Member
Sep
Kalas
RPM
Eddie Brock
Mao Mao
Cyberlad
Captain Uni
Melissa
Stein
AntlersB A N C R O F T
There was a certain tranquillity to Mossflower Woods at this time of year. The smell of fresh buds opening their petals for the first time as the bees hummed from flower to flower. Singing their little songs as they whizzed by overhead, the faintest of voices reaching the ears of the two mice and the large sea otter.
The journey to Redwall Abbey wasn’t necessarily a long one. In fact, by foot, Bancroft could likely have been at the East Gate before high noon had he left mid-morning. The wagon Banny currently occupied alongside his mother was necessitated by the supplies they came bearing. Behind the pair of mice laid several bags of freshly milled flour. They had been carefully placed in order to help secure a barrel that contained the last of the winter root vegetables. Abbot Munty, like most moles, had a soft spot for Deeper’n’Ever Turnip’n’Tater’Beetroot Pie. There was no doubt that Friar Ruddy would be thankful for the resupply after cooking for the Name Day Feast.
The road between the farm and the Abbey followed along the bed of the River Moss. The cool waters were running quickly this time of year, the tide flowing steadily westward. Trees that normally lined the riverbank had their roots submerged from the Moss’ overflow. It had been a long, snow-filled winter and all of that melting had to go somewhere.
Despite the warmth of the sun, there was a distinct chill in the air. The wind was blowing in from the East, coiling through the trees, whistling as it came and then gone again as silence came over the forest.
“Where are the birds?” Hoyt mused, looking skyward as Bancroft too was suddenly realizing the usual abundance of sparrows and robins that lived in the trees above were oddly absent from the forest backdrop.
Gripping his staff, Bancroft tilted his ears and listened. Standing up from the bench, he held his balance while Hoyt continued towards the Abbey. High above the treeline, slow, rhythmic flaps beat against the air. Suddenly a shape appeared which caused the young mouse to freeze. Never before had he seen a bird so large.
Easily bigger than a badger, the bird was covered in dark plumage broken up only by its pale talons and hooked beak. Hoyt began to break into a run, pulling the wagon off of the road and into the thick foliage of the forest.
Banny bent down at the knees, catching himself against the edge of the wagon and balancing with his staff while Hoyt came to a sudden stop. The trio paused, watching the bird go by overhead. It seemingly had no interest in the three of them.
“It’s on a direct path to the Abbey,” Banny muttered, eyeing the creature’s trajectory.
“You’d be right on that, mate.” Hoyt replied, turning back to look at the young mouse. “Lad, I hate to ask this of you, but you’ve got to run ahead. The Abbey’ll be alright if they can get everyone inside.”
Hopping down, Bancroft nodded solemnly.
“Wait!” Lonicera shouted, standing up in protest. “You can-”
“Mom,” Bancroft interjected, “I’m faster, I’ll stick to the treeline, stay out of sight.” The young mouse squeaked. “I promise, I’ll be waiting for you at the Abbey.”
“Go, and be safe.”
Bancroft nodded in response before running forward. Staff tucked under his arm, scarf billowing behind him. Tufts of dust and dead grass shot up behind him as the mouse ran as fast as he could. Weaving between bushes and trees, he almost didn’t have time to react when he came across a graying hedgehog. Skidding to a controlled stop, Bancroft regained his balance, nearly ignoring the elder hog before the familiar flaps echoed above.
“Stop!” Banny frantically squeaked at the other woodlander. “Stay in the trees!” He motioned skyward towards the black raptor circling above them. It was only now that Bancroft began to recognize Ellis, the Abbey’s Cellarhog.
“I need to warn the Abbey, that thing is headed straight for them.”
The journey to Redwall Abbey wasn’t necessarily a long one. In fact, by foot, Bancroft could likely have been at the East Gate before high noon had he left mid-morning. The wagon Banny currently occupied alongside his mother was necessitated by the supplies they came bearing. Behind the pair of mice laid several bags of freshly milled flour. They had been carefully placed in order to help secure a barrel that contained the last of the winter root vegetables. Abbot Munty, like most moles, had a soft spot for Deeper’n’Ever Turnip’n’Tater’Beetroot Pie. There was no doubt that Friar Ruddy would be thankful for the resupply after cooking for the Name Day Feast.
The road between the farm and the Abbey followed along the bed of the River Moss. The cool waters were running quickly this time of year, the tide flowing steadily westward. Trees that normally lined the riverbank had their roots submerged from the Moss’ overflow. It had been a long, snow-filled winter and all of that melting had to go somewhere.
Despite the warmth of the sun, there was a distinct chill in the air. The wind was blowing in from the East, coiling through the trees, whistling as it came and then gone again as silence came over the forest.
“Where are the birds?” Hoyt mused, looking skyward as Bancroft too was suddenly realizing the usual abundance of sparrows and robins that lived in the trees above were oddly absent from the forest backdrop.
Gripping his staff, Bancroft tilted his ears and listened. Standing up from the bench, he held his balance while Hoyt continued towards the Abbey. High above the treeline, slow, rhythmic flaps beat against the air. Suddenly a shape appeared which caused the young mouse to freeze. Never before had he seen a bird so large.
Easily bigger than a badger, the bird was covered in dark plumage broken up only by its pale talons and hooked beak. Hoyt began to break into a run, pulling the wagon off of the road and into the thick foliage of the forest.
Banny bent down at the knees, catching himself against the edge of the wagon and balancing with his staff while Hoyt came to a sudden stop. The trio paused, watching the bird go by overhead. It seemingly had no interest in the three of them.
“It’s on a direct path to the Abbey,” Banny muttered, eyeing the creature’s trajectory.
“You’d be right on that, mate.” Hoyt replied, turning back to look at the young mouse. “Lad, I hate to ask this of you, but you’ve got to run ahead. The Abbey’ll be alright if they can get everyone inside.”
Hopping down, Bancroft nodded solemnly.
“Wait!” Lonicera shouted, standing up in protest. “You can-”
“Mom,” Bancroft interjected, “I’m faster, I’ll stick to the treeline, stay out of sight.” The young mouse squeaked. “I promise, I’ll be waiting for you at the Abbey.”
“Go, and be safe.”
Bancroft nodded in response before running forward. Staff tucked under his arm, scarf billowing behind him. Tufts of dust and dead grass shot up behind him as the mouse ran as fast as he could. Weaving between bushes and trees, he almost didn’t have time to react when he came across a graying hedgehog. Skidding to a controlled stop, Bancroft regained his balance, nearly ignoring the elder hog before the familiar flaps echoed above.
“Stop!” Banny frantically squeaked at the other woodlander. “Stay in the trees!” He motioned skyward towards the black raptor circling above them. It was only now that Bancroft began to recognize Ellis, the Abbey’s Cellarhog.
“I need to warn the Abbey, that thing is headed straight for them.”