High Rhulain

Plugtail and Hangpaw were trying to set light to a heap of twigs, leaves and moss beneath where the big bird was hanging upside down. They had to keep ducking as the other gang rats swung the hawk back and forth by prodding and striking at it with their spears. The bird’s wings hung limply outspread. Though it hissed feebly at its tormentors, there was no way it could stop them.

Groffgut was enjoying himself immensely at the expense of his helpless victim. He swung his crude sword at the bird, clipping a few of its throat feathers, while taunting it cruelly. “Once dat fire’s ablaze, we’ll roast yer nice’n’slow, birdy. May’ap it’ll be suppertime afore yore dead an’ ready, eh?”

Frogeye took a lunge at the bird with his spear but missed. “Kin I ’ave one of its legs, Chief? It was me wot catchered it.”

Groffgut snarled and aimed a kick at him. “I’ll ’ave one of yore legs if’n ye slays that h’eagle too quick. Stop stabbin’ at it like that, snottynose!”

Parraaaang! A hard river pebble shot out of the trees, striking the swordblade and knocking it from Groffgut’s grasp. He went immediately into an agonised dance, sucking at the paw which was stinging from the reverberation of the strike.

“Yeeeeek! Who did that? Heeeyaaagh!”

Tiria sped onto the streambank, whirling another stone in her sling as she shouted, “Get away from that bird, rat!”

Groffgut stopped dancing, tears beading in his squinched eyes. He saw that it was a lone otter. Waving his numbed paw at the gang, he screeched, “Kill dat riverdog t’bits. Slay ’er!”

Frogeye leaped forward, thrusting with his spear. Tiria sidestepped it. Swinging the stone-loaded sling, she brought it crashing into the rat’s jaw as she roared, “Redwaaaaallll!”

Brinty and Tribsy charged out of the bushes, laying about heftily with their long staves. Girry dropped down onto the bough which held the big bird. Leaping from there to the ground, he scattered the smouldering fire with his axe. Tribsy gave Plugtail a crack across both legs with his staff, which sent the rat hurtling into the stream. Brinty brought the butt of his staff straight into Groffgut’s belly as he reached with his good paw for the sword. Then he began lambasting the gang chief mercilessly. Tiria was everywhere at once, flailing with her loaded sling, cracking the rats’ paws, ribs, tails and heads. Whilst all this was going on, Girry placed his back beneath the bird’s head and supported it.

Taken aback by the ambush, most of the rats fled for their lives, leaving only three of their number at the scene. Threetooth and Frogeye were stretched out senseless; Groffgut, unfortunately, was still conscious, wailing and pleading as Brinty whacked on at him in a frenzy, yelling at him with each blow he delivered. “Dirty! Filthy! Torturer!”

Tiria seized the young mouse, lifting him clear of his target. “Enough, he’s had enough! Do you want to kill him?”

Brinty was still waving his staff at empty air, roaring, “Aye, I’ll kill the scum sure enough. Rotten, murdering torturer. He’s not fit to stay alive!”

Tiria squeezed Brinty hard. “Now stop that, this instant!”

The young mouse suddenly calmed down. He dropped his staff at the realisation of the wild way he had been behaving. “Sorry, mate, I must have got carried away!”

Tribsy chuckled. “Hurr, you’m surrpintly did, zurr, boi okey, Miz Tiria. Coom on, let’s get ee pore burd daown!”

Tiria relieved Girry by holding the weight of the limp hawk. The young squirrel took his axe, clambered up into the tree and cut the rope with a single stroke.

The ottermaid lowered the bird gently to the ground, murmuring softly to it, even though it was unconscious. “There there, easy now. You’re among friends. We’ll get you back to Redwall Abbey. You’ll be taken care of there, I promise.”

Girry bounded out of the tree, calling to Tribsy, “Come on, we’ll get the cart to carry the big bird on.”

Tiria stayed by the hawk’s side. “Good idea, mates. Brinty, you keep an eye on that rat, he looks like their leader.”

The young mouse strode over to Groffgut, issuing a harsh warning. “One move out of you, lardbelly, and I’ll break your skull!”

Then he picked up Groffgut’s sword and flung it into the stream as the rat gang chief lay there helplessly, glaring hatred at Brinty through his swollen eyes.

When they returned with the cart, it took three of them to lift the big bird on. It lay limp atop the wood cargo.

Tribsy stroked its head. “Do ee bee’s still naow, burd. We’m friends, acumm to ’elp ee.”

The bird’s golden eyes opened for a brief moment before it passed out again. Tribsy patted it gently. “Thurr naow, ee pore creetur, you’m sleep well. Us’ll watch o’er ee ’til you’m gets to ee h’Abbey!”

Tiria settled the bird more comfortably on the cart and went to Brinty. The young mouse was wielding his staff, standing guard over Groffgut. The ottermaid nodded approvingly. “Well done, mate. I think you knocked all the fight out of that one!”