1
Blackfire waited. She had a net in the stream she lived by, catching shrimp to make all otter favorites: shrimp and hotroot soup. She smiled, because she had everything else ready. All she needed was the shrimp, and it had been a week since she put the net in. She pulled it out, and found it loaded with shrimp. She would cook the extra ones and give them to Crow, since he didn't like the spiciness of shrimp and hotroot soup. She put about 100 shrimp in the cauldron, and fried the rest. She whistled. Crowfeathers came out of his tree, and saw the shrimp.
"Yew 'ave ter be a goodbird, now." She told him. He nodded. She threw the shrimp one at a time into his waiting beak, which he closed after every five. She laid the others she hadn't fed him (which was about 30) on a blanket, to dry for traveling. When she knew the soup was ready, she sampled it. Awesome. She took it off the fire and poured some into a bowl. She supped at it, listening to some beast coming this way. She drained the half bowl left in a single gulp, and set it down. "Hide!" she hissed at Crow, who flew into a tree. She hid the cauldron, smell and all, and buried her fire. She then threw it into the river, so it looked like no beast lived there. She melted into the shadows, ready to spring if it was a vermin pack.
Halffang cursed as he tripped over a root. "I'm tellin' ye, she's real!" he told his companion, which was a stoat. The rat was strong, but he didn't want to cause trouble. The stoat, Crossear, replied, "'Ow do yew know? I'm tellin' ye, this is just a goosechase!" At this, Halffang bristled.
"Watch wot yew say, or I'm gonna slay ye!" He walked into a clearing, and sat down. He sighed. "We need Blackfire to take over Stripheth. That's why were 'ere, halfwit!" Just then, Blackfire stepped out. They gasped.
"So, ye need me ter take over Stripheth? The blue-eyed ferret, aye?" she asked them, toying with her blade. "If yer lying, well…" she trailed off. Only Crossear found his voice.
"Ain't yew a pretty thing?" he asked. She growled.
"Aye that's wot we want, it ain't no trouble for an eddicated beast like yerself, is it?" Halffang said quickly. She thought for a moment.
"I don't come fer free, rat." She said. He nodded.
"Wot do ye want? Anythin' at all, mate!" he said, hoping she would come. Again, she thought.
Finally, she said, "I want yew ter tell the Skipper of Redwall that Blackfire's back and waitin fer 'im." Halffang and Crossear looked at each other. That was no easy task. "An' yew have ter do it afore I 'elp yer." She added.
"But the Redwallers 'ate vermin like us…" Crossear said rather stupidly.
"Then if ye give me yer weapons, ye c'n say ye come in peace!" At that, both vermin threw their weapons down. "I'll give 'em back when ye return." She smiled, and then melted away with their weapons. They stood dumbstruck. Halffang ran towards Redwall, wanting to get it done quickly. She smiled to herself. Skipper hated vermin. He would be hard to talk to.
Halffang banged on the door. Skipper came out. "What do you want 'ere, vermin?" he snarled at them.
"Er, we wos just gonna tell you that, er… ThatBlackfiresbackandwaitingforyou!" Crossear said, in a rush. Skipper prodded them. "She was killed a long time ago, any beast knows that." He growled.
"No, she ain't dead. She told us ter tell ye so's she c'n 'elp us! We come in peace!" Halffang tried to explain. Skipper wouldn't hear of it.
"I saw 'er, dead!" He tried to tell them. They were getting annoyed also.
"Then ye didn't look right! She's waitin', Skipper!" with that, they left, headed back to Blackfire's camp.
"Oh, dear. This ain't good, mate." Halffang said. They hoped they could get enough from her to prove she was alive.
She had moved everything. It looked as though she was never there. She smiled as she swam away, scent completely hidden. It would take forever to find her, and that's how she wanted it. Crow was flying in the air, and she came out. She climbed onto his back, and he flew again, carrying her.
Skipper was sitting at the Cavern Hole table, thinking hard. She could still be alive, he had never checked if she was really dead. You see, there had been a mazzive battle, which both Skipper and Blackfire took part in. Afterwards, it looked as if she was dead. Though the next day she was gone, so he had assumed she had been buried. Bartemeaus walked in, and Skipper had a few questions for him.
"Hello, Skipper. Did you want to ask me something?" The old mouse asked. Skipper was always fascinated at how he knew those things, as he was blind.
