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Chapter one: The returning warriors

Badrang was dead.

Martin, and the Fur and Freedom warriors had fought a valiant battle against Marshank, to bring it down forever. And they had succeeded.

Badrang was dead.

It was plain Martin had great feelings for Laterose, the gentle, and extremely beautiful mousemaid from the village of Noonvale, so he had made her stay behind, where it was safe.

Badrang was dead.

Rose, of course, had argued, but Martin insisted on Rose staying with Grumm, so she obliged and awaited their return.

Badrang was dead.

Most everyone had made it through the battle okay, though everyone was sorely tired. When they had met up with Rose and Grumm in the forest, Rose happily announced that a feast was being prepared in Noonvale on their return.

Badrang was dead.

So, Martin sheathed his father’s sword and went back to Noonvale, his arm around Rose’s shoulder, happy at last that no beast such as Badrang would ever disturb goodbeasts again.

Badrang was dead, and Rose was alive!

Chapter two: The desperate Corim

Bella was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace in her home, Brockhall. Anybeast could see that plainly that she was worried. Gonff, the Prince of Mousethieves, was missing, and everybeast, knowing Gonff’s passion for stealing, had all suspected he had been captured by the hordebeasts of Kotir. Bella knew it was probably true, but she couldn’t believe all the bad luck that had befallen the creatures of Mossflower.

First, horde soldiers had broken into Ben Stickle’s home, and killed him, when he wouldn’t give them any supplies or food. Goody Stickle had almost dragged herself, for she was sorely wounded, left for dead by the soldiers, to Brockhall, with her four young ones.

Then Gonff had gone missing. Bella rather liked the rascal, even though he could be mischievous at times. She sighed. That rascal would never learn to stay out of trouble.

Also, news had swept its way toward Brockhall that Gingivere, brother to the formidable Tsarmina Greeneyes and son to Verdauga, had been killed by “missing” a step on the way up the stairs. Everybeast knew this was not true; Tsarmina had always hated her brother. Bella glanced up to the family crest above the fireplace. Gingivere probably would have been a useful ally, as he was not as hard-hearted as his cruel sister.

The conclusion was inescapable: Mossflower was falling, and without reinforcements, Brockhall would also soon fall. Lady Amber and Skipper of Otters were very willing to help, but even though they were good leaders, they couldn’t give the encouragement and spirit to the Mossflower residents. They needed some warrior, a natural leader, with the will to help other creatures and the spirit to defend.

Bella sighed as she relaxed in her armchair. Where would they find such a creature? Would he (or she, Bella reminded herself) be willing to help them? Would this creature be likely to come in the dead of winter? The badger had many questions, but they didn’t seem very likely to be answered. She hoped the answers would come soon, or, she felt, something terrible will happen, or something will not happen.

Chapter three: The Wedding
       
The returning warriors were joyfully welcomed into Noonvale, where Urran Voh and Aryah were waiting to congratulate Martin and the rest.
Martin smiled and nodded his head as somebeasts came up to welcome them and congratulate them
As the procession reached the Council Lodge, where Aryah and Urran Voh were waiting, Martin kneeled and laid his father’s sword at their feet. “Badrang is dead, and Noonvale will live in peace, knowing that Marshank and slavery is gone from this country forever.”
Urran Voh smiled, not a big smile, but a relieved and understanding smile. “Thank you, Martin. All the creatures of Noonvale are in your debt. The best we can do for you is to offer you a home here in Noonvale.” The Noonvale Chieftain’s eyes rested on Rose, who was standing with Grumm.
Martin rose to his feet and turned his head towards Rose and grinned. “I would like nothing more, sir.”

Martin and Rose sat by each other during the whole feast, with Rose introducing him to all the Noonvale residents.
“This is Wirtha, one of my best friends as a dibbun.” Rose indicated a jolly looking female hedgehog.
“Hello Rose! This is Martin? Pleased to meet you, I’m sure!”
“Nice to meet you too, Wirtha.” Martin shook paws, careful of her spikes.
“That’s Bergle, one of the naughtiest dibbuns in Noonvale.”
“That one there, the one in the pond?”
“No, see, the one who just threw that blackberry pie in Grumm’s face.”
“Oh, I see which one now.”
Martin was enjoying himself, trying different foods and meeting new friends. Aryah came over and sat next to Martin.
“Are you two ready?”
Martin looked at Aryah quizzically. “Ready? For what?”
“Don’t be kidding me, young warrior. It’s all set for today.”
Martin was still befuddled. “Sorry, marm, you’ve lost me.”
Rose stood up and whispered in his ear. “Our wedding.”

Chapter four: As Time Goes By

Rose and Martin were happily married, and Rose was now pregnant. Martin was still the strong, silent warrior, but enjoyed his life at Noonvale with Rose. He was also excited about becoming a father.
“I’ll tell my son about all the battles and quests we went on, and he’ll learn all the fighting tecniques, and someday he will inherit this sword!”
Rose smiled and placed a paw on her swelling stomach. “You talk as if you know it’s a male. It could be a maid, you know.”
Martin snorted. “A maid? Never in my ancestor’s history through my father Luke has there been a maid born.” Then he winked and went to go relax by the pond.
Rose shook her head as he left and said to herself quietly, “But there might have been on your mother Sanya’s side.”

Bella was desperate. The Corim and the soldiers of Kotir had engaged in battle, and they had hardly made a dent in their horde. The losses on their own side, was much greater. Bella herself, lay on a couch, wounded by an arrow and a spear. She would live, but would not be able to fight again.

The badger looked up. Sitting close to her was Abbess Germaine, from the Abbey of Loamhedge. Germaine and her followers had walked almost straight into the horde, but at the cost of a few lives, they were able to rescue them safely.

Gonff also was rescued, but in the process, Goody Stickle’s daughter Posy had been killed. Posy and her siblings had been distracting the horde soldiers while Lady Amber and Skipper of Otters rescued Gonff, still as cheerful and jolly as ever. Bella smiled a bit as she recalled Amber telling her as they pulled Gonff from the prison, he climbed up the rope fit as a flea, asking when dinner would be served.

However, whichever way the Corim leader looked at it, the conclusion was inevitable: The Corim would eventually lose. When they lose, then Tsarmina Greeneye’s soldiers would take over Mossflower, and make it inhabitable for any creature who happened to venture there. Every single one of them would die eventually without any help. Bella thought to herself, ‘Help! That’s right! We need help! We’ll ask creatures outside Mossflower to help us to fight the Kotir soldiers and win back Mossflower!’

“Chibb, come here!”

The fat robin flew over and landed on the arm of the couch. “Er, harrumph. What is it that you need me of, Miss Bella?”
“Don’t ‘Miss Bella’ me impudent bird, now I have a very important task for you, concerning the very future of our dibbuns and their dibbuns and their dibbuns and so on.”
Chibb raised his eyebrow. “How much will the, harrumph, pay be?”
Bella retorted. “Chibb, how can you think of candied chesnuts at a time like this? The whole future of Mossflower is at stake!”
The robin had been practically blown across the room, and flew back over to Bella.
“I understand now, er harumph, Bella, what am I to do?”
“Search for warriors who can help us, with a leader who possesses a great spirit and leadership.”
“Ahem harrumph, which direction do I search?”
The reply came back short and irritated. “Anywhere!”
“I need a direction, Mi... er, Bella! I can’t wander willy-nilly!”
“I don’t know....” Bella picked a random direction. “North!”
“Harrumph! North it is, then.”
Chibb flew out the window, winging to the north.
Bella lay back down on the couch. She didn’t know it, but the direction she chose was the only direction she could have found what she was looking for.


Chapter five: Martin’s child

Noonvale was a happy place in spring, the birds sang, and the flowers bloomed. And Martin waited.
Aryah was in the tent with Rose, and Martin would be a father any minute. He couldn’t wait to hold his newborn son. Luke! He would name his son Luke, to keep the tradition. He would teach baby Luke the ways of a warrior, and someday Luke would have a son of his own, named Martin.
He was brought back to the present when he heard cries of delight coming from inside the tent. Aryah came walking out, a bundle in her arms and her face wreathed in smiles. “Meet your new daughter, Martin!”

Martin was sitting in the tent with Rose and Aryah, astonishent on his face as he looked into his daughter’s face cradled in his arms.
“It’s a maid, you were right, Rose...”
Rose was in good spirits, and sat up in her bed and smiled. “I told you it would be. Our new daughter.”
Martin looked from the bundle in his arms to Rose, still stunned. “But...but what will we name her? We can’t name her Luke.”
“Silly, of course not. I’m naming her Chrysanthemum.”
“Krisanthawhat?”
Rose stifled a giggle. “Chrysanthemum, because I’m named after a flower, the laterose, so our daughter can be named after a flower too!”
Martin looked back to the tiny mousemaid in his arms, a little smile on his face. “That’s a mouthful. ‘No no, Krisanthamum, hold the sword in this position.’”
Rose suddenly became serious. “No, Martin, don’t teach her about fighting. Please don’t.”
Martin looked surprised at Rose. “But Rose, she’s the daughter of a warrior, she’s got to learn how to fight!”
Aryah shook her head. “I’m sorry, Martin, but not in Noonvale. You know this is a place of peace, and your Chrysanthemum may stay here all her life. And what does a maid need of a sword?”
Martin was still surprised he was a father of a maid, and stared at his daughter. “I suppose you’re right, Aryah, and you too, Rose. I won’t teach her how to fight.” This he said with some diffuculty, then gently, he placed her on a mat to sleep, and left the tent.
Unknown to Rose, Martin, or Aryah, Martin’s sword had been left by the straw mat where Chrysanthemum had been laid. She was asleep, but slowly, her tiny paw moved up... and very slowly, closed on the hilt of the sword. She gripped the sword tightly, as if she was used to holding it. To anybeast who happened to be watching, they could be sure that if this daughter of a warrior could lift the sword, she would use it properly, swiftly, quickly, and dangerously. Woe to the foe who dares to challenge Chrysanthemum the daughter of Martin the Warrior!

