Ch. 2
Whilst all this was going on, the Rivermaid Runners were making camp in a thick piece of forest by a stream not far from Redwall.
"When will we get there?" chirped Lillian, a bright, lithe young mouse who had joined the Rivermaids but a year ago. She had never been to Redwall, and she was nearly bouncing with excitement as she lifted the canvas of one of their four tents and slid a pole into place with practiced ease.
"Soon," promised Gail, an older and more experienced otter who had been to Redwall many times before.
"Mmm…" sighed her sister, Jane. "I can simply taste the hotroot stew, can't you, Gail-y Girl? You know what they say…" The sisters looked at each other and cried in unison, "Ain't nothin hotter for an otter!" The group erupted into one of those fits of giggles that girls, ladies and women alike are bound to have quite often.
"'Otroot stew? Did I just hear you speak of 'otroot stew?" A large, honey colored hare named Ruby stepped from a tent she had just finished erecting. "Ah, the Redwall spread! To die for, m' friends, to die for, wot wot!" A dreamy look crossed the hare's eyes. "Mmm…makes the ole mouth water, I say! E'en ole Mary's cooking can't compare. No offense meant, Mary gel," she added hastily.
"None taken," smiled a delightfully plump hedgehog, who was stirring a pot of hot water and tossing things in here and there. "That dear old friar William certainly knows what he's doing. Janey Girl"-the Rivermaids all called each other '-y Girl' affectionately-"Be a dear and grab those orange peels out of m' bag, would you? There's a good lass." Jane obligingly passed over the scones and smelled the soup that was brewing.
"Mm, smells delightful. Another one of your secret recipes, Mary Girl?" she chuckled.
"Has anything I've ever cooked for you all ever been less than secret?" Mary winked. The group roared with laughter; they all of them liked to joke that Mary made all her recipes secret so that she wouldn't have to reveal all the wild ingredients that she threw in in an almost haphazard manner. She gave them names like 'That Brew' and 'This Stinking Concoction', for a particularly troublesome potful. Her soups and stews had never been less than satisfactory, though, and none of them had ever taken ill off of them. So the secrecy, as it was, didn't matter quite so much.
"It'll be This Crazy Cauldronful tonight," Mary grunted as she sniffed it.
"Would that be the same Crazy Cauldronful we had last week, Mary Gel?" Ruby asked with a chuckle.
"No, I ran out of that," Mary said, sprinkling in a very generous pawful of some sort of spice, "so I've got to use this instead," she continued, dropping in a few leaves with a flourish.
"Makes so much sense," giggled Gail, flopping down on the grass once she was done setting up the third tent. A collective sigh rolled serenely up from the group as a cool breeze ruffled their fur. "I do wonder," Gail said after a time, "if when we reach Redwall, we'll see that lovely squirrlemaid again, what was her name…"
"Tulia," Jane chimed in.
"Tulia! Yes, that was it. I do hope she's still there." Gail sighed and watched the sun sink over the trees.
"Who's Tulia?" Lillian asked, sitting down beside Ruby.
"A squirrelmaid we rescued from some slave drivers down by the sea a few years ago. She wouldn't say a word to us at first, but the last time we were at Redwall she was one of the sweetest, gentlest, brightest little gels you ever did see," Ruby explained. "I do hope she hasn't gone out to seek her fortune or some such nonsense, wot!"
"Ruby Girl, isn't that why you left Salamandastron and formed the Rivermaid Runners in the first place?" Mary chided.
"Yes it was, Mary Gel," Ruby said, looking very serious, "but that don't mean that every wild gel in the world ought to run off like I did." The Rivermaids laughed happily together through the stifling summer evening. All was right with the world.