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V

Eat All the Fish

The lieutenant grunted and winced as the medic applied the poultice around his sensitive area. Morson grumbled to himself as he looked over his shoulder at the hare hovering around his backside.

"Are ya done yet?! It's just a fuckin' flesh wound, wot!"

The medic frowned as he shook his head. "Flesh wound? I think not, sah! A little farther to the right an' you'd be spendin' the next few seasons releasin' blood in yore stool!"

"Just hurry it up, Stink Mouth! I can't stand here all day!"

"All you hares should be grateful I'm around to patch you up. Without me, a lotta you would be dead from infection; these wounds don't go away, y'know! They fester an' make you sick, have you lyin' on the ground shakin' an' vomitin' all over yoreselves! 'Member poor ole Dungee?"

Morson closed his eyes and sighed heavily as Stink Mouth kept applying the poultice. He drowned out his incessant rambling for as long as he could before the light brown hare finally stood up and finished patching up the lieutenant.

"There! Now you should be all set for the day!"

"Thank you, Stink Mouth," Morson mumbled flatly.

"My pleasure!"

Some of the hares who were staring at the embarrassing ordeal quickly looked away and snickered. A few soldiers laughed over how touchy-feely Stink Mouth was when administering the poultice. Others couldn't help but notice the obvious dark color of the moist substance smeared around the left side of Morson's rump. Morson grumbled again as he continued to walk alongside the hares, the poultice irritating his bottom. With the exception of the lieutenant's injury, the hares and Badger Lord were feeling quite proud of themselves. The whole tribe had been extinguished and not a single hare had been lost. A majority of the hares knew that it was only a minor victory, but even so, the Long Patrol knew that weeds spread and grow if they're ignored for too long. It was better for them to get rid of the weeds now while they were small and insignificant, as opposed to waiting until they grew out of control and were impossible to destroy. Nearly everybeast had gotten past the incident where Morson snapped Danik's neck, although Corporal Bonson still refused to look at him the same way. They had bigger issues to fixate on, like keeping the vermin count in Mossflower down to a minimum.

Urthquake led his hares alongside the river the Guosim usually patrolled. But the large badger saw no presence of them; there wasn't a logboat in sight, and he couldn't even hear the short beasts arguing with each other like they frequently did. All the hares kept their eyes and long ears open, blinking and twitching their ears for any sign of them. The calm blue water of the river sloshed around quietly as it flowed west. The wind blew in the hares' faces, carrying the scent of a pleasant spring afternoon on it. And that was exactly the problem: it was too calm and pleasant for the hares. They hardly even heard birds chirping or saw shadows of them as they walked along the ground. Urthquake and the other hares noticed that the number of alder trees in the area was growing, along with the number of berry bushes growing beside them. Not all the trees were fully bloomed, but the healthy green leaves were hanging from several branches, and there was so many of them that it provided much cover for foes. Urthquake growled to himself and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand when one of his trackers addressed him.

"M'Lord, logboats up ahead!" shouted Elonv.

Urthquake almost sighed with relief. He started to speed up as he and his hares walked alongside the dry bank. But as they got closer to the logboats, they could see that all of them were abandoned and just sitting in the river tied to lime or alder trees. Some of the hares at the front of the group started to draw their weapons.

"D'you think they got ambushed, sah?"

"Couldn't be. No traces of blood anywhere," said a female hare named Ozgin.

Urthquake was about to say something when he heard a bush shaking a few feet away. The blue-striped badger relaxed himself as he lowered his axe and leaned against a thick alder.

"You can come out now," said Urthquake in his deep, but loud voice.

"Damn it, I told ye t'stop movin'!" shouted a squeaky voice.

Three seconds later, at least sixty shrews all wearing colorful headbands appeared from the undergrowth. Some of the shrews had mud smeared all over their bodies, while others were dressed in dark clothing to blend in with the dark environment. The "leader" of the shrews, a chubby, spiky creature wearing a kilt and buckled belt stepped out of the bush he was hiding in and greeted the burly badger.

"Sorry, Badger Lord, just workin' on a proper ambush is all! Gotta brush up on me skills as a Guosim warrior if'n I'm t'be as good as me dad!"

"Where is your father anyway?"

"Right here!"

Some of the hares gasped and looked up into the trees with wide eyes once they heard tons of rustling. Several more shrews revealed themselves after using the canopy to conceal themselves. All of them had arrows or stone-loaded slings aimed at Urthquake and his long-eared soldiers. Urthquake looked up at all the spiky-furred beasts and blinked.

"Hmm, a secondary ambush in case the first one fails. I'll admit I didn't see that coming," said Urthquake, although the tone of his voice suggested the opposite.

The leader of the Guosim whistled and instructed his warriors to climb down the trees. Once they were all down, the portly shrew that was bigger than all the rest laughed heartily as he walked over to Urthquake.

"So 'ow's it goin' big fella? Ye ain't gonna give yore ole Log-a-Log a nice big hug?"

Urthquake smirked. "Not without crushing your spine."

