Chapter Eighteen: Victory, For the Rapscallions
Nettleclaw stood on a large rock. He looked out over the battlefield, around five hundred hares, and four hundred vermin lay dead. The hares had fought valiantly, but with the odds at four to one, they didn't stand a chance. Granted, one escaped, but that wouldn't make a difference. For the time being, the Rapscallions would have to stay put. It would take a few days to reorganize, appoint new officers, and gear up for another battle.
The ferret turned to his horde that was standing to attention behind them. He pointed at the battlefield with his sword. "There lies the once mighty Long Patrol. Never before in history have they been defeated. We are the first. Even if we are somehow destroyed, we will be remembered for this. But that will not happen. All that stands between us and complete and unchallenged rule of Mossflower is the other half of the Long Patrol, and whatever fighters the Redwallers can muster. We defeated them once, we can do it again. Follow my orders, and we will have victory! Whom do you serve?"
The response was deafening, as there were nearly sixteen hundred vermin shouting, "Nettleclaaaaaaw!"
Nettleclaw smiled, now that he had won their loyalty, they would follow him to the gates of the Dark Forest itself, if he led them there. Nettleclaw sheathed his sword. The odds were now in his favor.