"Yes, Bart. Is….is Blackfire alive?" Skipper asked, his head in his paws, elbows on the table.
"There are some who say she is. I've seen her, Skip. Saved me from death more than once, she did." He replied, thinking back to the times some black creature had saved him. "Course, we don't know if she's a ferret, or an otter." At this, Skipper looked up.
"How can you not know? There is a distinct difference, I mean otters have thick rudder like tails and-" Skipper started.
"She's a slender pretty thing, skinny tail for an otter, yet only a little thicker than a regular ferrets." He interrupted. He knew what she looked like, from the previous seasons when he could see. "Aye, she's become a legend. Great hero, you know. All look up to her." He said, stroking his whiskers in a thoughtful way. Skipper just stared at him. He remembered she always was rather skinny. "And you know, she is about your age. But I hear that she has you do outrageous things to become her friend. And after you insulted her father-"
It was Skippers turn to interrupt. "That's enough talking for now!" He got up, thanked Bartemeaus, and went to the kitchens. "Friar, can you pack me a picnic lunch for two?" Skipper asked.
"Sure thing, Skip. Who's going with you?" Friar Bob asked.
"No one. I'm meeting my maid friend." He said, waiting patiently for the basket of food.
"Who's the lucky gal, eh? Who gets to have lunch with my handsome Skipper?" Skipper's father had just walked in, as it was about time for his mid-afternoon snack.
"A friend who doesn't live here, that's who." Skipper said, matter-of-factly. "Now if you please, Friar, the lunch?" Skipper said, reminding the Friar about his job.
"Oh, right! Some tarts, a little bit of salad…." He mumbled, going about the kitchen getting everything Skipper needed.
"Uh, Friar, if you don't mind, a little piece of pie and perhaps a salad?" Skipper's dad asked. "Well, tell her 'hi' from you father. If I'm not mistaken, this maid is Blackfire, and you're trying to make up with her, yes?" Skipper's dad had an uncanny way of knowing things that went on in Skippers head. He knew that he had been a little harsh on her, but she had liked him more than the others.
"Will do, pop. That is, if she even talks to me…" He mumbled. He got the basket from Friar, thanked him, said good-by to his father, and set off into the woods. Little did he know that he wasn't going to have an easy time going through the woods.
Stripheth sat in his tent, wishing dearly his horde wasn't so stupid. As he looked out his window, he saw what looked to be a black ferret on a raven's back land near his camp. He ran to get the ferret, wanting to know if it was as stupid as his horde.
Blackfire jumped off of Crow as they landed. "Look at me, Crow. Me neckfur spiked like usual?" She asked. Crow nodded. "Lookin' like a ferret, am I?" she asked. Crow nodded. "Ready fer some fun, an' maybe, no, definitely some gold?" she asked. Crow nodded. Blackfire pricked her ear. "Listen, mus' be the horde leader." She whispered to Crow. She set about making it look like she was setting up a camp. She saw Stripheth panting, running up to her. He regained his breath rather quickly.
"Miss," he began, looking at her. What he saw was a stunningly beautiful female ferret, setting up a camp.
"Aye?" she asked, bringing him back to his senses.
"I ask you to join my horde, as they are all stupid." He said, in his most flattering voice.
"Yer stupid." Blackfire muttered under her breath. "I don' work fer free, ye need ter pay me." She said, loud enough for him to hear.
"Oh, yes, of course. Yes, follow me please." He said, and turned to walk away.
"One moment, ferret."
"Yer a ferret too, ye know."
"Shuttup! One more condition. Ye 'ave ter let me go round the woods by meself."
"Ye promise not ter tell the Redwallers?"
"I 'ate 'em, 'course not!" She crossed her fingers behind her back. She might not like them, but she had to warn them. She didn't let any innocent beast get hurt unless she was the one doing the hurting.
"All right, then." And again he turned to go. Since Blackfire could not see his face, he had the biggest grin pasted on.
Blackfire followed him, wondering what sort of payment she would get. Crow hopped behind her, excited at finally being full grown and able to participate this time. Stripheth dog-trotted ahead of them, knowing what he would give: a chest full of gold and jewels, and the high captain position, to ensure her loyalty. "By the way, me beauty," Stripheth said. Blackfire growled a little bit. "Wots yer name, eh?" He asked. He needed to know his knew High Captains name.
