Doomwyte: A Novel of Redwall
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On a moonless night, two rats follow hypnotic lights into the forest, never to be seen again. Such is the power of the Doomwytes, sinister ravens led by the deadly Korvus Skurr. And when the young mouse Bisky persuades the creatures of Redwall to go in search of a fabled treasure, hidden long ago by one of the abbey's most notorious thieves, they do not suspect Skurr and his ravens will be vying for the same prize. . . .
ditch an’ wash everythin’ away.” He tipped the saturated jumble of feathers that had once been a crow over the edge of the ditch. Marching away without a backward glance, Corksnout called to the young ones, “Best put a move on, or afternoon tea’ll be all gone.” Umfry hurried to catch him up. “Er, why’s that?” His grandfather was well versed in the habits of other beasts. “’Cos we got a hare to feed, have ye ever seen one o’ those lollop-pawed rascals scoffin’ vittles?” The three young friends
mint tea, mah wee lassie?” The squirrelmaid Perrit obliged willingly. “Careful, sir, it’s hot. There’s October Ale or Pale Summer Cider, if you’d like something cooler.” Hot mint tea did not seem to bother Bosie, he swigged off the beaker at a single gulp. “Weel, that hit the spot nicely. Ah’ll take a tankard o’ yore ale, an’ mebbe one o’ yon cider. Och, Ah’m thinkin’ ’twould be a sensible scheme, if’n ye were tae hire me as wee bairn rescuer tae your Abbey. Would ye no consider it, Father?”
the rain-slashed darkness. Breathing heavily, Samolus arrived on the scene. Staring out into the night, he wiped rainwater from his eyes. “What’n the name o’ fur’n’whiskers? There they go, the lights are all gathered round one, as though it’s havin’ trouble floatin’!” Bosie passed Furff to Abbot Glisam, who had just come trundling up. “Aye, it’ll have problems floatin’, or flyin’ should Ah say. Yon were braw big birds, bigger’n yon carrion Ah slew outside yore gates. Anyhow, Ah hit the scum, Ah
complaint in his voice as he watched the charge of the Dibbuns. “But what about bedtime? It’s evening already.” He was almost knocked flat from a buffet on the back by Sister Violet. “Oh, you can go to bed right now if you’re tired, Brother. We’re going to the feast!” Abbot Glisam winked at the jolly Sister. “Well said, friend, come on, I’ll race you!” Torilis cast a stern eye at their receding backs, then continued with his own measured pace. Friar Skurpul had already been told about the
prisoners in the lantern light. Both the painted tree rats huddled fearfully together. Seizing both their ears, Samolus gave them a sharp twist, to gain the vermins’ attention. Bosie drew Martin’s sword, playing the point between his captives’ snout tips. “Pay heed tae mah words, ye scruffy omadorms. Now, ye have two choices. One, Ah throw yer ears, tails an’ paws intae yon endless pit, after choppin’ ’em off. The rest of ye will follow at a leisurely pace. Och, what a pity, Ah can tell ye