Brian Jacques - Mossflower

The Mask winked. "Indeed I can, marm. That's why I'm here."

Early evening shadows were beginning to lengthen across the plain. Dinny

looked to the mountains on the horizon, and judged the distance shrewdly.

"We'm be vurry close to yon mountings on t'morrer, Mar-;~then."

The warrior mouse glanced toward the massed rock. "So we will, Din. As to how

we'll cross them, I'm at a loss. Look at the size of them. They almost

disappear into the

. sky."

; "Don't you worry, mateys," Gonffsaid confidently. "We

•^ haven't come this far to be beaten by an old stone hill. Be-jOrides, we

don't have to worry about those vermin following ^;BS. The swans probably

dealt with them." ¥f^> Dinny's snout rose into the air. "Oi'm a-smellen' more

^Walter thru 'ee paws agin."

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"What, more water, Din?" Martin asked. "Burr aye. Runnen waiter thiz toim."

"Best keep our eyes skinned for swans, eh, mateys," Gonff warned.

"Hoo arr, doant wanna see skwons no more."

Gonff was first to find the broad stream. It was not quite wide enough to be

classed as a river. The mousethief strode down the bank and recited aloud to

the flowing waters,

O'er golden acres far below, Our wings beat strong and true, Where deep and

wet, see flowing yet, Another snake of blue.

Martin looked to the opposite bank. "It seems peaceful enough, but it's far

too wide to cross here. We'll camp here tonight and scout the bank for an

easier crossing in the morning."

The mild spring evening was very pleasant by the water. Dinny scooped out a

circle while Martin set flint to the steel of his broken sword and started a

small fire. Gonff repaired his fishing line. Within a short time he landed a

plump young bream.

The three travelers sat around the fire, watching the fish grilling in a

cradle of green reeds over the flames. Firelight flickered and danced in

Dinny's buttonlike eyes.

"Warmff, hurr hurr. Oi do likes warmff."

Gonff tested the fish with his knifepoint. "It'll be ready soon, mateys. A

little loaf apiece toasted up, some cress from the water's edge, a beaker of

fresh streamwater, and we're snug for the night."

The stream gurgled and eddied ceaselessly toward the distant mountains as they

enjoyed a spell of rest on its soft mossy bank.

Splitnose and Blacktooth had wandered aimlessly. Without Scratch to direct

them they were lost. Night found the pair out upon the open plain, hungry,

tired and thirsty. Splitnose lay down, snuggling sleepily against the grass.

Blacktooth was restless.

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"Huh, I'm not sleeping out in the open again. There must be a hole or a cave

hereabouts. Might be a bite of grub, too.''

"Oh lie down and get some rest," Splitnose murmured sleepily. "You're as bad

as Cludd or Scratch. Get some sleep, ^.and we'll see what it's like around

here in the morning. I'm not moving. Might even sleep late, too."

Blacktooth moved off. "Right. You stay here. I'll be back if I can't find

something better. I could swear there's water running nearby. I'll go and take

a look."

"Mind the swans don't eat you," Splitnose called out, his eyes already closed.

Blacktooth was back sooner than expected. He danced about, giggling quietly to

himself.

"Splittie. Hey, come on, snoreface. Wake up! Heeheehee, guess what I've

found?"

The stoat grumbled as his companion shook him awake. "Two frogs and a

dandelion. Now beat it, will you? I need sleep."

The ferret could not contain his excitement. "I found a big stream, a camp, a

fire and food—and those two mice and the mole!"

Splitnose came awake. "Where?"

"Not far. Over that way a bit. Listen, if we're quick and quiet we can take

them prisoner.''

The stoat leaped up. "Great. You say they've got food and afire?"

"Yes, half a roast fish, packs too, full of goodies," Black-tooth told him.

"You know those woodlanders—they love '- their rations."

"We could march 'em back to Kotir."

"Heehee. Aye, could you imagine old Cludd's face when we walk in with three

prisoners? The Queen'd prob'ly make us Generals. Oho, I'd give that Cludd a

few dirty jobs to do.

- I'd make him jump!"

"Right, Blackie mate, lead me to "em." ." They sneaked silently across to

the river bank armed with

- their spears.

$

i The three friends lay asleep around the fire, unaware of the

|> eyes that watched them from the top of the bank.

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Fortunate struck deeper into Mossflower, aware that Tsar-mina was watching her

from the high chamber window.

The vixen had cast off her borrowed finery from Kotir, reverting to the frayed

old healer's cloak and bag of herbal remedies. She leaned heavily upon an ash

staff. Fortunata was more suited to this type of work; she preferred

subterfuge to warfare. Besides, the rewards promised were greater.

Tsarmina moved from the window to ring her table bell. Cludd entered, saluting

with shield and spear.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Get somebody to clean this room up, it's filthy. Drill the troops and keep

them on the alert. They're not here to eat me out of house and home. Oh, get a

foraging party together. We must keep something in the larders if we want to

outlast the woodlanders."

Cludd saluted again. "It shall be done, Milady."

The wildcat Queen settled back in her chair. Now was the time to play the

waiting game.

Columbine lay behind a screen of bushes, nibbling a green hazelnut. The

mousemaid often volunteered to go on watch outside Brockhall, imagining

herself to be the first to sight the travelers' return. That GonfF! He would

probably come back singing at the top of his voice,

I'm back, Columbine. Yes, now is the hour My good friends and I Will be saving

Mossflower,

or some such cheery air. Columbine lay watching sunmotes dancing through

dappled patterns of green leaves, dreaming of her thief.

Then she sighted the fox.

It was a vixen, dressed like a journeying healer. The fox cast about, sniffing

here, inspecting a scuffed leaf there, obviously searching for somebody or

something.

Columbine slid silently away from her hiding place. Once

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she was out of the fox's vision she took to her paws, dashing headlong back to

Brockhall.

Shooing some little ones inside, she shut the door and bolted it. It was

lunchtime, Loamhedge mice were serving up hazelnut cloister pudding with

willowherb sauce. Columbine made straight for Bella.

"Fox, fox, coming this way!" she panted. Skipper put a restraining paw on her.

"Whoa there. What fox coming from where?"

"Out in the woods, coming from the northwest, sniffing and probing. It's a

vixen. She'll find her way here soon unless we stop her.''

Lady Amber mopped up sauce with a crust. "A vixen eh, did you recognize her,

Columbine?"

"Oh yes, it's the one they call Fortunata, though she's dis-guised herself up

a bit. I recognized her at the ambush."

"An old raggedy cloak and hood," Bella interrupted, "together with a bag of

herbs and a staff?" Columbine nodded.

"The old pilgrim healer disguise. Wearing a bit thin, eh, Mask,'' the badger

chuckled drily.

The otter looked up from his pudding. "What are you going to do about her?''

Lady Amber reached for her quiver. "A swift arrow in the right place should

save any argument.'' - Skipper pawed his sling. "Either that or a sharp rock

on her stem."

Mask stood up, patting a full stomach. "Miz badger, why don't you let me deal

with this? It may help with our escape plans for the prisoners."