Doomwyte

“Oh dearie me, Ah’m sorry, Ah didnae see ye there. Och, silly me, allow me tae help ye up, sirrah!”

Tugga refused the proffered paw, and sat up fuming. “Should watch where yore goin’, longears!”

Skipper, who was accompanying Bosie, pointed ahead. “We’re just goin’ t’see if that ole snake’s moved hisself. No need for yore Guosim to go, mate, that is, unless ye’d like to come with us yoreself?”

Marul and the six Guosim gave a sigh of relief, and went back to the dried ditchbed. Tugga slammed his iron club against a sycamore. “I never told ye to go back there, now git up t’that clearin’ an’ look for the snake! Ye take orders from me, not some plank-tailed streamhound!”

Skipper’s jaw was set grimly as he turned to Tugga. However, it was Bosie who interrupted. “Och, give yer auld tongue a rest, there’s nae need for an army tae go tae yon clearin’. Why d’ye not take Skipper’s advice an’ come up there with us? Ah’m certain any serpent wouldnae fancy tacklin’ three braw beasties like we are.”

The Shrew Chieftain snapped back at him, “I don’t take orders, I gives ’em, an’ I ain’t goin’ to no clearin’ with you two, longears.”

A dangerous glint came into the hare’s eyes. His paw was on the swordhilt as he replied, “Where Ah come from Ah’m hailed as a Clan Chief. So Ah’ll give ye a wee bit o’ advice. Never order your tribe tae do somethin’ that you’re afeared tae do yerself, laddie.”

Tugga Bruster was shaking with rage. He bellowed at Bosie, “I ain’t afeared to do anythin’ you can do, longears. I’ll come with ye!”

Bosie took a step forward, eyes blazing. “Listen, mah friend, if ye refer tae the Laird o’ Bowlaynee as longears just once more, ’twill be a harsh lesson ye’ll learn. D’ye ken?” Bosie signalled to Skipper. “Let’s go tae this clearing’, bonny lad, just ye an’ me. We’ll be better served without sich poor company. Leave him here tae give his orders!” The pair strode off, leaving an irate but speechless Log a Log behind.

Arriving in the clearing, they found it deserted, Baliss having departed sometime during the night. Skipper took an approving look at the greenswarded oasis in the woodlands. “Wot d’ye say, Bosie mate, ’twould be a great spot to take a leisurely breakfast, eh?”

The hungry hare beamed from long ear to long ear. “Och, ye took the words straight out o’ mah mouth. Ah’ll sprint back an’ tell the others.”

It was not strictly just a breakfast—everybeast knew this would be the one full meal they would have time for that day. Accordingly they made it a good one. Guosim cooks set up a cooking fire, and began unpacking most of the food provided by Redwall. Umfry and Dwink stood watching them. Umfry voiced his disappointment. “H’is that h’all they’re going t’do, sit there stuffin’ their faces all day?”

“Aye, I thought we was supposed t’be searchin’ for Bisky, an’ Tugga wotsisname’s missin’ son?”

Samolus butted in on their conversation. “You’ve heard the saying, an army marches on its stomach. You haven’t? Well, let me explain. This is probably the last food we’ll eat until tomorrow. Skipper tells me we’re not too far from the five-topped oak. So, if there’s to be a fight, it’s better to die with a full stomach than an empty one. Eat hearty, you young uns!”

Guosim cooks baked flatbread over the fire. They were good at campfire food, it smelled delicious. Soon everybeast was tucking into baked apples, flatbread, toasted cheese and one of Friar Skurpul’s heavy travelling fruitcakes. There was mint tea or pear cordial to go with it.

In a clumsy attempt to pay back Bosie for tripping him, Tugga Bruster feigned a stumble. Some of the beaker of mint tea he was carrying slopped over. It narrowly missed scalding the hare’s head. The Guosim Log a Log made an exaggerated bow. “Ho dear, I’m sorry, are you alright, sir?”

Bosie merely nodded. “Ah’m fine, thank ye.”

Tugga leered. “Almost scalded yore…long ears.”

The hare rose, slow and deliberate. “Ah’ve taken enough from ye, defend yerself, shrew!”

Putting down his food, Tugga held up both paws, pads outward. He was smiling slyly. “I’d stand no chance agin that sword o’ yores, Guosim rapiers ain’t that long.”

Bosie passed the sword of Martin over to Skipper. “Och, Ah’ll no be needin’ a blade tae deal with the likes of ye, cully!”

Tugga Bruster cast his rapier aside, commenting, “Aye an’ I won’t use my blade…just this!” Without warning, he charged, swinging his iron warclub.

Bosie, however, was ready. Skipping to one side he launched himself into a high sideways leap. The hare’s powerful footpaws cannoned into the shrew’s head, laying him flat-out, and stunned. It all happened so quickly that the onlookers were amazed.

Marul turned to Dwink, his jaw agape. “Sufferin’ seasons, wot a kick!”

Dwink shrugged, as if he had seen it all before. “All Redwall warriors are good at their job, ain’t that right, Skip?”

The Otter Chieftain nodded sagely. “Aye, mate!”

Marul was still greatly impressed. “I never seen anybeast do that afore, I wonder would Mister Bosie teach me how t’kick like that?”