A Return & Departure - Redwall 3/24/22

Ol'random · 2022-03-28 06:11:19 PM

John & Saro, squirrels

With the last rays of the sun slowly disappearing from the stone floors and walls, John can be seen off to the side with a pack over one shoulder. He's standing still, debating with himself on whether or not he really wants to step outside while winter's still hanging on to the woods beyond - or stay, and possible be murdered by the tribe of hooligans in his sleep.

While John is standing in the hall debating whether to go out, another squirrel bounds inside with a rambunctious air more appropriate to the abbey's roving hordes of dibbuns than to a fully grown adult. But despite the chill in the evening air Saro seems quite cheerful, as well as probably quite oblivious to the recent hooliganism on the abbey grounds given that she's been out on some kind of mysterious woodland errand the past few days. Pausing in the entry of the hall, she waves her fellow squirrel and exclaims, "Friend John, how goes it! Best stay indoors this eve, it's shaping up to be a chilly one!"

Spotting the bouncing movement from the corner of his eye, John's back stiffens, think it might be the chieftain back for revenge - but it's that one eared squirrel with the beret.
"Makes sense, enough." John replies, only somewhat relaxing. "Though wouldn' be th'first time being out and about in such weather, nae.... Speaking of which, no' seen ye 'round thae abbey much, less ye've been understandably keeping yore head neath th'ground."

"Just because it isn't the first time you've been chilled to the bone doesn't mean you have to make a habit of it." Saro grins broadly at John, then settles into a more sedate smile. "I spent a fair bit of time helping in the kitchens my first few days," she tells him, "and -- I admit it -- sleeping. But the last few I've been on the hunt!" Her tail flits enthusiastically from side to side, and she slings a large bundle from her own back and shakes it, producing a clunking sound. Allowing not much chance for her companion to be mystified, she proclaims importantly, "It's wood!"

This may still be a little mystifying.

Mystified might be a polite way of saying blatant confusion, which paints John's face. "Wood. Uh huh." Tilting his head to better peer at the bundle he doesn't let go of his own pack, nor does he move his paws - he simply observes from a distance.

"Ah assume there's more t'this than being a chunk of wood while we're surrounded by woods, aye?" He looks up from the bundle to her, watching her expression. Younger squirrels have seemed to grow a bit more eccentric these past few seasons while he was away.

Saro seems, somehow, to have expected her announcement to be received with more enthusiasm. She peers at John for a moment as if wondering how anyone could fail to be fired up by a sack of tree pieces, then lets out a 'pfbbt' of air through her lips. "For carving," she finally explains. "I've got-- oh, applewood, and maple, silver birch, oak, a bit of boxwood.. lovely stuff! I already promised the friar some nice new bowls and spoons. Maybe I'll even make myself a lute!"

"Ahh." John nods, closing his eyes for a moment. "Ah'd forgotten ye carved things, ah did. Though this begs th'question how'd you get all that? Ah'm no' going t'go out there and find a host of trunks following yore path through Mossflower, am ah?" He let's out a chuckle. "Ah'm jesting of course, but ye can colour me impressions, ye can - Ah wouldnae expect ye t'find much beyond oak and maple, Ah wouldn'."

Saro's single ear perks up a little, and she nods firmly to John. "There're all kinds of trees in the woods, only most folks just notice the commonest ones." She laughs too, quietly. "And no, I didn't chop down half the forest to get these. You'd be surprised how much deadwood there is all scattered about under the trees -- not just firewood, but good seasoned pieces for all kinds of things. And some of these I did get off the tree itself, but from dead branches and the like." Her green-grey eyes light up warmly. "I don't like to hurt trees, so I just take whatever they're willing to spare."

John gives a single nod of the head. "Fair enough, then. Ah suppose ah donnae think much about deadwood in these seasons as mah use fore it goes little beyond firewood, yet ah take it th'dryness of th'branch doesn' matter much when it comes t'carving, nae?"

"Ahh, well, it's a tricky thing, getting wood that's just right.." Saro nods back, knowingly. "You can cut down a tree, but then you've got green wood and it's no good yet; you've got to let it season properly. But if you know what you're looking for you can gather up wood that's already been seasoning all this time. Of course there's lots of stuff that's no good for anything but burning, but if you only..." She finally trails off, perhaps realizing her audience is not instilled with her own deep interest in the topic of wood.

Saro clears her throat. "Ahem, well. Never mind all that." Slinging the sack of precious wood back over her shoulder, she looks John up and down with a squint. "You seemed a bit jumpy when I came in. All's well at the abbey..?"

