User blog:Songflower/A Redwall Maiden's Quest

This takes place after the events of High Rhulain, when Old Quelt's library is still in place.

Prologue
"I still think Southsward is closer!"

"No, the North Shores!"

"Southsward!"

"North Shores!"

The argument of the ancient hare and otter was interrupted as the door of the gatehouse suddenly flew open, not from a gust of wind but from a gust of Abbeybabes. The Dibbun mole and squirrel that had been playing outside in the snow when a blizzard began to form. Now they rushed inside the gatehouse as if they had been shot from a bow like arrows, spattering the whole of the small building with snow droplets.

"Do ye mind not getting water over everything mateys?" the old otter asked irritatibly.

"Sorry Rip, we only was trying to get out of the snow!" protested the squirrel.

"An' we want to 'ear ee story, zurr and miz, 'till wes be getting back to 'ee Abbey," added the molebabe.

"Not until we finish our argument, you liddle scallywags, eh wot Rip?" the hare replied with a wink, swinging the young mole into her lap.

"Certainly," the otter Rip answered with a little bow of his head, in turn lifting up the tiny squirrelmaid, causing her to squeak with glee. "I can defend my argument now, Southsward, matey, that's wot's closer to Redwall." He reached into a gigantic box of scrolls and books, rustled around for so long that the hare came close to giving up the argument. Coming out with an ancient scroll, yellowed with age and sending up a cloud of dust, Rip unrolled it.

"See here? On this map, Southsward is two pawlengths away, but the North Shores are three." he pointed out.

The old haremaid only rolled her eyes. "But what of old records, wot? I recall it took Martin and company only a fortnight to get to North Shores while it took the Bellmaker and crew half a bally season to get to Southsward, proving the No -"

She was interrupted by the inquisitive molebabe. "Zurr Rip, where be that map a-comin' from?"

The otter sighed. "Ah, Boomble, that was many long seasons ago."

The energetic squirrelmaid commenced bouncing up and down. "Tell us, tell us!"

Rip raised an eyebrow in the direction of the hare, she nodded and said, "Go ahead. I'll correct you if'n you need it, wot?"

The tale began with the traditional words of so many other old tales. . . "Once upon a time, though not so many seasons back, there was a tribe, and there was an owl . . ."

Chapter 1
There was a time when the black crows of the pine forests were thriving, cawing, mating, and most of all, pecking apart the parts of weary travelers with the missfortune to find themselves in those woods. Some such travelers was a group of owls, coming through the forest, looking for a place to settle. Needless to say, their passing did not go well.

"Blackfeather! Blackfeather . . . where are you Blackfeather?  Please be alive, please be alive . . . NOOO . . ."

The owls were ripped to shreds like the filling of pillows in a pillow fight of careless Dibbuns. The shrieking and cawing could be heard for many leagues around the forest as the owls desperately fought to their last to rid the pine of the fiece carrion. Slowly, though, weight of numbers overcame the brave fighters, all but one, a huge owl, fighting almost as fiercely as a badger with the bloodrath. He was fighting to protect his daughter, a young owlmaid called Songflower. The mate of this unfortunate creature had already perished from the claws of a particularly fierce crow, and he refused to loose his daughter to the same fate.