Darkness fell earlier each day as the season drew into mid-autumn. The trees were bare and the harvest was in. Deyna strolled round the Abbey lawns, paw in paw with his sister and mother, savoring the moonlit night. He caught Filorn’s glance. “What is it, Mama? Have I sprouted an extra ear?”

Filorn looked away quickly, embarrassed at being caught staring. “No, son, it’s just that you’re so like your father, a big handsome riverdog.” She shuddered slightly in the night air. Deyna swept off his cloak and placed it around her shoulders. He smiled fondly.

“And you’re so like my mother and Mhera’s so like my sister. Except that I’m supposed to call her Mother Abbess now. I like having two mothers, I get treated twice as well.”

Deyna was very tall; Mhera looked up at him, chuckling. “Start calling me Mama and I’ll kick your rudder into the pond. Isn’t it time we were going inside? I can feel rain.”

Deyna placed his sister under the cloak with Filorn. “Sorry. I’ve spent so long out in the open I hardly notice the weather. Come on, we’ll take a slow walk back to the Abbey.”

Filorn measured each pace deliberately. Deyna laughed. “I didn’t mean that slow, Mama. Come on, I’ve seen you running. Don’t come the old ottermum with me, my beauty.”

The Abbey bells tolled out softly, one ring apiece. Filorn suddenly speeded up. “That’s what I was waiting for. Come on, you two, I’ll race you!”

Shoulder to shoulder with Mhera, she sped off across the Abbey lawn as the first drops of rain fell. Deyna caught up with them, sweeping both off the ground and running for the Abbey door. Mhera and Filorn were laughing, kicking and snouting.

“Hahaha, put me down, you great lump, put me down!”

“I’m the Abbess, you can’t do that to me, put me down, baby brother! Hahaha, oh dear, hope nobeast sees us. Hahaha!”

Deyna joined in the fun. “I can’t, Mama, you’ll get your paws wet, and you too Mother Abbess. Got to keep my little old sister dry. Hohoho!”

Boorab and Nimbalo were waiting in the warm shaft of light from the open door. The harvest mouse shook his head sadly. “Lookit me pore ole mate, forced t’carry ’is wicked family ’round fer the rest of ’is life. Shame, ain’t it?”

The hare fixed them with a disdainful glance as they arrived on the doorstep. “Dreadful goin’s on, wot? Here’s me in me dwindlin’ seasons, but I notice the bounder hasn’t offered t’carry me around!”

Deyna set his mother and sister down lightly. Then he lifted Boorab up and set him on his shoulder. “Right, where d’you want me to carry you to, sir?”

“I say, jolly decent of you, wot. Straight inside, laddie buck. I can’t wait to get at the jolly old harvest feast they’ve set up in your honor. Absoflippinlutely famished I am!”

The others followed Deyna and Boorab inside, Mhera calling, “You puddenheaded hare, you’ve given the surprise away!”

Great Hall was decorated with multicolored lanterns and sheaves of flowers, and the tables had been laid beautifully. Everybeast from Dibbun to elder raised a hearty cheer at Deyna’s appearance, and he was forced to feign surprise.

“Great seasons of thunder! What a marvelous spread! Thank you, friends one and all. Thank you!”

Boorab tugged Deyna’s ear. “I say, old scout, any chance of lettin’ me down, wot?”

“Hurr hurr, you’m stayen oop thurr, zurr, give us’n’s a chance at ee vikkles. ’Old on to ee gurt glutting, zurr Deyna!”

Boorab bared his teeth at Gundil. “If he does I’ll scoff his blinkin’ ears one at a time!”

Deyna sat at the head of the big table, with Filorn, Mhera, Nimbalo and Hoarg, Redwall’s oldest inhabitant. It was a feast to remember, happiness and friendship enhanced by the best of Redwall fare. Puddings, pies, pasties and cakes were arranged between fruit, berries and nuts, both fresh and preserved in honey from last autumn’s harvest. Salads, breads and soups of every variety jostled for position with trifles and flans. Drogg Cellarhog had outdone himself with his selection of ales, cordials, teas and fizzes. But the highlight was a great cheese, produced by Filorn, Boorab, Nimbalo and Gundil. The hare watched anxiously as it was served from the table’s far end.

“Steady on there, you molechaps, leave a smidgen for the Master of Abbey Music. Have a bit of respect for my cheese, you rotters!”

