Flycreek had left the Holt, feeling uncomfortable among those who had exiled her. They seemed nice enough, but Flycreek wasn’t in the mood to stay in one place. The black otter had silently packed a haversack of supplies, collected her new weapons, and left. Looking back now, she realized that she had been rude, but it was too late. A day and a half had passed since she left the Holt, and she was lying on her back, studying the stars, and reciting the names and constellations the squirrels had taught her. Her eyes started to close, but she willed them open. It was an area in Mossflower, though somewhat near Redwall, where vermin lurked and sought out valuables, like Flycreek’s sword and shield.
A stick cracked behind Flycreek. She leapt up, and at the same time slipped on her shield and unsheathed her sword. “Who’s there?” she called. Two dark figures stepped from the gloom. The moon was full, and she saw from their figures that they were squirrels. She loosened her grip on her sword.
“It’s me, aye, Tej!!”
“And me, Rask! Is that you, Flycreek?”
Flycreek recognized the voices, though they were now a bit huskier. She dropped both sword and shield and ran to the squirrels. She embraced them, for they were Tejamoe and Raskaye, the squirrel twins who grew up with her. They were a deep rusty red, with copper tails. Both were holding bows. Tej also handled a spear, and Rask shifted a sword belt.
"When did you mates leave the drey?" Flycreek asked.
"Oh, a day or so ago. We followed your telltale signs, heh heh!" Rask said sarcastically, playing on an old joke. When the elders had taught the three how to track and journey leaving no trace, Flycreek, with her rudder tail, would thwack a tree every now and then, leaving a slap of mud from her tail, when it collected it by sweeping the ground. Rask and Tej had always been able to track her, though no one else could figure her out.
"Oh, close yore trap, matey. I need some good ole otter sleep."
"Don't you worry. Rask here will take the first watch."
"Oh I will? I thought I heard you volunteer, Tej, brother!"
Flycreek drifted to sleep to the sound of their bickering.
The next morning, Flycreek awoke to the same sound.
"You go collect firewood! I'll stay here and prepare our breakfast!"
"Uh, no, Tej, I think that I'll make breakfast. You're the stronger one, anyways."
"Don't you try to flatter me, Rask. It's your turn, anyhow."
"Oh really?"
Flycreek called "Oh, stop yore bickering. I'll get the firewood, mateys." She left to hear them arguing some more.
"Geez, Rask, wake her up, why doncha?"
"Oh, so now I woke her up!"
"Yeah! With you starting this argument and all!"
Flycreek laughed as she collected some kindling and tinder, dumping them at the twins' feet. "Now make the fire, lazypaws!"
Rask leapt to do so, and Tej kicked him out of the way.
"She was talkin to me, dumbears!"
"Oh really, slobberchops?"
"Don't you call me that, you frog-walloper!"
"Since when did I ever wallop frogs? I believe you're the one who's a stumplicker!" For those who aren't fluent in squirrel slang, a stumplicker is a squirrel who can't climb, so they're only good for licking stumps. Thus the name.
This must've offended Tej greatly, because he joined Flycreek, muttering up a storm about his rude and lazy brother. Flycreek only laughed at the pair's impudence to each other. They could be serious when the time came.
Soon, Rask called "I got a fire goin'!" Tej walked over and put some water in a large dockleaf, and set some water to boil. Rask added some watercress and pepperwort, and other random herbs he had gathered.
"It's Lotsaherb stew!" Rask announced.
"Losserb?" Flycreek said.
"Yeppers!" Rask responded.
Tej overheard the conversation. "Losserb stew?"
"Of course. It's easy to make! You just put lots of herbs in it. This particular batch has watercress, pepperwort, hotroot, dandelion, and some other herbs. One had some yellow flowers. Hee hee, I should be studying my herbs again!"
"It's marigold, Rask," Tej said in a know-it-all voice.
"Thanks, Tej!" Rask said, in a voice heavily laden with sarcasm.
Not one of them was aware of the staring yellow eyes peering at them from the forest’s edge.
Oajaw, a stocky rat, stepped away from the edge of the woods. He whistled an owl call three times, and a group of brown- and green-dyed rats made his way towards him.
“Now, mates, we gots on our paws some very stooped otta and skirells. Yew, Perilpaw, yew go back to the Chief and yew tell ‘em thess: that yer Cap’n Oajaw found sum ca’tives to take hostage. Git that threw yore slimy ‘ead, and report it back to the Chief. Now, the rest of yous are comin’ with me.”
“Aye, Cap’n Oajaw!”
The rat Perilpaw slowly made his way back to the main camp. He was cursing the luck that put him into Oajaw’s patrol. The Chief never liked hostages; killing was better in his opinion. The Chief would probably behead him. But orders were orders.
Perilpaw strode into the camp. Rats, foxes, ferrets, stoats, and weasels gave him a half a glance, then turned away. The Chief’s tent was high on a hill. The tent, made of purple silk, only allowed the Chief and his highest officers, Tarkets, inside. Perilpaw nervously walked up to the guard, a huge weasel.