Chapter six: A Messenger

Martin was at the breakfast table, picking at the untouched food, thinking about the son he would never have. A daughter! And he couldn’t even teach just how to hold a dirk or bow and arrow. All his dreams of raising a son to be a renowned warrior were dashed, scattered and blown, just dissolved. He did love his daughter, but he would have been happier if it was a son.
Martin was brought back to reality when he heard some commotion outside. He sighed, and decided to see what it was about.
He had expected it to be Rose and Chrysanthemum, but there was a large crowd of the Noonvale residents, all pushing and shoving trying to get a look at something.
Martin gently pushed his way to the front, and he saw a robin, lying on the ground, half-dead, but still alive.
Aryah and other Noonvale healers went to work, reviving the robin, and healing the cuts and bruises on his weather-beaten body.
Aryah mumbled to herself, “Must’ve traveled a long ways, to be scarred and bruised like this. Why would a creature put himself through all this?”
Martin had heard Aryah as he studied the bird. “Whatever is was, it must’ve been really important to him, because the same journey would have killed another creature.”
The robin’s eyes slowly flickered open, and stared at all the creatures around him. “Ahem humph, where am I?”
Martin answered him. “You are in Noonvale, being treated by expert healers. Why did you fly through such dangerous weather to get here?”
One of the healers suddenly prised Chibb’s beak open and forced him to drink something. “Carruph, harr- blech,” Chibb choked, “What is that stuff?”
The healer who poured it down the bird’s throat replied coolly, “You have a stuffed throat. I just cured it using this potion.”
“Er, quite. Thank you.” Chibb was a little unsure now that he couldn’t clear his throat anymore. He turned back to Martin. “Are you a warrior?”
“Um, yes, I am a warrior. Do you need help?”
“Me? No, Mossflower needs help, and badly too.”
Martin glanced towards Rose and Aryah. “Mossflower? Isn’t that in the south?”
Chibb slowly got up, testing his wings. “I’ll say it is. A wildcat, Verdauga Greeneye, no, he’s dead, Tsarmina Greeneye, she has Mossflower under her claw, and the goodbeasts of Mossflower will die out if we don’t retaliate soon!”
“Why don’t you retaliate with the numbers you have now?”
Chibb chortled. “’Twould be foolish, they’ve diminished our numbers considerably, yet their horde grows larger by the day.”
Martin stood decisively. “We’ll go. Come on, warriors, grab your weapons and bring foodpacks, we’re going this very day.” Martin turned to go to the tent to get his sword. Rose stopped him. “Martin, you can’t go. Please stay. Why should you go and leave?”
Martin placed a gentle paw under her chin and lifted her tear-stained face. “Rose, I must help them. If this Tsarmina wins over these creatures, there will be a desolate and evil region south of us, and she will want to conquer the land around Mossflower too. I hope you understand. Take good care of Krissanthamum.” Martin winked at her and strode into the tent.
Rose dried her eyes, and gently picked her daughter up, cradling Chrysanthemum in her arms. “I’m glad you were not older, or Martin would have brought you along too. And I’m glad you’re a maid. I couldn’t imagine a child of mine fighting for their lives, it would be too much. At least a maid couldn’t be a warrior like my Martin.”

Chapter seven: Martin sets out

Dawn came over Noonvale, and Rose woke up in her tent. Martin wasn’t there, she knew he had gone with the other Noonvale warriors. She walked over to Chrysanthemum’s cradle and sat gazing at her sleeping daughter for a while, thinking about Martin. “I wouldn’t want you to be a warrior, I’ve done it before, and it’s not the life for a Noonvale maid.” Rose said half to herself and half to her daughter. “But you’re the daughter of a famous warrior, so you’re bound to fight sometime. If you ever do, please take care of yourself and those around you, and never do something me and Martin wouldn’t want you to do. Maybe someday you will also be a great warrior, like your father.” A tear fell from Rose’s cheek, and let out a shuddering sob. Then she stood and left the tent.

“Wait up, Martin old chap! A hare has eat t’keep up his energy, doncha know.” A huffing and puffing Ballaw was jogging alongside Martin, who was walking at a steady, but energentic pace. Martin stifled a smile.
“You just had some damson crumble not long ago, Ballaw. If you eat anymore, there won’t be enough for the rest of us. It’s probably a long journey to Mossflower.”
Chibb hopped along beside Martin. “Long, but not quite so long. Depends on what kind of journey you’re used to.”
“The Rosehip Players are used to long journeys, we’ve traveled many a mile.” Rowanoak remarked.
Trefoil was walking next to Rowanoak, a spear over her shoulder. “Aye, so this shouldn’t be a problem. Oi, Chibb, how many vermin do we have the pleasure of meeting?”
“Five hundred, more or less.”
Martin pretended not to be stunned. “That’s quite a lot, more than what that stoat Badrang had. Are they well armed?”
“Oh, yes, and well experienced. Maybe sometimes a bit reluctant to obey orders, but don’t underestimate Kotir’s hordes.”
A young cheeky-looking hedgehog ambled up, grinning. “They should be no problem f’me, birdy. Friltip the Fierce, that’s me!” The hedgehog brandished a small dagger in front of him. Martin plucked it from his paw.
“Now, Friltip, careful where you’re waving that, somebeast could get hurt. And you’re not fighting, you’re staying where you’re supposed to be, with the rest of the Players.”
It looked like Rowanoak was about to pick him up, but then thought better of it. “We let you join the Players because your momma told us to take you, so keep to yourself and stay out of trouble!”
Ballaw muttered under his breath. “Stay out of trouble? Impossible, old gel, a blighter like him is as much trouble as an adder in your paw!”

Chapter eight: More time passes

Martin and co. had finally arrived at Mossflower, standing right outside Brockhall, meeting place of the Corim. Tired and exhausted, but happy they made it, Martin, with his sword strapped on his back, turned to face his weary friends. He surveyed the large group. No one had been killed or really hurt during the journey, although Ballaw teased a surly weasel and nearly lost the tip of his ear.
Martin stood by the door, unsure of what to do. “Chibb, should I just knock on the door?”
Chibb hopped over next to Martin. “What else would you do in front of a door, Martin, eat it?”
Ballaw snorted. “Eat a door? That robin chap has a peculiar appetite...”
Rowanoak moved to the front of the crowd like a huge mountain skimming across the ground. “Here Martin, let me knock.” Rowanoak’s paw descended three times upon Brockhall’s door.
THUMP, THUMP, THUMP!
The door swung open and Rowanoak was faced with another female badger. “Who are you, and what do you need of Brockhall?” the badger demanded.
Friltip, the cheeky young hedgehog, looked from Rowanoak to the giant female badger standing in the doorway and said loudly, “There’s two Rowanoaks!”
Kastern, the mousemaid standing next to Friltip, covered his mouth and chided him. “Shush yore mouth, Friltip, this is important!”
Bella,(for it was she) however had heard Friltip and stared at Rowanoak. “Rowanoak?!? Is that you?”
Skipper, Lady Amber, and Abbess Germaine heard the commotion and came to the door. “Bella marm, you know this badger?”
“Of course I know her, Rowanoak, where have you been?”
Rowanoak looked slightly puzzled, because she didn’t recognize Bella, and Martin saw her face. “Let’s talk about this inside, wouldn’t want to be caught out here by vermin from Kotir, would we?”
Bella stopped staring at Rowanoak and looked down at Martin. “Chibb brought you here? You’ve come to help us?”
Chibb flew next to Bella. “Yes, Bella, I’ve brought Mossflower some reinforcements.”
Lady Amber shook her head. “Chibb, where did your cough go? Have you given up candied chesnuts? C’mon you lot, you look hungry and tired, and we’ll talk about everything inside.”