The burly shrew started to laugh heartily. He always found the Badger Lord amusing, even when Urthquake wasn't trying to be funny at all. After the large shrew had his laugh, he snorted and glanced over at his son.

"An' wot 'ave I said about stayin' still when attemptin' an ambush?"

"This ain't my fault, Dad! Lugo wouldn't--"

"It's yore job to keep yore shrews in line! 'Ow else do ye expect to become Log-a-Log after I'm gone?"

The younger shrew exhaled and looked down. "Yes, Dad."

"Now go back to practicin' yore knots! That logboat o'er there looks like it's about t'float away!"

The younger shrew didn't reply. He just heard several older shrews snickering at him, staring at him with smug, pompous grins on their faces. Log-a-Log's son walked over to the logboats, mumbling under his breath so the Chieftain wouldn't hear.

"Sorry 'bout that. Benrath still needs some trainin' it seems!"

"Give him time, Brugo. He'll figure it out eventually."

"Or get slain in the process. But enough about all that! I'm guessin' yer here 'cos ye slew all them beasts givin' me tribe so much trouble?"

Urthquake nodded. "Didn't have a single casualty either."

"'Cept fer Morson's arse, wot!"

"I HEARD THAT, LAKLER!" screamed Morson, who was at least two yards away from the dirty hare.

"That's wunnerful! Was gettin' quite tired o' those rodents, always stealin' our supplies under our noses. Well, since yore entire squad's 'ere, 'ow's about ye stay 'ere for awhile, relax an' feast with us?"

Urthquake rubbed his chin as he looked down at the chubby shrew. He turned around and faced his army with a satisfied grin on his face.

"What do you say soldiers?! Shall we stay here and feast with our Guosim Chieftain and his warriors?"

The immense roaring Urthquake heard immediately afterwards was a good enough answer. All the hares knew that dining with a bunch of shrews was nowhere near as good as eating at Redwall, but after spending so many days and nights patrolling Mossflower and ridding the country of evildoers, they took what they could get.

---

It was still in the afternoon, but the clouds had rolled in, blocking out the radiant sun. A few hares were beginning to think it was about to rain, while others welcomed the cool shift in the climate. The shrews didn't have enough vittles to feed everybeast, so some of the hares accompanied the shrews as they headed into the forest looking for more nourishment. Those not looking for food were busy talking and getting to know the well-loved shrews who protected Mossflower's rivers. Having spent most of their time catching their food, the Long Patrol found the shrews' vittles above average--some would even say astounding. Almost everybeast, hares included, drank fizzy shrewbeer or sampled the sweet strawberry and blackberry cordial the Guosim brewer Kallin made. Most of the food was simple, but delicious: oat bread, russet apples, pears, berries, and yellow cheeses. Two different soups were being heated over two separates fires; one contained mushrooms, beetroots, onions, and leeks, while the other one contained watershrimp, herbs, and chunks of fish that had been chopped up and thrown into the concoction. Sadly, the hares had no privilege of eating dessert, so they settled for picking any raw fruits or sweet berries they found in the area.

Not far from Log-a-Log's personal oversized raft, a pawful of shrews were sitting around the cauldron containing the vegetable soup, either grabbing more bowls of the hot and satisfying nourishment, or adding more vegetables to it to make it tastier. A skinny shrew with a yellow headband glanced over at a stout hare in a blue coat and scoffed.

"Yore addin' too many carrot chunks!"

Becker snickered as he sliced off another chunk of the carrot and let it splash into the bubbling soup. "Too much carrot? I think not! I'm balancin' out the flavour, wot! It is you who has made the fault; you added too much onion!"

"I'm the Chieftain's chef; I make most of the food fer the Guosim, nobeast else! I ain't 'eard any other beast complainin' about the soup! It's good, isn't it?" asked the shrew.

Qwuintuff didn't answer. He was too busy drinking the soup directly from the bowl as though it were tea. When he lowered the bowl, he started to lick it clean and glanced up at everybeast else.

"Wot? I got some on my face?"

Stanno finished his soup and shrugged. "Tastes fine to me."

"I don't see why yore whinin', Becker. You should be glad yore gettin' grub this good in the first place!"

Becker snickered again after hearing Saronso speak. "That's just it, m'dear! This soup is just 'good,' it's not great at all! With all these carrot chunks, I'm more than sure that this soup will be absolutely capital!"

"An' how would you know? Yore not a chef, Becker," retorted the female hare.

Qwuintuff rubbed his chin and exhaled. "Here we go..."

"No, no, but I used to be, wot! An' the one thing I learnt back when I were just a leveret was that you do not smother a soup with onions!"

"Jus' give us another bowl so we can go," muttered Stanno.

The shrew chef poured more of the delicious (but "adequate") soup into Stanno and Qwuintuff's bowls without Becker or Saron noticing. The two hares got up and left, already knowing that a huge argument or fight was about to break out. Some of the other hares and shrews stayed, curious to see what would happen next. The chef got himself a bowl of soup and sat down next to Issarck.

"Are they always like this?"

