“What’s all the fuss about?” Furgle brushed an ant from his paw and lay back in the shade of a spreading pear tree. “When I met them they seemed like two sensible and resourceful young beasts. Maybe they’ve settled down elsewhere and found a new life for themselves.”

“Mr. Furgle, the very idea of it!” Sister Nasturtium chided him. “I know Samkim and Arula and I’ve lived here with them since they were tiny orphaned dots. They could never be happy in any place except Redwall. I’ll wager an apple to an acorn shell they come striding back through that main gate one day. You mark my words, that day will be the happiest day this Abbey has ever known!”

Faith Spinney stood up, brushing off her flowered pinafore. “What about pore Mr. Thrugg? What’s to become of him?”

Thrugann stifled a gurgling laugh. “What? You mean that great lump of a brother of mine? I’ll bet wherever he is right now he’s scoffin’ or fightin’. Don’t fret yore ’ead over Thrugg, marm—he’d live in the middle of a snowstorm on a duck’s back with a daisy in his ear!”

Baby Dumble popped through a gooseberry bush. “Yeh, Mista Thugg my friend. ’E carry me inna ’avvy-sack an’ was gunna fight the heagle. Mista Thugg a brave hotter!”

Foremole gave Dumble a push that sent him rolling downhill. “Hurr well, that be all ter be sayed on that subjeck. Tho’ oi do ’opes liddle Sanken an’ our ’Rula be safe. Ho yes, zurr.”

*   *   *

Safety was the last thing on Samkim and Arula’s minds. They sat in a logboat with Mara and Pikkle as it flashed helter-skelter down a long winding stream towards the sea and Salamandastron. The previous night had been spent swapping life stories with their new friends, so each now knew all there was to know about the other. Samkim and Arula felt duty bound to help free Salamandastron and the Mossflower country of vermin; faintheartedness was not their strong suit.