Chapter nine: A budding warrior

“C’mon guys, let’s go outside!”
It was a beautiful summer afternoon in Noonvale. An extremely pretty but young mousemaid ran out of a tent. “Hurry up, Jorell, the others are probably waiting for us!”
A younger male mouse ran out of a different tent and gasped for breath as he tried to keep up with the mousemaid. “Wait up, Chrysanthemum, don’t run so fast, gimme a break.”
Chrysanthemum snorted and kept on, though at a slower pace. “What took you so long?”
Jorell walked to match Chrysanthemum’s pace. “My mum Gauchee kept telling me to stay out of trouble. I’m glad that my dad Brome isn’t like that. He just stays in the main part of the Village, cuz he’s a healer.”
Chrysanthemum slowed to a walk. “My mum always tells me to stay out of trouble and to keep my temper. I don’t know what she means by that though. I wish I could remember what my dad was like, from my mom’s description, he sounds like the nicest dad anybeast could ever have.”
Jorell, son of Brome and Gauchee, had his doubts. “A warrior, right? I don’t think I’d want to be a warrior, too much death and depression.”
His cousin was about to argue back when a voice interrupted them. “I’ll say, my father told me about war an’ I don’t think I’d want to be a warrior!”
Chrysanthemum peered behind a tree. “Dallum, is that you?”
“Burr aye, so ‘tis, an’ Bungo be’s ‘ere too!”
Jorell ran to meet them. “Hey there Dallum and Bungo, I was wondering where you’d gotten too, is Dammy and Nytestripe with you?”
Dallum replied, “Nope, haven’t seen them all morning, but I suspect they’re off arguing somewhere. I’m glad I’m not Dammy, Nytestripe may be little like us, but she’s still very strong!”
Chrysanthemum nodded. “Of course she’s strong, she’s a badger, Dallum.” Her sentence was cut off by yelling by the pond in the middle of the vale. “Yowch, stoppit stoppit, you’re pullin’ me blinkin’ ears off, wot!”
Bungo shook his furry black head sadly. “That’ll be Demmee an’ Noitestoipe argooin’, ne’er get ‘long well.”
Chrysanthemum and Jorell crept to the pond to see the fight. A young male hare was practically drowning in the pond, with a small but fierce-looking female badger pulling his ears. “Don’t ever wake me up like that again, or I’ll make you into a pie!”
Jorell stifled a giggle. “That wouldn’t be hard to do, cuz his real name is Damson, but he told us t’call him Dammy instead.”
Dammy spotted Jorell and Chrysanthemum watching from the bush and shouted for help. “I say, get over here an’ help a poor chap, Santhe old gel, this blinkin’ badger has me ears nearly ripped from my jolly ole head!”
Jorell started to walk away. “Oh, stop that you two, you’ll get yourselves in trouble again. You wouldn’t want your mother gettin’ mad at you, Nytestripe.”
“Rowanoak is not my mother! I’ve been in Noonvale all my life, and she just saw me when she came here and wanted to adopt me. I don’t look anything like her anyway. My headstripe is a really dark brown color, and hers is light brown.”
Chrysanthemum interrupted. “C’mon, let’s just find somewhere to play. Find a long stick, everybeast. I want to play ‘Marshank’ again.”
She ignored the audible groans from her friends as she tried to find a suitable stick.

Chapter ten: Rowanoak’s true past

Martin took in his surroundings. He was in an underground home, home to Bella’s ancestors. Bella kept tight hold of Rowanoak’s paw, who still didn’t seem to know what was going on. Bella had them all sit around the dining table. “Let me tell you what happened, it all happened a long time, and I thought I would never see Rowanoak again.”
“Rowanoak is my younger sister. We lived together here in Brockhall, though I was at least 10 seasons older than she, and she probably wouldn’t remember, because she was just a little babe then. When our father Boar the Fighter was getting ready to journey to Salamandastron, mountain of the fire lizard, a wildcat from the north, by the name of Mortspear, attacked Brockhall in attempt to plunder treasure and take slaves. My father fought gallantly and bravely, but was not quick enough to catch the wildcat, who escaped, taking the babe Rowanoak with him. All these seasons I thought she was either a slave or dead, but she must have escaped.”
Rowanoak sat silently through the story, listening, trying to remember. “I don’t remember Brockhall,” she said slowly, “but I do remember a wildcat, and being a slave. I escaped with the help of a good friend.” Her eyes twinkled in the direction of Ballaw.
Martin could not help but notice a cheeky-looking mouse sitting across from him. Even though Martin hadn’t seen him before, he felt immediate kinship to him. The mouse noticed Martin looking at him, winked, and said, “Hey, there matey! I’m Gonff, Prince of Mousethieves. What do they call you?”
Martin suppressed a chuckle and answered, “Martin the Warrior of Noonvale.”
A pretty Loamhedge mouse sitting next to Gonff remarked, “Noonvale? I’ve heard of that place, the way they describe it, it sounds almost like Loamhedge.”Abbess Germaine was sitting next to Martin across from the mousemaid. “Loamhedge. It was a wonderful Abbey. Maybe we can build a new abbey, Columbine, maybe build it even better than Loamhedge.”
Martin sat still and listened. The word “abbey” jumped out at him, though he wasn’t sure why.
Bella was now ready to hold a council of war. “You, Martin of Noonvale, do you think we can stop the wildcat?”
Martin stood and replied, “I believe we can stop anything with enough spirit and bravery.”
Bella nodded her approval. “Do you have a plan?”
Martin was caught off guard, but recovered. “A plan. Y-yes, I do have a plan, and I’m in the process of shaping it up. For now, we have to wait for the right moment. The horde musn’t know that we’ve come down and almost doubled your numbers. Those vermin will get the surprise of their lives. ”
Nobeast doubted the word of an experienced warrior.

Chapter eleven: The Code of the Warrioress

“Gr, I’m Badrang, you shall not free the slaves!” Dallum half-heartedly swung his stick. He was usually picked to play Badrang, because everyone else had a pretty big part on the good side. Santhe(Chrysanthemum is too long, I’ll just call her Santhe from now on) played her father, Jorrell played his father, Nytestripe played her “mother”, Bungo played his uncle, and Dammy played Ballaw.(who is NOT his father, by the way)

Santhe looked every inch a warrior... kind of. She had a long stick as a sword, a wooden board as a shield, and a wooden bowl for a helmet. But other than that, she looked like a true warrior. Her eyes blazing with the thought of battle, she pretended to run and jump on “Badrang”, and pretended to run him through with her “sword”. The rest pretended to jump on enemies and kill them too, but not with as much enthusiasum as Santhe.

Dallum pretended to stagger around, fall down and die, instructed by Santhe. “No, no, look like you’re in pain! Not like a demented lizard drinking elderberry wine.”
The young hedgehog faithfully demonstrated Badrang’s death, just to Santhe’s satisfactory. “Wonderful! Okay, Rowanoak, how did you and the Gawtrybe squirrels do?”
Nytestripe winced slightly at being called Rowanoak, but answered, “Lost a few squirrels, Martin, but we took quite a few.”
Santhe nodded her approval. “Great, Grumm and Brome, how are the wounded doing, are they okay?”
Bungo and Jorrell looked up from tending imaginary patients and replied, “We lost a few, but the others are fit and will be up in no time, Martin.”
“Burr aye, ee’m be fit as ee fiddler!”
Santhe was about to ask Dammy how their force went when an irritable voice from the ground said, “Can I stop pretending to be Badrang and being dead?”
The mousemaid smiled apogeletically and helped Dallum to his feet. “Sure, let me help you up.”
“No, I mean stop pretending to be Badrang.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because it isn’t easy, and not many creatures fancy pretending to be a vermin.”
“But... then who will be Badrang?”
“Dunno, Nytestripe?”
“No way! Even though Rowanoak isn’t my mother, she has a big part in the Marshank battle and I like pretending to be her.”
“Then how about Jorrell?”
“Me?!? Oh, no no no no no, please no. I can’t play Badrang.”
“Hm, maybe Bungo?”
“Hurr, counten oi outa dis, oi doan’t wanna be nae varmint.”
“And if you’re thinkin’ of me, Santhe ole gel, then don’t bally well think, cuz I’m not gonna play some smelly vermin rotter, wot.”
Santhe blew out a long breath. “Whew, and I can’t play Badrang, I’m supposed to kill Badrang, oh well, let’s just find something else to play.”
Jorrell pointed towards the village. “Too late, looks like our parents want us back. See you tomorrow guys!”
They all departed, agreeing to meet next morning at the front of Council Lodge. Santhe walked into her family’s tent, where her mother Rose was sewing a new dress for her daughter. “How was your day, Santhe?”
Santhe flopped down on her bed, lying back. “Okay, I guess.”
“What did you do?”
“Um, we played ‘Marshank’ again.”
“Again?!? Santhe, what have I told you?”
The mousemaid turned away from Rose, knowing exactly what her mother was going to say. “The Marshank battle isn’t something to be remembered, let alone being played as a game. The Battle of Marshank was violent, and frightening, from what Martin told me. That is no game for a mousemaid!”
Santhe inwardly sighed. There was nothing else for it. She sat up and faced her mother, whose face was still beautiful as ever, but now creased with concern. Santhe took a deep breath and said her true feelings. “Mom, I don’t want to stay here all my life. I want to be a warrior. I can’t stay locked up here without knowing what battle and fighting and war is like.”
Rose silently listened and stared at her daughter. Santhe finished speaking not sure whether to continue. She decided to stay silent, but the silence between became almost unbearable. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.
A tear silently materialized from Rose’s eye and trickled down her cheek. “Oh Santhe, I knew it. I just knew it.” Rose broke down weeping.
Santhe looked puzzled and sad that her mother was crying and patted her back gently. “It’s okay, mom, it’ll be all right.”
“I knew,” Rose sobbed, “I just knew you’d want to be a warrior. Like your father.” The thought of Martin and where ever he was now brought more tears to her eyes. She dried them and faced Santhe. “Santhe, you must promise me, that if you ever fight, control yourself. Never, ever, slay needlessly, only for the good of others. And take very good care of yourself. Never attempt to do reckless things, that may cost you your life, or a loved one’s life. Try not to kill, kill only if the other creature persists in trying to hurt you, or another. Protect the weak, and shield them from cruel and heartless.”
Santhe was trying not to pay attention, but the words her mother said seemed to force their way into her ears, and burning themselves in her mind. It would be a hard thing to forget.
Rose wiped another tear from her eye. “Martin had always said those to others, he called it the code of the Warrior. He lived by that code, and fought by it. I could never forget it, the exact words I can still recall.”
Santhe looked down. So that was it, the code of the Warrior. She had heard of the Warrior’s code, but no beast she asked would tell her. Now that she knew, she wanted to forget, but couldn’t. Every single word glued themselves to her memory. The future Warriormaiden lay down to sleep, repeating the code in her mind.

