Author:
Martina Swiftflight
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Date Posted: 11:48:29 10/12/02 Sat
In reply to:
Martina Songflower Reguba-Swiftflight
's message, "*hyper squirrel actully calms down for once and lugs a big book over to the fireside and sits down.*" on 18:02:56 10/11/02 Fri
Chapter Three
Martina the squirrel was in trouble with the dibbuns! In punishment they were chasing her mercilessly. Suddenly she darted into the trees of the orchard, losing all except Fuffle Squirrel and Truffle the Ottermaid in the sharp-turning jumps she was performing. “Wes a teach a yous to telly tales onna dibbun!” Truffles reached out and grabbed Martina’s tail. All three went flying out the tree and landed on Rufe. All four giggled in a heap. Fuffle began to complain. “Rufus, yous weighs a ton. Get offa my tail, ya bigs lump.”
Rufe sprang up, annoyed. “My name is not Rufus, it’s Rufe, and if you think I’m heavy, you’ve obviously never had a fat squirrel dibbun on your head!” Both dibbuns sprang at Rufe’s head and knocked him over.
Martina was sitting on the ground, giggling. “Never insult a dibbun!” Suddenly a small mouse leapt from a tree onto her head, closely followed by about a dozen more laughing dibbuns.
“Neva tell taleses onna us eitha!” Weighted down by infants, the squirrels surrendered under twenty dibbuns-to-one circumstances. When the bells began ringing to signal lunch, the dibbuns disappeared like smoke, all except one tiny squirrel that had fallen asleep on Martina’s head. She lifted him off and prodded him awake.
Rufe grinned at the squirrelbabe. “It’s lunchtime, you know. Plus I don’t think Martina is going to hold a great lump like yourself for long.” The little squirrel ran off towards Great Hall, muttering something about not getting trifle. “I think we better get some lunch before the dibbuns eat it all.”
Martina sighed. “Talking of lunch, we’re not going to get a seat now. Sister Aubrietia says the Abbey has never been so full. We could always have a picnic on the walltops.”
“Yeah, it’s really sunny so we might as well make the most of it.”
The two squirrels squeezed into the dinner line behind Fuffle and Truffle. When it was finally their turn, they took their salad, bread and blackcurrant cordial gratefully and scampered up to the wall top, directly above the gatehouse. Martina sat in a vine filled gap between two battlements. She frowned. “Rufe,” she said. “Is it normal for a wall to have a lumpy dent in it?”
“Not for a normal wall. But it’s probably quite normal for a wall that has been in about twenty wars. Hey, what are you doing to that vine?”
Martina was tearing away the vines from the wall. “There.” She pointed to the circular impression in the wall. “I know what that is. It’s the place Matthias the warrior put the shield of Martin to find the sword. See, that’s an M for Martin.”
“Or Martina.” The squirrelmaid turned to look at Rufe. “What? Martina is the female form of Martin, isn’t it?”
“You’re right.” Martina smiled, and then added, “Of coarse, that’s why I’m so surprised.”
“Oy you, you little scrubbing–brush–tailed hooligan! I’ll get you!” He dived at Martina, only to land nose first on the hard stone, after she’d moved aside. “Ow, be nose!”
“My tail does not look like a scrubbing brush! Say it!” The squirrelmaid stood over the unfortunate Rufe, teeth bared menacingly. “Say my tail does not resemble a scrubbing brush in any way! Or else!”
Rufe did as he was told. Fast. “Your tail does not resemble a scrubbing brush!” She stepped back, happy. Rufe sprang up. “But your head does!”
“That’s it! Prepare to be pulverised!” Martina sprang after an escaping Rufe. Leaping into the trees of Mossflower, they began an afternoon long chase.
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Chapter Three