However, there was still almost three-quarters of the huge cheese left when it reached the much-relieved hare. He cut a large wedge, arranging it on a platter with some salad, pickled onions and a farl of warm ovenbread, and passed it proudly along to Deyna.

“Try that, sah. Go on, taste it and tell me if you’ve ever scoffed anything so good, wot?”

Deyna cut the cheese and tossed half to Skipper, so they could both sample it. Filorn smiled at their delighted expressions. “We made a new yellow cheese and spiked it with nuts, celery and herbs, then we soaked it for three days in boiling carrot and dandelion juice mixed with pale cider. Mr. Boorab gave it a name, but it’s too complicated to say.”

The hare bowed gallantly. “Quite simple, marm. We made it together, so I took a bit of our names, all four. It’s a filboonimgun. Nice title, wot?”

Mhera nudged her brother. “I’d never get any if I had to remember that name. I think I’ll just call it the nice big tasty cheese.”

Nimbalo winked knowingly. “That’s ’cos you ain’t got a memory like me, Abbess. Ahoy, Friar Bobb, pass me the floggingrumble cheese, will ye?”

Fwirl corrected him. “It’s called the grungleflingboo cheese, isn’t it?”

Others joined in, complicating the name Boorab had so painstakingly invented.

“No no, miz Fwirl, ’tis the floogenbumble, I think.”

“Nay, zurr, et be’s ee groggenfumble, oi’m surrpint!”

“Don’t be silly, the cheese is called the fumblegroogen!”

“The groggenflingbull, that’s what Boorab said!”

Sister Alkanet rapped the table for silence. “Stop this, please! Mr. Boorab, tell them the correct name.”

Everybeast sat watching the hare. They had to wait until he had eaten the big lump of cheese in his mouth. There was an expectant silence, then Boorab smiled foolishly. “Er, sorry, but I’ve completely forgotten, wot. Hawhawhawhaw!”

The entertainment was opened by Skipper and his crew performing a hornpipe, the finale of which saw them all in a circle facing outward, their rudders entwined in a pattern behind them. Fwirl and Mhera were called upon to sing a duet. It was a comic one, but they sang it seriously, with demure looks, fluttering eyelashes and paws joined sedately.

“There’s a hedgehog who lives down the lane, down the lane,

And I’m longing to see him again, once again,

I wait by the old log, for that handsome young hog,

Through the cold stormy wind, and the drizzle and fog,

But his mama won’t let him come out, him come out,

I can hear every shout from her snout, what a snout,

‘Don’t you raise a paw, to go out of that door,

Go and tidy your room,’ I can hear his ma roar.

Through the window I see his dear face, oh dear face,

By that window a ladder I’ll place, I will place,

Then just wait and see, he’ll climb down here to me,

We’ll go strolling together, how happy we’ll be.

So I crept to the window that night, cruel dark night,

I was standing the ladder upright, what a fright!

When his mama rushed out, crying, ‘O lackaday,

That naughty young Spike has gone running away!’

So I sit here and weep for my hog, faithless hog,

’Cos they say he’s run off with a frog, with a frog?

Take a maiden’s advice, if you want to look nice,

Just turn yellow and hop once or twice!”

Fwirl and Mhera hopped primly back to their places amid laughter and applause. Deyna did not wish to do any warrior’s tricks that he had learned with weapons, as they might frighten the Dibbuns. Instead he sat twenty of the Abbeybabes on a long form, took it on his shoulders and walked the full length of Great Hall. Amid the cries of admiration and wild cheers, Nimbalo announced, “I taught me mate to do that, y’know, but I used to carry twoscore o’ liddle ones!”

Boorab was not to be outdone. “Oh did you indeed? Well, I used to do it with that same number, old lad, plus me fat auntie an’ two kegs of ale. Oh yes!”

It was a fibbing contest. Everybeast sat back and enjoyed the pair, each trying to cap the other’s achievements by lying outrageously.

“Hah, that’s nothin’. When I was only a liddle sprig I could stand in a bucket an’ carry meself ’round all day!”

Boorab waggled his ears airily. “Pish tush, laddie. You’ve seen how high this Abbey is, wot? Well, one time I stood on the lawn outside and landed on the roof with a single flippin’ jump. Did it very slowly, of course, had to wait an’ rise with the mornin’ mist, y’know. If y’don’t believe me, ask old Foremole. She saw me do it, didn’t you, marm?”

