A commotion nearing the work site brought Ratha back, wary and curious, to her lord's presence. She watched with mounting apprehension as one of the cat guards – as they were now called, wholly subordinate to their master Felis – dragged a squirming pine marten into view. The guards stopped before the Warlord, and one announced the situation. "We found this one skulking her way toward the fortress, my lord."

"Let me go!" protested the marten. "I come as an ally and admirer, not a threat. Let go of me!"

Riggu Felis looked at the captive with bland interest. "An ally and admirer, you say? What is that?"

"You are the savior of this Isle, my lord," the marten babbled, shakily. "I know of your war, your victories, against the otters who have oppressed me so long, and I praise you for it. Praise you, and desire to aid you. I come recently escaped from one of their villages, where the beasts long held me bound, and I have information that may prove valuable to you, if you accept my humble service."

Felis glanced briefly at each of the cat guards holding the marten. "Release her. I would hear this... information. What intelligence can you give me from within the otters' homes?"

The marten bowed gratefully. "The otters have a great leader, my lord – not so mighty as you, but who may impede your plans if you do not prepare against her. She bears a religious significance to the beasts of this Isle, as well as political power and military skill. They call her the High Rhulain."

Nearby, Goreth Steelclaw – once a warchief, now a lieutenant – coughed. Riggu Felis swiveled an ear toward him. "You have something to say, Steelclaw?"

"Yes, lord. We've heard of this 'High Rhulain,' before we came to this Isle. Past invasion forces blamed her for their failures. It's said she's an ottermaid who's a figure of prophecy among 'em, so they get uncanny fightin' spirit under 'er command."

"And yet you never thought to tell me of this?" Felis's voice was cool, perfectly disdainful. Ratha's heart turned over.

Steelclaw shifted his feet uncomfortably. "We've never encountered 'er, m'lord. Thought she were just a legend, an excuse the beaten forces used to cover their screw-up."

"Sometimes legends have substance, Lieutenant, and they always have power." His ear turned back, putting his full attention on the pine marten again. "What of this High Rhulain? Why mention her to me?"

"She's coming here, my lord," said the marten, her confidence plainly growing at this encouragement. "As soon as her forces are drilled and ready – in a week or so at most – she means to sail from her home at the north end of the Isle, and attack your stronghold before it is complete."

"So." Felis's eyes narrowed. "We cannot raise a fighting navy in that time. We shall have to make do with what ships remain of those that brought us here... and work our captured otter canoes to carry cats. That way we may at least scout the strength of their fleet, and harry and disturb them with boarding-assassinations by night." He turned to his lieutenants. "We must delay work on the fortress itself for now. What's done will serve as a stockade if it comes to that, but what we need are siege weapons to strike those sailing craft. Catapults, mangonels, ballistae. Who among you can oversee their construction?"

The cats stared blankly at him.

"You must be joking—" Felis growled in frustration, but the pine marten interrupted.

"I took part in a siege on the Quarry once, on the mainland, my lord. I could see to such a project."

"Good." The warlord flared his pelt-and-feather cloak imperiously. "Prove yourself to me. Succeed in building a set of sea defenses in the time you have, and I shall make you my taskmaster when we have defeated this High Rhulain." He paused. "What is your name, marten?"

The beast fairly glowed with gratitude. "Atunra, my lord."

"Go then, Atunra. We have no time to waste."

Ratha scowled. She, too, knows the way into a Warlord's confidence: make yourself deeply useful to him. Determined to win back the ground she had lost in this turn of events, Ratha sidled up to Felis when his lieutenants had scattered to do his bidding. "If I may be so bold, my lord," she purred, "you are making a mistake."

Felis fixed upon her with blazing eyes. Oh, how simple it would be to melt under that heat, to acquiesce to the fury in his blood! But she had to hold firm, despite the weakness of her feral race. To her relief, Riggu's restrained reply showed her that all was not yet lost. "What do you mean?"

"You have entrusted a task of tremendous importance – awarded the discretion and powers of a second-in-command, even – to an unproven outsider. The cat guards will chafe to see such unearned privilege, and mutiny will take root among them."

"Don't insult me, she-cat." He advanced on her a step, menacing her with his presence. "Do you think I, Warlord of Green Isle, cannot judge the character of my subordinates? You do not see what I see, in this newcomer or in the cat guards you think so ready to rebel."

Ratha bared her teeth. "Even the greatest of warlords, no, especially the greatest of warlords, can go blind from the insidious words of a sycophant!"

Felis's aspect grew even more dangerous; his ears flattened back, and claws flexed on his strong paws. He began to circle her, pacing as if to cow his prey. "Weren't you the one who wanted all power given unto me, an 'outsider' like this one? Don't you come daily to me with your advice couched in abject flattery of my 'great wildcat heritage'? Perhaps I should strike you down as a 'sycophant'... and a hypocrite besides."

"My lord, you mistake me." Desperation moved her now; she had acted without knowing where to lead this confrontation once it began. Her paw shot out, and grasped the warlord's upper arm, halting his movement more by audacity than strength. "See not treachery, but words of hope in your success, from one who loves you!"

They stood there, staring at each other from a paw's width apart, for some moments. His hot breath flared over her. She was engulfed in his scent and that of his grim cloak – musk, dust, and foe-hide – and dared not breathe lest she risk its power.

Finally Riggu shook her paw free, and glared down at her with teeth clenched. "Get out of my sight," he growled.

Ratha could no longer disobey, even if there were wisdom in it. She fled.

Author's note: Not a glowing victory for faithful adherence to source material, I admit. I can't recall siege weaponry ever showing up in the Redwall universe, much less in Riggu Felis's paws. But I didn't have much to work with regarding Atunra's background, beyond that Felis valued her and Kaltag was jealous of her, so I had lots of blanks to fill in, and here we are. One must suppose that the armaments were destroyed or fell into disrepair by the time the events of High Rhulain rolled around, and they had no real use in the sort of warfare depicted there anyway.

Thanks go to LaMissile for correcting me on Atunra's gender; I'd referred to her as "him" in the prior draft. Please let me know if any incorrect references remain.