Redwall was snug and warm in its sturdy red walls. Its Abbess, Abbess Loran, was up and about, tucking in the sheets of young Dibbuns. Before she had been promoted to Abbess, the middle-aged mouse had been the Infirmary Herbalist, one of the kind, caring types. She had never lost her love for the Abbey Dibbuns, and still cared for them when she had the time. Right now, she was fluffing up the pillow of Rodo, a molebabe. Rodo plucked at her dress.
"Yurr, M'Abbess, what be that thurr scurry noise?" Loran smiled. "That's just the thunder, from the storm." Rodo blinked. "Mortin's snorin' ?" Loran knew what he was talking about. Friar Hern, the Abbey's head dormouse cook and storyteller, often referred to thunder as snores from the Abbey's beloved deceased hero, Martin the Warrior. "Yes, Martin's snoring. Go to bed now." She set down the molebabe's pillow and turned to leave. As she closed the dormitory door, she could hear Rodo's own snores.
When she came to the Great Hall, she looked at the wall. There hung a tapestry of Martin the Warrior himself, leaning on his sword as vermin fled from him. The actual sword in the tapestry was mounted right above it, there for all to see. Loran breathed deeply; the sight of Martin's heroic face always calmed her. Then she went off to bed.
Meanwhile, in Mossflower's woods, a ferret named Arethra appeared. Arethra's lonely life in the woods had robbed her of any negative vermin traits, and she hungered for company. She liked being with the birds that lived in the forest, but wished to be with beasts that walked upon two or four legs, like herself. She gazed at the abbey looming before the forest. It had been there for as long as she remembered. Granted, Arethra was only a child, about eleven in ferret years, but she had an near-perfect memory. Arethra did not know how she came to be in Mossflower: in fact, she didn't even know her real name, but had made it up herself. She had seen the families of fish and birds in the woods, but whenever she tried to recall having parents herself, she just remembered someone, perhaps her mother, running while carrying her. Then she recalled the sound of something speeding through the air and the beast dropping her, and it went black from there.
Arethra thought about the abbey often. She had seen beasts, not like her, but some with big furry tails and others with rudderlike tails. They came out of the building sometimes to pick from the lush gardens growing there. Arethra's friends, the robins, told her that they were different species. Some were called squirrels, others otters, and many others mice. There were also moles and dormice, but she rarely saw those. She wondered if they could offer her the family she wanted.
Gellar had never finished his search for Martin's sword. After he slew Fangeye and Zaggra, the storm had worsened and driven them back, forcing them away. After that, Gellar pushed the sword to the back of his mind. Years later, though, as his army slew a shrew union and plundered the shrew's meager possessions, a fantastic sword jerked that of Martin's back to Gellar's memory. And so it was that the fox and his army began the trek back to Mossflower.
A/N: And that's the end of chapter 2! Sorry if I got the mole dialect wrong, but in the Redwall books I've read, I've never really seen a mole say "Martin". I apologize for leaving the story at a sort of cliffhanger, but I'll publish the next chapter as soon as I can. Enjoy!