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Subject: Story


Author:
Brooksong and Company, SS
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Date Posted: 01:32:37 04/10/06 Mon

Brooksong, Trinniss and Arywn, SS


Grell was always a quiet mole. He loved cheese, and good bread, and almost nothing could get him to say more than two words. When beasts asked him "What do you think of the weather today?"
Grell would always reply, "Very nice." He would have the same answer whether is was pouring outside or a bright summer day. There was only one thing that could get Grell to talk, and that was when folk asked him about the old days. He would go on and on about Amaras, and Hildfern, and many other creatures of old. As recorder, it is my job to write Grell's old stories down. After all, He lived through it.



Hildfern looked out across the mooreland of her home. She had never liked the great northern moores, but her parents would die if she left. The young mouse sighed. "This is no life for me." She said, though no one was in hearing range. "I have always known i did not belong here, but where am I to go?" She looked longingly south. All beasts had heard of the riches of the south, but Hildfern clung to each word as if that could help her reach her dream. Redwall Abbey. The tranquil setting in the middle of a forest was like nothing she had ever seen. All Hildfern knew was the flat scrub and the harsh winters of her home, Clearwater Hill. It was a small village in the northern moores, far past Noonvale, and the wreckage that was all that was left of Marshank. Ledgend said that she was a blood relation to the ledgendary Rose of Noonvale, some long lost great great great granddaughter of a second cousin. She just thought it was a great great great pain. Everyone treated her like a precious stone, always on display until bought. It was only a matter of time until her mother and father chose a husband for her. That was what she dreaded the most.

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