When his father had gone to bed, Tammo watched his mother and Russa conversing earnestly in low voices. He knew they were discussing something important, but could catch only snatches of their conversation.

“Nay, ’tis impossible, Mem. I travel alone, y’know that!”

“Well, there’s a round score o’ pancakes to take along if you’ll help me, Russa.”

“But I might not be goin’ anywhere near Salamandastron!”

“Well then, take him as far as Redwall Abbey. He’ll meet other warriors there, and the Long Patrol visits regularly. He won’t be any trouble, I promise you. The Colonel’s forbidden him t’go, but there’ll only be trouble ’twixt the two of ’em if he has to stay.”

“A score o’ pancakes you say, Mem?”

“Make it thirty if y’like! He’ll keep up with you an’ obey every word you say, I know he will. Do it as a favor to me an’ you’ll always be welcome to a meal at Camp Tussock!”

“Hmm, thirty pancakes, eh, hah! And it’d be one in the monocle for that old waffler, somebeast disobeyin’ his orders. Right then, I’ll do it, but we’d best leave tonight an’ be well away from here by the morn. I’ll wait outside in the copse. Send him out when he’s ready.”

Russa departed, muttering something about preferring to sleep out under the stars. Mem Divinia started clearing the table.

“Come on now, all of you, off t’bed, mind what the Colonel said, work t’be done tomorrow. Tammo, you stay here an’ help me to clear away. Good night all, peaceful dreams!”

One by one they drifted off to the big dormitory cellar, which had been built beneath the stockade.

Osmunda nodded to Mem. “They’m all gone abed now, marm.”

Mem took a haversack from her wall cupboard and began adding pancakes to its contents. “Tammo, put those dishes down and come here. Hurry, son, there’s not much time.”

Mystified, Tammo came to sit on the table edge near his mother. “What’n the name o’ seasons is goin’ on, marm?”

Osmunda smacked his paw lightly with a ladle. “Do ee be ’ushed now, maister, an’ lissen to ee muther.”

Mem kept her eyes averted, fussing over the haversack. “Lackaday, I’m not sure whether I’m doin’ the right or the wrong thing now, Tammo, but I’m givin’ you a chance to see a bit o’ life out in the world. I think ’tis time you grew up an’ joined the Long Patrol.”

Tammo slid off the table edge, disbelief shrill in his voice. “Me, join the jolly ol’ Long Patrol? Oh, marm!”

Mem pulled the haversack drawstrings tight. “Keep y’voice down or you’ll waken the entire camp. Our friend Russa has agreed to take you in tow. She’ll keep you safe. Now don’t be a nuisance to that old squirrel, keep up, and don’t dare cheek her. Russa ain’t as lenient as me an’ she’s a lot quicker on her paws than your father, so mind your manners. There’s enough food in the haversack to keep you going for a good while, also thirty of my pancakes for Russa. Come over here, Tamm, stand still while I put this on you.”

Mem Divinia took from the cupboard a twine and linen belt, strong and very skillfully woven. It had a silver buckle fashioned in the image of a running hare. Attached to the belt was a weapon that was neither sword nor dagger, being about half the length of the former and twice the size of the latter. Tammo cast admiring glances at the beautiful thing as his mother set the belt sash fashion, running over his shoulder and across his chest, so that the buckle hung at his side.

The long knife had no sheath, but fitted neatly through a slot in the belt buckle. Carefully, the young hare drew the weapon from its holder. Double edged and keenly pointed, its blue steel blade was chased with curious designs. The cross hilt was of silver, set with green gems. Bound tightly with tough, red, braided twine, the handle seemed made for his paw. A highly polished piece of rock crystal formed the pommel stone.

Mem tapped it lovingly, saying, “This was made by a Badger Lord in the forge at Salamandastron; ’tis called a dirk. No weapon ever served me better in the days when I ran with the Long Patrol. Your father always preferred the battle-ax, but the dirk was the weapon that I loved specially. It is the best gift I can give you, my son. Take it and use it to defend yourself and those weaker than you. Never surrender it to a foebeast or let any creature take it from you. Time is running short, and you must leave now. Don’t look back. Go, make Camp Tussock proud of you. Promise me you’ll return here someday, your father loves you as much as I do. Fate and fortune go with you, Tamello De Fformelo Tussock—do honor to our name!”

Osmunda patted his ears fondly. “Furr ee well, maister Tamm, oi’ll miss ee!”

Seconds later Tammo was rushing out into the night, his face streaked with tears and covered in white flour dust from his mother’s good-bye embrace. Russa Nodrey materialized out of the pine shadows like a wraith.

“I hope my pancakes aren’t gettin’ squashed in that there bag. Looks like you’ve brought enough vittles with ye to feed a regiment for seven seasons. Right, come on, young ’un, let’s see if those paws o’ yours are any good after all the soft livin’ you’ve been brought up with. Shift y’self now. Move!”

The young hare shot forward like an arrow from a bow, dashing away from his birthplace to face the unknown.