Foremole Brull smiled from ear to ear. “Aye, zurr, oi see’d ee do et wi’ moi own three eyes, so oi did!”

Mousebabe Trey decided to take part. He clambered up onto Filorn’s lap and wagged a tiny paw at the two fibbers. “Chah! Dat nuffink, I climbed right up on F’lorn an’ felled inna big big trifle, so I eated meself out of it. You ask Frybobb!”

Friar Bobb nodded sagely. “He certainly did. I was there, it was no fib.”

“You fell into a giant trifle an’ ate your way out?” Boorab stared at the mousebabe with something akin to hero worship in his eyes. Trey patted his small fat stomach.

“Yip, h’I did, sir!”

The hare’s gaze misted over as he imagined what it would be like to fall into a monster trifle and eat his way out. “You lucky little blighter. Wish I could’ve had a try, wot!”

Nimbalo pushed a fair-sized trifle across the table. “Let’s see ’ow ye did it, Trey me ole tatercake!”

Sister Alkanet stepped in, catching the little fellow almost mid-dive. Boorab and Nimbalo wilted under the famous icy glare.

“I once physicked a hare and a harvest mouse so severely that they swelled up and couldn’t go out through the infirmary door. Then I had to double physick them back to normal. I can still do it. Ask Abbess Mhera, she’ll tell you.”

“Oh believe me, Sister Alkanet certainly can,” the Mother Abbess of Redwall assured them solemnly. “ ’Tis a fact!”

Boorab’s ears fell flat, either side of his face. “Stone me! A joke’s a joke an’ all that, but, er, wot wot!”

Nimbalo lifted one of his friend’s ears and whispered into it, “Fizzick? Wot’s a fizzick, matey?”

“Take the word of an officer, sah, you do not want to inquire further. The good Sister could stop a horde o’ stampedin’ frogs with just a spoonful of the jolly old jollop she brews up!”

Rain pattered against the warm-lit Abbey windows as the night wore on. Elders loosened their belts and talked of the old days, drowsy young ones were carried off to the dormitories by Skipper’s ottercrew. Bearing the famous cheese between them, a cluster of moles, Boorab, Nimbalo and Gundil followed Drogg downstairs. It was an experiment, to see how the cheese complemented the Cellarhog’s remaining stock. Old Hoarg and Brother Hoben drifted off to the gatehouse for a game of nutshells and pebbles. Friar Bobb had fallen asleep in his chair, while Floburt and Egburt crept away to the kitchens with Sister Alkanet to bake scones for next morning’s breakfast. Others shuffled off yawning to their beds. Deyna was happy just to sit with Mhera and Filorn. He gazed up at the ancient high-raftered ceiling while Abbess Mhera watched him.

“So, do you like our Abbey?”

The former Taggerung ran a paw over his unmarked face. There was no evidence of any tattoo on it. “Like it? I never imagined any place could be so wonderful. I’ve got you here, and Mama too. It’s like living in the midst of a beautiful dream!” He hugged his mother and sister close. Filorn sighed happily.

“The dream will continue. We are a family again, together, here at Redwall.”

*

Several mornings later, Nimbalo was out early, taking a morning stroll along the walltop. He liked rising before dawn and helping in the kitchens amid the good-natured bustle and delicious aromas wafting from the ovens. Friar Bobb would slice some hot bread and pack it with button mushrooms cooked in a savory herb sauce for him. The harvest mouse climbed the east wallsteps with his sandwich and ambled along the ramparts. He was fascinated by everything about the imposing architecture of Redwall, and munched away, his bright eyes taking in every detail. An early frost rimed the red sandstone battlements. Dawn was breaking slowly, calm and windless, tingeing the horizon orange and peach. Below the north wall, rowan trees were clustered thick with red and cream berries; further away he could see the fir cones, now turned brown. In leisurely fashion Nimbalo reached the northwest wall corner. His gaze swept over the flatlands and back to the path that ran alongside the west wall.

There standing in front of the main gate was Ruggan Bor at the head of three hundred armed Juska vermin. They stood immobile and silent, barbaric tattooed faces tight-lipped, awaiting their Chieftain’s command. Not a spear or a blade clanked against a shield. Ruggan Bor, the golden fox, leaned on his saber hilt, his inscrutable gaze assessing the walls.

Nimbalo dropped flat below the battlements, his breakfast forgotten as he scrambled away to the north steps.