1.        Control yourself.
2.        Never slay needlessly.
3.        Take care of yourself, as well as others.
4.        Don’t do reckless things.
5.        Kill only as a last resort.
6.        Protect those that cannot defend themselves from stone-hearted.

Santhe thought them over and over again, till she fell in a deep, dreamless sleep.


Chapter twelve: A plan

Martin slept in the visitor domitories. He had been up almost the whole night thinking up a plan to defeat Tsarmina’s hordes. But Chibb, their spy/scout, had brought news that the hordes were steadily growing larger, with their numbers reaching almost a thousand. And to make matters worse, Chibb also reported that there a raggedy band of vermin, tough-looking, coming from the south. Their leader, a fox, seemed intent on moving quickly up north. The robin spy said his name was Bane.
Martin knew that if this Bane sees Kotir, and meets Tsarmina, the wildcat queen would most likely team up with Bane to get rid of the woodlanders. But the warrior mouse had devised a plan to stop that.
There was a knock on Martin’s bedroom door. “Hey, matey, time t’get up! Brought you some breakfast.”
Martin sprang from his bed and opened the door, knowing it was his new friend Gonff, the Prince of Mousethieves. The previous night, they talked and joked, and Martin knew it would be a life-long friendship.
Martin grinned as he set down the tray to eat. “I’m surprised the food made it this far with you carrying it, Gonff.”
Gonff stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well, actually you did have a slice of damson crumble...”
Martin pretended to roar with mock rage, but was unable to stop himself smiling. “Why you cheeky little thief!”
Gonff was about to thank Martin for the compliment when Bella strode through the door. “How was your night, Martin? Do you have a plan we can use?”
Martin munched thoughtfully on a blackberry scone and replied, “I thought about it all last night. That band of vermin are coming from the south, heading at a north-eastern direction. If we can just sneak over to their east side, blocking their way to Kotir, and put a small fighting band to their north, we can stop them and make them turn around and go back south.”
Bella nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. How many warriors do you need?”
Martin thought for a second and said, “I think we might need about 300 hundred on the east side, and a hundred or so on the north. I’ll be on the north side.”
Bella nodded again. “All right, that sounds like enough.” She made her way to the window, and looked out to the dawn sun rising slowly into the gold-tinged sky. “When should we attack? This afternoon, maybe?”
Martin shook his head vigorously, making his answer firm. “No, the sun will be in our eyes, and it will be extremely hot by then. I understand that this band of vermin are making remarkable progress in a short time, but one wrong move we make could cost us precious lives.
Gonff felt like leaving the room, because he wasn’t any good at developing war plans, but he was also amazed at his new friend’s know-how about battle strategies and such. He stayed and listened to Bella and Martin weaving a plan to block Bane’s way to Kotir and make them pack their bags and head back south.
Then some random thought struck him like spear, almost making him lurch with pain.
Martin switched his glance to Gonff. “Gonff, matey, what’s wrong? You okay?”
Gonff straightened up on the bed again. “Uh huh, Martin, I’m fine. It’s just that I thought that if we drive the stinkin’ vermin back south, the woodlanders who live there would have a problem they’ve pro’bly had before, a gang of tough vermin. And I doubt it if those rotters go back, the goodbeasts there will invite them to tea.”
Bella stroked the covers on Martin’s bed absent-mindedly. “Hm, you have a point, Prince of Mousethieves. How can we stop the vermin from reaching Kotir, but stop them from returning back south?”
Martin rubbed his head and whistled. “Whew, no idea. Shall we go to the main hall to talk about this with the others?”
Bella looked uncertain of herself for while, then shook her massive grey head slowly. “No, let’s stay up here until we’ve found a way to get rid of this band once and for all.”
Gonff pasted a pained look on his face. “You mean, no food? No lunch at all?!?”
Bella stifled a smile. “No food for now. You need to keep your mind clear of thoughts, so we can drive off those vermin properly. Er, we might stop a bit to eat lunch, mind you. That mousemaid, Kastern, is a wonderful cook, and I wouldn’t skip her lunch for anything at all. But, so we don’t get carried away, I’ll have somebeast bring it up.”
Gonff looked slightly happier.



“Okay, think, think, think.” Martin paced back and forth in his room, still racking his brains for a bug-free battle plan.
Gonff lay on the wooden floor, on the brink of falling asleep. At first, he had been thinking just as hard as Martin and Bella had, but his pondering proved too much for his mischieveous little mind. He fell asleep once, and was jostled awake by Bella when his snores grew too loud.
“Gonff, stay awake, please! We need to stay awake!” Bella gave him a light tap on the shoulder which nearly made him be thrown flat on the floor.
Before Gonff could retort, there was a knock on the carved oak door of the bedroom. Gonff sprang up and opened the door in a gentlemanly fashion, bowing to whoever came in the door. There was a mole carrying a large tray of assorted foods with aromas that lingered in the air and clouded Martin’s brain. “Oh finally, lunch! I’d rather think of food than battle plans, to be honest.”
Gonff, however, wasn’t thinking of food. He jumped on the mole who came in. “Young Din! Still robbin’ food Bella’s kitchens?”
Young Dinny chortled and flipped over so that he was sitting on top of Gonff. “Hurr hurr, t’wasn’t oi ‘oo steals ee food, zurr Gonffer. Oi thinks et be’s summbeast else!” Dinny patted Gonff’s pudgy little stomach.
Martin smiled at the two, hiding his thoughts. Strangely, as it had been with Gonff, he felt he had always known Dinny, and he knew that was impossible because he had lived in the north all his life. Maybe it was just destiny they had met.... something that couldn’t be evaded... it just had to happen... no matter what.
His mind was brought back to reality when Dinny heaved his furry black body off a chest-sore Gonff to see the parchment where Bella had drawn a diagram of possible strategies. He couldn’t read, but understood their predicament.
He turned the parchment sideways and upside-down, as though trying to read a map. “Hurr, ee varmints can’ goo nort’, eas’ or sooth, so why doan’t ee varmints goo wes’?”
Gonff sat upright with an expression of sudden understanding etched on his face. “By jove, you’re right, Dinny! You have something in your head besides dirt after all!”
Martin scratched his head. “What did he say? Sorry, I’m not so good at interpreting molespeech.”
Bella explained. “Since we can’t let the vermin go east, north or south, Dinny says why not let them go west?”
Martin still looked puzzled. “But-but there’s still land.... then the sea!!”
Gonff nodded while patting Dinny on the back none-too-gently. “Exactly. Why not drive the rotters into the sea?”
The warrior mouse stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmmm, it’s a good plan, though it still has some flaws. How could we make sure the vermin would go straight west? And how would we know if we’re not driving them into some more innocent woodlanders?”
Bella sighed. “We’ll go downstairs later and see if we can ask the others later, Martin. For now, let’s eat and keep our minds fresh.”
Gonff perked up at the word “eat”, and tripped over Dinny trying to reach the tray of food, making him fall face-first on the floor. Martin and Bella looked at each and laughed. The laughter was infectious, and soon all four joined in.

Chapter thirteen: Puzzled Minds and Plans

The feline ruler of Kotir, Tsarmina, ruler of the Thousand Eyes, stood at her elegant bedroom window, surveying the woods she knew the Corim headquarters was located. A slow, cruel smile spread on her evil features as she recalled their last battle, in which her soldiers had sorely defeated them. She felt that a good, well-fought battle from her side would finish them off once and for all.
        Some movement down below in the shrubbery caught her eye. Argulor the hunting eagle flew out, having taken his afternoon nap, ready to hunt.
        Tsarmina slapped her paw on the window sill. That blasted eagle! He was always interfering with her plans. He may be an enemy to the woodlanders, but he was no friend to Tsarmina, and it was plain that the great eagle would not take sides.
        The wildcat reached for her bow and arrows, thinking maybe if Argulor swooped down close enough, she could get a shot in. But the eagle flew nowhere near her window, flying eastwards for a meal.
        The Ruler of the Thousand Eyes slumped by the window, thinking. The eagle would be back, she knew it. But she wasn’t sure if the woodlanders had decided to leave Kotir to its own devices, in fact, she hadn’t heard about anything from them at all. It had been unbelievably quiet for the past three seasons.
        Suddenly, an idea sprang into her mind.
        “Ashleg! Come quickly! Now!”
        The deformed pine-marten hobbled as quickly as his wooden stump would allow up the stairs. He saw Tsarmina staring out the window.
        “Get the whole army ready. We can finish off those woodlanders if it takes my last breath. We know the area where they’re hiding, all we have to do is look around in that area for it. Fortunata was there, but it’s a pity she isn’t alive to tell us exactly where it is.”
        Tsarmina recalled the death of Fortunata and the spy Patchcoat.
        Ashleg showed no emotion on his face as he bowed low. “Right away, Milady.” Then he stumped off back down the stairs.
        The Wildcat Queen cackled evilly, madness taking over her. “I’ll get you little woodlanders yet! Oh yes, don’t go to sleep, I’ll be there soon, killing every last one of you. Then I can live in peace! That’s right, Tsarmina will get you all!”
        Ashleg had heard, and his mind was racing. He was almost at the point of thinking to escape, but thought better of it, and shrugged, carrying off to the soldier barracks.
        And Bane’s small horde of vermin drew closer.
       
