Mossflower

"You let my liddle ones be. They ain't harmed nobody.'*

Blacktooth seemed to ignore her. He knocked the loaves from Splitnose's paws,

then turning to a weasel he issued orders. "Pick that bread up, and no sly

munching. Deliver it to the stores when we get back to the garrison."

Waving his spear he signaled the patrol out of the hut. As Blacktooth left he

called back to Ben and Goody, "I want to see those four hogs out in the fields

tomorrow. Either that, or you can all spend the rest of the winter safe and

warm in Kotir dungeons."

Urthclaw kept an eye to a crack in the door, watching the patrol make its way

toward Kotir. Ben wasted no time; he began wrapping the young ones in all the

blankets they possessed. "Right, that's it! Enough is enough. We go tonight.

You're right, old girl, we should have left to live in the woods with the rest

long ago. What d'you say, Urthclaw?"

The mole stood with his eye pressed against the crack in the door. "Yurr, cumm

'ere, lookit thiz!"

While Ben shared the crack with his friend, Goody continued swathing her young

ones with blankets. "What is it, Ben? They're not comin' back, are they?"

"No, wife. Hohoho, lookit that, by hokey! See the punch he landed on that

weasel's nose? Go on, give it to 'em, laddo!"

Ferdy, the little one who had spoken up, scuttled over and tugged at Ben's

paw. "Punch? Who punched a weasel? What's happening?"

Ben described the scene as he watched it. "It's a mouse-big strong feller too,

he is. They're tryhT to capture him . , . That's it! Now kick him again,

mouse. Go on! Hahaha, you'd think a full patrol of soldiers could handle a

mouse, but not this one. He must be a real trained warrior. Phew! Lookit that,

he's knocked Blacktooth flat on his back. Pity they're hangin' on to his sword

like that. By the spikes, he'd cause

8

some damage if he had that blade between his paws, rusty as it is."

Ferdy jumped up and down. "Let me see, I want a look!"

Urthclaw turned slowly away from the door. "Baint much

use, liddle 'edgepig. They'ra gorrim down now, aye, an*

roped up too. Hurt, worra pity, they be too many fer 'im to

foight, ee'm a gurt brave wurrier tho."

Ben was momentarily crestfallen, then he clapped his paws together. "Now is

the time, while the patrol's busy with the fighter. They Ve got a job on their

paws, draggin' him back to the cats' castle. Come on, let^s get a-goin' while

the goin's good."

A short while later, the fire was burning to embers in an empty hut as the

little band trudged into the vast woodland sprawl of Mossflower, blinking

water from their eyes as they kept their heads down against the keen wind.

Urthclaw followed up the rear, obliterating the pawtracks from the snowy

ground.

Gonff the mousethief padded silently along the passage from the larder and

storeroom of Kotir. He was a plump little creature, clad in a green jerkin

with a broad buckled belt. He was a ducker and a weaver of life, a marvelous

mimic, ballad writer, singer, and lockpick, and very jovial with it all. The

woodlanders were immensely fond of the little thief. Gonff shrugged it ail

off, calling every creature his matey in imitation of the otters, whom he

greatly admired. Chuckling quietly to himself, he drew the small dagger from

his belt and cut off a wedge from the cheese he was carrying. Slung around his

shoulder was a large flask of elderberry wine which he had also stolen from

the larder. Gonff ate and drank, singing quietly to himself in a deep bass

voice between mouthfuls of cheese and wine.

The Prince of Mousethieves honors you,

To visit here this day.

So keep your larder door shut tight,

Lock all your food away.

O foolish ones, go check your store

Of food so rich and fine.

Be sure that I'll be back for more,

Especially this wine.

At the sound of heavy paws Gonff fell silent. Melting back into the shadows,

he huddled down and held his breath. Two

10

weasels dressed in armor and carrying spears trudged past.

They were arguing heatedly.

"Listen, I'm not taking the blame for your stealing from

the larder."

"Who, me? Be careful what you say, mate. I'm no thief.'* "Well, you're looking

very fat lately, that's all I say." "Huh, not half as podgy as you, lard

barrel." "Lard barrel yourself. You'll be accusing me next." "Ha, you're in

charge of the key, so who else could it be?" "It could be you. You're always

down there when I am." "I only go to keep an eye on you, mate." "And I only go

to keep an eye on you, so there." "Right, we'll keep an eye on each other,

then." Gonff stuffed a paw in his mouth to stifle a giggle. The

weasels stopped and looked at each other. "What was that?"

"Oho, I know what it was—you're laughing at me." "Arr, don't talk stupid."

"Talking stupid, am I?" Indignantly, the weasel turned

away from his companion.

Gonff quickly called out in a passable weasel-voice imitation, "Big fat

robber!"

The two weasels turned furiously upon each other. "Big fat robber, eh. Take

that!" "Ouch! You sneaky toad, you take this!" The weasels thwacked away madly

at each other with their

spearhandles. Gonff sneaked out of hiding and crept off in the opposite

direction, leaving the two guards rolling upon the passage

floor, their spears forgotten as they bit and scratched at each

other.

"Owow, leggo. Grr, take that!"

"I'll give you robber! Have some of this. Ooh, you bit my

ear!"

Sheathing his dagger and shaking with mirth, Gonff unlatched a window shutter,

and slipped away through the snow toward the woodlands.

Oh fight, lads, fight, Scratch, lads, bite, 11

Gonff will dine on cheese and wine, When he gets home tonight.

Martin dug his heels into the snow, skidding as he was dragged bodily through

the outer wallgates of the forbidding heap he had sighted earlier that day.

Armored soldiers clanked and clattered together as they were dragged inward by

the ropes that restrained the prisoner, none of them wanting to get too close

to the fighting mouse.

Blacktooth and Splitnose closed the main gates with much bad-tempered

slamming. Powdery snow blew down on them from the top of the perimeter walls.

The parade ground snow was hammered flat and slippery by soldiers dashing

hither and thither, some carrying lighted torches—ferrets, weasels and stoats.

One of them called out to Splitnose, "Hoi, Split-tie, any sign of the fox out

there?"

The stoat shook his head. "What, you mean the healer? No, not a whisker. We

caught a mouse, though. Look at this thing he was carrying."

Splitnose waved Martin's rusted sword aloft. Blacktooth ducked. "Stop playing

with that thing, you'll slash somebody twirling it around like that. So,

they're waiting on the fox again, eh. Old Greeneyes doesn't seem to be getting

any better lately. Hey, you there, keep those ropes tight! Hold him still, you

blockheads."

The entrance hall door proved doubly difficult as the warrior mouse managed to

cling to one of the timber doorposts. The soldiers had practically to pry him

loose with their spears. The weasel who had been given charge of the bread

kept well out of it, heading directly for the storeroom and larder. As he

passed through the entrance hall, he was challenged by others who cast

covetous eyes upon the brown home-baked loaves. It had been a hard winter,

since many creatures had deserted the settlement around Kotir after the early

autumn harvest, taking with them as much produce as they could carry to the