"Every day."

"Oh. ...So are they siblings or wot?"

Issarck shook his head as he slurped up some soup. "Nope. They jus' like to h'argue all the time h'over nothin'. We're jus' waitin' h'until the day they finally make up an' fuck each other."

Becker didn't even care about the soup anymore. He was too busy trying to "win" his argument with Saronso.

"I know wot good soup is! You an' the rest of these shrews 'ave no taste!"

"We do 'ave taste! Yore just a long-eared fathead tryin' t'make everythin' the way you want it!"

"An' yore just a bloated blighter with too much sand up yer hole!"

At that point Saronso shoved her bowl of soup to the ground, shattering it. Issarck rubbed his forehead while the other shrews stared at the hare with wide eyes, watching as she stood up, got into a boxing stance, and stared at the chubby hare with a menacing scowl on her face.

"Put 'em up."

Becker scoffed. "Wot?"

"I'm gettin' tired of yore fuckin' mouth, Becker! Mebbe you'll be less cocky when everybeast sees you can't even box properly, wot!"

The plump hare laughed. "I am not fightin' you again, Saron. I'd ruin yore pretty li'l face!"

Saron smirked. "I get it. Yore afraid of losin' an' gettin' that fat arse of yers kicked by a female!"

The shrews and hares started to snicker at Becker. Not wanting to lose face, the blue-coated hare sighed with exasperation and tossed the carrot and knife he held onto the ground. The captain put up his paws and balled them into fists, grinning as he entered a similar boxing stance.

"All right, but I must warn--"

Saron jabbed Becker in the mouth to shut him up. The shocked look on Becker's face, along with the wide smirk on Saron's face, was enough to make nearly everybeast howl with laughter. Getting serious, Becker snorted and started to return punches, and the two hares began to duck and weave as they started to box each other, with the hares and shrews around them cheering each beast on. But not everybeast was observing the sparring match between the two hares. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a couple hares and shrews were taking things more seriously, sitting on the ground as they ate food and plotted out various attack patterns. Benrath was sitting amongst the shrews, although very few of the prickly beasts were actually listening to him.

"Ye see that leaf right there? That's where the ambush'll 'appen," started Benrath.

Two colonels named Sanjoy and Clannin nodded their heads as they munched on russet apples. Despite their high ranking in the Long Patrol, all they wore were dark gray tunics and blue-and-green-striped waistsashes. They never found the itchy, sometimes heavy coats all that comfortable, and wearing less clothing made them light on their footpaws whenever it came to sword fighting.

"Go on," said Clannin.

"So I figure, half the shrews are in a logboat here," said Benrath, as he moved a stick through the dirt behind the leaf, "an' then the rest o' the shrews 'ide in the bushes back 'ere," he said, before moving another stick in front of the leaf. "After that, we all yell 'Logalogalogalogalooooooog!' like we always do'n WHAM!! We spring up from the hidin' spots an' fire a whole lotta arrows at the enemy!"

Sanjoy and Clannin stopped eating and looked up at Benrath. "That's yore idea?" asked Clannin.

Benrath nodded with a gleeful smile on his face. "Aye! Wot d'ye think?"

"Terrible," Sanjoy said bluntly.

Benrath's smile disappeared as soon as it appeared. The older, more experienced shrews around him snickered or flat-out laughed at the young shrew.

"Wot? I-I don't unnerstand."

Clannin took a bite out of his apple and spoke to Benrath with his mouth full. "If you fire arrows usin' the plan you just told us, yore gonna end up slayin' yer own shrews in the process. One of 'em could be yore very own Log-a-Log. You wanna be responsible fer the death of yore father?"

Clannin took a thin twig and drew several lines in the dirt going to and from the two thick sticks Benrath placed in front of and behind the leaf. He tossed it aside, along with his apple core.

"See all them lines? That's yore arrow fire. Sure, yore gonna slay yer target, but yore gonna end up killin' each other from friendly fire, an' nobeast wants that."

Benrath looked down at the ground and twiddled his thumbs before meekly saying, "Oh."

"See, Benrath? Ye ain't fit t'be Log-a-Log yet!" snarled a headstrong shrew wearing a red headband.

Sanjoy glanced up at the cocky shrew with folded arms and blinked. "An' you are?"

The shrew scoffed. "Aye! I'm much older'n li'l Benrath 'ere anyways!"

"By three fuckin' seasons," growled Benrath.

"So wot? Only means I got more experience on me side!"

"No, it don't! It only means you spent three more seasons'n I 'ave lazin' around on ye fat arse, Jurlick!"

Jurlick seemingly ignored Benrath and ruffled the fur on his head as he sat down. "Ole Benrath 'ere's jus' upset 'cos I caught 'im creamin' his kilt in his sleep!"

Benrath nearly blushed at that point when all the other shrews around him started to break out into laughter. Clannin, however, was less impressed with the rowdy shrews' attitudes, especially since they were trying to train Benrath into being a great warrior like his father. Sanjoy chuckled softly to herself as she nudged Clannin's right arm.