"Me names…." At this she hesitated, thinking hard. "Spikedheart." She said at last. Stripheth guessed that she had hesitated because her name sounded evil.
"That's a right pretty neckfur ye got there. Nice fer battle." He commented.
"Aye, Lord." She said, taking to calling him Lord for now.
"Ho, no, me High Cap'n gits ter call me Stripheth." He insisted.
"Alright, Stripheth."
They walked in silence for awhile. Stripheth couldn't help but notice that she was his same age. Blackfire couldn't help but notice he was her age, quite a young horde leader. As they walked, they came upon a rather large camp. Blackfire let out a long whistle. "'Tis a mighty 'orde ye 'ave 'ere. All pretty stupid, aye?" She asked, looking around.
"Yes, that's the sad thing." He sighed.
"Ye know, Stripheth, yer a pretty young 'orde leader." Blackfire commented.
"Aye, me father would be proud o' me." He said, a smile crossing his face. "His name was Strippheth."
Blackfire stopped. Strippheth? He killed her parents, but she would say nothing to her Lord. They walked in silence to Stripheth's tent, where they both entered. "Well, me beauty, this is your payment." He said, showing her a large trunk full to the brim of gold and jewels. Blackfire's eye lit up, the trunk ensuring she might actually teach them to dodge. But nothing else.
Skipper ran through the trees. In one paw was his sling, in the other his dagger. His picnic basket laid some ways back, left behind. Something sounded in the tree. Skipper stopped and looked up. A rain of pebbles came down upon him, making him duck for cover. He heard ripping noises where he left his basket, knowing what had become of it. "Why are they so close to Redwall anyways?" he mumbled. He stood up, and more pebbles came at him.
"Worra you doing here?" a voice called.
"Just passin' through Mossflower, ain't yore territory! You don't have a right to attack me!" Skipper replied.
"Shuttup, waterdog! This aking maken a speech!" a different voice rang.
"Aye, thatta right, waterdog! Kinga says you not gorra right to walk in his new territory!" The first voice rang.
"New territory? New territory?" Skipper barked. "You don't have a right to expand your territory!"
"Waterdog best be's quiet, or else him gonna pay the price!" The second voice rang again.
"Listen, Ragtail! You best go back to your own territory, or else Redwall will come and kill you!" Skipper retorted.
The voice laughed. "Hahaha! Yousa sillybeast, Ragtail no go home!"
Skipper thought a moment. "If I beat you in a duel, then will your tribe go back to your original territory?" He shouted into the trees.
Harsh laughing was heard. "Yousa gotta no chance, but Ragtail accepts! A fight to the death?" The voice called Ragtail asked.
"Aye, that's right! But it's got to be on the ground, where I can see you!" Skipper replied.
"All righty, then. Kinga Ragtail accepts these terms!" Ragtail agreed. Down from the trees climbed a rat painted in reds and greens. His advisor also climbed down with him. Now, this 'King' Ragtail was a tree rat, as was all of his tribe. They were all the same colors, but they had different markings than Ragtail had. In Ragtail's paw was a short rapier.
"Yousa knows how to duel, yes?" He said, taking a fighting stance and sneering at Skipper.
"Aye, rat. Yore advisor better stay outta this, and he's the only one that can say when to go." Skipper said quickly. He finished right on time, as Ragtails advisor shouted go. He danced up and down, banging on war drums.
Ragtail ran at Skipper, his rapier held high. Skipper sidestepped, but so did Ragtail. Skipper parried the blow with his dagger, but Ragtail was quick. He caught Skipper in the ear, chopping part off. Skipper started thwacking Ragtail on the head with his sling, which was loaded. Ragtail took the blows, clashing blades with Skipper. Skipper hit Ragtail good on the chest with his sling, knocking him back. He then proceeded to pelt Ragtail with river pebbles. Ragtail's tribe was egging him on, shouting support.
"Yousa tougher then you look, waterdog!" Ragtail panted. As he rested for a moment, he threw his rapier. It lodged itself in Skipper's shoulder.
"Why, thankee kindly, rat!" Skipper winced, catching Ragtail in the arm with his dagger. Ragtail screamed in pain. As he clutched his wounded arm, Skipper ran him through with his dagger. Ragtail fell, dead.
