Behind them, Tudd Spinney slammed the door and hobbled across the lawn, waving his stick. “Stir yore stumps now, good Redwallers. They’ve gone. Let’s get busy!”

The sun heralded the day, palely at first but gradually bursting through into a heavy golden autumn radiance. Faith Spinney looked up at the dark evergreens and golden brown leaves turning crisp on the boughs, the dappling patterns of light and shade through the foliage making her blink as they trundled along.

“Oh well, we’ve got a fair ’n’ pretty day for whatever it is we’re supposed to be a-doin’ of, Vale.”

The Abbess folded her paws into the wide habit sleeves. “Violets and saxifrage, my paw! There’s something going on back at Redwall, or I’m a frog. Isn’t that right, Thrugg?”

“Don’t croak too loud, marm. Saint Ninian’s is a fair ol’ way yet. Why don’t you two ladies ’ave a nap and catch up on yore sleep. I’ll tip ye the word when we gets there.”

*   *   *

The logboats had been pulled ashore at the nearest point MacPhearsome could manage; now the rest of the journey was mainly a good stout march through woodland. They ate supper and slept through the early evening on the banks of the stream.

Two hours after midnight, Log-a-log had disguised the five boats with branches and fern for safekeeping. He roused them and they broke camp. Lighting lanterns, they struck off into the depths of Mossflower. Samkim and Arula led, watching the dark shape of MacPhearsome whenever it could be seen above the treetops.

Arula drew in a deep breath. “Booharr, smell ’at, Sanken. ’Tis loiken the smell of ’ome!”

Samkim sniffed gratefully. “I know what you mean, Arula.”

Mara plucked a sycamore leaf, peering hard into the woodland. “Trees, Pikkle—I’ve never seen so many trees. It’s so silent and peaceful, too, not hot and bare and sandy like the shore by Salamandastron. I could grow to like these woods.”

“I could grow t’ like any place where there’s a scrap of tucker about, old gel. It’s bally ages since we had supper, I’m starvin’.”

*   *   *

In the same hour of dawn that the cart left Redwall, the travelers emerged from the woods onto the path. Though the going was easier, there were many who were weary from marching all night. The irrepressible Pikkle kept everybeast going by improvising a silly ditty.

“I’d give my left ear an’ raise a cheer

For a plate of woodland pie,

And as for a pudden, if it was a good un,

I’d give my best right eye.

I’d give a paw to get my jaw

Around a fat fruitcake.

For a dumplin’ stew, my tail could go too.

I mean, for goodness sake,

If I saw a pastie, I wouldn’t get nasty

I’d trade it for my nose.

And if I couldn’t smell, I’d just say ‘Well,