Chapter Eight

Mother Maura's assessment of Highwing proved to be correct. It did not seem to bother the young bird overmuch that he saw little of his favorite mousemaid for the remainder of that season. The very evening of Sister Marisol's burial, Vanessa went up to the Infirmary and immersed herself in the healer's notes and journals. Deep in study did she remain until summer was almost upon Mossflower, and on some days she would not be seen by any of her fellow Abbeybeasts except for the kitchen helpers who delivered her meals to her where she read.

Highwing, meanwhile, continued to excel in class and deepen his friendships with the other Redwallers. Since birds grow and mature more rapidly than the furred, ground-dwelling creatures, he easily outpaced all his young classmates and was soon helping Geoff and Trevor present each day's lessons. The Sparra was as able in the role of teacher's assistant as he was in composing verse, or matching staffs with his otter duelling mates ... all of which kept Highwing perfectly well occupied without having to rely on Vanessa during this busy time for her. He understood how seriously she took her new studies, and joined everybeast else at the Abbey in being as considerate toward her as he could.

Indeed, everybeast was being so respectful of Vanessa's study time that some of the Abbey leaders began to worry that she might push herself too hard if left solely to her own devices. And so it was that Abbot Arlyn paid her a visit in the Infirmary on one of the last days of spring.

Vanessa glanced up from the journal she was reading, one of Father Darrow's old records. "Oh, hello, Abbot," she greeted Arlyn. "Have you come to join me in another study session? Or brought another piece of ancient medical lore from the archives?"

"Not today," the older mouse smiled. "In fact, I've come to take something rather than bring it."

"Oh? What?"

"You!" Arlyn reached down and resolutely shut the book before Vanessa. "Do you realize how many beautiful days you've passed away shut up in here with these musty old tomes as your only companions? Well, I'll have no more of that, young lady! Spring is nearly over, and I'll not see you waste another day so fine as this. So put aside your studies for one day, and take some time to reacquaint yourself with our lush lawns, shady orchard, fragrant gardens and cool clear pond. And a stroll along the walltop wouldn't do you any harm either."

Vanessa laughed. "You make it sound like I've become a cave-dwelling hermit! Honestly! It's not like I haven't been out to enjoy all those wonderful meals we've had out on the lawns and in the orchard."

"Not all of them," Arlyn regarded her over the rim of his spectacles. "I can clearly remember one or two without you ... "

"I've been getting plenty of sunshine and fresh air," Vanessa protested.

"A creature can never get too much of either, especially on days such as this. Your time away from the Infirmary has been in mere snippets and snatches compared to the full length of these almost-summer days. And just look at where you're sitting - tucked back in a dusty corner, not even near an open window. No, my dear, I'm afraid this will never do. I want you outdoors for the remainder of today ... and that's an order from your Abbot!"

"But ... there's still so much here I have to learn!"

"And it will all still be here tomorrow," Arlyn cut her off before she could argue further. "And the day after that, and the day after that. But this day, once it ends, will be gone forever, never to be retrieved or relived, except in memory. You, Vanessa, need to make memories of something other than slaving away alone up here with your studies. All work and no play makes Vanessa a dull mouse!"

The young mousemaid had to chuckle in spite of herself. "Okay, okay! A compromise, then?" She picked up Darrow's journal and came out from behind the desk. "I'll wander Redwall's lawns and paths until my footpaws are sore, at your behest. But I'll take this along, in case a sunny spot or friendly shady nook captures my fancy and I decide to rest there for awhile. I'm sure you'll have no objections if I continue my studies outside, will you?"

"Welll ... I was hoping you'd set aside your studies altogether for an afternoon. It's a proven fact, you know, that a beast learns better when the mind is rested. But, if this is what it takes to get you outdoors - it's a deal!" Arlyn rested a paw on her shoulder as they walked out of the Infirmary together. The Abbot glanced aside to take in all the empty beds as they passed through the large room. "I really don't know why you're in such a hurry to read all those records. You've only had, what, two or three scraped knees and half a dozen upset stomachs in all the time you've been our Infirmary keeper. There's not a single sickbeast in all the Abbey at the moment, and nothing's very likely to come up that you wouldn't be able to manage with your present knowledge. So why push yourself?"

Vanessa shrugged as they exited into the corridor. "Better safe than sorry, I guess."