        Gonff skipped down the stairs in Brockhall. The plan was almost finished, and the time for battle was ticking closer.
        He, Martin, Dinny, and Bella, all had come to the conclusion of the final battle plan: First they would do the original plan, separate the army into two sections, one would come from north, and the other from the east. The east section would have to fight harder, driving them a bit west so that section of fighters could move south, and the north and east-to-south sections would meet together squeezing the band of vermin west, like icing squeezing from a tube. Then Martin, Gonff, and Dinny would go on ahead, keeping right behind them, making sure they go straight to the sea.
        Gonff thought it was a wonderful plan, but Bella wasn’t very happy with it. She had given her consent, but she still had her worries. What if the whole band noticed the three followers and attacked them? They were only three creatures, and three against sixty? It would be suicide!
        Gonff just chuckled and reassured her that no vermin would look back twice if they knew the Prince of Mousethieves was following them. Then Dinny quietly remarked something about the vermin wanting to keep their food and rations to themselves.

        Jorell was worried. His cousin Santhe hadn’t been looking very well in the past two days, and he couldn’t figure out in the world why. The rest weren’t that worried, the mousemaid was tough, she could take care of herself. But lately, she was very quiet and spoke little, mostly sitting by the pond, thinking, and pondering over various little things. Jorell had tried to get Santhe to play with them, but she gently pushed him away, asking to be left alone.
Jorell hid in the bushes by the pond, where Santhe was dabbing her footpaws in water, her mind lost somewhere in another world.
Dallum crept up to Jorell as quietly as he could and whispered. “So, is she still... you know...”
Jorell nodded quietly, keeping his eyes on Santhe.
Dallum sat up and blew out a sigh of frustration. “Nothin’ seems to get through to her. D’you know what caused her t’be like that?”
Jorell shook his head, still watching Santhe. “Though I asked Aunt Rose why, an’ she didn’t tell me. I think that Aunt is upset too.”
Dallum looked surprised at these words. “Huh, d’ya think it’s about Santhe’s daddy?”
Jorell shook his head again. “I’m not really sure, but I don’t think so. He’s been gone for a long time, and I think they expected that. He might not be back for another 7 seasons.”
“Hm, so what c’n we do ‘bout it?”
“Beats me, I don’t know how long Santhe will stay like this, though eventually she’ll have to talk to us. It’s been two days already.”
“Has it only been two days? It seems longer than that.”
“Yep, and Dammy, Nytestripe and Bungo aren’t much help either.”
“Hm, I wonder what we can do?”
“Nothing right now. Maybe later she’ll cheer up or something.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Don’t worry, I know my cousin like the back o’ my paw.”
“Really truly positive?”
The answer came back irritated. “Yes Dallum, I told you not to worry. I’ve got it all under control. We’ll have Santhe back in no time.”
“Are you really sure about this?”
“DALLUM!”
“Oh all right, I’ll be quiet.”
“You better be.”
“Oh don’t worry, I’ll be the quietestest ‘og in Noonvale.”
“Oh really?”
“Yep. Really.”
“Then be quiet!”
“Okay. I’m quiet now.”

Chapter fourteen: Like Icing from a Tube

Bane’s horde of vermin were now drawing closer and closer to Kotir, and Mossflower Woods, only a couple stone throws away.
Too close, for Bella’s liking.
The now large band of rebels lay in the bushes, waiting for the right moment. Martin, as he had said, was heading the north side, of about a hundred fighters. Skipper of Otters, and Lady Amber jointly led the east-to-south regiment. Bella was wringing her paws nervously by Skipper. “Oh, they’ve gotten so close now, why don’t you attack them?”
Skipper just grinned and replied, “Yore right there marm, but Martin said specifically that the north band should scrap ‘em first, then afore they properly kill the stinkin’ vermin, we get to go in an’ get our share.”
Lady Amber nodded. “Skipper’s right, Bella, if the north side goes first, then they’ll be busy fighting those fighters, while we sneak up on their side and jab them there. Then after we drive them back a bit, we’ll go down to the south side a-“
Bella cut her off. “I know, I know, I’ve heard the plan at least a thousand times. But why can’t Skipper take his otters, or even you Amber, with your squirrels and help Martin and his friends follow the vermin.”
Skipper shook his rough head, the otter javelin firmly in the ground. “Nope, we can’t, because if that liddle pussycat plans somethin’ while we’re away, there’s hardly any fighters here to ‘elp you creatures.”
The Squirrelqueen nodded again slowly, bow relaxed at her side. “Skipper has a point, Martin may have brought quite a lot of good fighters with him, but that’s just not enough to cover Kotir’s hordes. And besides, with Martin, who will dare to fight Gonff and Dinny?”
Bella was about to reply when a blood-curling shout rang out from the north. “ATTAAAAAAAACK!!!!”
Skipper winked at Bella as he gathered some javelins and set up a pile of stones for his sling. “Sorry Bella marm, time to skin some vermin.”
Bella nodded absent-mindedly as she sat by Rowanoak, some good distance away from the fighting. “You have been in a war before, Rowanoak, haven’t you?”
Bella’s younger sister chuckled drily before answering. “Oh yes, many. None that I’d want to go through again.”
The elder badger stretched out her footpaws, groaning as she did so. “War is not a thing to re-experience. I know if I had to go through a war again, I would not come out alive.”
Rowanoak nodded sadly as she watched the battle. “So true, so true. I do hope this battle comes out right.”
“So do I, sister, so do I.”

Martin had been watching the vermin tramp closer and closer, and eyed the leader. He was a fox, as Chibb had said, and had the look of an experienced fighter on him. He was tall, and wore a curved sword at his side, well used. His face was like any other vermin’s faces, cold and ruthless, but his eyes darted around the foliage, ready for any kind of ambush. Martin curled his lip derisively at the fox’s band of plunderers: they were tough-looking, aye, that was true, but some were unbelievely skinny, and somewhat diminished from lack of food and hard labor and fighting.
The Warrior Mouse watched as Bane was now close enough for Martin to even prod him lightly with a spear. Then he gave the signal.
“ATTAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!”
He rushed in and jumped on the leader, who had his back turned, sneering at the stragglers in his group. Martin slashed viciously with his sword, so fast all anybeast could see was a shining metal blur held tight in Martin’s paws.
Bane was taken by surprise, he had to admit that, but one mouse with a fancy sword wasn’t going to stop him. Swiftly he drew his saber and slashed out at the mouse. Martin blocked it and lunged in, swinging at Bane’s leg. Bane jumped and smirked at his enemy, and yelled out. “KIIILLLLL!!!! KILL THEM ALL, LEAVE NONE ALIVE!!!!”

Skipper and Lady Amber were tense, waiting until the vermin were in the right spot to ambush. However, Bane’s mercenary fighters were not stupid, and only fell back inch by tortuous inch.

Bane realized that the mouse he was fighting was no fool; he certainly knew how to fight. In his early years, Bane had met some matches, all of which he eventually had beaten and made examples of, but he was certain that he could beat anybeast in one-on-one combat. The fox now noticed that all of his ruthless band of fighters were fighting, and he also noticed that they were outnumbered, three to five. He knew a retreat was a big possibility, but his pride in being a fighter drove him to finish off this mouse once and for all... to show him the Bane the Fighter wasn’t a coward. A new determination sprang up within him. He faked a thrust to Martin’s left, and swept his saber under the Warrior’s footpaws. Martin had unknowingly played into the trap, and his right footpaw began bleeding freely, sticky red liquid flowly onto the ground.
Martin the Warrior of Noonvale gritted his teeth and gripped his sword tightly, slashing a dozen times at Bane’s neck, before thrusting his sword at Bane’s chest. Bane just smiled sadisticly and stepped backwards, fending off Martin’s attempts to slay him. The Warrior Mouse swung towards Bane’s side, using all his strength. Bane feigned a yawn and slashes his saber downwards, actually slicing Martin’s sword in half with a screechy sounding chop.
The mercenary fighter laughed hard in Martin’s face, whose temper was building up at being humiliated, losing his only weapon in combat.
As Bane was busy laughing, Martin looked at the hilt of the sword, with the red pommel stone set at the top. This was his father’s sword, the sword his father gave to him, the sword his father trusted him with, the sword Badrang had taken from him, the sword he had fought hard to regain. And now it useless. Martin grabbed the blade of the sword in one paw, and the hilt in the other, still not ready to back down before his sudden enemy. Bane noticed, and kept laughing, his saber out in front of him. He spoke mockingly to the Warrior. “You may be a good fighter, mouse, but you’re nothing without your precious sword are you? Look around, my fighters will eventually win against your pitiful little army.” Martin seethed inwardly, but stood his ground, threw back his head and yelled at the top of his lungs. “MOSSFLOWEEEEEERRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Skipper and Amber heard. It was the signal.
Bane stopped laughing and gazed dumbly at his paws, one pierced right through by an otter javelin, and the other embedded with a squirrel arrow. Martin yelled again, swinging the hilt of the sword at Bane’s head. “NOOOOOOONVAAAAAAAAAALE!!!!!!”
Bane was dead from the blow before he hit the ground.
It took his band some time to realize they were leaderless as they still had their paws full fighting some four hundred warriors. Then one of them, a weasel, saw Martin stamping towards them, raising the broken hilt of his sword. The weasel’s eyes moved downwards and saw Bane’s pitiful dead figure. He screamed a high note in panic. “AAIEEEEEEE!!!! RETREEEEAATTT!!!!!” Martin nodded at Skipper and Amber, and their forces moved west at a southerly direction, and Martin’s force at the north moved closer to the southern force, making a “U” shape around east side of the remnants of the mercenary band.
The Mossflower fighters made no move to kill, only kept their weapons out and dealt out warning arrow or the slap of a small pebble as a warning. It worked, and the vermin had no choice but to go straight west. None attempted to move north or south. Before long, they all had reached the end of the forest.
Gonff, who had been slinging stones with Dinny and the otters, winked cheerfully. “Time f’r us warriors t’go keep those rotters in line, eh matey?” He patted Martin heartily on the back.
The Warrior Mouse was shaking, holding the hilt of his father’s trusty sword, the blade at his footpaws. “I-no.... all that war....for nothing at all...”
Skipper misunderstood, sharpening his javelin on a rock as he spoke. “What’re ye talkin’ ‘bout, matey? We drove those vermin a fair distance away.”
Martin stared miserably at what had once been his greatest possession. “No, not that... I haven’t told you my life yet, have I?”
Dinny shook his furry black little head, a slingshot still in his digging claw. “No zurr, you’m nevurr tole us’ns yet, you’m were awf’ly quoit.”
Martin of Noonvale sat down, and began the tale of his life. He skipped some parts, trying to shorten it down a bit, only telling the important bits.
“The day before Chibb came to Noonvale, Rose had a child, a daughter. Of course I’d hoped it would have been a son, but a daughter is just as good, I suppose. Rose named her Chrysanthemum, or Santhe, for short.”
Dinny scratched his head with a blunt digging claw. “Kursamteemun? Boi ‘eck, this pore mole’d ‘ave twist’d tongue tryin’ t’say that, burr aye.”
Amber gently lifted the hilt of the sword. “So this was your father’s sword, eh? A good ‘un no doubt that, ‘xcept for the rust ‘twould make an excellent sword.”
Gonff suddenly leaped up. “By the fur! We’d better catch up with those vermin, you lot, cummon Dinny...Martin, get over here!”
Dinny waved an urgent digging claw. “Hurr aye, getten thoiself o’er ‘ere afore this liddle mouseythief eats oop all our viddles!!” Any further remark was forestalled by Gonff tossing the food sacks into Dinny’s stomach, driving the wind from him. After the sturdy little mole caught his breath, he actually smiled and patted Gonff none-too-gently on the back, and Gonff fell flat on his nose in the mud. “Ee’m fergettin’ oi’m the stonges’ mole in ee wuddlands ‘cept f’r moi ole granfer, zurr Gonffer!”
Martin’s sad look dissolved as a smile slowly spread on his face. Pulling his haversack on his back, he bid good-bye to Skipper, Amber, Rowanoak, Bella, Ballaw and the rest, and ran to catch up with Dinny and Gonff, who were still dealing out blows to each other.
“Hey, come on, stoppit you two, you don’t want to kill yourselves and leave me to chase the vermin alone, do you?”
Gonff pulled himself free from Dinny, who was sitting on his back, and put a friendly arm around Martin. “Of course not, couldn’t let me best matey to have fun lickin’ those vermin on his own.” Unknowingly to Martin, Gonff aimed a kick backwards towards Dinny’s stomach, but the mole’s quick little eyes spotted it coming, and caught it, and twisted it, so Gonff once more fell in the mud. But since Gonff had his arm around Martin, the mouse from Noonvale had been pulled down by Gonff into the mud puddle, leaving Dinny walking along nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened.
Martin spat the foul-tasting mud out of his mouth. “Blech, Dinny, get back over here and get us outta here!”
Dinny yelled back cheerfully. “Nay, oi’m naught cummin’ lessen ole Gonffer ‘polajizes.”
Gonff put on the most innocent look he could and sang out.