"Remember when you had that little problem when we was leverets?"

Clannin didn't change his expression or even look at Sanjoy. But his right ear twitched and wiggled a bit, as though the hare was trying to shake off a tiny insect crawling up his long ear. He had a habit of doing that whenever he was irritated; it was usually a warning that he was on the verge of exploding with fury.

"No, I do not," he lied.

Sanjoy grinned. "Y'know, yore family spent time with mine, an' we 'ad to sleep against each other 'cos it were so cold..."

Clannin's right ear was almost curling at this point and bending over and over again. "No, I have no idea wot yore talkin' about," he said in a louder voice.

The shrews didn't even care about Clannin and Sanjoy's story. They were still making fun of Benrath and the personal issues he occasionally suffered from overnight. The Chieftain's son tried to get back at Jurlick, but it failed miserably.

"We-well, at least I don't go off stickin' me cock into everythin' where everybeast c'n see me!"

Jurlick quaffed a sufficient amount of the shrewbeer he was holding and snorted. "HA! So ye were spyin' on me when I was fuckin' Serley, eh? Wot's that say 'bout ye? Was ye strokin' yoreself at the time too?"

Jurlick finished off the rest of his shrewbeer and continued to berate Benrath. "An' so wot if'n I fuck females all the time? Any babe c'n stroke hisself; it takes a real beast t'find a good female t'stick his cock inside! Ye got a female, Benrath?"

The shrew exhaled and shut his eyes. "No..."

"Course ye don't! Spent too much time clingin' ta the Chieftain's fat arse! But I ain't surprised. Ain't 'ad no mum in ye life, so ye 'ad t'suck out the milk from somewhere, right?"

That did it. When Benrath opened his eyes, he was on the verge of tears. The young shrew stared at Jurlick as he and the rest of the shrews around him collapsed to the ground laughing hysterically. All of them felt like they were about to empty their bladders all over themselves from laughing so hard. Tears were streaming out one shrew's eyes, and another one almost started to choke on the oat bread in his mouth. Benrath tried not to whine or cry; he just shut his eyes and sniffled silently, hoping the tears would go away. The two colonels weren't just sitting by idly; they kept flicking their eyes at Benrath, wondering if the son of Log-a-Log would stand up to the bullies. But Sanjoy and Clannin could see that Jurlick and his bullies wouldn't let up, so they needed to step in.

"How would you do it?" Clannin asked over the raucous laughter.

The chuckling Jurlick sat back up and wiped a tear from his face. "Hohoho, the--do wot now?"

"The ambush? How would you carry it out since Benrath can't do it properly?"

Jurlick stared at Clannin, completely dumbfounded. He glanced to his left and right, expecting some other beast to give him advice. When nobeast spoke, Jurlick scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Oh, ye know! I'd, uh, I'd prob'ly--"

Jurlick squealed like he was five seasons old when Clannin tackled him to the ground and got on top of his body. Panting and whimpering, Jurlick tried to fight off the taller, stronger, and more experienced hare as the colonel took out a knife from his waistsash and started to point it at his left eye. Jurlick started to thrash his legs around and began to scream for help, but Clannin quickly covered his mouth. Benrath, although shocked, couldn't help but stare with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Wot the fuck are ye doin'?!"

"Get off 'im!"

Jurlick's friends started to reach for their rapiers. Sanjoy hopped to her footpaws and took hers out faster.

"Sit down," she snarled.

Even for somebeast as pretty as her, Sanjoy still knew how to put on an intimidating face. Jurlick's friends all stared at the chubby tan hare and sat down. Meanwhile, Jurlick was still whining and thrashing his legs around, crying for help with a paw covering his mouth.

"Yore in the middle of a battle! I'm a filthy searat an' I got ya pinned to the ground! Is this wot ya do: cry like a li'l bitch an' scream fer help? Sounds like somethin' a snivelin' li'l babe would do! Wouldn't you agree, Sanj?"

Sanjoy smirked. "I most certainly would, Clan."

After a brief moment, Clannin got off Jurlick and removed his paw from his mouth. The shrew gasped and quickly began to stand up, shuddering as a few tears began to roll down his face. Clannin looked up at the smug shrew and scoffed.

"Hmph. Maybe Benrath ain't cut out fer bein' Log-a-Log yet, but you certainly aren't either!"

"FUCK YOU!!" Jurlick blurted out.

Still shaking and whimpering, Jurlick sniffled and wiped his eyes. He glanced over at Benrath and pointed at the two hares.

"I-I ain't finished with ye, Son of Log-a-Log! Th-those-those fuckin' 'ares ain't gonna be 'round forever! Ye jus' wait--jus'-jus' wait an' see wot 'appens once they're gone!"

Jurlick, crestfallen over everything that just happened, walked away from the colonels and Benrath as he sniffled. Jurlick's friends followed him without question, leaving Sanjoy, Clannin, and Benrath to themselves. Sanjoy put her rapier back in its sheath and sat down alongside Clannin.

