Taken from the writings of Merola, Badger Lady of Salaman-dastron on the western shores of Moss/lower territory: This very afternoon a huge vessel sailed into the bay. Alarms were sounded; my husband, Lord Hightor, and Colonel Whippscut turned out the guard! Myself and the Colonel’s good lady, Dunfreda, watched from an upper window of the mountain. Imagine our surprise when our sons Sagaxus and Bescarum came wading ashore at the head of a very strange-looking crew! Well, we brought them all to the banqueting hall and the cooks went to work. Hightor and Whippscut kept pacing around Scarum and Sagax, patting their backs, calling them young rips, winking a lot, and enquiring about their adventures. But they are not young rips any longer, it is plain to see. In the space of a single season they have become warriors. They seem to have grownÑeven Dunfreda stopped wailing into her kerchief long enough to remark on this. They stand straighter, they even look perilous. My Sagax carries a battle-axe, of all things! I was astounded to hear that Memm Flackery sends her best regards and dearest wishes to me. We were the best of friends.
Oh dear, suddenly I feel quite old. But proud also, like Lord Hightor, to think our son has grown up as we wished he would: strong, honest, and true to his friends. Do you know, I’ve even taken a liking to that rascal Kroova WavedogÑhe’s growing up nicely, too. Scarum’s appetite hasn’t been affected, though he does look funny with half a set of whiskers. The stories I heard him telling his parents, he must be very, very brave! The pretty squirrelmaid and that fine big otter, Skipper, sat up almost all night, conferring with Sagax, Scarum, my husband and Colonel Whippscut. Unfortunately I had to take Dunfreda up to her room, as she was wailing so much nobeasts could hear themselves speak. She cried herself to sleep, saying it was because she was so happy. I fell asleep in the Colonel’s comfy armchair, overcome by the day’s events.
Next morning after breakfast, Hightor broke the news to me. Sagaxus is sailing away again! After being back home little more than a day, would you scarce credit it? However, I heard the full story, and I wish I was young enough to go with him. All those poor creatures across the sea, forced to live in slavery. My son and his friends will soon put a stop to all that, believe me. Hightor immediately put extra provisions and twenty veteran Long Patrol fighting hares aboard the ship to accompany them. Quite rightly, too!
My paws still ache from waving them off. I had to tear up an old bedsheet for poor Dunfreda’s tearsÑyou know how she always weeps. Both our sons assured us they would be back, if not permanently, then at least once every two seasons for a longer visit. I am sad and happy at the same timeÑit is all very confusing. Dunfreda and I hugged and kissed them so much, we got our gowns wet, standing there in the shallows. Skipper is the dearest of ottersÑhe would not let either of them aboard until they had said goodbye properly. I let Sagaxus go, because I felt I was embarrassing him in front of his friends. As the Freedom got under way, I had to borrow some of Dunfreda’s bedsheet. I could not stop myself from weeping. Hightor’s cheeks were damp, too, but he said it was seaspray. There they go, out onto the deeps, to who knows where. Goodbye, my son, I know you will make me even more proud of you than I am now.
Sagaxus ... Sagaxus ...
Section from the log of the good shipFreedom, written by Bescarum Lepusivold Whippscut, formerly of Salamandastron: Rotten bounders, the whole crew of’em! Makin’ me get my dainty young paws covered in blinkin’ ink. I hate messin’ about with quill pens, an’ parchment an’ ink. I’m a jolly good cook, y’know, but they won’t let me near the galley, cads! Oh well, as my dear old ma always says, make do with what you’ve got an’ weep a lot until they give you what you want, wot?
