Author's note: I'm sorry for not updating this sooner, but my computer decided it hated me and wouldn't let me on for a couple of days and then when I finally got on, the Internet wasn't working either. It's a conspiracy I tell you! –shakes fist at computer-
Discalimer: I don't own any part of Redwall, though the riddle is mine –sets police tape around it- MINE I tell you.
Dreams
The storm had passed, leaving behind it that fresh newness that the earth always takes on after a storm. The still-damp grass steamed gently as the sun warmed it and gave of a musky smell- of mud, of rain, of damp soil. Small birds hopped and chattered high up in the forest branches, berating the bad weather.
A figure skipped among the braches in the treetops. A small form, though undeniably fast and agile, whipping through the trees like a small whirlwind.
Not much could be seen of this mysterious figure. A woodlander they were, for sure, but as to what type- well, it was anyone's guess.
They paused as the sounds of squabbling voices reached them. They reached into a quiver strapped to their back, notching an arrow into their bowstring and holding it loosely, but ready, if they needed to defend themselves.
The owners of the voices emerged from the trees; an otter, two shrews, a mouse and a mole, all arguing vociferously about something. The figure remained hidden and listened.
"It's not right, Bark," the mouse, a young, lean creature, obviously a warrior, was saying. "They're harmless, two young maids- woodlanders by the looks of things. Why should they be any harm to us?"
There was the audible sound of a beast grinding their teeth in irritation. "Because, Arren, we have not seen them before. They are complete strangers and the only strangers allowed in Mossflower woodlands are the wolf's servants. They are spies, warrior, and nothing more."
One of the shrews spoke up. "I think that Arren is right. True, we have not seen them before, but they seem good and true of heart. When they wake up, we can question them and learn their true purpose." They strode away through the woodlands, still debating over the fate of the maids.
The figure perched in the tree above them narrowed their eyes and smirked to themselves. "Interesting," they murmured "Very interesting." And then, they sped away into the woods.
Rose was still unconscious. The black that had folded her into its deep embrace showed to signs of parting and Rose showed no signs of wanting it to. She was happy here, safe and contented, like that of a babe in a parent's embrace.
But a voice was calling to her though the darkness, a voice that would not be ignored.
"Rose, Dawnrose of Redwall and Noonvale, listen to me." The voice was strong and courageous and Rose felt herself drift towards it. The darkness receded and she found herself on a familiar worn path. It was night, though if you looked at the sky above the large redstone building at the end of the path, you would think otherwise. It was a bright orange of flames and fire, sparks flew up from it, illuminating the night sky. Rose did not need to turn her head, to know that the person who had called to her was standing beside her.
The scene changed. The sound of battle and bloodshed sounded over the woodlands and Rose could see the conflict in the woods beyond the building. The woodlanders were fighting rats and foxes. She gasped as a shrew was stabbed in the back by another shrew, who dropped the weapon he had used and fled. Again the scene changed, showing the building many times in times of conflict. A might army of birds swooped down to land on the roofs, a squirrel and a huge beast fought outside its gates, an otter, badly wounded raising a magnificent sword high into the air, an army of hares marching out from its gates…the scenes were too numerous to count.
Then, it changed again and she found herself on a desolate beach, with the mournful cry of the gulls in her ears and the greedy lapping of the waves at her feet. A mouse faced her, clothed in a simple green habit.
"Dawnrose…" his voice was gentle and kind.
Rsoe found that she instinctively knew his name and replied. "Yes Martin?"
He gazed at her solemnly and then held his paws out, as if asking for something.
"They've taken Redwall, Rose, Redwall has fallen."
She did not know what he meant, but she was filled with a strange sadness and grief which she could not understand.
The mouse had not finished. "You must help them, Rose, help my Redwallers. Help them as I could not, when they needed me most."
She nodded "I am listening, Martin."
He began to recite words, words that burned themselves onto her memory.
'Redeyes sits in Hate Grall
Whitethorn stands by window wide
Seabirds wheel and call to grey skies
Shining silver, earthy green
One is the other, once they are seen
Flashing steel and questing swords,
Silver fins stir white foam fords
Red, red rose climbs bloodied walls
Petals close, petal falls
Sorrow falls upon sunset walls
Friendship halted by killer keen
A debt repaid, a descendant seen
Add and subtract to find the blade
In the house where it was laid
White ghost and silver snake
Friends of enemies must you make
For the location, take this, the name of one
Who helped me and stayed, when they were all gone
Mother to goldenstripe, Mother to all
First Mother to everybeast, at Redwall!'
He stopped and smiled a sad smile at her and she found herself feeling inexplicably sad, happy and angry in equal measures. But before she could voice the many questions that were crowding her mind, he raised a paw and motioned for her to keep quiet.
'Explain the meeting to them, Rose, they will understand…' He faded away like a memory and she fell into a deep, contented sleep.
The Whitethorn's scouts returned triumphant. They had been foraging for food in the surrounding groves and small forests of Salamandastron and had been about to turn back and make their way to the mountain, when a shout from a ferret, foraging over by a small stream, had alerted them.
"Captain, over here, lookit wot I found!"
Their captain, a grumpy and ill-tempered stoat named Naban, stomped over to where the shouts had originated. The rest of the party held their breath for the shouts of pain and anger that would probably follow.
What they got however, was a shout of surprise, then disbelief and then joy.
The Captain trudged back up the hill, carrying something wrapped in a small bundle of white cloth, the party kept their distance, until he came close to them and held out the bundle with a mixture of disdain and greed on his face.
The vermin all ventured over to look and drew back, shaking their heads in wonder.
"Would yer lookit that, mates."
"Wait 'til the Whitethorn sees this."
The fox who had uttered this comment earned himself a smack over the head from Naban.
"I found this, allright?" he snarled "If anybeast is gonna get hisself a reward for this, its gonna be me, so keep her grubby paws off it!" And with that, he stumped off down the hill.
Tula Whitethorn was having a visit from the little robin, Chubb, when the patrol arrived back. When the breathless messenger had gasped out his message to her, she leapt up and flew down the stairs and out where the jubilant patrol was waiting. They all snapped to attention when she approached, but she had eyes only for the little bundle that Captain Naban held out to her. She unfolded the cloth and peered inside, before letting out a low sigh of amazement.
Inside nestled a sleeping badger cub, scarcely more than a few weeks old.
REVIEW! (and I dare you to guess the meaning of the riddle)