I’m very sorry, young Din,
I promise next time I’ll let you win,
But me and my friend here,
Do not hold mud dear,
So please get us out,
before I scream and shout.

Dinny chortled and agreed. “Ho, you’m a drefful charmer, Gonff, burr aye indeed!”

Chapter Fifteen: Strange Events

Ashleg walked, or rather strutted, up and down in front of the ranks of Kotir.
The soldiers looked scant, and under-fed, but determined to prove themselves in case it might get them to be a Captain.
The pine marten stalked back and forth, his magnificent cloak twirling dangerously as he eyed Captains Brogg and Ratflank in the eye.
“The Lady Tsarmina Greeneyes, Ruler of the Thousand Eyes commands the full horde to scour the woods of Mossflower for the headquarters of those woodlanders. Milady wishes you to take the whole of them by surprise and kill them all.”
Brogg, the not-so-smart weasel Captain, could not help blurting out, “That’s imposs’ble! There ain’t a way t’capture ‘em all jus’ by walkin’ inter their ‘eadquarters!”
Ashleg shot Brogg a poisonous glance, and Brogg withered and stepped back. The one-legged pine marten knew what the weasel had said was true, but Ashleg dare not break the Queen’s orders, or Mossflower would have one less pine marten...
Ashleg repeated himself. “Go into Mossflower, now! Or you will face Milady’s wrath if you try to disobey.”
This left no choice. Who would stand against a wildcat thought to be crazy in the head?
Brogg and Ratflank nodded silently, yelled orders into the army and set off into Mossflower with all speed.


The three pursuers took their time, runnning a bit when the horde got out of sight, and dropping down low when they got too close.
This continued for about the rest of the day, then when the Bane’s defeated band of mauraders sat down to rest and eat, the chasers followed suit, except that they took shelter in a small grove of trees a good distance away.
Dinny opened his pack. “Hurr, zurr Gonffer didn’t et any o’ moi supplois!”
Gonff just winked. “Aye matey, I was too busy eating Martin’s.” Martin tried to look stern and reprimand Gonff at the same time.
“So that’s where Goody’s apple pie went! I thought maybe somebeast else stole it because I KNOW it couldn’t have been you, Gonff.” Martin lay down the broken hilt of his sword, which he had been carrying ever since the end of the battle.
Gonff actually asked Martin a serious question. “Are you going to keep carrying that hilt around for the rest of your life?”
Martin nodded, and opened his pack. “It’s the hilt of my father’s sword, and my sword, and if I had a son it would have been his sword too. It’s been passed down from generation to generation and even though it’s no use to me now, I’d hate to part with it.” Martin rubbed the red pommel stone slowly, remembering old times in the north.
“Here matey,” Gonff handed him something. “make it easier on yourself instead of lugging a whoppin’ piece o’ metal all ‘round the place.”
It was a girdle cord from a habit.
Martin looked puzzled. “What do I use it for?”
“Use it to hang the sword around your neck. Columbine gave it t’me b’fore the battle.”
Martin smiled and slipped the cord around the sword, and put it around his neck. “Thanks, matey, you’ve been a great help to me.”
“No problem, that’s what mateys are for, eh?”
Dinny had been watching the vermin up close and came back. “Looks loik yon varmints’re gonna sleep, burr aye.”
Gonff yawned and lay down. “Aye Din, and so should we. Chasing two score vermin can tire a mousetheif out.”
Martin leaned against a tree and replied. “And a warrior too.” Then he put his paws behind his head, acting as lookout for his other two friends. He was thinking about many things. His wife and his daughter among them. How tall would Santhe be now? She’d be much taller, maybe even growing a warrior’s spirit. Warrioress, Martin reminded himself. Was his daughter like her gentle and beautiful mother, or was she like a true warrior, able to defend her friends in battle and help the weak? Maybe if she would like to be a warrior, Rose would let him teach their daughter in how to be a proper warrioress, and teach her the Warrior’s Code, and everything she needeed to know about being a warrioress. But then, maybe she was against war like her mother, and only wanted to live a happy life of peace in Noonvale. Or maybe she was both.
Martin sat there pondering, till he fell into a peaceful slumber.


Santhe woke the following day feeling pleasantly refreshed. She knew her friends were disappointed that she had not spoken to them, but she was thinking about a lot of things, things she had not given thought about ever since her mother mentioned the Code of the Warrior.
She thought about her father, being a warrior, and the way he left to help to free Mossflower.
She dearly wished to be like her father.
On the outside, she was beautiful, and she looked exactly like her mother, gentle, and forgiving. But a fire burned within, because on the inside, she had her father’s fighting spirit.
Santhe peeked out of the tent fold. She could see even at a distance that the rest of the group were splashing by the pond. She sighed, and decided to go join them. She would have to apoligize for not talking to them, and tell them why, because she knew that all of them, especially Jorell were worried sick about her.
She walked outside and stretched. Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled sideways, towards the forest, somebeast’s paw clamped over her mouth. She tried not to scream, and started wriggling, and kicking at whoever it was. But this creature was strong, and held her tight as the captor pulled her silently into the bushes.


“Oh, thanks for drenching me, Dammy, this was my good tunic!”
Dammy ran around the pond as fast as his little paws could carry him to save himself from the wrath of Nytestripe.
“No! Please, spare me, wot!”
The others laughed at the sight of Dammy on his knees begging for mercy to be spared. Nytestripe towered over him, paws akimbo, squinting sternly down at him.
Even Jorell laughed. He looked around, and then remembered Santhe, and decided to see if she was feeling well enough to play.
“Hey guys, come on, let’s get Santhe, see if she wants to come out and play.”
“Hurr, awright. Les goo!”
Jorell peeked inside the tent. “Santhe, come on out and play! We miss you.”
Dallum poked his head in under Jorell. “Hey, she’s not ‘ere!”
Nytestripe voiced her opinion. “Well, her mother isn’t here either, Miz Rose probably went to go prepare the lunch.”
Jorell’s eyes lit up. “And Santhe went with her!”
And off they went towards the main part of the village. In the opposite direction of the forest where Santhe was taken captive.


