The five shrew logboats were on a broad open expanse of the Great South Stream. Mara sat side by side with Samkim, paddling steadily, as well as any two shrews. The badger maid could hear Arula telling Pikkle of Redwall feasts as they sat paddling in the prow of the boat opposite.

Pikkle kept interrupting with what could only be described as groans of delight at the mention of each fresh dish.

“Yurr, an’ then they takes the meddyo cream an’—”

“Whoo, my growlin’ tummy! Don’t tell me, let me guess, they take the jolly old meadowcream an’ spread it thick over the damson pudden an’ chuck lots of those candied chestnuts on top, wot?”

Arula blinked earnestly, shaking her head in amazement. “Bohurr aye. But ’ow did ’ee knoaw, zurr Ffloger?”

Pikkle rubbed his stomach. “The name’s Ffolger, ol’ thing, not Ffloger—an’ if it’s absoballylutely anythin’ to do with tucker, you can bet an acorn to a boulder that a Ffolger’ll know about it. We’re professional gluttons, y’ see.”

Mara splashed him with her paddle. “I can vouch for that, Arula!”

“Back water, ship paddles! Bows ’n’ slings at the ready, Guosssom!”

Mara looked up to see a massive bird of prey beating its wide wings close to the water as it sped towards the logboats. Swiftly she brandished her paddle in the air as Samkim drew his sword and stood by her.

Log-a-log roared out further orders: “Don’t fire until it tries to attack—it may not be hunting!”

The great bird soared over them, brushing Mara and Samkim with a wingtip as it mounted into the air and wheeled in a circle. “Ach, yer braw beasties the noo, but if ye fire one arra’ Ah’m a-coming doon tae mak’ ye regret it!”

Pikkle put down his paddle and scratched his ears. “What in the name of the crazy cuckoo is the chap burbling on about? Can anybeast tell me?”

Alfoh placed a paw across Pikkle’s mouth. “Wait, I think he’s trying to tell us something. The bird certainly doesn’t mean us any harm or he’d have attacked by now. Hi! You up there! We’re the Guosssom shrews. Who are you and where are you from?”

The golden eagle dived, screeching like a siren. “Redwaaaaaaaalllll!”

Samkim leapt up, waving his sword as he yelled out the reply:

“Redwaaaaalllllll!”

The eagle wheeled slowly then flapped off at a leisurely clip, turning off north to follow the course of another channel.

Samkim quivered with excitement as he picked up his paddle. “Did you hear that, Mara? Come on, Guardian, paddle! I’m sure he wants us to follow him. What do you say, Log-a-log?”