"He's right, y'know. We ain't always gonna be 'ere t'save yore arse. So grow some stones an' stand up to 'em," said Clannin.

Benrath wasn't crying anymore, but he still wasn't happy over what just happened. After all, Jurlick was probably gonna tease or bully him tomorrow when Urthquake and his hares left.

"How?"

Sanjoy shrugged. "We ain't yore mum an' dad. Figure it out yoreself."

Sanjoy saw a shrew walk past them holding a bowl of hot soup. She flared her nostrils just once and could tell that it was the soup that had shrimp and fish chunks inside. She stood up, ready to go fill her distended belly with more vittles.

"C'mon, Clannin. Let's go try out that fish soup."

"All right."

The colonels got up and left Benrath alone. The young shrew sat by himself and thought about what he should do with Jurlick and all his friends. After all, he was a fully-grown beast now; he wasn't a babe anymore, and he certainly wasn't so dependent of his father. He knew he needed to confront Jurlick one day, but he just didn't know how to do it. As the shrew sat alone thinking, the scene close to Log-a-Log's raft was rife with laughter. Becker had lost his boxing match with Saron, and now the plump female hare had him pinned to the ground. More importantly, she pinned him down with her whole body, and her rump was planted on his face. Saronso looked down at Becker and grinned.

"You gonna stop sayin' I got sand up my 'ole?!"

Becker, somehow, managed to mumble and nod slightly beneath the hare's backside.

"You gonna stop runnin' yer mouth 'bout how great you are?!"

The stout hare nodded and mumbled again. Having Becker at her mercy like this was a lot more fun than Saron thought it'd be.

"You gonna stop stealin' all my vittles when I'm not lookin?!"

Becker didn't answer that time. He just lied there and pretended that he didn't hear Saron's question. So the hare promptly punched him in the groin, causing him to shout and jolt his legs.

"Is that a yes or no?!"

Becker answered again, mumbling the same word over and over as he tried to nod his head. Saronso chuckled as she mercifully removed her rump from Becker's face and stood up. The chubby hare exhaled as he quickly sat up and began to take deep breaths. And then he noticed that all the other hares and shrews around him were still laughing. Becker got to his footpaws and laughed timidly, his ears lowered slightly with embarrassment. His "arch nemesis" was still grinning smugly to herself as Becker tried to figure out what to say or do. But Becker, being Becker, decided to sweep everything under the rug and make light of the situation.

"Well now...s'pose I should be grateful yer bum is clean, wot!"

"So yer admittin' I won?"

"Yes...but only 'cos there were no carrots in the soup! If there had been, I jolly well could've taken you, no questions asked! Carrots make you stronger, give you lots more strength an' muscles, wot!"

Saron heard all she needed to hear. "If you say so," she said, before walking away and intentionally bumping her shoulder into Becker's. As Becker was about to get more soup, Issarck chuckled and began to tease the captain.

"So how was it down there, Becker? Ya give her arse h'a nice, fat kiss?"

Becker scoffed. "Bah, at least her arse didn't 'ave a nasty stench to it! I'd much rather be under her rump than yers, fer example!"

Issarck started grinning. "So yore h'admittin' you like her arse."

Becker's ears lowered again and he practically started to sweat. While the shrews and hares stared at the self-conscious captain, Becker twiddled his thumbs and started to sidle away from the crowd.

"Y'know, I'm in the mood for some pears! You lot wait here; I'll go fetch some!"

The captain forced himself not to break into a sprint, and instead walked away from the group as fast as he could. But even as he gained distance from them, he could still hear a majority of the beasts laughing, more than likely talking about how much the hare was in love with Saron's behind, even though he clearly wasn't. When Becker finally arrived at a pear tree far away from the crowd, he sighed with much relief and relaxed himself. He knew his fellow soldiers would never let him live this down--not unless he got back at Saron in a much cruder way. The fat hare was about to start plotting when something bounced off his head. Becker looked down at the ground and could see that a few pear cores were lying in the dirt.

"Sorry 'bout that, Cap'n!"

The hare looked up in the tree and could see Honward sitting on a bough. He smiled as the sergeant began to pluck another pear from one of the smaller branches and tossed it down to Becker.

"No worries! Just a small bump on the noggin, wot!"

Honward and Becker stayed silent for an awkward length of time. The light brown hare continued to look for more pears in the tree whilst Becker stared at the fruit in his paw and took a huge bite out of it. It only took three bites before Becker finished the pear; instinctively, Honward tossed another pear down, as if he knew in advance that Becker had finished the first one. Becker noticed how quiet the two were being (short of Becker's loud munching) and sparked a conversation. He clearly didn't want to convey the little mishap that happened with Saronso, so he talked about a more serious conversation.

"Still thinkin' 'bout that rat Morson slew?"

"It's more'n just that. Jus' been reminiscin', that's all."

"About wot, the day you became a Sarn't an' glomped Urthquake's head 'til he had to pry you off, wot?"

Honward tried not to remember that glorious, if not embarrassing day. "Besides that. Things are jus' different, y'know? It ain't like all them stories my father used to tell me."