Right, here goes. We’ve been out at sea now for exactly, er, a jolly long time. All the landlubbers aboard have become pretty salty old dogs (which means they’re all done with bein’ seasick). The other mornin’
I heard one of those Guosim types yellin’ out from the crows’ nest (don’t know why they call it that, I’ve never seen a bloomin’ crow sittin’
up there)Ñanyhow, he woke me up with his shoutin’. Somethin’ about two points north an’ a tack west, an’ all that nautical jimjam. What the blighter meant was that he’d spotted an island. Bloomin’ great mountain o’ greeny blue rock glimmerin’ away in the sunlight. Triss called it Peace Island. Had to agree with her, it’s the hugest piece o’ rock I ever saw stickin’ up out o’ the briny, wot. We didn’t go ashore really, too many of us t’be clamberin’ up a whoppin’ great mountainside. But the chaps who live there came t’see us. Sturdy-lookin’ bumpkins, big healthy hedgehog types. Spoke quite oddly, I can tell you. Theein’ an’
thouin’ an’ thyin’, bit of a rum do, wot? But the scoff they brought with them, great fur’n’frog feathers! I’ve never clamped eye on fruit’n’vegetables so big an’ plump an’ tasty. A good old mammy-type hog, name of Downyrose, took a shine t’me an’ fed yours truly enough to stuff a tribe o’ toads! I gave her a kiss an’ a hug (got the old paws prickled a bit, but well worth it, I’d say).
Whilst this all was goin’ on, Triss is weepin’ an’ kissin’ a hogmaid she calls Welfo, an’ another young chap named Urtica, an’ a big old daddy hog, name o’ Bistort. They did carry on, though, all laughin’
an’ cryin’ an’ sayin’, Thou hast returned, welcome to thee! Nobeast seemed t’be payin’ much attention to the tuck, so I located a rhubarb’n’apple crumble, an’ let’em get on with it.
Naturally there were lots more tears when Triss gave’em the sad news about poor Shogg, but when she told Welfo and her friends about the pretty little boat named after him, it cheered’em up a touch. D’you know, I can’t stand that blinkin’ Sagax, he paces the deck with that flamin’ great hatchet thing, watchin’ every mouthful I take. Keeps remindin’ me that there’s others aboard, an’ that we’ve got the rest o’ the voyage to complete, wot? As if I didn’t jolly well know. I told him if he didn’t like it he could swim behind the ship with his axe in his mouth, keepin’ an eye out for sharks the rest o’ the way. Good job he’s a pal o’ mine, or I might’ve tossed him overboard myself!
N.B. There is a space in the log here, also several stains on the parchment, which look like blueberry juice, leek-and-mushroom soup, and an unidentifiable pudding with honey and nuts in it. Then the log continues on the following day.
Life’s flippin’ rotten at times, ain’t it! We’ve hardly been here since last noon, an’ it’s furl the anchor, lower the bilges, rattle your reef sails (an’ all that seagoin’ codswallop). We’re leavin’? All that wonderful scoff, those delectable dishes, that fabulous fruit, those ...
(what’s a word that begins with V?) those very very nice vegetables, an’ we’re sailin’ off, leavin’ the bloomin’ lot behind! Miss Triss is lookin’ pretty edgy, I notice. Even old chubbycheeks Mokug has gone all pensive an’ grim. I expect it’s’cos the next stop is Riftgard. Well, forward the Buffs say I, true blue an’ never fail. A perilous hare like me should gain a few medals in the battle to come, wot. I’ll show’em!
Not a blot on me copybook an’ covered in glory, that’s how this young hero will return. Wonder what the food’s like on Riftgard?
This ink gets everyflippin’where, I’ll have to change me name to Scarum Bluepaw. Righty ho, then, ship’s log finished for the day, gorgeous smells waftin’ from the galley Good cooks, those Guosim lads. Oh, that reminds me. Log a Log an’ Sagax want a word with me, something important probably, wot. I hope they don’t mention that blueberry-an’-pear pudden missin’ from the galley last night. It wasn’t me, I was never near the placeÑthis is ink on me paws, not blinkin’ blueberry juice. Bet it was Skipper, I don’t know where he puts it. Must have a hollow rudder. Think I’ll go an’ hide in the fruit locker for a bitÑpleasant in there, wot!