Sister Marta hurried against the blistering cold, fighting her way from the gatehouse back to the main hall. Though the extra blankets she had just picked up were thick with goose down the lashing wind still found its way in through tiny crevices, chilling Marta to the bone. Her small paws carried her quickly, nimbly dodging the rapidly forming snowdrifts in the courtyard, and she soon came to the large oaken door of Great Hall. She raised her fist and began to bang on the door, hoping that someone would let her into the abbey. No one came. She began to bang harder, almost frantically. A scurry came from behind the door, and the large oaken latch was lifted and the door swung inwards. Sister Marta stepped in quickly, shutting the door behind her. "Sorry there Miss Marta, I was just about to fall asleep before you came banging on the door, good thing too, or else you would have been a wee mousicle by the morning. Harharhar!"
"Foremole, that is not very kind," Marta quipped, "and I don't think any of the Dibbuns would be impressed to find that they no longer had a supervisor...But then again, they ARE Dibbuns." They both laughed, the gravity of the situation dissipated, and the pair walked through a second set of doors and into the main hall.
The warm glow of candlelight greeted the two friends as they entered the dining area. It was dinner time and all of the abbey's residents were ready to eat. Mushroom and leek pasties were set out, along with the mole's favorite, deeper-n-ever tarter pudding, and the otters had even contributed a fair sized trout from the abbey pond. There were many different kinds of soups and stews, including a shrimp and hotroot stew made especially by the otter, Sister Gwenneth. "Ah, good to see you made it back in one piece," Gwen remarked, "I was afraid for a sec there, thought you may have been blown away by the wind eh?"
The two Sisters hugged each other through the pile of blankets Marta was still carrying. "M'dear, let me help you with those," Gwen exclaimed as she realized that Marta was still carrying the blankets, "No kind hearted animal this side of Mossflower should ever have to do all that work alone!"
"Why thank you Gwen, these blankets were starting to get heavy, even though they are keeping be extra toasty!" They both laughed, Marta handed a couple of blankets to Gwen and they hurried up to the infirmary and dormitories to deal out the blankets.
Foremole Grumman watched the Sisters, walk through the doors and out of the dining hall, and then her turned back to his dinner and crew. "Well lads," he spoke in a gruff tone, with a tinge of darkness to it, "It seems that we're going to have a real winter this year. Which means we aren't going to be able to dig much at all if the ground freezes, so tonight we need to finish all the necessary tunnels to the pond, and the other food caches. Understood?"
There was slight grumbling from the crowd of seasoned diggers, they understood the gravity of the situation, and knew that if the tunnels weren't finished, the abbey would starve within its own safety, the walls would no longer keep others out, but trap them in. The young would be the first to go, then the elderly, then slowly the survivors of the initial starve would slowly freeze, as the cold became more intense, with even less food and wood, they would eventually end up frozen in a state of starvation. Yes, the moles did need to finish the digging tonight.
"Awww, why tonight?" whined Mulch, the new crew member. The mole was a loaner; he hated crowds, but was not afraid to speak up. He was used to living alone, and had only come to the abbey for the good food. "Honestly Grumman, I lived alone offa the land for two years, and look at me, I'm just fine!"
Flustered, Foremole Grumman quickly regained composure, "That may be just fine for you Mulch, but there are others in this abbey who need our help just to keep fed, let alone survive. These tunnels are crucial to their and our survival, so you will either help with the tunnels, or you will stay inside. That is final."
"Fine, I'll help you all save these weaklings. But next time, I'm staying home for winter." Mulch added, to save some dignity.
"Thank you."
Up in the infirmary, Marta and Gwen were busy distributing the extra blankets to the patients. "What a shame," Marta noted, "all these gentlebeasts bedridden because of this stupid disease. Why do they have to be stuck up here? It isn't fair for them; they are missing all the fun."
"Yes Sister, but if these patients weren't up here, all of Redwall Abbey would be sick. The healthy ones would be in the infirmary trying to avoid the sick ones. Disease is a horrible thing. Especially when we have no idea what the sickness is." She slowly mopped the brow of a small mouse, his tiny paws quivering as if he was extremely cold. Gwen felt his forehead. It was very warm. "Oh Marta, I'm afraid this little one isn't going to make it. He hasn't woken up for the last three days, his temperature keeps rising, and he won't stop shivering. I've never had to deal with a death of such a young one before."
"Well then Gwen, we're just going to have to not think about that won't we. Maybe Martin will help him. He has never let me down before."
Marta smiled as she thought of the regal warrior mouse, his strong features, his dashing robe, and his sword. The sword of Martin. The pommel hilted blade had fallen from the stars and had been forged by a badger lord in the fiery depths of Salamandastron; the blade had vanquished countless foes, protecting Redwall Abbey for season upon end. The blade of the warrior, whose soul now protectively haunted the abbey. Marta's eyes glazed over and she continued to dream, she saw Martin the Warrior, raising his sword, preparing for battle, charging, burning down the enemy's fortress, proclaiming Victory! at the top of his lungs.
Then, Martin turned and looked at her. His black eyes turned to deep pits of obsidian. Then, within his eyes, Marta saw a fire ignite, a faint, but strong, glimmering in the pools of deep night. Martin slowly reached out to Marta, beckoning her to hold out her hand. Subconsciously, Marta listened to Martin, she raised her paw, palm up. Before Marta, could do any more, Martin took his sword and drew it across Marta's paw. A thin line of blood formed, and Marta winced in pain, but continued to look Martin in the eyes. The fire in Martin's eyes grew, and soon his eyes were near a raging inferno, hate, love, sorrow, anger, passion, and hundreds of other emotions burning brightly. Marta saw a tear form on his cheek and roll down his soft fur. Then with sorrow-bound duty, Martin took his sword once more, lifted the sacred blade, and plunged it deep into Marta. Marta didn't even scream, a sense of calm washed over her, and she realized that it was all for the best. Black started to creep into the edge of her vision, and soon, a cloud of darkness enveloped her, and she fell away into a bottomless pit of blackness. And she heard,
Here comes a time of great sorrow
Look to the west
An evil arises to smother all life
Look to the east
A young hero, strong at heart
Look to the north
A cloud of darkness comes forth
Look to the south
Salamandastron's fire is gone
Here comes a time of great sorrow
Four directions
Three dilemmas
Two enemies
One hero
No hope
Sleep deeply Sister.