Becker chomped into a pear and spoke with a full mouth. "Never is. We always leave out all the gritty, nasty parts leverets don't wanna hear about. That's why we only go on 'bout how great it is: makes it easier fer us to suck 'em into the Long Patrol, wot!"

Honward grinned at Becker's brutal honesty as he tossed him another pear. "Still, after me an' Tike joined, it never seemed this--"

"Violent?"

Honward exhaled and scratched his head, trying to find the right word to explain how he felt. "Complicated."

Becker shrugged and filled his mouth with more of the juicy pear. "Wot's so complicated about it? There's vermin runnin' 'round Mossflower; we get rid of 'em so goodbeasts can live in peace. Sounds simple to me, wot!"

The sergeant plucked another pear from the tree and hopped off the bough, landing in front of Becker with a soft grunt. "All right, I guess I am thinkin' about wot happened this mornin'. An' that incident with the ferret expectin' a babe."

Honward shook his head and shrugged. "I guess it all hit me. Not as hard as it hit Tike, but still...I just...I dunno."

Becker could see that Honward didn't want to eat his pear. He nonchalantly took it from Hon's paw and replaced it with his pear core. "Jus' spill it, dear boy. Wot's on yore mind?"

Honward went ahead and said it. "You ever feel like we ain't doin' the right thing? Like we shouldn't be out slayin' all these beasts, wot?"

Becker bit into the pear. "Every damn day."

"So how d'you put up with it?"

"Simple," he said, his mouth full again. "I tell m'self that wot we're doin' is savin' lives. If a few dozen vermin have t'die in order fer that to happen, so be it, wot!"

Honward smirked. "Good thing you ain't talkin' to Tike right now."

"Why?"

"'Cos he'd be sayin' 'takin' lives ta save lives is the stupidest fuckin' thing anybeast could do.'"

Becker started to laugh, squirting a bit of pear juice from his mouth. "That he would, Hon! That he would, wot!"

Becker finished eating the pear and tossed it on the ground. "Mebbe Urthquake has changed over the seasons. Mebbe the Long Patrol has changed as well; I know I have, an' you will someday too. An' yes...I've done things I'm not proud of. But we're savin' beasts, Hon. There ain't as many pirates tryin' to sail up River Moss. We c'n walk for days without stumblin' across Skipper's otters or members of the Mossflower Squirrel Brigade scattered all over the ground, their entrails hangin' from their corpses. Hell, I can't even remember the last time somebeast tried to attack Redwall Abbey, wot! So wot we're doin' can't be all bad. We're doin' somethin' right, right?"

Honward nodded. "Right."

"No, left."

Honward raised an eyebrow. "Wot?"

"Three rights make a left."

Becker laughed as he watched Honward roll his eyes and shake his head. "Never was good at tellin' jokes, Becker."

"No shame in tryin'! Anyways, I'll see you later. Gotta make sure none o' them prickly beasts scoffed that shrimp'n'fish soup, wot!"

Honward smiled. "See ya!"

As Becker began to walk away, Honward bit down into his pear. And then he frowned. It wasn't until his teeth made contact with the hard core that he realized Becker ate the fruit without him even knowing.

---

While everything seemed to be fun and games for the Guosim and the Long Patrol, a different conversation was taking place within Log-a-Log's hut that had been built on his personal raft. There was nobeast inside at the moment except for Urthquake, the Shrew Chieftain, and Log-a-Log's second in command, a strong, sullen, dark brown shrew named Barlo Arvack. The two shrews fit into the large hut comfortably; Barlo and Log-a-Log had no problem standing within the structure. But Urthquake was sitting down, since his head would be touching the ceiling otherwise. He still managed to eat and have a decent conversation with the Shrew Chieftain, despite how cramped it was. As always, Log-a-Log was impressed with the badger's eating habits. Even after devouring two whole loaves of oat bread with cheese to go with it and chugging two beakers of shrewbeer, the Badger Lord still had enough room in his stomach for three bowls of the vegetable soup that was boiling outside. Log-a-Log watched as the badger downed his third bowl and licked some of the broth from his lips, gulping so hard that Log-a-Log saw a lump travel down his throat.

"Nice ter see yore appetite's still strong like a Northlander!"

Urthquake set the bowl down and sighed, satisfied now that his stomach was full. "Nice to see you Guosim still know how to make a decent meal."

The Shrew Chieftain laughed to himself before finishing off his strawberry and blackberry cordial. "Guess I 'ave yore hares an' their cookin' skills t'thank fer that! How is ole Salaman-so-an'-so doin' anyways?"

"I didn't leave the front gate open, if that's what you're asking."

Urthquake was always strange when around Log-a-Log. He seemed to speak with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, as though he were slyly insulting the plump shrew with every word that came from his mouth. And he never could tell if Log-a-Log took any of it seriously, because he always seemed to guffaw over it. Even now the burly shrew was laughing so much that his giant belly shook, despite the fact Urthquake was being serious.

