Samkim looked across at the hedgehog. “What do you think, Spriggat?”

The old hedgehog stood up quietly. “Well, we can’t lay about ’ere all day, I say we goes down yonder an’ investigates. Roll over this way, rat.”

The rat complied and was promptly gagged with a mouthful of leaves. Spriggat wound the bowstring under his chin and over his snout, effectively securing the gag and muzzling him.

“Right ho, vermin. Lead on, slow an’ easy-like!”

Using the trees as cover, they crept down the hillside toward the stream. Arula drew the heavy pruning knife she had brought with her from Redwall, giving her loaded sling to Spriggat. Samkim gripped the unstrung bow, ready to use it as a stave. As they drew closer the sounds of creatures talking grew louder, though what they were saying the friends could not tell. Spriggat hauled the rat from the cover of an elm trunk and did a short run forward, pushing him into the cover of a yew thicket. Peering between the pole-like branches, he caught sight of a group of creatures arguing heatedly in gruff bass voices.

The hedgehog heaved a sigh of relief. Pushing the rat out in front of him, he called to Samkim and Arula, “It’s all right, yew tew. No need to ’ide. They’re shrews!”

*   *   *

The shrews on the streambank turned at the sound of Spriggat’s voice. Before anybeast could stop him, one of them dashed forward. Drawing his rapier, he ran the tracker rat through the heart.

Realizing what had happened, Spriggat dealt the shrew a hefty crack over the head with his loaded sling, roaring as he laid the creature out senseless. “Yew stupid liddle murderer, couldn’t y’see the rat was tied up? ’E was our prisoner, an ’elpless vermin. Yew ’ad no right to slay ’im like that!”

Samkim and Arula had now caught up with Spriggat. Instantly all three were surrounded by shrews with drawn rapiers and heavy wooden paddles. A mean, thin-looking shrew was shouting, “Kill them. It’s the rest of the fox’s gang. Kill them!”

Without thinking, Samkim threw back his head and yelled, “Redwaaaaaaalllll!”

The shrews held still a moment, surprised by the call. A fat old shrew, gray with many seasons, pushed his way through, belaboring about him with a knobbly blackthorn stick.

“Enough of this killin’ talk, can’t y’see these beasts aren’t vermin? Stand aside, get out o’ me way, Gousssom!”

The shrew who had been struck by Spriggat rose, moaning as he nursed a sizable bump between his ears, “Kill the hedgepig. He tried t’ murder me. Oooohhhh!”

The old shrew brandished his stick at the speaker. “One more word, Racla, an’ I’ll raise another lump atop of the one the hog gave to ye. Now then, you lot, put up those weapons. Do as I say or I’ll lay about yer with me stick!”