Winter

By Northwind of Otters

You may or may not have seen this story before, and if so, I am truly sorry. It is no reflection on the conductor of this site, but on me. I did not expect to do another story and also I am currently working through finals. Any comments you have would be just great—and enjoy the story and the site.

Cheers!

Northwind

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Winter, the Season of the Acorn Mills

There is no snow down here near Salamandastron; the only indication of winter is the birds who have arrived in flocks, swarming to our southern land. Among them are Fillee and Rana, the two eagles from the north who promised to come see us again here in Rakan. Rakan is a beautiful place, a place filled with magic, a place that is full of life and happiness.

~Salvan, Commander of Rakan’s Defense

Spring, the Season of Want

There is no food; there is no relief. For too long have we awaited the supplies that Salamandastron promised. Why are they not here, where are those supply hares? The weapons have been used to hunt fish, the metal bent into hooks. I am sending Rana out to ask for aid from Salamandastron. He is swift; he will make the three-day journey in two.

~Salvan, Commander of Rakan’s Defense

Salvan closed his log and stored it away under a floorboard. His mate Lillia came in, carrying a bowl of soup.

“I fear it is our last, Salvan.”

Salvan pulled her close and said, “Do not worry, my love. I have sent out Rana to find the supply hares and bring food. He should be back within a few days.”

His little son, Leaf, came tottering in, waving his little paws around and crying for food. Salvan took the bowl from Lillia’s hands and began to feed it to Leaf. The dibbun drank it desperately then, with a contented sigh, allowed himself to be picked up and placed on his cot.

“The only thing that matters is that we keep our little one safe,” Salvan said fiercely, rubbing his tiny son’s back, feeling the ribs that showed all too well. “It matters only that you and our son are safe.” Lillia looked up at him.

“Salvan, you’re hiding something. Why would there be reason to fear for our safety?” He turned, trying to hide his tears.

“Nothing, it is nothing,” he whispered.

Nevertheless, there was reason to fear. He wrote later, when Lillia had gone out to hunt for more clams from the sea. Oh, I must not tell Lillia, she must not worry.

Four weeks ago, we heard from the last supply hare that they had seen raiders along the coast. This was no concern to them; corsairs are always bothering these shores. However, the hare said that this was no small band of vermin—it was a trained and fearsome army. The army was that of Tithin Argul, the albino ferret. I have seen her with my own eyes; she is an evil one, mark my words. Her belt is decorated with the pelts of her victims. There are otter pelts, squirrel and shrew, too. She gave me the scar, the scar that I will wear forever.

~Salvan, Commander of Rakan’s Defense

Two days later:

Rana has not returned and I am growing more fearful every day. We are leaving; we are leaving Rakan. Everyone is going to Redwall Abbey. I hear it is a peaceful place there; I hear that they are protected by the spirit of a warrior mouse who is always watching them. We will be safe there—of that, I am certain. I can only hope that Rana returns, that I will not have only one bird to help me defend our fleeing holt. I have ten beasts with me, all strong and brave. I hope we can get to Redwall in time.

~Salvan, Commander of Rakan’s Defense

The otters trekked out, carrying only the most precious of items. Many of them protested the orders for light loads, but it was those who disobeyed that were sorry. The otter families moved quickly through the forest, getting closer and closer to the abbey that they sought. Items littered the path behind them: family heirlooms, old books and diaries, bottles of cordial and beer, and even a little doll. Salvan was able to carry along his diary in the pack he wore about his waist.

Lillia is growing weary—Leaf is very heavy. I am unable to carry him because ten other beasts and I must keep watch for vermin abroad. I wish I could do something; it is torture to see beasts die of hunger…it is not quick and it is not painless. I fear for our tribe; where is Redwall?

~Salvan, Commander of Rakan’s Defenses

That night, the shadow of death and sorrow visited the tribe. In it, Lillia was taken, and Salvan mourned her greatly. He was forced to carry Leaf, his only son. Leaf wasted away; his bones showed and his fur lost its glossy shine. He never spoke, never cried—just sat staring ahead, staring at nothing.

More often, Salvan began to fall and slowly he too wasted to nothing. He was a machine, bent on one destination: to get his son to Redwall. The nights blurred into days, the days into nights. The other beasts were all dead now, no one was alive except Leaf and Salvan.

I am forced to watch my son die. I strip off bark of the trees, but my son won’t eat. I cannot eat what my son won’t. The others have all died and we are alone. I should not have to do this; I should not have to be here.

~Salvan

They struggled on, through marshes and through brambles. Salvan slowly made his way onto the path to Redwall.

Finally, I have found the golden path everyone speaks of. I can see the spires ahead; they are tall and red. I can hear the bells, the bells. They toll out a beautiful song. I am almost there; my son shall be a free beast soon.

~Salvan

Friar Alden gazed out across the walls, waving his paw to Chesk (the younger). The soup was hot and it was time Chesk stopped this ridiculous vigil. The silly otter had said that Martin had visited him in a dream and told him to watch for a coming beast. Since then, Chesk had been standing on the walls, waiting. For three days, he had waited for something that wasn’t going to come. “Ho, Chesk, you fool, come and enjoy some of my soup. You aren’t going to find anything up on these walls.”

Chesk headed over. “So I just disregard what Martin said?”

“No, no, matey, just come down and eat something!”

Chesk consented and trotted down the steps, following the tantalizing scents on the air.

I have arrived at the gates and my strength has failed me. I have knocked, but there are none here to open the door. I can smell the food, glorious food, but I fear that I will not get in. They will find this book, though, and they will take care of my son. I ask you, good beasts of Rewall, please bury the beasts that died on the way here someday; they deserve to rest in peace. It’s getting dark now and I think I shall go to sleep; I am dreadfully tired. I just wish someone could open this door so I could see my son safe.

~Salvan

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Excerpt from the diary of Adam, Recorder of Redwall Abbey:

Chesk found a dead otter outside the gates. It is a sad tale, from what I can make of his diary; near the end, his writing was very scratchy. He held whom he calls his son in his arms; he wanted his son to live here at Redwall. Unfortunately, his son had been dead for days, maybe a week when he arrived here. Chesk took it all very hard. He blames himself for the death of the older otter. He has run away, leaving a note that told us he was off to bury the other beasts. The abbot has sent Skipper after him, but I doubt Chesk will ever come back. This is a sad tale, one that I myself would not wish to remember, but it is part of Redwall’s history. Perhaps one of those beasts from Rakan is alive and will want to know what happened to the others—they will only need come here.

I retire for the night, but before I set my quill aside, I wish all the beasts of Rakan peace forever.

~Adam, Recorder of Redwall Abbey