“Err, er, I’ve got a, er, message fer the Chief’s ears only.”
“Anythin’ he hears goes threw me ferst, scumears!” Shivering with fear of the big guard weasel, Perilpaw said “Aight, matey-”
“I ain’t yore matey, just git on wit the message, slobberchops!”
“Err, er, okay, err, Cap’n Oajaw found sum beasts ta take captive, ma - err…”
“Stay here, smellyguts!”
Perilpaw nervously stood until the weasel came back out.
“The Chief wants ter see yer ugly face, rat!”
Perilpaw shivered once more, and then walked into the tent.
Inside, perched on dark brown legs, was a huge beast, some kind of marten, maybe. His creamy chest fur glistened in the lantern’s flickering light. Radiant green eyes glared angrily at Perilpaw, as he hastened to bend on a knee.
“Hail Ramprae, Conqueror of all!”
“Sit down, rat.” Ramprae gestured to a flat rock on the ground. “Shut yer trap, fox!” he yelled at a chanting rusty-colored fox. The chanting immediately halted.
“Tell me yer name, rat!”
“Err, er…”
“By the claw! Tell me my own stoopid beasts know their names!” Ramprae looked up as if asking for relief from Perilpaw’s nervousness.
“Err, it’s Perilpaw, Chief!”
“What kind of idiot bestowed that name on you? Oh well, things happen. Now, I hear yew have somethin’ to tell me. Let’s git on with it, shall we?”
“Err, er, of course, Chief! Well, I’m in Cap’n Oajaw’s patrol, an’ we wer out scoutin’, an’ we came ‘cross three beasts. Err, er, an otter, and two skirells. An’ Oajaw sed that mebee we’d take ‘em captive, an’ that’s when he told me tew tell yew.”
“Hmm. Do you think Oajaw’s a little bossy?”
“Oh yew bet! By the claw, he’s a right … yes, Chief!”
“How would you like to command him? You’re a good, loyal soldier. How about you become a Tarket? I can get, say, Pakeyd, to teach you to use the scimtar, like any other Tarket.”
Perilpaw’s heart leaped at the prospect of instant promotion. The scimtar was hailed as the best weapon of all - only Tarkets could use them, and then only one. The Chief used two, and he chose his successor from the Tarkets that could use two the best. And adding to that, Pakeyd was the most friendly and encouraging (if you can call a vermin friendly) of the horde. Perilpaw was excited.
“But we’re going to say that I killed you. And that we found this great new recruit and you’re him.”
“Er, aye, Chief!”
“Your new name can be Mewkap. Think about it. Tarket Mewkap, scimtar wielder!”
“Aye, aye, Chief, I want to do its!”
“You got it. But by the claw, remember to not act cowardly! Don’t be afraid of anybeast!”
Whoever said that Chief was a nasty, evil piece of scum was wrong. Here he was, promoting me to Tarket just because he had a whim. And he got to work alongside Pakeyd! Double bonus!
“Aye, Chief! Yew just leave it to me!” Perilpaw, er, Mewkap said.
Back in the campsite, the three friends looked up from their stew to a menacing green and brown rat. He waved about a spear, and yelled “Git up off yer lazy bottoms, yer slaves of the great Ramprae, Conqueror of all!”
They were saved by Rask’s quick thinking. He picked up the boiling pot of stew and hurled it into the rat’s face. He screamed in pain, and Rask pulled out his sword, and hastily rapped him smartly on the head. The rat collapsed to the ground in a slump.
Yells and shouts brought Flycreek and Tej’s attention to their backs. The rest of the patrol, about ten rats, ran out waving spears and axes. Flycreek unsheathed her sword, and grabbed her shield, right as the first rat swung his spear towards her. She instinctively raised her shield, and the spear hit the metal so hard that her paw and arm went numb. She swung her sword at the rat, and landed a deep gash on his side. She brought up her shield and rammed it into the beast’s head, knocking him out. By then, Tej and Rask had out their weapons and were defending themselves, though it was four to one. Flycreek leapt in with a will, and swung the Corinas sword into a rat sneaking up behind Tej with a raised axe. The sword bit in to the rat’s back, and he collapsed. Tej hurled his spear at a blustering rat, and the spear went through and injured another behind it. Tej grabbed the slain rat’s axe, and beheaded the injured rat with it. Rask slew three rats, all in a row, at once. He swung his sword up! Left! Right! The three rats collapsed, with deep gashes in their chests. The two remaining rats dashed off.
The three had gotten off surprisingly well. Rask had a cut shoulder and a bruised footpaw, while Tej got away with only a cut forehead. Flycreek had a numb arm and paw, and a cut other arm. They each sat slowly bandaging their wounds.
“Too bad I had to throw our dinner at him,” Rask said.