"Hahahahaaaaa! Yo-yore gonna be the death of me, Urthquake! One o' these days, I may jus' laugh m'self t'death!"

Urthquake didn't respond. Barlo didn't either; the second in command was still standing in the corner of the hut while his Chieftain sat down in a chair with his food utensils and various crumbs scattered across the table in front of him. The shrew burped rudely before he wiped his mouth off with his arm and sniffed.

"Now then, enough with all this frivolous chatter! May as well get t'the brunt of the matter."

"Which is what?"

"The fact that yore not doin' enough t'make Mossflower a better country!"

Urthquake flared his nostrils and blinked, but he didn't raise his voice. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Oh sure, you an' yer hares did a great job takin' care o' them vermin stealin' from us, but not fast enough. We lost a few shrews, 'member? Ole Barlo back there lost 'is own cousin."

Urthquake scooted a little closer to Log-a-Log Brugo and his table. He started to raise his voice now.

"Let me remind you that we were the ones who took care of your problem. A lieutenant of mine got wounded in the process. And while one beast might say he deserved it, that doesn't change the fact that he was wounded doing something for you, Brugo. And let me also remind you that you're talking to a Badger Lord, so watch the way you speak to me."

Brugo could almost feel the anger bubbling within Urthquake. He was trying to hide it, but all Log-a-Log had to do was glance up into the badger's blue eyes--which he could've sworn were turning a little red--to see that he was getting agitated. The Shrew Chieftain smiled cheesily and laughed nervously.

"Of-of course, sah! Ye are the leader of that mountain we know an' love! Mayhaps I should, err, rephrase wot I've been sayin'!"

Urthquake settled down and blinked. "Perhaps you should."

Brugo rubbed his big belly and heard it gurgle a few times. He scratched the back of his head and put his footpaws up on the table, moments before he started to grin.

"When ye get 'ungry an' come across a river, wot d'ye do?"

"Fish."

"Precisely. But there's no one set o' fish in the river, y'see! Big fish, small fish, sick fish, fish that can swallow ye 'ole...well, ye get wot I'm sayin'! But wot is the one fish ye always try t'catch first?"

"The big one that isn't trying to eat me."

The Guosim Chieftain laughed again. "That's right!"

Urthquake growled and blinked. "I'm not in the mood for your metaphors. What are you saying?"

Log-a-Log stopped playing games with the badger. "Fer awhile now, you an' yer hares 'ave been goin' after the little fish! Yore lettin' the big ones slip away an' spendin' too much time on all these tiny fish that don't fill ye up at all! Wot ye need is a big fish t'feed yerself with!"

"But I'm a badger. I eat more than other beasts do. My hunger is only sated when I've eaten all the fish, big and small."

"Oh, ye can't do that. Wot if ye get 'ungry again later on? Then you'll stumble across the river an' realize ye ate all the damn fish! Hehehe, no, wot ye need t'do is eat the big fish now, leave the small ones alone! Don't worry 'bout them; when ye get 'ungry again, ye'll come back to the river an' discover that all those little fish ye ignored have grown big an' fat, jus' fer ye t'feast on 'em!"

Urthquake didn't know what to say. He just stared at the Guosim Chieftain and his sinister grin. He could tell that the beast was being serious now, but the Badger Lord couldn't seriously consider following this advice. He'd be trapped in an endless loop of feasting until he had died of old age, and his successor would end up making the same mistakes as him. No, he simply could not allow that to happen. The Badger Lord needed to cleanse the river of all the fish he found, no matter what size or shape they were. Then, and only then, would Urthquake be able to find peace with himself.

"I understand," he said, lying right to Brugo's face. "I don't suppose you have any 'big fish' for me to find?"

Log-a-Log took his footpaws off the table. "It jus' so 'appens that I do! Two, in fact! Ye remember Kurwin the Flayer, right?"

There was no need to ask. Urthquake could still see those mutilated corpses hanging from the trees with flies buzzing around them. Every now and then the stench of those skinless mice, squirrels, hedgehogs, and even voles seemed to fill his nose.

"Don't tell me that monster is heading for Redwall?"

Brugo scoffed. "Monster? He's jus' some washed-up corsair who's stuck on land! Scouts o' mine found two of his ships jus' lyin' on the beach! They told me the beach were abandoned, so I'm assumin' that he's roamin' through Mossflower as we speak."

"Do your scouts know where he and his pirates were heading?"

"Sadly, no. It was too hard t'track all them beasts. Still, Kurwin's stuck in Mossflower; if'n his own corsairs don't kill each other, then you, the MSB, Skipper's otters, or a bunch o' ravenous birds will! Hah, with any luck, they'll run into a buncha toads or the Red Sand tribe!"

Urthquake did not like the Red Sand tribe any more than he liked the Painted Ones or the Flitchaye. At best, they were a different version of the Painted Ones located around deserted beaches. At worst, they were bloodthirsty beasts resurrected straight from the Hellgates, whose only goal was to cover the sand and soil they walked on with the blood of their victims. The Badger Lord tried not to think about them; they were just another fish he would consume later on.

