“Never needed anything myself—medicines, pah! Though when I was young my grandma used to say that the only thing which could cure Dryditch Fever was the Flowers of Icetor, boiled in fresh springwater. I think she was mad, of course. Quite mad!”

Faith Spinney shook her paw severely at Furgle. “Show some respect for your elders. My grandma used to say the same thing, Flowers of Icetor from the mountains of the north. Now I recalls her words, she always said that they could cure most anythin’. But who knows where the mountains of the north are? Mercy me, no right-thinkin’ Redwaller ever goes north. That’s badlands. ’Tis a hard and hostile region we know little about.”

“Mousewives’ tale or no, we’ve got to give it a try.” Bremmun stood up officiously. “I’ll go this very day, see if I don’t.”

Thrugg had been standing nearby waiting to speak with Hollyberry. He pressed Bremmun back down into his chair. “No, matey, you’re too old and long in the tooth t’ be climbin’ northern mountains. I’ll go. Oh, Hollyberry, yore wanted up in the Affirmery—two more creatures just been took poorly.”

Mrs. Faith Spinney was very fond of Thrugg. She patted his paw. “Oh, you are a brave creature, Thrugg. We must send somebeast with you to help you on your quest.”

Thrugg shuffled awkwardly. “Bless yer, marm, but I’ll be fine steerin’ a lone course. Every spare pair o’ paws will be needed ’ere at Redwall to cope with the fever. ’Sides, I’m mortal feared of bein’ sick, so I’d best find this flower quick like. What’s it called again, Furgle?”

“Heh heh. Icetor, you great ignoramus—Flowers of Icetor. Though as to where you’ll find it or the north mountains is a mystery to me.”

Thrugg took hold of Furgle in his brawny paws and lifted him easily on to the tabletop. “Hark t’ me, woodvole. You ever call me iggeramius agin an’ you’ll be goin’ for a swim in the pond, fully dressed. Yore so clever, but not clever enough t’ see the answer to your own question. Where’s the north mountains? Why, in the North, o’ course. There’s a path right outside this ’ere Abbey leadin’ north, an’ I intends takin’ it. Flowers of Icetor, eh. Don’t you fret yore spikes, Mrs. Spinney—ol’ Thrugg will bring back bouquets of ’em! I ain’t never seen no Flowers of Icetor, but I ’spect if they’re so val’ble an’ rare I’ll know those blossoms as soon as I claps eyes on ’em. Mountain’s in the north, flowers is on the mountain—what more does a beast need t’ know? You leave it t’ me, mates!”