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Later that afternoon, after she'd spent time on the walltop and in the orchard and taking a hearty lunch with her fellow Redwallers out on the Abbey lawns, Vanessa strolled along the eastern grounds, enjoying the soft carpet of grass against her naked paws even as her snout was buried studiously in the journal she'd brought outside with her. The meal of nutmeg yellow cheese and apple salad rumbled happily in her stomach, but Vanessa was as oblivious to that as she was to the cheery noise of summer sounds all around her. The laughter and voices of playing children and relaxing adults mingled with the background buzz of whirring and chirruping insects, punctuated by the trills and cheeps of birdsong. Somewhere off over her shoulder she distantly heard the ruckus of Highwing and Monty having another of their staff jousts; the clacking of their staves and friendly shouts of challenge blended into the general background noise on the fringes of her awareness.

The attack came utterly without warning. The whisper of wind from flapping wings had barely hit the back of her scalp when Vanessa felt talons grip her shoulders and a heavy blow bore her forward. The swooping Sparra was not content to simply ram her with its body; the claws that were locked onto her collarbones tumbled the mousemaid roughly and painfully onto her face into the grass. The precious journal flew from her paws, landing several paces away.

Her attacker clung to her until they hit the ground together. Then, knocked clear by the impact, the bird rolled free of her. Recovering her senses, Vanessa got to her knees. Before her, the hostile sparrow regrouped and regained its footing. With hate blazing in its black eyes, the bird took a menacing hop toward her.

Vanessa braced herself for a renewed attack. But the Sparra paused after that solitary hop, still beyond striking distance, its attention split between her and something else behind her. After several long moments of indecision, the bird turned away and shot into the sky, wings flapping furiously.

The sound of racing footpaws reached Vanessa's ears, and Montybank sped past her, waving his javelin wildly at the ascending foebird. Highwing followed on the otter's heels, his own staff discarded in haste, but no less keen than Monty to rush to Vanessa's defense, even unarmed.

Montybank skidded to a halt after several paces, satisfied that the attacker was fleeing and did not mean to return. Hastening back to Vanessa's side, he helped her to her feet, still keeping an eye toward the sky. "Easy does it, Nessie. Are y'wounded bad?"

"I don't think so ... Monty, look!" The otter spun round to follow the mousemaid's pointing paw.

Highwing had not broken off the pursuit. Flapping his wings as he raced along the ground beneath the other Sparra, giving in to the natural instinct born in every bird, Highwing slowly and awkwardly lifted off the greensward and rose toward Vanessa's attacker. For a moment he faltered, as surprised as anybeast that he was actually flying; then he tucked up his legs and applied himself to the task with renewed vigor. His bad wing made his flight somewhat floppy and lopsided, but there was no denying that he was truly flying, as surely as any bird had ever flown.

As Vanessa and Monty stood watching, spellbound, the two sparrows ascended to the very heights of Redwall's tallest roof peaks. The attacker, now the pursued, probably could have easily outmaneuvered Highwing but seemed so surprised at being followed that it panicked and automatically made straight for the imagined safety of its home loft. With its superior flying ability, it reached its goal far ahead of Highwing.

"Uh-oh," Monty observed, "looks like our matey's gone an' stirred up a hornet's nest!"

The belligerent sparrow must have been calling out for help from its companions in the roofspaces before it even reached the eaves, for Highwing was immediately besieged by half a dozen more of the aggressive birds.

"Oh no!" Vanessa wailed, watching helplessly from far below. "Those bullies are ganging up on him!"

Highwing may have been a brave creature, but his thorough Redwall education had also taught him when to heed discretion as the better part of valor. Finding himself suddenly outnumbered, he needed no second bidding to beat a hasty retreat. He dropped like a stone back toward the lawns. The others chased after him, but now the very same limpness of wing that had worked against him during his ascent became his ally. The young Sparra's flight path wobbled and wavered so unpredictably that every time the others lashed out with bill or talon to strike at him, Highwing was never where they expected him to be, and their assaults met empty air. In this fashion, the perilous game of tag spiralled down almost to the Abbey lawns.

Then, at very nearly the last moment, the pursuing sparrows broke off the chase and swooped skyward again in an abrupt arc. The sight of Montybank standing ready to greet them, his twirling javelin whistling in menace, was enough to make them think twice about pressing their attack.

