Brian Jacques - Redwall #06 - The Outcast of Redwall

“I search for the summer oer fields far and still,

Though seasons may take me wherever they will,

Cross vale and oer hill as the warm winds blow down,

Twas there I found autumn gold, russet, and brown.

I wandered the lands neath a misty morn sky.

Til the frost rimed a small icy tear from my eye.

O winter, cold winter turns short days to night.

And dresses the lea in a gown of pure white.

So windswept and sad until yon comes the day,

A pale morn of sunlight melts snowflakes away.

See greenshoots a-pushing to pierce the bare earth,

Bringing fair-colored flowers to herald springbirth,

As spinney and woodland grow leafier each day,

Young birds sing that summer is soon on its way.

Ill find me the glade that my heart recalls best,

In my soft summer dell I will lay down to rest.

It was midnoon before Bryony decided to take a break and eat something. Choosing a shaded patch on the side of a broken hill, she sat down and opened her haversack. Pouring pen-nycloud cordial into her beaker, she selected a russet apple and recalled helping to store the apples in dry straw at the end of the previous autumns harvest. It was only when she took out one of Friar Bunfolds home-baked oat scones from the pack that emotions overcame her. There was nobeast around to see, so the mousemaid gave full rein to her grief, weeping unashamedly as she drank cordial and ate her scone. Memories of Redwall flooded over her like spring tide hitting a dry beach. Teardrops spattered onto the half-bitten apple and dampened her traveling habit.

“Er, hrumm, hrumm, Ill ave that if ydont like it, mouse!

She looked up to see a very fat robin watching her. It nodded at the scone. “Ydont ave to eat that if n it makes ycry. Give it tme, yll fee! appier, I know ywill.

Bryony tried wiping her eyes on her sleeve, but the tears kept rolling down unchecked. She broke off a piece of the scone and tossed it to the robin. “H ... h ... here, n ... now g ... go way and leave m ... m ... me!

The robin pecked at the scone critically, bobbing its head. “Mmm, mm, very tasty, very nice. Gone an give yself hiccups now, avent you, should never whinge while eatin, bad fyou!

Bryony turned her head away, still trying to stem the tears. “Im n ... not whinging, j ...just 1... leave m ... me alone p ... please! She broke off another piece of scone and gave it to the nosy bird.

Huffily he seized it and fluttered off slowly. “Chipp! Not very good company, are ymouse?

Bryony got her hiccups under control and shouted after the bird, “You didnt see a ferret pass this way, by any chance?

The robin flew swiftly back, eating his piece of scone before he ventured a reply. “Might ave. Give me the rest o that cake an Ill tell you. Cakes no good tyou, ony makes ycry.

Bryony passed over the remainder of the scone. The robin began pecking it thoughtfully, head to one side.

“Got any more o these in that bag?

The mousemaid sniffled away the last of her tears angrily. “No, I have not. Now will you please tell me if you saw the ferret pass this way!

The robin nodded. “Yes, ferret passed this way las ev-enin.

“Well, which way did he go, please?

One wing shot out pointing west and slightly south, the exact direction in which Bryony was traveling.

“That way! Bye-bye, crymouse!

He flew off fast, with Bryony shouting after him, “And good-bye to you, greedybeak!

Suddenly the mousemaid felt drained and tired, exhausted by the long walk and her emotions. Curling up, she fell asleep in the twinkling of an eye.

A breeze, or an insect, or something tickling her whiskers brought Bryony back to wakefulness. Slowly, she opened one eye. Immediately she closed it, fear making her lie very still. There, in front of her eye, she had seen a huge flat paw with big blunt claws.

“Wake ee oop, missie, et be only oi!

Pushing the footpaw away from within a hairs-breadth of her face, she sat bolt upright, crying, “Togget! What are you doing here?

The mole wrinkled his button nose and shrugged. “Watchen ee sleepen, yurr, youm an orful snoarer, Broinee.

Bryony stood up, brushing herself off indignantly. “I do not snore!

Togget put down his haversack, chuckling. “Ahurrhurrhurr, thats cos ee never bed awake to ear eeself, ow youm knowen ifn youm snoar ifn ee be asleepen?

The mousemaid stamped her footpaw. “Never mind whether I snore or not. I asked you what, pray, are you doing out here? Why did you leave the Abbey?

Togget took her paw. “Youm moi gudd friend, missie. Togget wuddent leave ee to go off a surchin for ee maister Veil all alone, burr no!

Bryony seized Togget and hugged him. “Youre a true friend, Togget, a good, loyal companion. Thank you!

Togget covered his face with his great digging paws, as moles will do when embarrassed by anything. “Hurr, oill go straightways back to ee habbey ifn youm goin to be a squeezin anuggin oi!

Bryony understood, and without another word the two friends set off together, traveling southwest.

It was evening, still light, but getting on to dusk, and Veil was hungry. The ferret had eaten only a few young dandelion shoots and some edible roots all day. Sucking a flat pebble to ward off thirst, he carried on across the darkening landscape. After a while he noticed a faint glow from some hills, to the north of his route and, overcome by curiosity, he sneaked silently over. As he drew nearer the hill, he could tell the glow was being made by a fire in a small hollow at the hills base. Flattening himself belly down against the grass, the ferret wriggled forward quietly. When he was close enough, he lifted his head and looked.

It was an old male dormouse with two little ones, sitting around the fire roasting apples. To one side lay a homely looking cottage loaf and a big wedge of dark yellow cheese. Veil noted that the old dormouse carried a knife, which he used to cut the bread, and that there was also a stout walking staff at his side. Veil walked into the firelight with both paws spread wide and a disarming smile upon his face.

“Pray, friends, dont alarm yourselves, he said, keeping his voice soft and low. “I come in peace.

The old dormouse inspected him critically. “In peace, aye, an in hunger, too, by the looks of ye. Sit ye down, there aint much, but yore welcome tshare supper with menthe grand-mice. Last bad winter took their parents, an Im the only one left to look after em, pore mites. Were travelers, livin where we can, starvin when we have to.

Veil sat opposite the oldster, accepting a slice of cheese, a hunk of the loaf, a roasted apple, and a large seashell filled with water from a flask. He ate gratefully, improvising a pack of lies to the kind dormouse.

“My names Bunfold. Im the same as your little ones, lost my mother V father, aye, an a sister, too, last winter. Ive been on my own ever since, wanderin field an forest.

The old dormouse stared into the flames. “The babes are called Hoffy an Brund, same as their parents. Im Ole Hoffy. AIT, Bunfold, tis a hard life for porebeasts without a dwellin place. See the little ones are asleep already, wore out just like their paws from trekkin an livin rough. Here, young un, cover yself with this against the night chills.

He dug out a ragged blanket from a bark carrier and tossed it to Veil. The ferret wrapped himself up and snuggled down, saying, “Sleep well, Ole Hoffy. Who knows, mayhap tomor-rowll bring us all good fortune an a bit o luck, eh?

The dormouse threw some twigs on the fire before settling. “We could certainly do with it. Gnight, Bunfold!

Veil lay with his eyes half closed, listening to the crackle of the fire and waiting for his chance.

Togget was awake before Bryony the next day, unpacking food for them both from the haversack he had made up before leaving the Abbey. Picking a kingcup, he placed it gently between the mousemaids folded paws.