Looking very much the returning hero, Thrugg strode jauntily up the road, wearing a cap he had taken from a fighting weasel who had picked on the wrong otter. In the cap was a splendid falcon feather. Thrugg swept it off and bowed low, grinning like a mole at a picnic.

“Good afternoon to ye, ladies. Meet me mates, Rocangus, Tammbeak, Winghye an’ Rantaclaw. I trust yer all well an’ shipshape.”

Mrs. Spinney was overjoyed. Thrugann opened the gates impassively. “You look like a rovin’ riverdog in that hat, Thrugg Otter.”

Flourishing the hat elegantly, Thrugg kissed his sister’s paws affectionately, declaiming aloud, tongue in cheek, to the whole of Redwall:

“You was never out o’ my thoughts, sister dear, an’ all the time I was freezin’ in the mountains, battlin’ crows an livin’ lower than a lame toad, there was one question that I made me way back here to ask yer.”

Thrugann sniffed slightly, and wiping her eyes on her tunic, she asked in an apologetically tender voice, “What was that, brother o’ mine?”

“What’s fer tea? Me an’ me mates is fair famished!”

The four falcons joined the crowd of Redwallers who had flooded out to greet them, laughing uproariously as they watched Thrugg fleeing across the Abbey grounds with Thrugann, hard on his heels, swinging a twig broom.

“You bottlenosed rogue, I’ll give yer tea. You’ll get a taste of this when I catch up with ye!”

*   *   *

Later that day Abbess Vale watched fondly as Thrugg dandled Baby Dumble on his knee while he plowed his way through a buffet teatime meal, specially set up on the gatehouse steps for him and his four falcon guests. Baby Dumble told the most atrocious lies about his epic flight in the haversack—how he had rescued the eagle from some far bigger birds and how he had pushed MacPhearsome’s wings up and down to keep him flying when he was weary. Thrugg and the four falcons tried their level best to keep straight faces.

Dumble glared suspiciously about at them. “Och, yer no laughin’ at the bonny Dumble, are ye?” He had begun affecting a smattering of Northland into his speech.

The Wild King MacPhearsome, perched on his favorite log in the orchard, nodding his approval as the falcons circled above, dipping their wings in tribute to him.

“Aye, they’re a grand bunch o’ laddies, nae doot!”

*   *   *

As evening drew on, Dumble was carried off snoring to his bed by Thrugann. Thrugg sat relaxing with a flagon of October ale, glad to be back safe in his beloved Abbey. A deputation of Redwallers attended as Tudd Spinney presented the otter with a specially carved bowl and spoon of applewood. The old hedgehog twirled his stick awkwardly as he made the presentation speech.