Author:
Mossyra of the Irresistible Imps
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Date Posted: 01:59:05 06/19/07 Tue
The mighty weasel army tore through Mossflower, capturing any woodlanders they found unawares. Screams resounded through the air as those that resisted were mercilessly slaughtered. Harvest mice were dragged into Grufftong's presence, along with what remained from the army of squirrels that had fought back. Vermin guards were careless of the way they treated their captives; any that fell were beaten until they got up or died. The beasts that had been caught were forced to kneel before the weasel leader. He pointed to one of them, a sturdy squirrel with blood streaming from a wound in its head, and said something to two of the nearby soldiers. They nodded. When all the survivors were gathered before the evil weasel he motioned toward the soldiers and they rougly dragged the frightened squirrel forward.
"I have selected you to be the leader of the new slaves," Gufftong announced with evil glee. "If they rebel you will be the first to die, followed by whoever takes your place as leader. If you die before your time or are killed to subdue a rebellion, I will choose the next leader. Every time the leader is killed to quell unrest, the one that follows will get younger." He turned toward the new slaves. "Their deaths will be on your heads." Then he waved his hand dismissively and the terrified captives were herded away. Gufftong faced the chosen leader and said quietly, "You are in charge of keeping them settled." Then his soldiers took the squirrel away.
The Abbess of Redwall watched the attackers through narrowed eyes. Unlike the ones before her, she understood the ways of war and participated in the retaliations quite freely. She knew the attacking weasels were up to something. Most of them had disappeared into Mossflower, leaving a few to keep the Abbey dwellers bottled in. Then she heard shouts from the forest and watched with a sinking heart as the main force appeared, pushing woodlanders in front of them. Now she understood what the army had been doing in Mossflower.
"Getting provisions, eh?" Her captain, Skipper of otters, sighed. "I had hoped it was so. Soon their general will come forward and threaten their lives if we don't surrender." The Abbess echoed his sigh. "I wouldn't mind if that prediction was wrong as well."
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