As I said before, it has been five seasons since that day. Birchleaf and Ryon have visited us twice, and most recently with a chubby little ball of fluff that they have decided to name Silver, in honor of the brave mouse. I am happy for them. And the name fits him, as his eyes are silver. Coincidence or fate? We are not destined to know. Abbot Napole retired last summer, and now Sharpear, who left Vale Island after a few seasons here to live at Redwall, is now our Abbot. He still uses his pirate side on misbehaving Dibbuns, threatening to throw them to the sharks in the pond. Bless their little hearts, they don't know better. Blackreed was sorry to see him go, but the trio, along with any islander that wants to come, still visits regularly. I in my warrior duties do not find much time to write, but I have spent the last few days in the gatehouse, the musty, dusty old gatehouse, writing this tale. My paws are stained blue. I will have to wash them thoroughly before going in to dinner tonight. Friar Napole is very fussy about messy paws. Old Napole. Who would have thought? The season is almost ended. By the middle of summer I will be leading a group down to the shore to meet the Javelin as it comes in. I wager that Ryon has taught Silver to wield a blade by now. No doubt it will have been Silver's own. The life of a warrior calls me, sword practice, checking in with the Gousim to see if there's been any trouble, watching out for murderous bands of vermin. Nothing of the kind has been seen in all this time. On their first visit, Ryon told everybeast about our adventures. He even showed us the scars that the pieces of wood had left when he fell on them. It was not a pretty sight for many of the gentler ones. On one day last summer, he grew distant. Any creature who asked was gently told by Birchleaf and me. I can only hope that someday another young creature like you picks this scroll up and reads it. It is a great tale, one of adventure, sadness, and action. Oops! Time for dinner, and I still haven't washed the ink off of my paws. Nor have I finished writing. Ah, well. I'm sure that Napole and Sharpear will not mind if I am a tad late. They never wait for me. Every time I show up late they say "Ryon wouldn't like that, Lucar!"
They find that funny. To me, it isn't. Even if I miss dinner altogether, I can always pilfer something from the kitchens. As I have done each night since I started writing, to my chagrin. I find myself walking through Mossflower these days, looking at familiar spots. You can't see the sea from Redwall, not even through the attic window, but I still know what it looks like. If you ever feel a need to travel to Mossflower, I beg you, don't hesitate. Ryon and Birchleaf might be here, and those two were meant for each other. Blackreed once quipped that he knew from the first blow, and then was chased twice around the wall by the indignant two. But, as is our way, the gates of Redwall are always open to honest beasts, and good friends.
Extract from the writings of Lucar,
Warrior of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower Country
Yay! Done! This is the longest story I've written, and I wrote it before discovering this website. It's about a hundred and fifteen pages, I think, and took me more than one bout of writer's block to get through. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!