The Rogue Crew

Easing gently to the hilltop, she spied out the land. The intruder was a ragged-spined old hedgehog foraging for food. He was using a crude spearhead to probe the rocky base of the main hill, which isolated the cove to the north. Shekra watched him; he had a woven reed sack slung over one shoulder, which contained any edible finds. As he rummaged, the old hog muttered and giggled to himself.

“Heeheehee, limpets. Drogbuk likes limpets. Ye can boil up a good soup wid limpets. Come on, ye shellbound rascal. No good ye hangin’ on. I’ll git ye off’n there!”

He pried a big limpet from the rockface, throwing it into his sack. “Aye aye, wot’s this? A good ole nipclaw. Heehee, you’ll go nice in Drogbuk’s soup, matey. Cummere!”

The crab tried to dig in twixt sand and rock, but the hedgehog’s spear stabbed it right through its shell. Still writhing and nipping, it was tossed into the sack.

Shekra stole up on the unsuspecting hunter, commenting in a honeyed tone, “By the seasons, yore good at that. ’Tis a pleasure to watch a beast who knows wot he’s doin’.”

The old hedgehog appeared startled for a moment, then snapped, “Well, yew ain’t gittin’ none o’ my vittles. Go an’ git yore own, bushtail. Go on, be off wid yer!”

The vixen continued chatting in a friendly manner. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of askin’ to share your food. It must be hard enough, trying to scrape a livin’ on this part of the coast. I admire your efforts, Drogbuk.”

The ragged oldster squinted suspiciously at the fox. “Who told ye my name, needlenose?”

Shekra shrugged. “Just guessed it, I suppose. My name’s Shekra. I’m with that big green ship over yonder.”

Drogbuk carried on prising periwinkles from the base of the moss-clad rock. He sniffed scornfully. “I seen it afore—big clumsy lump o’ wood! Makes no diff’rence t’me. I’ll be movin’ on by nightfall.”

Shekra picked up a few fallen periwinkles, dropping them in Drogbuk’s sack. “Moving on? But I thought you lived here on the coast.”

The scraggy old hedgehog thrust out his chin aggressively. “I’m a Wiltud, an’ us Wiltuds goes where we pleases, see? Hither’n’yon, shore or shingle, field or forest!”

At the mention of the name Wiltud, the vixen’s memory jogged, remembering young Uggo. Choosing her words carefully, Shekra appeared still friendly and casual. “I’ve heard of Wiltuds, great travellers I believe. I’ll wager you’ve been to many places, Drogbuk?”

Throwing the sack higher on his shoulder, the ancient Wiltud hog smirked. “Many, many places. You name ’em, an’ I’ve been there. Nobeast knows these lands like me!”

Shekra smiled craftily. “I wager you’ve never been to Redwall.”

Drogbuk wagged his rusty spearpoint at the fox. “Heeheehee! Well, that’d be a bet ye’d lose. I been to that ole Abbey a few times in my seasons.”

Shekra nodded. “Is it a nice place?”

The old Wiltud gnawed a grimy pawnail. “No better’n’no worser than some places I’ve been, though I never tasted anythin’ so fine as Redwall vittles.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at Shekra. “Why d’ye want to know about Redwall, eh?”

Shekra’s mind was racing as she thought up a plausible answer. “Well, it’s like this, friend. There’s to be a great midsummer feast at Redwall, so the captain of that ship has decided to bring gifts for the Redwall beasts. We’ll probably be invited to attend the feast. That’s why I asked you about the place.”

Drogbuk nodded. “But ye don’t know ’ow t’get there, do ye?”

The vixen shook her head ruefully. “Alas, no. Our ship was blown off course in a big storm at sea, and we’re completely lost. Do you know the way to Redwall, friend?”

Drogbuk wrinkled his scaly nose. “Wot’s in it fer me if’n I shows ye the way? Wot do I get?”

Shekra spread her paws, smiling broadly. “Well, for a start, you get to ride in comfort all the way. Also, I’m sure my captain would include you in the invitation to the midsummer feast.”

Drogbuk thrust the spearhead into the rope tied about his waist. “Come on, then. Take me to yore cap’n!”

Shekra paused, as if considering the request. “Listen, my friend. You wait here whilst I go and tell him yore comin’. He’ll want to lay a table for ye. My captain is quite choosy about who he lets aboard the Greenshroud. So I’ll run ahead an’ tell him of yore kind offer. Alright?”

Drogbuk was eager, but he feigned indifference. “Aye, sounds fair enuff, but don’t leave me hangin’ round ’ere too long, fox. I ain’t got all day.”

Razzid Wearat listened to Shekra’s report. “Ye did well. I’ll send Mowlag an’ Jiboree ashore to fetch the ole hog.”

The vixen objected. “No, Cap’n, ’tis best I do that. Those two might be a bit rough on him. Let’s play this softly. There’s more ways of makin’ a duck sleep than beltin’ it over the head with a rock. I’m sure if we let Drogbuk think we’re his friends an’ treat him kindly, he’ll show us the way to Redwall willingly.”