“Er, oh dearie me, I’m not much at words, but this is a liddle gift from us all to you, Thrugg. Redwall owes its life to you. It’s all carved pretty, like, wi’ your name an’ so on, an’ Friar Bellows says as he’ll fill it with shrimp an’ bulrush ’otroot soup any time you pleases. So er, ’ere ’tis, an’ thank ye!”

Three rousing cheers went up for Thrugg. He hid his head with embarrassment, placing the bowl over his blushing face. “Thank ye, mateys. Thank ye kindly, but ’t weren’t nothin’, you’da did the same fer me, an’ I knows it!”

*   *   *

Late that night they all sat together in the orchard around a small fire. The summer was drawing to a close and nights were getting chilly. Brother Hollyberry held out his mug for more hot spiced cider, and Foremole filled it from a big black kettle, eyeing the laden apple trees as he did.

“Burr, ’twill soon be toim fer ’arvestin’. ’Ee arples do make a noice drop o’ cider for next summertide.”

Hollyberry blew on the steaming drink and sipped reflectively. “Aye, the seasons turn and the fruit ripens well, old friend. Oh dear me, I wish that young Samkim and Arula were back with us, I do miss those two scamps.”

Foremole poured himself a mug of the hot spiced cider. “You’m roight thurr, zurr Berry’olly. ’Tis not fittin’ furr a young moley maid t’ be gone so long. Burr hurr, no taint.”

Sister Nasturtium had been sitting staring long into the flames. In the silence that followed she sang:

“Bring me back a squirrel carrying my blade,

Bring me back a little mole, a pretty fair young maid,

Bring me back a speedy one with hunger and long ears,

And a Redwall Guardian to watch us through the years.”

Nasturtium shook herself and sat up straight. “My goodness, there I go again, singing silly songs that I know naught of. I am sorry!”

“Nay nay, Aspershum, doant ’ee ’pologize.” Foremole patted her paw. “That wurr Marthen ’ee Wurrier.”

Abbess Vale stirred the fire with a twig. Sparks drifted upward to dissolve in the night. “Thank the seasons for that! Now I can stop worrying over those two young ones. If Martin says they’re coming back, that’s good enough for me. I’ll post lookouts on the ramparts tomorrow as soon as it’s light.”

High above Mossflower Woods the moon shone down over Redwall, and the fire burned to embers as everybeast about it dozed in drowsy contentment.

*   *   *