lead them into an ambush. Alagadda knew all about misdirection and sleight of hand—she had, after all, suffered Jareck's company for so many seasons.
Alagadda had always enjoyed Jareck's magic tricks. Especially when she saw right through them.
"Yer afraid of the trap a buncha defenseless woodlanders've set up? What are ye, lily-livered? I said after 'em!"
Without waiting for her lackeys to get their mental faculties in order, Alagadda drew two knives and charged forward, slicing at branches and vines and tendrils and creepers that stretched in front of her as she dove into the thick of the woods. Kludd shouted a dutiful "Attack!" and followed her, after ensuring a few of the lesser hordebeasts had taken up position ahead of him.
Meanwhile, Fentress and Sully had plunged into the darkness a little ways before stopping to wonder if the vermin had taken the bait.
"I don't hear 'em coming," said Sully.
"I thought I heard somebeast yell to attack," said Fentress.
Sully picked at strip of bark from a nearby tree. An unctuous sap oozed out. "Confound this forest, all my senses are mixed up. What if they kept goin' and found Alger and the others?"
"Maybe we ought to—"
A dagger whizzed between them and impaled the strip of bark in Sully's paw. Fentress glanced up to see a lithe form emerging out of the shadows of the forest before Sully told her to run and she started to run without having told her footpaws to do so. As soon as she turned something long and sharp struck her just over the eye and drew blood, but she ignored the pain as Sully flitted ahead of her, disappearing into the bramble ahead. But Sully didn't know the swamp to the north—if Fentress didn't catch up to her, she would rush headlong into the mire. That more than anything forced her forward, throwing her paws up in front of her to ward away the endless thorns of the forest.
"Sully, wait, don't go too far!" she shouted, her voice hardly trailing in front of her in the grimy air.
"Sully, wait, don't go too far!" said a mocking voice close behind.
Fentress wheeled around to face who had spoken, knowing the voice was too close to outrun. Something barreled into her stomach and she went hurtling backward in a rush of leaves, hitting the ground and rolling with the air escaping her lungs in one harsh gasp as she skid through mud and sand to a halt several lengths from where she had started.
She tried to roll over and get back to her footpaws but whatever had bowled her over levied a sharp kick to her ribs and knocked her flat again.
Fentress cast a bloody eye upward at the long, knife-clad weasel standing above her. The weasel had a devious grin.
"You thought you could outrun Alagadda of the Many Blades, didja? Well. You couldn't."
From the trees behind Alagadda emerged Kludd and the other vermin. Fentress recognized Kludd as the rat with the wobbly helmet she had encountered on her flight from Redwall. Instead of the cutlass, however, he now held—the Sword of Martin?!
She tried to rise again and was surprised when she managed to do so without receiving another kick. Groaning from the pain in her sides, she realized that Alagadda and the other vermin were all staring at something behind her. She turned.
An expanse of swampland lay beyond her.
She did not see Sully at first and for a moment feared the worse until she espied the young squirrel clinging to a branch some ways out over the swamp. "Fen!" Sully shouted, uselessly.
"Lookit that swamp," said Kludd. "I betcha they were tryin' to trick us into blunderin' headfirst into that. Well, we ain't dumb enough fer that! Haw-haw-haw!"
The swamp bubbled and steamed.
Alagadda addressed Sully. "Now there, young miss. Sully, I believe I heard yore friend call you. And yore friend here, Fen, y'say her name is? Well then, a Fen and a bog, 'tis fate, or chance, or what will you."
"Let her go!" said Sully, climbing to the next branch that hung over the swamp.
"Let her go? I ain't even holdin' her, how'm I s'posed to let her go? Now be a good girl and come back o'er here, so we can have a nice, polite little chat, yeah?"
"Just run, Sully," said Fentress.
But Sully had already started to climb back through the branches toward the earthen knoll at the edge of the swamp. Fentress sighed—if she came back, the vermin would only kill them both.
"That's a good girl," said Alagadda as Sully crawled across the tree limbs. "I ain't one to waste breath killin' beasts that ain't worth it, like the two a' yew. If there ain't no problem 'twixt us, there ain't no need for dyin'. So let's not make there be any problems."
"Whaddya want," said Sully. She had stopped at a branch close to the edge of the swamp, but far enough away from a swordstroke should one be levied in her direction.
"Where's the rest of yore clan?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," said Sully.
