Brian Jacques - Redwall #01 - Lord Brocktree

The look Jukka gave him would have split a solid rock.

Fleetscut scooted hastily back, resigned to a night of hunger and thirst. He lay down, closed his eyes and shouted, "G'night, you grubgrabbin' foul perishin' mob o' skinflints. Hope the noise me tummy's makin' keeps you awake all bloomin' night. Hope you dream of me starvin' to death of hunger. Tailtwitchin' nut-eatin' bark-wallopers!"

Morning brought Fleetscut no relief. As soon as he opened his eyes, he was complaining.

"Yaaagh! Ooh, the famine cramps, me paws've gone dead, I can't see, it's the Scoffless Lurgy, I've been struck down with the Witherin' Ear Fever. Food! Somebeast save me!"

Whump!

Jukka landed slam in his middle, bringing him down flat and stifling his mouth with both paws as she hissed angrily, "Fool, shoutin' and wailin' across the country. Didn't thou hear Beddle calling for all to keep low, there be vermin abroad? Lie still and silent or I'll slay thee myself!"

She peeped over the top of the dried streambank. Ruro and Grood scuttled up to join her.

"Something be moving o'er there, Ruro, see!"

"Aye, I see it well enough. The grass is long out there, and 'tis moving the opposite way to the breeze."

"I wonder how many of them there be?"

Young Grood was about to make an estimate when Jukka cuffed his ear lightly. "Curb thy language, Grood! Stay low, everybeast, and mayhap they'll pass us by. No sense inviting trouble."

Rubbing his stomach, Fleetscut popped his head up, took a quick glimpse of the waving grass and called out, "Wot ho there, show yourselves, we're friends!"

Immediately the spiked heads of two hedgehogs rose above the grass as they strode toward the streambed.

Jukka fixed the old hare with her gimlet eye. "How didst thou know they were hedgedogs?"

Fleetscut waggled his ears in cavalier fashion. "I'm a Salamandastron hare, y'see. We can scent vermin a day away, or at least we used to in the old days. Well now, you chaps, whom have we the honor of addressin', wot?"

The two burly male beasts rolled awkwardly into the ditch.

"G'day to yer. I'm Grassum, an' this 'ere's my brother Reedum. You ain't by any chance spotted an 'ogbabe wand'rin' loose in these parts, 'ave yer?"

The hare shook their paws, carefully avoiding the spikes. "Can't say we have, really. Give us a description an' we'll keep a weather eye out for the little tyke."

Grassum did all the talking, his brother merely nodding and saying aye to emphasize the case.

"Skittles be 'is given name. We took 'im off'n some foxes last season. Doesn't know who 'is mum'n'dad are, or where they be, ain't that right, Reedum?"

"Aye!"

"A right liddle pawful 'e is if'n you ask me, talks very h'educated, very imperdent, very cheeky. An old 'ead on young shoulders, that's wot 'e is, right, Reedum?"

"Aye!"

"Calls us 'is two wicked uncles, jus' 'cos we makes 'im go t'bed early an' wash reg'lar, eh, Reedum?"

"Aye!"

"Enny'ow, Skittles done a bunk on us an' got hisself lost. We been a-searchin' for 'im two days now, me'n'Reedum."

"Aye!"

"Enny'ow, if'n yew goodbeasts finds 'im an' we ain't about, y'd best leave 'im wid the first 'edge'og fambly or tribe y'come across. That's best, ain't it, Reedum?"

"Aye!"

Laboriously they began climbing out of the streambed. Fleetscut called hopefully after them, "I say, you chaps haven't got the odd morsel of grub about youa leftover apple pie or some unwanted salad, wot?"

Grassum looked down on him from the banktop. "We ain't got a crust t'spare atween us, 'ave we, Reedum?"

"Nay!"

The old hare smiled ruefully. "Good day, sirs. Thanks for the information, Grassum. Oh, and thanks for your scintillating conversation, Reedum. I actually got quite excited when you switched from aye to nay. Dashed clever trick that, wot?"

