The watervole made a derisory gesture with one paw. “Yah, that ole Gray’n was far too big fer ’is coat. River’eads never ’ad one leader, just a council, but he appointed hisself ’ead of the council an’ now ’e calls hisself Chieftain. ’Tain’t right. Gray One was allus a cheat an’ a liar. Bullied ’is way in, ’e did. Miss Song, ’ere’s yore Leafwood. Take care of it.”

The young squirrel caught the greenstone-topped stick Burble tossed to her. She looked at it pensively. “All that trouble just for this. Strange, isn’t it? Last night we were the best of friends with the Riverheads, this mornin’ they’re out for our blood. All because of a boat an’ a stick.”

Dann made a pillow of his haversack and lay back. “Great seasons, but ’tis warm hereabouts, heavy like. Ah well, if we must wait here till the coast’s clear I’m goin’ to get a bit of shut-eye. See if you can’t keep yore debatin’ down to a dull roar, will you, mates.”

Dippler tossed an apple core into the water. “Good idea, Dann, but don’t snore, it keeps me awake.”

Song flicked a drop of cordial at the young shrew. “Listen who’s talking, the champion snorer of Redwall!”

Dippler opened one eye, murmuring sleepily, “Oh, spare me, missie, I’m only a Dibbun compared to you at snorin’!”

Before another half hour had passed, all four were curled up on the mossy bank, deep in slumber and snoring gently.

*

Raventail and his band of roving ferrets watched the four sleepers from their position behind the fallen trees across the inlet. Peering slit-eyed between a gap in the rotten trunks, Raventail slowly drew his scimitar, smiling wickedly at the scruffy rabble surrounding him. “Kye arr, brethren. Don’ta dose lukky peaceladen a-lyin’ dere? Crool crool shame ’twould be to wakeyup dem, dey on’y be younger beasters. Crool crool shame mesay!”

One of the ferrets slid a long knife from a sling at his back. “Nono needter wakeyup dem. I makem sleeplong f’ever!”

Raventail’s scimitar tip pricked the speaker’s narrow neck. “You do dat on’y when Raventail say so. Kye arr, I wanna much much fun wid younger beasters ’fore theybe deathstill!”

18

18

Brother Melilot and Gubbio Foremole had decided, war or no war, they were going to prepare the traditional Redwall Midsummer Feast. What else could fire their tired spirits? Their only problem was that Dwopple, Blinny, Wugger and several other rascally Dibbuns saw no reason why they should not help with the preparations. Foremole put the finishing touches to a great hazelnut and elderberry pudding he was creating, crimping the edges round the basin top with a fork. Brushing the pastry with a mixture of greensap milk and honey, the mole twitched his button nose with pride.

“Yrr, lukkit ee pudden, Bruther. Ee’m be a foine-lukkin’ beast!”