A knife whipped out from Alagadda's paw and stuck into the branch Sully was lying on. "Yeah, I would like t'know, that's why I'm askin' ye. Now—"
"Lady Alagadda," said a vermin.
"—Now that ain't nearly the only knife I can sling yore way, as you can plainly see, and I don't have to sling 'em at all to get at this nice young otter here. So—"
"Lady Alagadda," said a vermin.
"—So let's not do that whole rigamarole with the smart mouthin' and same such nonsense and skip right to the part where I'll kill yore friend first and then yew if yew don't cooperate."
Fentress and Sully exchanged a look. Should they risk telling her? The most they could even say was that the others had made a break for the River Moss, which if the vermin knew the slightest bit about the geography of the area probably already knew simply by the direction of the trail Alger and the others had made. Did Alagadda expect something more specific? Fentress tried to judge the weasel's temperature, her mood. But it was impossible to read her; Fentress wouldn't be surprised if Alagadda was simply making things up as she went along.
"Lady Alagadda," said a vermin.
"What," said Alagadda.
The vermin who had spoken was a thin, spindly ferret near the back of the gang. He stared out of saucer-dish eyes.
"We ain't alone."
Something long and dark detached itself from the spine of the nearest tree, an unfolding celadon shape emerging from the bogwood that culminated in a set of long, curved claws, glinting like polished steel. The spindly ferret had no time to scream, no time to move as the flickering thing pounced, latching all its sharp points into the motionless vermin.
Nobeast said a thing as the green monstrosity tore into the ferret's neck. Finally, Alagadda said: "Wot's that, a lizard?"
Another of the green shapes rose from the marsh behind her trailing waste and excess as it unhinged its needle-laden jaw and bit into her shoulder. Fentress stumbled back aghast as Alagadda calmly and cooly plunged a knife into the jaundiced eye of the lizard, although doing so did not remove it from her body as they fell to the ground together.
The dumbfounded silence broke. From all sides rushed more of the monstrous lizard things, scales and talons and ivory flashing in the dim light descending over the bog. The vermin, screaming, ran in any direction they could, which was no direction, as no matter where they went they collided with another of the lizards revealing its unnatural visage from a spot camouflaged in a mound of moss. The few with sense charged into the swamp.
"Fen, give me your paw!"
Sully dangled precariously from the nearest branch, extending an arm toward Fentress. Fentress did not hesitate—she would have leapt over an endless abyss if it held the slightest shred of hope to escape the things swarming out of the woods and the swamp and even the ground beneath her. She leapt, able to bypass Sully's paw altogether (she would have pulled Sully down before Sully pulled her up anyway) and seize the low-hanging branch, kicking at the air with her legs to help anchor herself to the perch. Sully helped as best she could.
A hulking, serpentine lizard with a reddish pallor leapt after her, slicing a claw through Fentress's habit but only nicking the skin as she pulled herself onto the branch. The reddish lizard glared at her from below with a soulless eye before forgetting the escaped prey and leaping into a stoat already under attack from two other lizards. Fentress shivered.
Most of the vermin yet alive had fled into the swamp, where many slowly sank into the mire, still groping forward for a nonexistent vine or branch with which to pull themselves out, most not even having the luck to have fallen in a spot unreachable by the lizards, which with birdlike movements climbed across the detritus to fish for the hapless lumps of meat. Only three vermin had managed to stay aground as they delved deeper into the swamp: a ferret, a stoat, and the rat captain with the Sword of Martin, who had made the most distance of all of them. The ferret and stoat, running alongside each other, soon slipped and fell together on a slippery patch and tumbled headfirst to their end, but Kludd kept going, surprisingly nimble for a rat of his stature, hacking and slashing the air with Martin's Sword. The lizards, having dispensed most of the other prey, made fleet progress after him, and with a frantic scream, Kludd dove over a felled tree trunk only for ten or twelve of the lizards to dive immediately after him.
"This way, to the next branch," said Sully.
Before she could point out exactly which branch she meant, something leapt from below and seized hold of the branch they were already on. It was Alagadda, one shoulder trailing blood and one arm hanging limp and useless behind her, but the other arm enough for her to start pulling herself up.
"Forget her, to the next branch!" said Sully.
But Fentress knew that the branch they were on would not support the three of them for as long as it would take to get off it. As the limb splintered, Fentress tore a leafy bough from the tree and pelted Alagadda's paw and then face with it. Alagadda, undaunted, managed to hoist her lower body onto the branch.