“Let...me...go....you stupid little....unh!” Her captor whacked Santhe hard with a stave.
“Quiet!”
The voice from underneath an emerald-green cloak came out rapsy and harsh.
Santhe grabbed large stick, her warrior spirit rising. Her opponet began circling her, the stave held out ready to beat her. “Keep away. I mean it! Just...let...me....go....back!” Santhe tried to lunge at the cloaked figure, but whoever it was, was no fool. The creature backed away and blew an ivory whistle, and it emitted a low hoot, like an owl.
More cloaked figures came to surround the mousemaid.
Santhe looked desperately around her, but there was no way of escaping the ring of cloaked figures. Then the leader stepped forward again and rapped her harshly on the back. “You! Stan’ steell now. We ‘ave you captive.”
Santhe was about to object and throw a rock at the figure when the creature shed its cloak. Underneath was a lithe and sinewy ferret.
“I am Bowfleg da Warlord, an’ you arr my prisoner!”
Chapter Sixteen: Expect the Unexpected


“’s not fair! How does the Queen expect us to take over their headquarters while they’re in it? Crazy, if y’ask me!”
Brogg whirled around, his eyes roving across the army. “Sharrup, d’you hear! If Milady says it’s possible, then it is!”
He couldn’t see the speaker, so he contented himself on yelling insults to the stragglers.
But even he knew it was almost suicide to catch the woodlanders in their own headquarters. And if he disobeyed....
Either way, he thought, he would probably die. He figured he would rather die by the woodlanders than his own mistress.
But what Brogg /didn’t/ know, was that Brockhall was almost deserted. The Corim had not yet returned.

“Whew, that was a good battle, eh, Bella?”
The large badger kept walking, not sure how she felt. “Yes, it was a good battle, although I feel terrible for Martin.”
Rowanoak nodded. “Ah, his sword. Maybe somebeast could fix it?”
Bella shook her head. “Alas, no beast I know of could fix it except...” Bella’s eyes grew wide. “Of course! And they’re traveling in that direction!”
Ballaw stiffened his ears indignantly. “Well, don’t be on all day about it, wot? Tell us sometime before we jolly well perish of suspense.”
Bella ignored Ballaw. “Salamandastron. They’re traveling that way.”
Friltip wrinkled his nose. “Salacawhat?”
“Salamandastron. Where Boar the Fighter is. They’re traveling west, they should eventually come to Salamandastron! Then Martin can get Boar to fix his sword...and oh! And bring Boar to Mossflower and get rid of Tsarmina... it all fits!”
Rowanoak’s eyes widen. “Boar? My father? Oh, I would really like to meet him!”
Bella and Rowanoak laughed and danced around like two little dibbuns.
Skipper shook his head, smiling. “Those two mus’ be very happy, never seen Bella dance like that in seasons!”
Ballaw squinted. “Nor Rowanoak either, wot. ‘cept for the time when we performed for those fat old molechaps, Rowanoak insisted on switching with Gauchee. Thought it would get their bally attention.”
Trefoil looked around nervously. “Hey, it’s getting dark, d’ya think we should be getting back to Brockhall soon?”
Amber replied, “Well, I doubt we could make it before it gets dark, but still, we should try to cover as much ground as we can while we can still see. When the sun goes down, we’re all going to be tripping over one another and such.”
Celandine the beautiful but vain squirrelmaid shuddered. “Ugh! What a horrid thing to think about, it’d ruin my dress!”
Ballaw sighed resignedly. “Same old Celandine, wot. Never changed a bally bit since... forever.”
Kastern looked around. “Hey, where’s Chibb?”
“After the battle, he flew back to Brockhall to bring the rest the good news. He’s probably stuffing his beak of chesnuts now.”
“Aye, sounds like Chibb alright.”
“Or Gonff.”
“Haha, yes, wasn’t thinking of Gonff.”
“Ha, look who’s talking Skip.”
“Who, me? I’m not a glutton!”
“You ate up all that hotroot soup yesterday.”
“Ah, but Bula and Root helped me. In fact, they took more than I did. I’m still skinny as a pole.”
“Hey, we heard that Skip.”
“Yeah, and sucking in that great stomach of yours doesn’t help much, matey!”

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Argulor was back from hunting.
He had not been very successful, unless you call a small frilled lizard successful. He had flown back to his nest near Kotir to see if he could catch a glimpse of that pine marten, or even luckier, eat the pine marten, which he constantly dreamed of what it tasted like. He swooped and landed in his nest. He looked down, where the forest of Mossflower began from Kotir. How strange; a large command of Kotir soldiers were heading into the forest. The hunting eagle eagerly looked to the front of the procession. No, it was the dim-witted weasel captain Brogg, the pine marten was probably in Kotir.
Argulor looked to the other side of his tree. Unusual! Those woodlanders were heading in the same direction as the soldiers, though it was plain neither could see each other.
The eagle looked forward to where the two enemies would meet if they kept going straight forward.
Oh, Argulor thought, it was the large tree where the woodlanders lived, the one called Brockhall.
He settled deeper into his nest. Since the pine marten wasn’t out, he decided to take a little nap. Tsarmina’s crazy little schemes were none of his concern.

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Brogg’s and Ratflank’s command of soldiers were now dangerously close to Brockhall, just a couple stone-throws away, yet the Corim and Noonvale warriors were still quite a large distance away.
Brogg had decided to split the patrol. “Ratflank. You take half, and go that way, off t’the left here, an’ I’ll take the remaining soldiers an’ keep going straight. Give a signal if you find something suspicious.”
“Right, Brogg, whatever you say, matey.” Ratflank grinned and led his patrol over to the west.
Brogg ignored the jibe and yelled out orders, knowing that Ratflank and he were not exactly “mateys”.
“Get a move on, you lazy lot, or I’ll make sure Lady Tsarmina will tan your hides!”

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Argulor opened his eyes sleepily at some disturbance near his tree. That stoat, Ratflank, was leading some soldiers to the left.

Directly head-on into the returning Brockhall defenders.

The ancient eagle turned and paid no heed to what he knew what was going to happen from his bird-eye’s view. As long as the pine marten wasn’t involved, neither was he.

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Ratflank enjoyed being a Captain. Well, how many out of Kotir’s vast horde got to be a Captain, enjoying the privilege of bossing around other soldiers and devouring extra rations.
He smiled nastily at some stragglers in his group, and beat them on the back with his spear, and turning so that the twirl of his Captain’s cloak was very much in evidence.
He knew Tsarmina Greeneyes was crazy. She was going insane, the determination to finish off the gentle woodlanders was all going to her head. And plus, she was keeping the rations to herself. The stoat could not help another smirk. It was he who kept calling out from the horde and insulting the Queen. She would never know who it was, and he was a Captain.
Life couldn’t get any better. In fact, it got worse.

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Friltip looked nervously around him, his teeth chattering. “I-I-I’m s-scared! It’s v-v-very d-d-dark out h-h-here!”
Trefoil herself was feeling a bit uneasy, but took it upon herself to chide Friltip. “Ah, quiet now, ye little rip. With any luck we should get back to Brockhall soon.”
Lady Amber sniffed the air, uneasiness building within her too. “Aye, back soon, I suppose. What do you think Skip?”
The Skipper of Otters followed Amber’s ruse and peered into the darkness, pretending to look for signs of Brockhall, but really checking for somebeast’s else’s prescence.
“Not sure ‘bout that, matey, I’m not really sure, but I think we’ve lost the way.”
Everybeast groaned, though Amber looked alert and slowly drew her bow and arrow. “Oh Skip, I’m sure we’ll find the way.”
“Ah, you’re right there again, matey, but how long twill it take us?”
Friltip was busy trying to exterminate his fear of the dark when he bumped into something. The thing was moving, then stood still, obviously just as surprised as he was. The young hog reached up and felt, nervousness slowly seeping in him. It was long and hard. He gasped. It was a spear. And not only that, somebeast was holding the spear!
The poor young hedgehog screamed at the top of his lungs, and ran about, flailing his arms, running smack bang into one of the otters, who yelled as Friltip’s sharp little spines dug in his fur.
Ratflank, who now realized that the woodlanders were out here, and not at Brockhall, shouted urgent orders to his command of soldiers. “Quick! These are the woodlanders! Kill them all!!! KIIIIIILLLL THEEEEEEEEMMMM AAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL!!!!!!”
The ten-score of vermin from Kotir yelled at the top of their lungs, victory in their grasp at last. They charged the woodlanders, who defended the best they could.
Trefoil now understood what Skipper and Amber were talking about before the start of the battle. She whacked a weasel over the head with her loaded sling as she called to Skipper, “So, does it still look very likely we’re going to get back to Brockhall, eh Skip?”
To her surprise, the Chieftain of Otters just laughed, twirling his spear around, catching a rat in the stomach and another creeping up behind Friltip. “Bless yer liddle ‘eart, missie, o’course we’re gonna get back. We just gotta find the right way first.”
The squirrel narrowed her eyes and laid a ferret unconcious. “Very funny, Skip, very funny.”
Skipper just grinned and loosed off a stone at the back of the Kotir ranks.

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Brogg heard the commotion, and sent two scouts to see what was going on. They came back some time later excited and breathless.
“Ratflank an’ ‘is command are fightin’ with the woodlanders!”
“Aye, which means their not in their ‘eadquarters! It’s empty!”
“Yeah! An’ Wilky ‘ere found it! Where they’ve been stayin’!”
Brogg looked excited, his dull features lighting up. “Great! Common, you lot, let’s got movin’! Wilkear, where did you say it is?”
The rat Wilkear was nearly hopping up and down with excitement. “’Tis over there! It’s some giant tree, wi’ a door in the middle! I saw an ‘edgehog peek out of it!”
Brogg patted the rat scout heartily on the back. “Great work, mate, I’ll see to it that you’re a Captain for this, now let’s go!”