"Well, if ye donnae know ah'm no' th'most willing t'break yore blissful ignorance, ah'm no'." John replies, rubbing his cheek. "Ye ever hear of a band of roving mad squirrels calling themselves 'Gawtrybe' afore? Some fool let ten o' such beasts - at least claiming t'be - through th'gates about a week back, it were. Right now most are hold up in a treehouse meant fore thae abbey babes, and th'chief's infirmary."

Saro shakes her head, looking somewhat baffled. "Never heard of 'em," she states conclusively, then frowns. "And they took over the treehouse?" Her head tilts to one side, and she can't seem to decide whether to be outraged or amused by this. "They didn't hurt anyone, did they? What do they even want with a treehouse built for children? And what happened to their chief?" She stifles a snicker. "He didn't fall out of the tree, did he?"

"Fell off th'lader after losing a brawl." John's tail swishes back and forth. "Nae wonder ye've no' heard of them - yore from th'southlands, ye said afore, aye? They're a wild tribe, little better than vermin ah'd say.... Least when their leader's a brat like thae one now, ore thae one old Anomen fought." He pauses, shaking his head. "That were seasons ago at this point, it were."

"But fore th'tribe of squirrels themselves - they've yet t'hurt any beast, far as ah'm aware. They've come close, though, and have had their paw in a fair amount of mischief- no' helped much by how thae elders handled them at first. Honeyed and feathered th'father abbot and th'bagdermother's son they did, and what did thae order dae? Nothing - they let them squirrels dae as they pleased, though that isnae anything new." He sighs. "Likewise because of that, a group of dibbuns tried dealing with th'theft of their treehouse on their own and it almost turned ugly. Got them back inside in thae end, mind ye. After that's when th'brat of a chief lost and fell, so he did." Even though he's aware he's omitted several details, the key points were hit. "As ah were thae one t'drag his sorry hide t'thae infirmary, th'rest of th'squirrels haven't much taken kindly t'me, they haven'."

Saro listens to this account with interest and even a little astonishment, particularly when it comes to the honeying-and-feathering. "They did that to the abbot?" she asks, sounding aghast, or maybe just awed by the tribe's audacity. "And nothing happened to them for that?" She lets out a soft whistle, then wrinkles her nose. "The abbeyfolk are all peace-loving folks I guess.. but still! Whew! I feel a bit sorry for the dibbuns, anyhow. I'm glad none of them have gotten hurt, but I imagine they're upset, poor things." A pensive look crosses her face as she appears to consider this entire situation, but then she squints sidelong at John. "Who was the other party in the brawl?"

"Ah were," There's a flatness to his voice as he said it. "Provoked him intae fighting, ah did. Ah'll admit ah took out some frustration at th'time." Scratching the back of his paw with his other, John shrugs. "Thae abbey beasts have always been th'type t'no' deal with an infection till they're forced t'cut a limb off, they have - no' that ah mean t'call that Gawtrybe an infection. Ore maybe ah dae." He carefully sets his sat on the ground and leans his back against a pillar, crossing his arms and gazing up at the high ceiling. "This where no' th'first time ah ore Mossflower's had dealings with th'beasts, mind ye."

Saro nods to John while considering him carefully, not looking at all surprised to find he was the brawler in question. She shifts her gaze thoughtfully upward. "They've caused trouble here before?" she asks, after a moment of contemplative silence. "The Gawtrybe? I've never even heard of them, but as you said, I'm not from around here. If any beasts like this have ever troubled the southlands, it was before my time or far away from my own home." Her tail gives a sharp swish, and she lowers her gaze from the ceiling. "And you yourself have some history with these hooligans?"

"In a way, aye." John slowly nods again. "Th'trouble they caused were back in th'days of thae old abbot, afore Benar - Redwall was captured at th'time by vermin, so th'tribe's mischief werenae much remembered, ah think, especially since th' leader who took charge of them back then were a beast ah'd call reasonable- and they did help retake thae abbey that summer. Ah must have been a fair few seasons younger than ye are now, Ah'd guess."

"That were seasons ago, and that leader's long dead - buried in th'graveyard, truth be told. Ah suppose after Anomen's passing th'Gawtrybe fell back intae their old ways."

"I see..." Saro's tail gives another swish, slower this time. "A pity they couldn't've mended their ways for good and all. It's a wonder what a difference a single good leader can make.." She sighs slightly. "I hope the ones now can be.. persuaded to give up the treehouse without much more trouble. They don't sound like a good bunch to have ranging free through the abbey." Hefting the sack up higher on her shoulder, she asks, "D'you think there's anything I can do to help? Or-- well, surely someone's handling it, by this point?" She cants her head doubtfully.