The tribe fell silent. The advisor, Stringeye, looked shocked.
"Kinga Stringeye says tribe fallsa back to the old territory!" Stringeye screamed. Skipper guessed he was the new 'King'. The tribe did as told, shouting insults to Skipper on their way back.
Skipper pulled the rapier out of his shoulder, wincing greatly as he did so. He found some dock leaves and put them on his wound. He needed to stop the blood flow. He sat down with his back against a tree trunk, took a grape vine he saw growing, and tied the dock leaves to his shoulder. His head slumped onto his chest, and he fell asleep.
Blackfire walked through the trees, enjoying her alone time. She had just ordered the horde to cook dinner, which was hard. They had shouted either insults or complements while she addressed them. Just then, a scent came to her nose. Blood was about an hours walk from here, northwest. She started in that direction. She also smelled death, dock leaves, and…metal, like a dagger. She quickened her pace, sensing something was amiss.
Stripheth tapped his claws. Where was she? He knew she took awhile for a lot of things, but she was overdue. He could only wait a few more minutes. Little did he know she only needed a few more minutes.
Blackfire worked quickly, as Skipper was still unconscious. Much as she hated him, she wanted to kill him, not some wound. She wrapped it tightly after putting a special ointment made of crushed dock leaves and a berry only she knew about. She wrapped it with whole dock leaves. He grunted just as she finished, and she hurriedly melted into the shadows and pelted back to camp. She walked in, with all her breath, making it seem like she was only gone for a moment or two. "Yew lazy chops! Git back ter work! Yer aint gonna be good fighter if'n ye don' train, now will ye?" She shouted, her voice ringing through the forest. Stripheth looked up, spotting her strutting form from inside his tent. As he was about to get up, she burst in. "Yew've got the laziest lot I ever seen, Stripheth!" She bellowed, amazed at how lazy they were. Not to mention fat.
"I-I-I…" Stripheth stammered, amazed at how easily she could yell at her leader. But then again, she was a loner.
"Either yew git yer lot respectin' me or I'm gonna quit!" She raged, seeking to kick things.
"Calm down, please! It ain't my fault that me lot's-" He started.
"Aye, 'tis yore fault as yer their leader!" She interrupted. She found a table, and proceeded to upturn it. "Git yer lot t'where they respec' me, or I'm gonna quit!" she repeated.
He sniffed, keeping calm. "If'n you calm down, then I'm sure I c'n arrange that!" he said softly. Blackfire seemed to notice he was calm, as she turned to him, eyes narrowed. For all her raving, she was breathing normally. Suddenly, a change came over her. She walk back to Stripheth, and smiled. Stripheth seemed to melt. "Stripheth, c'n yer let me be leader fer a week?" She asked, in a silky smooth voice.
"S-sure." He said, his eyes glazed with love. She gently took his cloak from him, and put it on.
"Now, be a good high captain, an' go sleep in yore tent." She said, and he walked out to the high captain tent.
Skipper woke up. His shoulder was bandaged in such a way, the beast who did it had to be better at medicine than the infirmary mice. He stood up and stretched. His limbs were stiff. "Ah!" he gripped his shoulder. It was searing with pain. Then a smile cracked his face. He knew the beast who must have done this. But why? He was just going to be killed later, so why bother? As he walked back to the Abbey, gripping his shoulder, he thought about these things. Once at the Abbey, he went to the infirmary, and had the nurses take a look at the bandage.
"These are very well-done wrappings. I haven't seen this done before. This must have been a very skilled doctor, to wrap them like this. Yes, I see how it was done, very good, very good. Never would have though to do it like that, stops the bleeding for good." The nursemaid mumbled to herself. She studied Skipper's dressings, making notes on bark paper, so she could do this in the future. Skipper waited patiently as she worked. "My, my, I can't redo this!" The nurse cried. "It's too advanced. You'll have to keep them on until your wound heals, Skip. Sorry!" She added. Skipper nodded his thanks and left.
As Skipper walked down the hall, he stopped in front of the tapestry with Martin on it. The sewn mouse smiled boldly down at him, leaning on his sword hilt as vermin fled behind him. "Oh, Martin, why can't she just get along with me?" Skipper asked, knowing he might not get an answer. But he swore he saw Martin wink back at him.