Brian Jacques - Redwall #22 - The Sable Quean

After putting Jango and Bartij on the vermin trail, Sniffy set off with Skipper and Buckler on the track left by Thwip and Binta.

Axtel Sturnclaw, the Warrior mole, had regained his senses. He woke to the sound of Tassy and Borti weeping. The pain in Axtel's footpaw was agonising; it had swollen with the spearhead still impaling it. However, his first thoughts were not for himself, but for the two babes.

Tassy was hugging little Borti, trying to comfort him, even though she herself was in tears. It was a pitiable sight.

Axtel beckoned to them. "Cumm yurr, likkle uns. 'Ush you'm weepin'--oi'll take gudd care of ee."

They sat close to him, leaning against his velvety fur. With an effort, Tassy got her sniffling under control. The Redwall squirrel Dibbun winced at the sight of the big mole's wound.

"Yore paw is very hurted sir. 'Ow you goin' t'fix it?"

Axtel sat up slowly, leaning forward to inspect the impaled limb. "Furst thing we'm got to do, likkle mizzy, is to be getten you spearpoint owt. Yurr, foind oi a gudd stone--that un o'er thurr."

Tassy had to struggle a bit, but she fetched the chunk of limestone over to him.

Axtel smiled at her. "Gudd! Naow, put et unner moi futt-paw, so 'tis restin' agin' ee spearpoint."

The squirrelbabe did as she was bidden. Axtel took a deep breath, readying himself. "You'm stan' clear, naow, an' moind ee babby sh'ew."

Tassy obeyed without question. The mole took out his war hammer and set the haft between his teeth. He took hold of the stump of spear pole. Squinching his eyes tight shut, he shoved the spearpoint hard against the stone whilst

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at the same time giving the stump a swift, strong heave. Axtel roared. "Hoooouuuurrrr! Hooooaaaarggggh!"

He went backward, lying flat out, with the freed spearpoint grasped in his forepaws.

Carrying Borti, Tassy hurried to his side. "It's out--you did it! But it' bleedin' blood!"

The big mole prised his jaws loose from the war hammer. "Hurr, so 'tis. Oi'll needs to bandage et upp!"

Tassy placed Borti at her friend's side. "You mind Borti. I know how t'make dressin's--Sista FumbT teached me. Jus' wait here, sir. I don't be long." She dashed off to find what she needed.

Seeing her go, Borti began wailing again. "Waaah, want my mamma!"

Axtel sat the little fellow on his chest, chuckling. "Hurr, an' so do oi, zurr, but b'ain't no use a-howlin' fur hurr. Coom on, naow. Make ee gurt smile fur oi!" He tickled the shrewbabe with his snout.

Borti was very susceptible to tickles. He was soon wriggling and giggling through his tears.

Tassy returned with an apronful of stuff. She took over like a proper little Infirmary nurse. "Now, you lie still an' I fix a paw up!"

Axtel adopted a look of serious obedience.

"Yuss, marm, oi'll do azzakerly loike ee says!"

He watched in pleasurable wonder as the Redwall squirrelmaid wrorked on the injured footpaw. Wiping the wound clean with crushed sanicle flowers, poulticing the bleeding with soft moss, she dressed it with dockleaves and sainfoin, tying the whole thing off with chickweed stems, which she knotted neatly.

"There, now. 'Ow doo's that feel?"

Axtel winked at Borti. "Yurr, she'm a vurry clever creetur, b'ain't 'er?"

Tassy declared proudly, "I gonna work inna 'firmary wiv Sista Fumb'l when I growed h'up!"

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The Warrior mole chuckled. "Oi'm shure ee will, miz!"

A sound of approaching creatures alerted Axtel. "You'm hoide in ee bushers, naow. 'Urry--sumbeast bee's a-comen!"

They ran for the bushes, practically bumping into Sniffy. He swept Borti up in his paws joyfully.

"Seasons o' streams, lookit wot I found. 'Tis Jango an' Furm's babe. Borti, ain't it?"

Tassy gave a delighted squeal. She ran right up Skipper, as if scaling a tree. "Yeeeheee! Skippa, it me, Tassy!"

