Chapter VI
"We are the last of a large band of merchants. There were at least six other ships that came into the old dock near the Dunehog dwellings. The Dunehog tribe has lived in their sandhills long before any of our grandsires walked the land. It was said that a few seasons after we left Martin the Warrior had passed through the sands," Tyreck explained.
"True, true. We had also lived in the sand dunes along with the Dunehogs, until we were driven out by the black fox," a fat hedgehog wife named Trillia quickly added as she laddled them all another portion of Fish Stew. It tasted alot better than it sounded, Imaldu soon realized, and began spooning it down at an alarming rate.
"Whoa, slow down there matey! Don't eat it too fast, doesn't agree with your stummick well iffen you do keep it down," Krewdy advised.
Deliberately slowing down, Imaldu was soon chewing and swallowing as slow as if he were trying to make a meal of a boot.
"I didn't mean that slow," the shrew grumbled around a mouthful of the stew.
"Not to seem rude, ma'am, but what's in Fish Stew, besides fish?"
"Oh, there's a whole bunch of ingredients in there, old lad," Varc began before Trillia. "Lesse, there's salmon, trout, bass, we even found some haddock to put in the mix. Then, ye've got your hotroot pepper -kin be absolutely vile stuff, wot- with fish, even crab and lobster meat. Then you add a good amount of mashed potato and carrot, and, if you feel the need, you can add the typical dark, rich gravy."
"'E knows about everythin' that goes on in the kitchens, mostly 'cause he eats it all, the fat ole feedbag," Tyreck whispered, just loud enough for Imaldu to hear.
"What's that? Speak up, wot! If ye've got a mind to whisper important things at table, be kind enough to share it with the rest of us, hmmm?" Varc cut in.
"No, no, 's'not that important," Tyreck replied cheekily.
"Why you young rip! I have a mind to throw you overboard!"
"Oh, please, spare me Varc. You wouldn't get two meters in the Fish Shack widdout me," the mouse sneered.
"Hmph! Ain't got the bally descency to let one finish one's stew without interruptin' their feed time. Bad form, I say, wot!"
Sitting underneath a large pear tree, Abbot Murto (the first mole ever to be an Abbot) enjoyed the beautiful summer day that had been bestowed upon them. Ahh, my beautiful Abbey. I would not leave here for-
His thoughts were soon interrupted by a large crowd of Dibbuns heading his way. Murto stood up quickly and a second later, dozens of the Abbeybabes trampled across where his footpaws had just been. Breathing a huge mixed sigh of resignation and relief, he sat back down again.
Just then, a small, chubby-cheeked squirrel ran by, right over Abbot Murto.
"Hey, you get back here Rookuj! Steppin' all over the Abbot like that'll ensure you get another good wash after supper!" A black squirrel just reaching his adolescent years bolted past, shouting threats of tail-chopping and getting baked in the ovens.
"Hiikol!" This one word sent the black squirrel pounding the earth back to the Abbot.
"Yes Abbot Murto?" Hiikol replied, rocking back and forth on his heels anxiously.
"I know you are only trying to get the Dibbuns to learn a lesson, but why not try using a reward to motivate them?" Abbot Murto peered over his wired-rimed glasses at the young squirrel as he asked the question.
"Don't you remember Abbot? Imfirmary Sister Kaali tried that once, offered 'em a chance to help bake a pie wid Friar Loag. I still say after that 'e was never the same again."
"Ahh yes, I remember now. That was when the Dibbuns opened the vegetable cupboards and threw them all about the kitchens, and one of those son's of Skipper even chewed up a section of a cupboard door, am I right?"
"Sure are," Hiikol snorted.
Abbot Murto thought for a few moments more before replying. "Well, at least try to use something positive for the Dibbuns. It might help them out later in the long run."
"Okay, Abbot. I'll try, but don't say I didn't warn you," Hiikol replied over his shoulder as he marched back over to the Dibbuns.
The Abbot mole chuckled when he heard the young black squirrel lecturing the Dibbuns about climbing over elders and Abbots.
After the visions and the tossing of stones from Frul, Zrunduul decided that the only way something was going to get done was to do it right away. He already saw that his hordebeasts were getting too lazy for their own good, and wouldn't be able to fight off an ant with the fat growing about their middles.
Kicking over a pot of boiling water in a helmet, the black fox extinguished the fire underneath with a soft hiss and yelled, "Alright, you lazy scab-sided mud-brains! It's high time we moved on! Yer gettin' too fat to do anything except sleep and argue! Pack up your gear and we'll move out when the sun reaches high noon!"
High noon was in five minutes, so the vermin horde would have to work quickly to get everything packed away and ready for a long day of travelling. All knew better than to protest, for they would be left behind without question, for they knew that their leader was in total control of their lives and they could not live without his strong clawed-paw to rule under. At least that was what Zrunduul said about them.
None of them had the brains to even think on most of the things their leader said, everything was just from experience of getting your tail kicked out through your stomach if you didn't pay attention.
When high noon approached the old camp was completely void of life. The only signs that anything had been there were a sizzling pit of ashes, churned up earth and a lone weasel who refused to listen to a command.
The hunt for Redwall was on, and the vermin were vicious and fresh.
Sorry about not updating, I'd completely forgotten about fanfiction and my stories throughout the summer. Hope this chapter will tickle your fancy (and make up for my absence)!
Zealak Silverdirk