“Courage, Samkim, courage. Follow and find my sword, for destiny lies heavy upon you. Trust Spriggat, and take care of Arula. I am with you, no matter how far you may roam. Do not lose heart. Remember the words of Spriggat: the sword may be used for good or evil by the creature who wields it . . .”

*   *   *

The dawn was shrouded in a curtain of drizzle, though the thick woodlands offered fair protection. After a hasty breakfast the three searchers set off, Spriggat leading them on a course that skirted the headless carcass of Dingeye. Still following a southwest trail, they pushed on until midmorning, when they halted in an open sward. The rain had ceased though the sky overhead was gray with rolling clouds.

Spriggat cast about. “Hohohoh, whoever is carryin’ yon blade couldn’t resist a chop at this wild mint—I smelled it soon as we got ’ere. Look, see the cut stems? That sword is leavin’ its own trail. It’s as if it knows yew tew is follerin’ it.”

“Yurr et be a very swingable sword,” Arula agreed. “Sharp, too, hurr.”

Two rabbits popped up from the ferns at the edge of the sward and began chattering simultaneously.

“Stupid sword, stupid fox, stupid rats!”

“Weren’t chopping mint, y’know. Oh no, oh no!”

“Trying to chop us. By the burrow, they were!”

“Hope you haven’t got any silly ideas about chopping rabbits?”

Their heads bobbed up and down as they spoke. They ran two paces back, turned and ran two paces forward all the time they were talking, alternately showing their white bobtails and scared faces.

Samkim shouldered his bow to show they meant no harm. He spread his paws wide and smiled openly. “Don’t fear, friends. We’re not the kind of creatures who go about chopping up rabbits. I’m Samkim of Redwall, this is Arula and he is Spriggat the wasp-eater. We won’t harm you.”

The two rabbits stopped hopping about and bared their teeth in what they hoped was a fearsome grimace.

“Harm us, hah! Don’t you know I’m Fangslayer?”

“No you’re not. I’m Fangslayer. You were Fangslayer yesterday. You can be Deatheye today.”

“All right. Listen here, you’re talking to Deatheye now, so watch yourself, you scruffy squirrel, moldy mole and hairless hog!”

The moldy mole picked up a hazel twig and took an angry pace forward. “Naow lookit yurr, bunnies, you’m moind yurr manners or oi’ll tan ’ee fur wi’ this stick, hurr urr, so oi will!”

The two rabbits hugged each other and yelled aloud in panic. “Mummy, Mummy, the mole’s going to beat us with a stick!”

A large fat female rabbit waddled out of the undergrowth some distance away and began berating the two rabbits. “Clarence, Clarissa, what have I told you about speaking to strange creatures? Get back to the burrow immediately!”