Brian Jacques - Redwall #09 - Salamandastron

Goffa pulled himself upright on his spear haft. "You ate it all last night, greedyguts!"

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"Greedyguts y'self, sir." Pikkle brushed sand from his coat. "I didn't notice you stintin' your belly when it came to puttin' food in it. Matter o' fact, I began to think you'd had news of a ten-season famine an' you were packin' it away just in case."

Goffa scowled nastily, testing his spearpoint. "You mind your mouth, you great overgrown rabbit..."

"Here, here, what's all this, friends fighting already?" As Klitch brushed past Goffa he dug an open claw in his back and shot him an angry glance. Turning to Mara and Pikkle, his eyes switched to open blue wonderment. "Now then, pals, what's all the quarreling about?"

"No quarrel really." Pikkle laughed. "I merely made inquiries about breakfast. Old Goffa must've got out the wrong side of the sandhill this mornin*he accused me of scoffin' all the rations last night. Blinkin' cheek! Do I look like a scoffer, Klitch? Go on, be honest, don't spare m'feelin's."

The blue-eyed weasel upended the empty haversacks. "Actually you do, Pikkle, but it's no use falling out over it. The point is that we've run out of food."

Mara licked sand grains from her dry lips. "Not even an apple and I've got a dreadful thirst!"

She thought for a fleeting moment of the cool dark dining room inside the mountain, the tables laid with plain wholesome food and flagons of cold cider, greensap milk and mint tea. Thrusting the memory from her mind, she looked around. "Well, I only know the country north and west of here. It's much the same as this: mountains, foothills, dunes and sandhills running to the shores. We won't find much food in that direction. What about that way, down south?"

Klitch shook his head. "That's the way we came up here. There's a broad stream in the far south, but between that and here there's a big area of swampland that we had to skirt. The place is overrun with big toads, and it's a pretty bad bet, I'd say."

Pikkle's stomach made a loud audible growl. He patted it. "Yes I know, old lad, but you'll just have ter wait until we find some tucker. Come on, chaps. Anybeast got an idea

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which way we should go to relieve the jolly old pangs?''

Klitch winked at Goffa. "I suggest we carry on into the foothills over to the east, what do you think, Goffa?" "Foothills, yeh, good idea!" the ferret agreed readily. Mara looked east to the distant foothills, with the mountain range rising green and grayish blue behind them. "Do you think we'll find food there, Klitch?"

The weasel patted her shoulder and started walking east. "It's a good chance. Streams usually run down from mountains and stuff always grows by themplants, roots, berry bushes."

Goffa followed Klitch. "He's good at findin' food." Pikkle gave Mara a shove in their direction. "Then what're we waitin' for? Lead us t' the berrybushes, chums."

Food had been passed up to Sickear in the lookout post. It was not mucha pawful of berries, a crust of bread and some waterbut he ate it gratefully, saving a little of the water to bathe his clawed shoulder.

The hot summer morning wore on, Sickear rubbing his eyes to stay awake as he kept watch, while below the lookout rock normal camp routine went on. Foraging and hunting parties came and went. Keeping away from Salamandastron, they moved south and stalked the swampland fringes for toads, frogs and birds. When these were not available there were always plants and roots.

Though everybeast feared Ferahgo, there were one or two who doubted the wisdom of his trek north. Forgrin the fox and Raptail the searat were two such creatures. They carried the breadsack, doling out stale bread to the horde.

A ferret named Bateye knocked his crust of bread against a rock, muttering complaints under his breath: "Lookit this bread they calls it. More like stone it is!"

Forgrin rooted about in the breadsack, his voice mocking. "Oh dearie me, did yew 'ear that, Raptail? Pore ol' Bateye's bread ain't fresh. 'Ang on a bit, mate, and I'll see if there's any cake 'ere. Now which would yew like, Yer 'Ighness, the sort wi' plums in or the cake wi' cream atop of it?"

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Bateye raised his paw to fling the bread at Forgrin. "Yah shaddap, yer grinnin' idjit..."

There was a whirring swish as Ferahgo's skinning knife zipped between Forgrin and Raptail to pierce the crust held in Bateye's paw. The blood drained from the ferret's narrow face as the Assassin strode forward and picked up the knife with the crust fixed to its blade.

"Something wrong with your bread, Bateye?"

The ferret sat, staring up into the smiling blue eyes, then shook his head in vigorous denial. "No, master, norra thing. The bread's jus' fine, thank yer!"

"Excellent! Then let's see you eat it all up now!" Ferahgo smiled wickedly, holding the bread transfixed upon his knife as Bateye tried to eat it under his gaze.

Bateye was no longer young, he had teeth missing, and the rock-hard dry crust cut his gums, but he ate on doggedly, too scared to stop.

Ferahgo watched him intently and commented, "What's that noise? Has one of your teeth broken? Oh look, it's fallen out. Tut-tut, Bateye. You should have taken better care of those molars, and cleaned them with a soft twig every morning. Still, eating that bread will strengthen them. What do you say?"

Bateye tried to speak around the knife blade and the stale dried bread filling his mouth, but he was only able to produce a strangled noise.

"I understand, friend." Ferahgo nodded sympathetically. "You'd like more. Forgrin, Raptail, give me more bread out of that sack. This poor ferret is still hungry."

Forgrin's jaw tightened at the wanton cruelty of Ferahgo, but he obeyed. Just as Raptail was about to pass Ferahgo the bread, a stoat called Dewnose came running up.

"Master, Sickear says to come quick, he's spotted some-thin' that you should see!"

Flicking the blade from Bateye's open mouth, the Assassin ran to the lookout rock and scaled it nimbly. Sickear moved over the perch to make room, his claw pointing.

"Over there, Master. It's Klitch an' Goffa with two others!"

"Yes, I see. Good work, Sickear!"

"But look, can you see, Master, just behind 'em in the hills, there's a hare followin' them."

"Hmm, so there is. I wonder if the badger knows we're here, or is that just a lone hare spying on us? We'll soon find out."

Pikkle shielded his eyes from the midday glare as he viewed the mountainous country before them. "Oh corks! How much farther do we go? I'm absolutely whacked!"

"Too much to eat last night, Pikkle, that's your trouble." Klitch shook his head reprovingly. "Look, it's not much farther now. Why don't you and Mara rest here awhile with Goffa, and I'll go on ahead and scout the land. How does that sound?"

Pikkle flung himself gratefully on the ground. "Absolutely top-hole, old lad. You carry on bein' the jolly intrepid scout, and we'll flop down here!"

Mara did not argue, she was glad of me rest. Goffa merely nodded to Klitch and sat moodily, some distance from Mara and Pikkle. The badger maid rested her back against a rock and closed her eyes.

Suddenly a voice nearby whispered urgently, "Missie, don't turn round, stay has you are. You an' Pikkle 'ave got ter get away from 'ere sharpish. It's a trap!"

Startled, Mara opened her eyes and leaned around the rock. "Sergeant Sapwood, what are you doing here?"

Goffa sprang up. He came dashing over, spear at the ready. - "Wot's goin' on 'ere? Who are you talki"

Sapwood leaped out in front of him, poised for action. With . a yell the ferret thrust the spear forward. Sapwood neatly sidestepped, kicking the spear adrift with his long hind legs. Goffa tried to make a grab for it but he was confronted by the champion boxing hare of Salamandastron. In swift succession two neat left pawhooks thudded to the side of his head, followed