Hardly a breeze stirred the treetops of Mossflower Wood. Grasshoppers chirruped and butterflies winged placidly in the shimmering midday heat on the western plains and flatlands. Beneath Dann’s footpaws the broad sandstone walkway was pleasantly warm as he paced back to the threshold from the east walltop. The young squirrel had outfitted himself with a long spear and a dented copper helmet, which he had dusted off and polished. Song had found something that fitted her paw as if it were made for her: a short solid stick, with a ball of green stone mounted on one end. She twirled it skillfully, feeling its balance as she returned from her patrol of the south battlements. Dippler was waiting at the threshold for them. The young shrew looked comical. He had found a chain-mail tunic and a crested helmet complete with visor, and was practically staggering under their weight. Beside his shrew rapier Dippler carried an immense halberd, the heavy long-poled weapon that is both spear and battle-ax combined. He threw up a clanking salute at his friends. “Anythin’ to report, mates?”

Dann took off his helmet and mopped his brow. “Whew! All I’ve got t’report is that ’tis roastin’ under this helmet. Aren’t you hot under that lot, Dipp?”

Dippler was, but he would not admit it. “Oh no, matey, I’m just fine, fine!”

Song could not resist laughing at the small overdressed shrew. “Hahaha! There’s a little cloud o’ steam comin’ from under your helmet, Dipp. Are you cookin’ a stew in there?”

Dann joined in the laughter. Dippler gave them both a haughty glare from beneath his rusty visor and clanked off, calling back, “Laugh all y’like, outfits like this’n have saved many a warrior’s life. Hi! Who goes there, friend or foebeast?”

Sister Sloey clambered up the gatehouse wallsteps, lugging a basket covered with a white cloth. She snorted at the challenge. “Foebeast, indeed! Do I look like a foebeast? Cregga and Brother Melilot decided that you guards had best take lunch up here on the walltops. Here, take this basket, Song, my paws are old’n’tired.”

The three friends felt very grown-up and privileged to have lunch sent out to them as they spread the cloth and laid out the food. Dippler even removed his helmet.

“Well, this’s the stuff to give the troops. Good ole Melilot! That dandelion an’ burdock cordial looks nice’n’cool. Pour me a beaker, Dann. Look at this, mushroom’n’celery turnover, leek pasty, apple’n’blackberry crumble an’ a bowl of nutcream. They certainly know ’ow t’feed us wallguards at this Abbey, mates!”