Highwing, unfortunately, ended his first flying experience on a decidedly less graceful note. Unable to reduce his speed as expertly as his more seasoned foes, he crashed into the lawn in a skidding tumble. Only the late-spring softness of the living green carpet saved him from serious harm.

"Highwing!" Vanessa cried, running over to him. "You can fly!"

"Hmm, harrumph! Yes, so it appears," Highwing said, ruffling his feathers all over as Vanessa and Montybank helped him up from his rather undignified sprawl. "But it would seem I still need to work on my landings."

"Aye," the otter heartily agreed, "made me bones shake in me flesh just watchin' you come down like that. Hard t'believe y'didn't kill yerself!"

Highwing tested all his limbs. "Naught broken but my dignity. What about you, Vanessa? Did that ruffian cause you any harm?"

"Yeah," Monty added, picking at some small rents in the fabric of Vanessa's habit, up near the shoulders where the attacking bird's talons had gripped her. "Looks t'me like he might've pricked you apiece."

"Yes, it stings a little, but I don't think it's bleeding, or at least not much," Vanessa said, retrieving the book she'd lost in the scuffle. "I'll have Abbot Arlyn take a look at it, and apply any remedy he sees fit. Even the most skilled healer can't always tend to herself, I suppose."

"Yah," said Monty, "an' while we're at it, we c'n ask him wot we're gonna do 'bout those pesky featherbags, afore one of 'em does somebeast some real hurt."

"A very good idea," Highwing nodded. "Let's go find him right away."

Vanessa brushed off her treasured volume, examining it to make sure it hadn't suffered any major damage, then fell into step behind her two friends, the journal tucked firmly at her side.

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"I just don't know," Arlyn sighed as he dabbed at Vanessa's shoulder scratches with a moistened compress. "These Sparra are getting to be quite a problem - uh, no offense, Highwing - "

"None taken," the sparrow said from his perch atop an adjoining Infirmary bed.

" - but as to what we can do about it ... " The Abbot shook his head slowly. "Those winged creatures rule the roost when it comes to the Abbey roofspaces, and Redwall's designers never allowed for any easy access to those attics from inside. I suppose we could organize a force of squirrels to climb up to the roof and go in through the eaves, but even if we succeeded in chasing them all away, how could we keep the Sparra from returning? I don't want to start an all-out war with them if we can avoid it. On the other paw, we cannot allow this danger to go unanswered. We can't have everybeast in the Abbey afraid to go out onto our grounds for fear of an unprovoked attack from above."

"Shore was unprovoked this time 'round," Montybank testified from Vanessa's side. "Nessie 'ere t'weren't doin' nothin' but strollin' along, mindin' nobeast's business but her own. Sneak attack, took us all by surprise."

"I feel somewhat responsible myself," Arlyn admitted. "If I hadn't practically ordered you outside, Vanessa, this never would have happened."

"Don't be silly, sir!" Vanessa protested. "You were absolutely right that I'd been spending too much time up here, and needed to get out more. There's only one creature who's to blame for this, and that's the nastybird who did this to me."

"Altho'," put in Monty, "if'n it hadn't been fer this little rigamorole, we never woulda guessed Highwing could well an' truly fly."

The young sparrow gave his plumage a thorough ruffle. "I shudder to think that it would take the threat of bodily harm to a dear friend as the cost of making such a discovery. If that's the price, I would just as soon have remained ignorant of my flying ability."

"But you did do rather well," Vanessa told him encouragingly, then winced as the Abbot swabbed at a particularly tender spot on her collarbone.

"From the account you three have given me," said Arlyn, "I'd say you're very lucky that I don't have two patients to tend to up here instead of just one." He set aside his poultices. "There, that finishes that. None of those scrapes were very deep, Vanessa, so I don't think there's any need to bandage them. But there does seem to be a fair amount of bruising under the fur. Nothing to be done for that, I'm afraid, except to let it take care of itself. You'll be sore for a few days, but all in all, I'd say things turned out far better than they could have."

"Yes, I suppose ... " Vanessa let the Abbot and Monty help her pull her habit fully back on, favoring her tender shoulders. "I wonder if that was the same Grym Sparra who attacked me before? I really didn't get a good enough look at him this time to see, it all happened so fast ... not that I'd easily be able to tell one sparrow from another anyway. But if it was, why would he come after me, when Highwing was his target before?"