Jukka cast a jaundiced eye over Fleetscut as she marched off. "I wish thou wert as talkative as yon Reedum!"

Hot, dusty and tiring, the day passed uneventfully, wearying on both paws and spirits of the trekkers. Fleetscut became convinced his end was near from starvation. Jukka and Ruro bore their hunger steadfastly, neither asking nor taking sustenance from the sparse rations of their tribal comrades. At evening the dried streambed petered out, and they made camp for the night on the open moor, squatting around a fire they had kindled in the lee of a boulder. Fleetscut's moods had ranged from outrage and name-calling to silent high dudgeon and finally a fatalistic resignation. He lay apart from the others, quiet for a while, then began to moan his thoughts aloud.

"Oh dearie dearie me, 'tis a hard life an' a jolly old sad death, wot. Perishin' out here on the grassy plains without anybeast to mourn over me benighted bones. Hunger, thirst, the Scoffless Lurgy, Witherin' Ear Fever an' the Dreaded Numb Deadpaw. That's besides Tummyshrink Ague an' Fearsome Red Scutrot. Oho yes, mates, you name it an' old Fleetscut's suffered it! A walkin' bonebag, courageous t'the last, too proud to beg a crust from me messmates. Fadin' away sad an' slow. Wonder if they'll strike a medal for me, wot? A skinny hare with a brave smile, that'd be about right. Oh, an' in the background, lots of fat, wobbly squirrels, grinnin' like stuffed toads. Eh, wozzat?"

A slingstone bounced off the ground close to his head. Jukka was whirling her sling, fully loaded with a rock, and she had a wild determined glint in her eye.

"We've stood enough o' thy ceaseless whimperin' an' whining, longears. Speak one more word an' this rock will find thee!"

Fleetscut turned quickly over and shut his eyes tight. "Oh, right y'are, marm. Nighty night now!"

As a new day dawned, Fleetscut, unable to sleep because of hunger pangs, leapt up roaring: "Aha! I think I see his sign, chaps. There 'tis!"

Chapter 13

Silence reigned in the hidden cavern beneath Salamandastron, broken only by the dripping of water and the snores of Lord Stonepaw and his hares. Not knowing the time of day or night, they had succumbed to their natural urge to sleep.

"Where in the name o' fang'n'fur have they got to?"

Stiffener Medick came awake at the sound of voices outside the cave. It was the two Blue Horderats Rotface and Grinak, returning with the food and drink they had been sent for. The boxing hare listened to their conversation; they were obviously lost.

"Huh, don't ask me. Y'd think they'd 'ave left us some sign for direction, or jus' sat an' waited fer us!"

"Well, wot d'y'say we jus' sit down an' wait for them?"

"Can't do that. They might be miles away. We could be down 'ere forever!"

"Aha, but they won't last long, will they? We've got the food. Heeheehee, d'yer fancy some o' this plum pudden from the Lord Badger's kitchens, eh, Grinak?"

"You must be jokin', Rotface. Cap'n Swinch'd 'ave the hide off'n our backs fer stealin' vittles!"

The voices receded down the passage. Stiffener slipped through the rift and went after them, silent as a shadow. Before long he could see the flicker of their torch up ahead. He followed, hoping they would soon stop to rest, but the rats wandered on, willy nilly, from chamber to corridor and cavern to tunnel, for what seemed an age. Finally Stiffener's hopes were rewarded. Grinak found a low rock shelf and plonked himself down on it.

"This is 'opeless. We're lost, aye, an' by the looks of it they are, too. We've not 'ad sound nor sight of 'em yet!"

Rotface sat down next to his companion. "Yer right there, Grin. These flasks of ale are weighin' me down me paws are killin' me. Wot say we swap, you carry the drink awhile, I'll carry the food, eh?"

Grinak snorted. "No chance, mate. You thought they'd be lighter-that's why you ran t'pick 'em up."

"Over here, idiots, over here!" A voice was calling them. Both rats jumped up, scared of being caught sitting down. Rotface peered into the darkness behind them.