The branch snapped.
Something—either Alagadda or Sully or the branch—lashed out and hit Fentress in the face moments after they struck the ground. Unsure if she was rightside up or not, Fentress writhed to pull herself out of the mud, but the mud was everywhere.
Alagadda had already risen and dug a dagger into the throat of a lizard who stalked her way, drawing another and baring it at another pair of reptiles who watched her unblinkingly. "Come on then," she spat, "Come'n sink yore fangs into this!"
Fentress pulled herself onto the embankment, huffing and panting with exertion. She searched around for Sully. The squirrel had not fallen far, but the branch had landed on her ankle, which she tugged at to extricate with no avail. Fentress helped her to try and lift the branch.
The lizards had not attacked. Fentress glanced up to see why—Alagadda and the big reddish lizard from before had locked into a staredown, Alagadda swishing a dagger through the air with her good arm, the other lizards gathered behind what must have been their leader. That was good—if they were all distracted with one another, that meant they weren't paying attention to Fentress and Sully, which meant escape. Or it would if this branch didn't weigh so much!
"Go on, get out while you can," said Sully. "I'll slip out after you."
Fentress didn't bother responding as she braced her back against the branch and pushed with all her might. Her footpaws scraped through the mud and she gained no traction.
The branch didn't budge. Heaving, Fentress said, "We'll have you out in a second, then we go."
"Come on, ugly," said Alagadda to the red lizard. "Come on and fight me, yew big coward! Lookit me, got an arm's hangin' by a thread from the socket and yew ain't got the gall to come at me, yew slimy overgrown salamander!"
Hissing, the red lizard lunged forward at her, baring claw and fang. Alagadda shifted her weight and prepared to strike with her knife, but before the two could collide an arrow shot out from somewhere and planted itself in the lizard's chest. The lizard staggered back, admiring its new accessory, prodding the gold-feathered fletch of the shaft with a single claw.
Another arrow struck the lizard lower in the side, but it bounced against the scaly hide and fell to the ground.
From the woods emerged a figure in a long hooded cloak, with a quiver of feathers on its back and a yew bow in its paws. It already had a third arrow notched and aimed at the red lizard.
Extending its dextrous neck, the lizard bit into the shaft in its chest and wrenched the arrow out, spitting it into the mud.
"No scales on yore eye," said the figure. The voice was female. She nodded to the sole slain lizard on a ground dense with corpses—the one that had bitten Alagadda's shoulder. The hilt of a dagger extended from a gouged socket.
The red lizard considered the arrowhead aimed at its own eye. With a low growl it motioned at the other lizards—only a few remaining, the others having chased the vermin who fled—and they scattered back into the swamp, melding into the mossy overgrowth and vanishing.
The swamp was silent save for the moan of one of the vermin on the ground.
The hooded figure took off her hood. She was a weasel.
"Vellis," said Alagadda, "What're you doin' here—"
Vellis strode forward and brained Alagadda across the crown of her head with the bow. Alagadda slumped to the ground, senseless. Giving a look to neither Fentress or anything else, Vellis hoisted Alagadda onto her shoulder with a grunt before marching back they way she came, into the forest.
Fentress didn't bother to puzzle over what she had just witnessed. With the immediate danger gone, she gave a renewed effort against the branch and shuffled it aside enough for Sully to pull her paw free.
"I'll help you. Here," said Fentress.
"No, I'll manage." Sully picked up a strong stick from the ground and propped herself against it. "Let's skedaddle afore those lizards come back."
A ferret on the ground moaned. "Wait, wait… y'can't leave me here!" He had sustained a bad-looking wound to his side, and clutched a paw to the spot as he shuffled to right himself amidst the carnage of his compeers.
From the swamp, yellow eyes stared. Somewhere deep within the marshland, a creature screamed. It might have been a birdcall, but Fentress saw no birds.
"Let's go, Fen," said Sully, hobbling into the woods on her stick.
Fentress held up a paw to wait. She grabbed the wounded ferret and dragged him away from the other corpses. He made a perilous shrieking noise as she tried to pull him up.
"We ain't got time to take him with us," said Sully.
"Nobeast, not even vermin, should have to die to those… things," said Fentress, struggling with the ferret.
"Well hurry it up," said Sully.
Fentress hurried it up, and dragging the ferret behind her, they returned to the safety of the wood. The yellow eyes of the swamp watched them go.