The Otter Chieftain hugged her happily. "Well, burn me rudder if it ain't. Where's the other little uns, Tass?"

Axtel saw that the newcomers were friendly. He tried to stand upright. "They'm mostly apprisoned, zurr, tho' oi manarged t'get they two owt. Hurr aye, an' three more who bee's at moi camp!"

Buckler strode up to the mole and shook his paw warmly. "We're grateful to ye, sir. Are you badly hurt?"

Favouring the wounded paw, Axtel leaned against the hare. "Oi was, zurr, but oi'm gurtly attended to boi likkle Mizzy Tass, thankee."

Buckler drew his sword, tossing it to Sniffy. "See if'n ye can cut this bravebeast a crutch, mate."

Skipper fed them from his pack. The big mole was enjoying October Ale with cheese and onion pasty so much that Buckler had to wait before asking him, "Have you noticed two foxes hereabouts of late?"

Axtel held out his beaker to be refilled. "Two foxers? Nay, zurr, nary a sightin' of 'em."

Sniffy, who was hacking at a forked hazel limb, snorted with displeasure. "We've lost the rascals. Told ye foxes were slybeasts, didn't I? We'll 'ave to backtrack, sorry."

Buckler broke a pasty, sharing it between the young ones. "I only asked about the foxes out of curiosity--they're not important now. The main thing is that we've found the little uns or, should I say, our molefriend has."

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The Warrior mole tugged his snout politely. "Axtel Sturnclaw at you'm survice, zurrs!"

Whilst Buckler introduced himself and his companions, Sniffy passed Axtel the crutch he had hewed from the hazel.

"There y'are. That should serve ye well enough." He went chasing off after little Borti, who was toddling away on his own into the trees. "Gotcha, ye liddle rogue. You stick close by ole Uncle Sniffy, now, d'ye hear ... ahah, wot's this?"

Dropping on all fours, the Tracker inspected the ground. "Ahoy, mates, I never lost the foxes--here's their trail, I've picked it up agin. Aye, this is it, one dogfox an' one vixen, headed over that way."

Axtel followed the direction Sniffy's paw was pointing. "Yurr, moi camp's o'er thurr, with ee uther three likkle uns. They'm foxers bee's sure t'foind et!"

Buckler issued swift orders. "Skip, you follow with Axtel and the young uns. Sniffy, lead the way, mate. We'll have t'move fast if the other three babes are alone in that camp!"

Shortly thereafter, the Guosim Tracker and the hare arrived at Axtel's camp. They found it deserted, except for the presence of Thwip's grisly carcass. Sniffy wrenched the spear from the dead fox's midriff, passing it to Buckler.

"I dunno wot went on round 'ere, but it looks like we're only trackin' one fox now, the vixen. You stand still there, Buck. Let me cast around for more tracks."

Whilst Sniffy was engaged in his task, Skipper and the others arrived.

Buckler held up the homemade spear. "Stay back. Sniffy's lookin' for fresh tracks. There was nobeast here--just this fox, he was slain with this."

Axtel took the spear. "Hurr, that'll be ee likkle sh'ewmaid, Flib. She'm a boldbeast, oi kin tell ee!"

Buckler relaxed slightly. "Aye, she is that. Flib can take care of herself, but what about the other two?"

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Axtel shook his large velvety head. "H'only babbies, two likkle molers, cuddn't 'arm anybeast."

Skipper, who was carrying Borti on his shoulders, enquired, "Any trace of 'em, Sniff?"

The Tracker scratched his head. "There's trails goin' everyplace, mate. Here's the foxes, two arrivin' an' only one leavin', alone. The vixen didn't take the molebabes--some otherbeast did. Whether 'twas friend or foebeast, I dunno. Thick tail, long fuzzy prints, big 'airy paws, prob'ly."

Buckler grasped his long rapier hilt. "Which way has it gone--can ye make out the little moleprints?"

Sniffy had his nose practically stuck to the ground. "Little uns that size don't leave much trail t'follow. They don't weigh much, y'see. Now, as for this otherbeast, a female, I think, an' she really knows 'er way round this neck o' the woods, I can tell ye. Nah, this is a creature wot won't be found by any if'n she don't want 'em to. Still, let's see if'n I can't pick up the track."