Brian Jacques - Redwall #06 - The Outcast of Redwall

Then the Wraith vanished, melting into the night.

Swartt threw the vixen a roasted mackerel. “Good work, at last yve done somethin right. Stripeead is as good as dead, Id say. Oh, when the Wraith gets back, you know what tdo.

“Aye, Lord. I know exactly what to do! Nightshade replied.

36

It was the evening of the day Veil had robbed the dormice of their food and possessions, and the young ferret was not finding the going too easy. He chose a thick copse of pines for his camp. He brushed away the pine needles and dug a shallow hole, then he put steel to flint and made a small fire. Squatting by the flames, he ate some bread and cheese while roasting an apple. He was dozing, half asleep, wanned by the blazing pinecones and dead twigs, when two foxes arrived. At first Veil chose to ignore them. Though he was a bit startled and unsure of himself, he put on a tough face, making sure his knife and staff were clearly in evidence. Equally, both foxes feigned indifference to him. They squatted on the other side of the fire wordlessly. They were old and ragged, but sly looking. One carried a spear, the other a sling and pouch of stones. Drawing their tattered cloaks about them, they sat silent, casting the odd cunning glance toward the lone ferret.

Veil began to feel more uneasy, and he tried striking up a conversation with his uninvited visitors. “Where did you come from, friends? he asked.

The taller of the pair spat into the flames, narrowly missing Veils roasting apple.

“Nosy young snip, aint e, Brool?

The other smiled nastily, his eyes never leaving Veil. “Aye, stoopid too. We saw is fire from a good way off. Look, Vs got breadncheesenapples, a richbeast, eh, Renn!

Veil decided he could let the situation go no further. Holding his stave ready and brandishing the knife, he stood up and shouted, “Keep yer mangy paws off my vittles, Im not scared of you two ol ragbags!

The foxes worked their way around the fire until they were on either side of him. The one called Brool bared his few blackened tooth stumps. “Young uns these days aint got no respect, eh, Renn. Mangy ol ragbags? We got a cheeky one ere, no mistake!

The one called Renn neatly stabbed the roasting apple with his spear tip and, pulling it from the fire, he blew on it and took a bite. “Mmm, e cooks a decent apple though....

Veil grabbed at the spear, his voice shrill with anger. “You leave my apple alone, you dirty old ... Unnhh!

The young ferret had made the mistake of turning his back on Brool. The foxs sling, loaded with a heavy pebble, cracked down on Veils head from behind, laying him flat.

He came to his senses slowly, groaning at the triphammer throb in his skull. Both his paws were hoisted high, tied to an overhanging pine bough.

The two foxes were eating Veils food, cramming bread and cheese ravenously into their mouths. Brool took a drink from the flask; making a face he spat it out. “Yerk, water! Aint you got no good wine or ale, young un? Cold water dont sit easy on my stummick these seasons.

Renn sorted roughly through the traveling bag Veil had stolen from Ole Hoffy. “Nothin much in ere, Brool, jus a thin blanket an a few more apples. Not very considerate of yer, ferret!

Struggling against the tight bonds, Veil glared hatred at them. “Blunderin ol fools, dont you know who I am? Im Veil Sixclaw, son of Swartt the Warlord!

Renn tore a strip from the blanket and did a low servile bow. “Oh, fergive us, yer ighness! Yaaahahahah!

Then he gagged the young ferret firmly, boxing his ears and pulling his nose painfully. “Son of a Warlord, ydont say! Im the cousin of an eagle an a great fish meself. Wot about you, Brool?

“Who, me? Oh, Im the Queen o the flowery dell, pleased tmeet yer majesty, Im sure!

Both foxes fell about cackling. Forced to stand on tippaw, bound and gagged, Veil could only glare at them and make whining sobs of rage.

An even shade of gray washed the dawn sky, bringing dun-hued clouds and a steady downpour of rain. Bryony and Togget gathered up their belongings hurriedly from their camp on the open hills. The mole did not like rain.

Yurr, usns be soaken an cold ifn ee doant foind shelter, missie, ony fishes do loik ee rain!

The mousemaid pointed to the distant pine grove, saying, “Come on then, lets make for there; we can camp in the trees until the rain stops.

Togget took off, both paws over his head, calling back to Bryony, “Hoo aye, maken ee foire an git brekkfist a goin, oim gurtly ungered furr ee vittles!

The mousemaid ran after her companion, laughing. “Slow down, you great Dibbun, the rain wont melt you!

“Hurr, so ee says, missie, tho oi baint too sure!

It was dim and dry in the half light of the close-growing pines. They shook themselves off and began opening their pack. Bryony stopped, sniffing the air.

“Smoke, I can smell burning, she said.

Toggets smal! button nose twitched. “Youm roight, Bro-inee, sumbeast got flames burnen sumwheres.

The mousemaid fastened the haversack and shouldered it. “It may be Veil, but then again, it may not be. Go quietly, Togget, make no noise. Lets see who the fire belongs to.

Following the aromatic smell of burning pinecones, the two friends stole silently through the grove.

Bryony was first to spot the glow of flames between the trees. Taking care not to crack twigs underpaw, they stole forward, then, bellying down in the springy carpet of pine needles, they peered over a fallen trunk at the scene in a hollow below.

Brool and Renn were breakfasting off what was left of the bread and hurling apple cores at the bound figure dangling from a pine bough.

Bryony seized Toggets paw. “Look, its Veil! Those two foxes must have captured him!

“Hurr, but theym looken loik narstybeasts, wot can usns be a doin to elp maister Veil?

Bryony studied the situation below before answering. “Hmm, theyre armed, we couldnt risk an open fight. But I think I might have an idea that will work. Heres what we do!

Renn the fox threw some twigs on the fire and sprawled on the ground, eyeing Veil. “Dyou suppose this Swartt Warlord would pay a bit o ransom to ave his darlin son back in one piece, mate?

Brool looked at his companion pityingly. “You gone squishy in uY brains, Renn, the only thing a Warlord would give you for takinis kin prisoner would be yore own ead on a plate ... Yowp!

A hard, green pinecone struck the fox on his nose, followed a moment later by another, which bounced off his partners jaw.

Renn grabbed his spear, snarling, “Whos slingin cones? Owch! Another solid green cone hit him in the eye.

Brool was about to take his sling out when a green cone stung his paw. “Owowow! Hoi! Stop chuckin those tilings willy ... Agh! He fell back, clutching his mouth as he spat a broken tooth out.

Cones began whizzing in, thick and fast and accurate. The two foxes were battered and bewildered; the missiles seemed to be coming from everywhere. Renn could hardly see, having been struck in both eyes. Brool had been belted over the head five times in quick succession by cones, and was feeling very sore and dazed. They huddled together, crouching to escape the stinging rain of hard green cones, but the cones kept hur-ding in, thwacking them hard as ever, bouncing off their skinny backs and bottoms until Brool howled out, “Stoppit! Stoppit! Were goin!

Thwack! Ping! Thud! Clack! The green cones continued. The two foxes could bear it no more. “Yaaaah! Lets get outta ... Yeeek! Ooh! Yowp! They fled through the woods, away to where it was open ground, regardless of rain, limping and hopping in pain.

Togget rolled down into the hollow and sat with his paws hanging limply by his sides.

“Wourr, moi ole pawsll drop off ifn oi flings jus one more of they poiney cones, wourr!