@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%@%

Chapter Seventeen: Bowfleg the Warlord

Santhe was cruelly dragged to Bowfleg’s camp.
Her mouth was bound, and her paws tied behind her back. She still felt groggy from the beating she took on her head, but felt well enough to sit against a tree and eye her surroundings.
It was a good-sized camp, with many hordebeasts, enough to outnumber each member in Noonvale five to one. The thought of that made Santhe’s heart sink so low she could almost feel it touch the ground.
Now Bowfleg, the ferret Warlord, was far from idle, and he was unbelievably strong. He was lean, and muscular, and could best any three vermin in combat and beat them single-clawed.
From what Santhe heard from the gossip that circulated rather quickly around the camp, Bowfleg had left the far north and traveled south, in search of plunder and shelter. ‘And they’re planning to take Noonvale,’ the young mousemaid thought again sadly. If only her friends knew what happened to her! Then maybe Noonvale could have a chance... if they were warned in time. And even that looked very unlikely from the present situation.
She kept thinking about it, each thought growing even more miserable. She didn’t notice the ferret Captain Wildag strutting jauntily up to her.
“’Ey you! Up on yer paws! Lord Bowfleg wants t’see yer.” He roughly pulled Santhe to her paws and removed the scarf from around her mouth.
Santhe forced a painful smile at Wildag, remarking impudently, “What about you? What, he couldn’t stand the sight of your ugly face?”
The ferret grinned nastily and flicked his whip out, grazing the fur on her neck. “You’ll learn some manners when Lord Bowfleg has yer strung upside-down inna river full’o’pikes.”
Santhe winced but took the blow steadily. “Yes, it’s a good thing it’s me, those pikes would probably choke on your thick carcass.”
Wildag was shaking with unsuppressible rage, and it looked for a moment that he was going to flay Santhe into a million pieces with his whip, but he thought better of it, and took his anger out by shoving her roughly in the direction of Bowfleg’s tent. “You shut up, or I’ll make this whip shut yer up!”

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Jorell ran ahead of his friends into the kitchen. “Hey mom! Is Aunt Rose here?”
Gauchee smiled at her son and wiped off some dishes. “Yes dear, I think she went to the larders for some nuts. She’s making a hazelnut and almond pie for tonight.”
Dammy peeked his head in just in time to hear Gauchee and licked his lips. “Mmmmm, me favorite pie, doncha know.”
Nytestripe walked past Dammy, giving him a small clip on the ear in passing. “Food always seems to be the only thing on your mind. Come on, Jorell, to the larders!”
Jorell raced Dallum and Bungo to the larders, with Dammy trailing along behind and stuffing a leek and onion flan in his mouth at the same time. “Mmf grmph snch! I say, wait up, you rotters!”
Jorell nearly crashed into his aunt, who was just making her way out of the larder, with two bags of hazelnuts and almonds.
Rose gently set down the bags and dusted herself off, and smiled at the huffing and puffing group of young ones. “So, what are you nuisances doing barging into the kitchens disturbing us important cooks? Where’s Santhe?”
Jorell’s heart sank. “You mean, she’s not with you?”
Rose looked slightly puzzled. “No, I left her in the tent. She told me she was going to play with you later.”
Dallum looked between Jorell and his aunt. “Well, we ‘aven’t seen ‘er all day. Or for three ‘ole days, f’r that matter.”
Rose turned pale. “But, where could she be?”
Jorell himself was feeling a worried, but he knew Noonvale was a big place, and Santhe could have gone anywhere. Though why she would go somewhere without her mother or friends was beyond him. “I-I don’t know. We checked in the tent, and she wasn’t there, so we thought she was with you.” Here Jorell noticed his aunt looked like she was about to faint, and added, “But she’s probably somewhere else. Santhe knows how to take care of herself. She probably took a walk around the village square.”
Rose picked up the bags of nuts, still somewhat puzzled and worried. “Right, okay, can you little ones please go look for her?”
Bungo saluted. “Burr aye, miz, us’ns will lukk oot f’mizzie Santhe, doan’t ee wurry.”
After Rose went back to the kitchen, Brome turned back to his friends. “Now what?”

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Santhe was roughly pushed into the tent by Wildag, and fell at the paws of the mighty Warlord Bowfleg. Even though she hated him and his horde, Bowfleg imposed a figure of importance and danger. “Danger” meaning that his mood could be dangerous to anybeast who provoked it. And Bowfleg was no sissy when it came to fighting.
“So, wodd do you feel now, eh? We ‘ave you tied oop. Wodd d’you say to dat, hunh?”
Santhe tried not to blanch as the Warlord pulled her close, practically breathing down her neck. “You may have me captured, but you’ll never capture Noonvale!”
Bowfleg roared with laughter and released her, tossing her face-first into the dirt again. “Kyahahahahayukyukyuk! Big words for a small mouse.” He picked up his curved sabre and began sharpening it, taking sideways glances at Santhe. “Metinks I’ll cut oop your liddle friends into liddle pieces an’ feed dem to de fishes, eh, preddy one?”
Santhe gritted her teeth in anger at being called “preddy one” by one so repulsive. “You just try it. We have good fighters, and a huge army is coming towards Noonvale right now. If you try attacking Noonvale, that army will defeat you quicker than you can draw that blade.” Of course Santhe knew that this wasn’t true, and wasn’t ever going to be, she felt extremely angry at Bowfleg and all vermin that existed.
Bowfleg smiled and went on sharpening, hiding his surprise. “An’ army, eh? We kin defeat any army. I ‘ave three ‘undred unner my command, an’ all are gudd fighters.”
Santhe spat her answer back at him. “Our army has over 500 hundred warriors, and they could scrap you lot any day.” Now the young mousemaid was surprised at her own temper, as Bowfleg was. On the outside, Santhe was as beautiful as a summer morn, but on the inside, she was like a flame, burning those who dared to get close.
She glared at the ferret, and was glad to see that he was deep in thought, obviously pondering whether his attack would go well. When he spoke, it was not to her.
“Wildag! Cumm in ‘ere, h’take dissen wurm outta my sight.” The mousemaid couldn’t help but feel happy, she felt she had saved the world, even though she had just saved Noonvale with a few insults.
The ferret Captain bowed and brought his whip down on Santhe, inflicting a small cut on her arm. “Common you, up on your paws!”
Santhe could not help a parting shot at the Warlord. “I see you’ve decided to chicken out, eh? Shows that you’re a coward and a bully on the inside, you’re no Warlord!”
Bowfleg winked and grabbed a bottle of damson wine. “So you say, bud dat won’ stopp me frum capturing your village. We kin take care o’ your army. Kyahahahahahaha!”
Santhe started. She was shocked on the inside, but was careful not to show it. “No! You can’t do that! The army will-“
Bowfleg cut her off, standing and pointing the saber he had drawn in the blink of an eye at her throat. “Dere is no army, is dere? I know you’re lying, preddy one, an’ your lies aren’t going t’stopp me crushing your village!” He emphasized the word “crushing” with a light tap of the saber under her chin. He whirled around again, the flowing red cape twirling as he sat back down in his chair, satisfied with the way he settled the argument.

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Jorell and co. decided that Santhe went to her favorite place to think, the spot by the river on the edge of Noonvale, which also happened to be her mother’s favorite spot when she was younger. Jorell ran ahead, hoping to see Santhe probably staring into the river with her own thoughts.... but saw nothing.
He plopped dejectedly on a willow stump as the others, breathing heavily, arrived. He spoke his troubled thoughts aloud.
“I don’t get it. We can’t find her anywhere, and she would never run away from Noonvale.”
Dammy was not quite the athletic type, but the gears in his mind usually turned the right way, even if they were a bit rusty. Huffing and puffing, he lectured the group. He broke a long, slender but sturdy twig from a willow tree hanging over him, using it as a pointer.
“Righto, m’lad, an’ first if y’want t’get to step number two, y’have t’use good ol’logic. ‘Tis bally simple. Just narrow down the jolly ol’ choices an’ you’ve got it.”
Jorell nodded slowly, unconciously pulling the grass while listening to Dammy. “So, what are the possibilities?”
“Righto, just gettin’ down t’that. Now, we’ve bally well scoured Noonvale, every bloomin’ nook and cranny. So, we use simple logic to know that she jolly well isn’t in the residence anymore, wot.” Nytestripe pretended to stifle a yawn as Dammy continued with his authoratic air.
The young hare tapped Nytestripe sharply on the head. “Pay attention, y’stripey lump, or you’ll never learn! Now, where was I? Oh yes, now... since Santhe isn’t in Noonvale, she must be bally well out! But since we know our friend wouldn’t do a blasted thing such as running away, we have to eliminate that as well.”
Dallum sighed loudly and plucked the pointer from Dammy’s paw. “So, what choices do we have left, floppy ears?”
Dammy grabbed the pointer back rather indignantly. “Hmph! Floppy ears yourself, spikey nose! I was just gettin’ down t’that. If Santhe didn’t leave Noonvale on her own bally will...”
Here Jorell cut him off as realization dawned on him. He leapt up excitedly. “Yes! Then somebody forced her! Which also means...” The five friends looked at each other, thinking the same thing.
“Santhe was kidnapped!”
Jorell was so excited, he could hardly speak. “C’mon, we’ve got to go tell the rest at Noonvale!” He started running... but was lifted into the air... by another creature!
It was a nasty-looking weasel, whom which she and her companion looked quite please with themselves.
“Aye, laddie, yer friend wuz captured, but now so are yew!”

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*gasps* Whew, hoped you enjoyed it, not sure if I'll be coming back to add on. Check www.voy.com/26011/ for more frequently updated parts of my story.