Lantern shadows flickered around the hidden cave as the badger Lord stirred his powerful frame. The smoke from the herbs had cleared away, and Urthstripe rubbed his eyes and yawned as if coming out of a deep sleep. Casting aside the chisel, he picked up the lantern and held it close to the wall, where it illuminated the fresh carvings. The badger Lord's gruff voice echoed around the cave as he translated the pictures aloud:
"Two badgers. This small oneit's my Mara, I'm sure. This other one, is it me? No, it cannot be. I have stripes, he has none."
The mountain Lord's eyes clouded over. He shook his head as half-forgotten images flitted through his mind.
"Strange, a badger without stripes .. . Without stripes?"
He blinked, turning his attention back to the wall.
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"What's this? Vermin eyes? Yes, they're the eyes of vermintwo pair, probably weasel's. The round thing between them, is it the moon or the sun? No, it has carving on but I cannot see, it is too small and fine. Ah, here is a sword, the weapon of a warrior, and here am I, Urthstripe, Lord of Sal-amandastron."
Next to the figure of Urthstripe a few lines were written in Badger rune. He narrowed his eyes, studying them.
Faintheart shall be made strong, But a warrior's fate for the mountain Lord. Blue eyes brings battle ere long, Whilst the maid comes of her own accord. The mount shall be ruled by badger kin, The sword shall make Mossflower free The Abbey will take its Guardian in Far from this rock by the sea.
Urthstripe stood tall, his brooding eyes alight with the knowledge of his own fate. He felt as though the heavy paw of destiny had touched him, but the thought of a coming war seemed to obliterate all feelings of sadness or fear.
Sapwood's voice cut into his thoughts as it boomed hoi-lowly along the chamber passage, "It's three hours t' dawn, sir. Those vermin are all haround us, surroundin' the mountain. Everybeast is in position, waitin' on your word, shall Hi tell 'em yore comin', sir?"
The badger Lord unfastened his forge apron. "They will see me in the hour of dawn, Sergeant, and I will see them. Then we will take a look at this vermin horde in good plain morning light. Lay out my armor, helm, sword and spear!"
Dingeye and Thura headed south through Mossflower Woods. They had a good head start and made the most of it, knowing that once Brother Hal's body was discovered, together with the loss of the sword, pursuit by the creatures of Redwall would be inevitable. The forest was tall, green and silent, save for the rustle of leaves and trill of birdsong.
Dingeye had been forging ahead, slashing and chopping at fem and nettle with his newly acquired weapon. As midday drew near, Thura was lagging noticeably. His companion wiped the blade of the wondrous sword on his sleeve as he waited impatiently for him, calling back through the serried columns of treetrunks, "Move yerself, mucker. Cummon, stir yer stumps, stoatnose!"
Thura wiped his brow. Leaning against an oak, he breathed heavily. "I've got t' rest, Ding. Don't know wot's wrong wi' roe. I feels all done in. Must've been that bath they made me take."
Dingeye sneered and took a swipe at a passing butterfly with the sword, admiring the flashing green lights as its blade glinted in the sunlight filtering through the emerald canopy. "Gam! I got bathed, too, an' it didn't 'urt me. Now get yer paws a-movin', or I'll leave yer be'ind. 'Urry up!"
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Thura's face was an unhealthy grayish pallor, his limbs trembled and sweat beaded on his nosetip as he stumbled to keep up, calling out to his comrade, "Slow down, mucker. You wouldn't leave me 'ere ter be catchered by that lot from Redhall. 'Ere, carry the vittles an' I'll be able to get along a mite better."
"Carry vittles?" Dingeye pulled a lip and slashed moodily at a young rowan tree. "Huh, not likely. You took 'em, you carry 'em. I've got me paws full luggin' this 'ere sword around. Tell yer wot, though, we'll stop awhile an' 'ave lunch. That'll make less food ter carry."
Gratefully Thura let the sack of provisions drop as he collapsed in a heap at the edge of a small clearing. Dingeye immediately set about stuffing himself with honey, bread and nuts from the sack, ignoring Thura's pitiful state.
"Lissen, we can't stop 'ere too long, they'll be on our trail by now. Still, we've escaped before an' we c'n do it again. We'll stick to this forestit's better'n flatlands, more cover."
Thura curled into a ball, shivering uncontrollably, his teeth chattering and his tail quivering fitfully. Dingeye stopped eating and prodded him.
"Hah, yer wobblin' about like a baldy beetle there. Just look at yer, mucker. Wot's the matter?"
Thura's head went up and down as he stammered a reply. "S-s-sick! I-I-I'm s-s-sick, feel b-b-b-bad!"
Instinctively Dingeye drew away from him. "Is it a fever? 'Ave yer got a fever? Huh, you look awful!"
"H-h-h-elp me!" Thura stretched out a trembling paw.
Dingeye shouldered the sack. "Oh, come on then, I'll carry the vittles. But I'm not carryin' you, stoat. I don't wanna catch no fever." He took a few paces and looked back angrily at Thura curled up on the woodland floor. "Well, are yer comin' or aren't yer, 'cos I'm not 'angin' round 'ere waitin' for yer!"
Thura made no reply. Dingeye sniffed moodily. "All right then, you stop 'ere awhile till yer feelin' better. I won't go too fast so that y'can catch up with me."
Still receiving no reply from his companion, he set off into the forest, traveling south and slightly west, talking aloud to
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reassure himself. "Must be somethin' he's et, greedy oF toad. Prob'Iy catch me up ter night when 'e gets hungry again."
The trial of the two stoats was not difficult to follow. Samkim and Arula could see plainly the slashed and damaged vegetation which Dingeye had hacked at with the sword. Despite the urgency of their mission, neither of the two young ones could help noticing the beauty of Mossflower, draped in summer green and studded with small islands of color from flowering bush and shrub. Their paws made little or no sound as they padded along over the carpet of soft brown leaf loam. Samkim pointed ahead to where a strip of bark had been wantonly sliced from the trunk of a white willow, exposing the pale sapped wood beneath.
"Easy to see which way they went. Look at that." Arula nodded. "Urr, Foremole'd tan thurr 'ides for doen that to a livin' tree. Ho urr, they'm surely two nastybeasts." Samkim touched the trunk, noting the dampness of sap on his paw. "If we travel a little faster we may catch them up by late afternoon. They can't be too far ahead. Come on, Arula."
"No need to worry, young Redwallers, hen heh heh!" The thin reedy voice had come from nowhere. Samkim and Arula halted, staring at the leafy screen about them.
The voice spoke again. "Worry, hurry, that's all some creatures do. No time to live to a ripe old age. Look at meI can't count the summers I've seen and I'm fit as a flea. Heh heh heh!"
Samkim fitted an arrow to his bowstring. "Show yourself!" A bed of tall ferns stirred and a woodvole stepped into view. He was small and thin, dressed in a long smock of brown barkcloth, and his face was framed by the biggest white beard they had ever beheld on any creatureit fuzzed out like a cloud, and only his bright black eyes were visible through it. The woodvole laughed and cut a little caper. He was astonishingly agile for such an ancient creature.
"Heh heh heh! You can put the bow down. I'm not going to hurt you, Redwaller. How do I know you're a Redwaller?