"So what about this other 'fish' you know about?"

Log-a-Log grinned smugly. "Now I know ye know who Blackheart is."

Urthquake's eyes grew wide. "You found him," he said, with excitement as well as fury.

Brugo knew that the Badger Lord would be pleased to hear that. "Aye! Got a fortress set up on the Western Coast. Jus' 'ead northwest from the river; y'can't miss it!"

Urthquake scoffed. "Finally...I can get rid of that sorry excuse for a beast and set all those slaves free. Is the fortress finished?"

"Can't say, never seen it fer m'self."

"Then how do you know it's up there?"

"'Cos two of my scouts saw it, an' they got captured in the process. Only one of 'em came back, an' that's only 'cos he got lucky an' managed to escape at night!"

Urthquake took a deep breath and scratched behind his left ear as he looked down at Log-a-Log. He still wasn't really excited or happy about the information he just heard. The Shrew Chieftain frowned and exhaled with frustration.

"I just told you about a ferret warlord from the Northlands who thinks he's some Badrang wannabe an' is goin' around kidnappin' goodbeasts an' turnin' 'em inter slaves. I also told ye about a corsair who likes t'go around cuttin' the fur an' skin right off his victims. Shouldn't ye be 'appy about all this?"

"Y'know, everytime we have these talks and you tell me about all these vermin you just so happen to know about, I never do question just how you know about 'em all, or just how you keep finding them for me."

Urthquake and Log-a-Log stared at each other for nearly an entire minute in silence before the blue-striped badger became irritated.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

Brugo shut his eyes and smiled a deadly smile that should only be on a fox's face. "We do things, Urthquake. The Guosim contributes its fair share to Mossflower. We help you; we help the Long Patrol--"

"You're not answering the question," the badger interrupted.

Log-a-Log kept going. "All in all, we help this vast forest, keep it safe from harm! Why in the world would we try to or even think--"

"You are still not answering the question," Urthquake growled.

Brugo huffed. "We're both Northlanders, ole friend. We both grew up in a harsh an' dreary environment. And in order to survive in the Northlands, ye had t'do...questionable acts in order t'get things done, t'breathe fer another day. But in the end, we got things done, so why should it matter wot we did to reach our goal?"

Log-a-Log was still smiling in a disgustingly smug way. Urthquake knew how the bulky shrew was. He never gave him a straight answer; he always had to talk in riddles and use exaggerated metaphors and analogies just to make a lewd comparison to something. But the Badger Lord was smart. He could tell by the shrew's dirty smile that he was telling him to shut up and look the other way. But Urthquake had been doing that for many seasons now; this was the first time Urthquake actually asked him straight to his face how he acquired his information. And Log-a-Log's reply wasn't just "shut up an' look the other way." It was "stop askin' questions, or ye may find yerself in the Dark Forest." Maybe Urthquake was overthinking the situation. Maybe not. But he knew Log-a-Log was hiding something. Nevertheless, there was no need to pry into the situation this very second. He had to let it play out; he needed to see where Log-a-Log's loyalties really lie.

"You're right. I suppose I should be grateful for everything you've done for me. My apologies."

"No harm done, friend!"

"But someday, you are gonna have to tell me where you get all this information from."

Log-a-Log huffed. "Well, I'd tell ye now, but then I'd 'ave t'slay yer."

Urthquake could tell by Brugo's exaggerated glance and cheesy grim face that the shrew was just joking. He waited for the Chieftain to break out into a fit of laughter--which he did--and then watched as he extended his right paw forward.

"I'm jus' foolin' with ye!"

The Badger Lord nodded and shook Log-a-Log's paw. As they shook paws, Log-a-Log started to frown. Then he winced and whimpered as Urthquake squeezed. Hard. The Shrew Chieftain looked up at Urthquake and noticed that his head was a bit too close to his, and that a very nasty grin was on the blue-striped creature's muzzle.

"Of course you are."

The badger knew how to play games too. This "pawshake" was a warning to the Chieftain. Log-a-Log knew how strong Urthquake was. He knew what happened when he was consumed with the Bloodwrath. So the badger decided to casually remind the shrew how much stronger he was. More importantly, he wanted to let the shrew know that if Log-a-Log tried anything, he would be the one to die. Barlo, for the very first time, moved. He turned and faced Log-a-Log and Urthquake. He was starting to reach for his rapier when Urthquake finally let go of Log-a-Log's paw. Brugo exhaled and started to rub his paw as it throbbed in pain. Log-a-Log wasn't grinning or smirking anymore. He was looking at Urthquake with a hint of fear in his eyes. Urthquake continued to stare at the Guosim Chieftain with a nasty smile on his face before he got up and left the hut, crouching down so he could get through the doorframe. Barlo lowered his paw and walked beside the burly shrew to see if he was okay.

"Wot was that all about, Chief?"

Log-a-Log Brugo stopped rubbing his paw and went back to grinning smugly to himself, as though the incident with Urthquake never even occurred.

"Nothin'! Nothin' at all!"