A New Creation -open-

[Eastpaw]

Hurth sat in the sun by the pond, a piece of wood about four and a half feet long braced between his knees. He rubbed a rough sandpaper over the outward curving edge, tapping the heavy digging claws of his foot paw in a slow rhythm.

"Hurr, Unk, wot be that?" A small, fat mole waddled up and leaned against his uncle's knee.

Hurth put down his sandpaper, making a few signs with his heavy digging claws, indicating it would be a boat. The small molebabe nodded wisely, this was a wonderful thing, he, unlike most moles, was not afraid of water deeper than his waist.

Suddenly, a great deal of squeaking erupted from the pond, and Hurth, moving faster than was expected of one of his girth, was out of the chair and down by the water’s edge. A young mouse had somehow gotten into the deep bit of the pond, and was flailing about, squeaking and swallowing a good deal of water.

Turning to Murrth, the molebabe, he waved his arms, punctuating the signs with mute cries of distress. Murrth was off like a shot, crying at the top of his tiny lungs. “Sumboidy ‘elp oi! Sumboidy ‘elp oi! Sumboidy ‘elp oi! ‘elp!” He tripped over his own digging claws, going two full somersaults before coming to a rest.

[Tirael]

Brush was taking a quick patrol around the battlements, twirling his javelin absentmindedly as he scanned the woodlands. The wind carried Murrth's cries to his ears; in a trice, he was bounding down the wallsteps and across the grounds to the little mole. Kneeling, he helped him up, and asked urgently, "Are you alright, mate? What's the matter?" He hoped it was nothing more than a silly Dibbun's overreaction, but something in the way Murrth had been acting made him somewhat sure it wasn't.

[Eastpaw]

"Are you alright, mate? What's the matter?"

Helped into a standing position, Murrth spat out grass and waved his small arms. “Hurr! Mousebabe be a drownin’! Unk can’t swim!” He tugged on the squirrel’s paw, trying to get him up and moving. “Coime! ‘urry zurr!”

Meanwhile, Hurth had waded out into the water of the pond, but when it reached waist deep, it dropped off sharply, and the mousebabe was still out of reach. Gently, but firmly enough that it reached its target, he pushed the piece of wood out on the water, where it floated near the exhausted mousebabe. However, he could not reach it, and instead slipped under again, still squeaking.

[Tirael]

Brush's tail stood rigid as the molebabe spilled out the story in panicked, gasping speech. Standing, he sprinted toward the Abbey pond, throwing down his javelin and shrugging off his vest as he neared it. He took the scene in quickly: Hurth in the water, the mousebabe (whom he identified as Ollib), the fish swimming swiftly towards the two-

Knowing that there was no time to think ahead, Brush dove headlong into the water. Surfacing quickly, he swam madly for Ollib. He managed to snatch the Dibbun out of the way just as the fish snapped at where he had been. Time was of the essence, so Brush picked up the thrashing mousebabe and tossed him in the water near Hurth. Narrowly avoiding the angry fish's slapping tail, he yelled to Hurth. "That thing, toss me that wood you're holding!"

[Eastpaw]

Hurrth reached out and snagged the collar of Ollib’s smock as Brush snatched him away from the fish.

"That thing, toss me that wood you're holding!"

Hurrth, not one to whine over a necessary sacrifice, tossed the piece of sturdy wood Brush’s way. Then, turning about, the stolid mole waded back to the bank, where he waved off a hovering Murrth and laid Ollib on the back. Turning the limp head to one side, he tapped heavily on the center of the mousebabe’s chest with his digging claws, producing a stream of water from the mouse’s mouth.

When the waterworks were done, Murrth was crouching by his friend’s head, patting his ears and remarking, “Hurr, Unk, that were guid mole-sense!” He waved at Brush, unaware of his battles. “Hurr, zurr, you b’aint a bit ‘fraid o’ water, are you?”

[Tirael]

The wood landed with a splash just out of Brush's pawreach. Noting the fish speeding towards him, he managed to grab the solid beam and thwack it down quickly on his attacker's skull. Sighing in relief, Brush swam back to the shore and got back on dry land. Appreciating the warmth of the sun, he gave Hurth his handiwork back. "Here y'are, mate. I think it's still alright." Looking at Ollib, he added, "Looks like he is, too." Moving over to the little mouse, he adopted a stern tone. "Now then, what exactly were you doing in the pond? You should know to stay out of it."

[Grath]

Hurth took the wood, and after a brief inspection, sat back down in his chair and continued to sandpaper. He signed to his nephew, who turned to Brush and spoke for his uncle.

"Hurr, mista Brush zurr, Unc Hurth says thank ye for yore 'elp."

Ollib sat up. "I want'd t'swim!" He announced, beaming up at the taller Brush.

[Tirael]

"I want'd t'swim!"

The beaming, exuberant mouse looked so happy and innocent that Brush couldn't keep a grin from forming on his face, though he managed to keep his voice largely stern. "Well, you're a mite young t' be swimmin', an' besides, y'll scare everybeast to death if y' pull another stunt like this." Not wanting to be too imposing, he relented to grin, and finished with "Just, uh, just make sure someone's watching next time, alright?" Patting the little mouse on the shoulder, he moved over to Hurth.

"Hurr, mista Brush zurr, Unc Hurth says thank ye for yore 'elp."

The squirrel nodded at the two moles. "Wasn't any trouble, though it's a good thing Murrth was around." Ruffling the little mole's velvety head fur, he said, "We'll have to see that y' get somethin' nice from the kitchens."