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Easy! You talk with the accent of an Abbeydweller. I'm Fur-gle the Hermit. I live here all alonealways have done, can't stand the company of any creature for too long, prefer my own. I suppose you're tracking the two stoats who came by here earlier?''
"You'm seen 'em then, zurr?"
Furgle did an angry little dance around Arula. "Why can't moles ever learn to speak properly? Seen them! Of course I did, two evil smelly vermin, slashing away at my woods as if they owned them. You don't need to hurry to catch tho.-i two, though."
Samkim bowed politely to the hermit. "My name is Sam-kim. This is Arula. You are right, of coursewe are both from Redwall Abbey. Why do you say that we have no need to hurry?"
Furgle waited until Samkim had unnotched his arrow. "Because one of them is very ill. He won't go much further. I've never been ill a day in my life. Come on then, Redwallers. I'll go along with youI know Mossflower better than you ever will. By the oak and the ash, I'll give that stoat a piece of my mind when I meet him. How dare he go about chopping up my woodlands!"
Without further ado the woodvole set off. In a short while both Samkim and Arula were having difficulty keeping up with the energetic pace he set.
An hour's swift journey found them on the edge of a clearing.
Arula sighted Thura lying curled up. "Lookum o'er thurr. 'Ee must be the sick un!"
"Wait!" Furgle restrained them both from running over to Thura. "You can never tell with vermin. Give me an arrow, Samkim. We'll see if he's sick or shammingbetter careful than careless I always say, generally to myself though."
Furgle snapped the point from the arrow and tied a pad of leaves in its place, then returned it to Samkim. "Fire that at the creature, young squirrel."
Samkim shot the shaft perfectly. It thudded against Thura's back and bounced off onto the grass. The stoat made no move.
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"As I thought, he's finished." The hermit nodded knowingly.
The two young ones dashed over to the body. Furgle was right: Thura was freshly dead. Samkim rolled the stoat over. "Dead? I can't believe it. Only yesterday he was as lively as you or I."
"Humm, ee'm dead aroight. Deader'n 'ee black acorn." Arula scratched her head with a huge digging claw.
Furgle pulled them away from the body. "Don't get too closethat stoat died of some form of fever or ague. Well, it was nice meeting you, but now I must go about my business. If you are going to bury him then do it quickly, but try not to touch him. Er, sorry, there's some urgent business I must attend to. See you later. Goodbye."
In the twinkling of an eye he had vanished back into the depths of Mossflower. Samkim and Arula stood looking at each other, slightly disappointed at Furgle's abrupt departure.
"Burr, yon owd un doant' ang about, do 'ee?"
Samkim shook his head. "Not the action of a true forest dweller, I'd say. Still, I suppose he had his reasons. Now, we'll bury this one and track his friend Dingeye. Huh, some friend, leaving his pal here to die like that. Can't see the sword anywhereDingeye must have it. Arula, where are you?"
The little molemaid was swiftly excavating a tunnel beside Thura's body. A shower of dark earth flew upwards as she dug in with powerful blunt claws. Before long she vanished into the hole, and the ground trembled and heaved alongside the dead stoat. Samkim blinked with surprise as she emerged from the ground nearThura's ears. Arula dusted herself down.
"Thurr, that be done! Jus' tip'm in with 'ee bow, Sanken."
Samkim levered the body over with his bow. It plopped onto the tunnel top and the earth gave way. Arula covered it with the earth she had pushed out from the excavation.
"Best oi c'n do fer 'ee, pore stoater, tho' 'ee'm wurra bad lot."
Though the lunch at Redwall had only been a light summer salad and some blackberry scones, Friar Bellows found him-
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self weary and perspiring. He left the Abbey kitchens and went to sit out by the pond where it was cool. The fat mouse took off his cap and apron and mopped his brow with a dock leaf. Thrugg came over, shaking out his shrimp net.
"Avast there, ol' Sellers. No scones to bake for tea-time?" The Friar sat down rather heavily, shaking his head. "Oh, scones. I'll get to 'em later. Very good, very gD'you know, Thrugg, I feel terribly dizzy today."
Thrugg sat down beside him. "I 'spect it's wi' workin' around those hot ovens, matey."
"No, I never lit the ovens today. Brrrr! It's cold out here!" The jovial otter looked at him quizzically. "Cold? It's the middle of summer, me 'eartie. I don't know as 'ow y'can say it's cold when you're all asweat."
Bellows lay back and wiped his whiskers. "You're right. I'm sweating but I feel cold. Those scones, must get the ovens lit. Mrs. Spinney'11 help me with the mixin'... . Very good, very good. ... Hmmmm."
Brother Hollybeny was shaking a blanket from the Infirmary window to freshen it when Thrugg called up to him, "Ahoy there, Brother. Friar Bellows ain't lookin' too chipper. D'you want me to tote him up to sickbay so's you can give the pore mouse a look over?"
Hollyberry folded the blanket neatly. "Bring him up, Thrugg, there's a good fellow."
When Thrugg had gone, Hollyberry turned to a very downcast young hedgehog sitting on the edge of one of the beds.
"Now close your eyes and open your mouth, young Brin-kle. Be brave, this physic will make you feel better and stop all that shivering and sweating. You'll be right as rain by teatime, believe me, young feller."
Tudd Spinney found his old friend Burrley Mole seated with his back to a barrel of October ale down in the wine cellars. He shook his stick disapprovingly. "You been oversamplin' of our October ale again, Burrley?"
The mole's normally bright eyes lacked luster. He waved
a hefty digging claw at his hedgehog companion. "Hummmm! Go 'way, Tudd. Oi feels orful an' drefful, nor a drop'n of 'ee Nextober ale 'as passed moi lips t'day!"
Tudd heaved Burrley up onto his paws. "C'mon, ol' mate. May'ap yore sickenin' for summat. Let's git you up to the Tirmary."
By evening the Infirmary was full. Abbess Vale and Holly-berry were discussing using one of the upper galleries of the Abbey as a sickbay when Baby Dumble began his interminable tugging upon her habit.
"Muvva Vale, Muvva Vale, there's a funny old un wiv a cloud stucked on 'is face at the main gate. Wantsa see you, Muvva!"
The Abbess pried Dumble free from her gown. "Yes yes, Dumble. Now go and play like a good little dormouse. I'll be down as soon as I can."
However, there was no need for the Abbess to go to the main gate. Mrs. Faith Spinney had opened it to the stranger, and she brought him to the upper gallery.
"Vale, my dear, this is Furgle Woodvole the Hermit. Would you believe, he met Samkim and Arula today. I think he wants to speak with you."
Abbess Vale took Furgle's paw. "So good of you to come with news of our young ones, Mr. Furgle. You must be tired and hungry coming such a long way. Come with me and I'll see you're fed and rested. Mrs. Spinney, would you take over here with Brother Hollyberry while I see to our visitor."
.Seated in the privacy of the Abbess's room, Furgle took elderberry wine and plumcake with relish. When he had satisfied his hunger he turned to the Abbess with a look of concern upon his face.