"Frankly ah'm no' sure if there's anything t'be done." John says with a shrug, "There's no' telling who they may well listen tae ore no'. Th'good father abbot and badger mother tried speaking with them today, ore so ah heard tell, but time may be thae only way t'find out. In th'meantime, ah'm no' so keen on sticking 'round here witting fore thae abbey t'finally have enough and take action, ah'm no'. Life's tae short - ah also fear th'Gawtrybe may have become as they are... again... after th'battle ah mentioned. They'd lost a fair number of themselves even before it took place, which were partly my own fault - ah helped spark a bit of violence between members, and ah'm no' eager t'see something similar happen again, even if they're unarmed."

"Right, then..." Saro sighs regretfully. "I'm sure the abbot and the badger mother are not only better diplomats than me but also a sight more imposing than I'd be." Her nose wrinkles in a faintly wry grimace. "My words have always been better at riling beasts up than talking them down, anyhow." Frowning at John, she continues to study him before saying a touch awkwardly, "It sounds like seeing this tribe again has stirred up some memories you'd rather have had left alone. I hope for everyone's sake it all ends quietly this time round."

"Indeed." John mutters. There's a noticeable pause before he says anything again, his tone shifting to something brighter: "Ye'd might be surprised, ah'd wager - mah own words t'try and rile them up didn' take, and ah had t'start banging on th'treehouse from below with a stick before th'wee chief came down, and all in all he fought far more fairly than ah were prepared fore. No' one kick, scratch, ore bite t'tell of... Truth be told ah'm no' that worried. All th'squirrels - and th'chieftain - are young, and they act more akin t' dibbuns than a threat ah'd say."

Saro looks a little relieved to hear this, and she too sounds a bit more cheerful again. "That is good to hear," she agrees. "If they're so young as that and not really given to cruelty, then maybe now that they've had their bit of mischief they'll come around to reason.. if they're treated firmly yet fairly. I suppose we'll see, anyhow." She stretches herself, shrugging her shoulders to work the kinks out. "If there's naught to be done tonight, then I think I'm going to find a bedroll to fall over on. It'll be good to sleep in the warm and dry again." She gives John a smile small. "And good to see you again too."

Bowing his head to to her, John returns the expression. "As it were ye. And we shall see, ah suppose." Bending down more he snatches up his bag though refrains from slinging it over his shoulder. His eyes are focused on it as he asks, suddenly, "Ah don' suppose as well - well," he repeats, "While ye were out and about - were there anything ye saw ore heard out of th' ordinary? Like say, a beast wearing bird feathers on themselves - colourful ones, mind ye. If no', don' ye worry. A mere curiosity o'mine."

Despite his generally light tone before, he speaks with a surprising earnestness, and he seems, if not worried, a bit anxious for an answer.

Saro frowns and gives John a more searching look in turn. "I didn't, no.. Although," she says slowly, "I did see a little group off some ways through the trees, a bit north of here. But I was intent on my own errand, and, well.. it's often better not to pry into the business of strangers in the woods, I've found, so I kept my distance. Too far to make out any such things as feathers, I'm afraid." Her tail flits from side to side, seeming to respond to the other squirrel's own hint of anxiety, but her gaze is level. "If I do see any such beasts the next time I'm out, is it something worth keeping an eye on?" she asks quietly.

At her first words, John begins to lower his pack with something close to relief on his face - but as she goes on he listens intently, his tail staying still. He meets her eyes, nodding again. "Well, it might be." He begins, "When ah were in Halyard- west of here, by the great sea it is - ah had some dealings with a group that made use of feathers like that, and ah came back here t'see if they had spread inland. They hadn' when ah got here, and haven' in th'times ah've gone looking since, and ah let th'matter rest this past winter...." He shakes his head, finally slinging the pack over his shoulder. "They arenae th'type of beasts t'be overly afraid of, ah'd say, just something that ah want t'keep an eye on, that's all - probably fore th'best ye kept yore distance anyhow, as there are more dangerous brigands about these woods."

Bowing his head to her once more, he says, "Anyway, ah think ah might go check on th'group ye mentioned, ah will. Call me paranoid if ye will," he gives a small smile, "But good night regardless."

Saro pays close attention to this information, promising at the end, "I'll keep a lookout, then, but I'll not take any chances with anybeast I don't know -- which is most all of them, around here." Then she flashes John a grin as she adds, "But either way, I know I'll rest safer knowing the brawler squirrel of Redwall is out there keeping a watch on things." There's a serious look in her eyes despite the levity of her words, but she seems to prefer to end things on a lighter note even if she also seems resolved to take the matter seriously. "Good night, friend John. May you be as safe as you are vigilant." And with that she turns and makes her way up the stairs, bundle of wood and all.

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#1 2022-03-28 06:11:19 PM

A Return & Departure - Redwall 3/24/22

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