"'Cos 'ee's a coward, like all bullies," Montybank spat. "Highwing 'n' me were t'gether, an' we was armed. No craven raven's gonna chance a fight with two armed an' skilled warriorbeasts. You was just a soli'try mousemaid, walkin' along all alone - jus' th' kind o' hapless victim a villain like that'n would look fer."

"Montybank's probably right," Arlyn nodded. "You were most likely a target of opportunity. Although, if that was the one called Grym, he might have remembered you after all, Vanessa. Bullies like that aren't accustomed to having anybeast stand up to them, and your sandal-club may have made quite an impression on him. Could be that he holds a grudge against you."

Highwing shook his head in sad bewilderment. "How I could be kinfolk to any creature such as that I'll never understand."

Monty thumped his birdfriend hard between the wing blades. "That's 'cos you've 'ad a proper Redwall upbringin'! Not like those feathered brutes up in yon roofspaces."

"They're welcome to the same education and friendship anytime they want it," said the Abbot. "All they have to do is ask."

"Not much chance o' that," grumbled the otter.

"Which leaves us with the question of what we're going to do about these attacks," Vanessa said. "If they continue, it's just a matter of time before somebeast gets seriously injured. I'm especially concerned for the children."

"Yes, I know," said Arlyn. "I see no need to court disaster, so as of now I'm issuing the following rule. I doubt these Sparra would trouble any of our sturdy otters or stout squirrels, but the smaller creatures must take steps to safeguard themselves. Henceforth, I do not want any mouse, mole or hedgehog to go out onto the grounds except in groups of three or more, or unless accompanied by an otter or squirrel ... or Mother Maura. That goes for you, too, Highwing. You may be able to fly now, but I wouldn't like to see the results if a gang of those winged hooligans caught you alone and unawares."

"Not t'worry, sir," Monty assured the Abbot, "I'll be keepin' a weather eye out fer me ol' feathermate 'ere. Won't let 'im leave me side, 'til you says otherwise."

"Actually, Montybank, I was just going to ask you to go tell the other otters of my decision. An Abbot's decree doesn't mean much if it's kept a secret among us four up here in the Infirmary. Highwing can help you, unless he wants to stay here with Vanessa. Tell Alexander to let all his fellow squirrels know, too. From now on, you otters and squirrels will be our safeguard against any more attacks. When those Sparra see you patrolling the grounds and escorting your fellow Redwallers, they'll think twice about knocking any of us down again. I'll make the general announcement tonight at supper in Great Hall. Until then, guard well anybeasts who are out and about."

Monty turned to go. "Lemme stir me rudder then an' go spread th' word. You comin', messmate?"

"No," Highwing shook his head, "I'll stay here with Vanessa."

"Righto. See you all later, then. Don't 'ave a worry, Abbot, I'll get yore orders given out quick an' sharpish to all me mates. Won't nobird cause us anymore hassle this day!"

After the otter was gone, Vanessa worried aloud, "So much for an outdoors Nameday feast this season ... and with summer almost upon us! I guess we'll have to hold it in Great Hall again. There will be a lot of disappointment - so many of us were looking forward to holding the celebration out on the lawns."

"Then, by all means, let us hold it outside," Arlyn said resolutely. "The worst thing we could do, I think, would be to let those Sparra bully us into submission, and abandon our greatest festival of the season. It's one thing to take a few precautions, as I've just done, and quite another to rearrange our whole way of life out of fear. No Abbot or Abbess before me has ever yielded to such villainous strongpaw tactics, and I won't be the first. These attacks may have put us a little on edge and will keep us alert and on our toes, but I'm not about to be intimidated in my own Abbey! Let the feast go on as planned, I say! And for entertainment, we'll have all the otters jousting, and an archery tournament for the squirrels, too. Any winged troublemakers who think they can ruin our festivities are welcome to try!"

Vanessa was slightly taken aback; seldom had she ever heard her mild-mannered Abbot speak with such indignant firmness or resolve. "But, we don't even know yet what name this summer will have. You speak as if we'll be holding the feast right away."

"And so we shall," said Arlyn. "After today's events, there can be but one name for this season."

"What?" Vanessa and Highwing asked as one, leaning forward expectantly.

The Abbot laid a paw on each of their shoulders. "Why, the Summer of the Flying Sparrow, of course!"