Hello the Gates

[Resh]

Autumn had been swift in coming, but it seemed that summer was still trying to grasp the lazy days. The leaves were red and auburn, but the sun was warm, sinking into the dusty path that ran from North to South. The breeze teased the daisies growing out of the ditch that was swiftly filling with leaves. A pair of paws scuffed the road with her sandals, sending dirt and pebbles scudding across the path. Resholea swung her coal-grey drawstring sack at her side, the straps in her paw rather than over her shoulder, her fiddle on her back. The colors of the turning trees went dashingly with her pale yellow tunic with burgundy and dark brown embroidery, and she simply looked like she belonged to travel that road on any Fall afternoon.

At eighteen, Resh could feel adulthood like the air in front of her - she knew it was there, but didn't know if she had it, or how to get it. She turned her whiskers upward, letting the sun warm her cheeks as she thought vaguely about her life. She closed her eyes and could taste Summer on them again as she swung her sack by her side. Her eyes smiled when she popped them open and she took a breath, singing out the two lines in a clear, strong voice.

"You can't fool me, summer day -
I can tell when Autumn is on her way!"

She scooped up a pawful of leaves, shoved her nose in them to take in the earthy smell, then ran the rest of the way to Redwall Abbey, leaving a trail of colored leaves scattering in her wake.

The sandstone stood tall in front of her, handsome against the scape of yellow and brown leaves. Resh took in the gate with her eyes, brushed the walls with her paw like the leaves did when the wind bent the branches near the ramparts. Redwall, the one place, of all her travels, she had heard so much of and yet never been to. To her, it painted in her imagination comfort and music and happiness, but more than that, stories. Tales. Yarns. A place like this couldn't come without a hundred and one stories, or she would be sorely disappointed.

She gave the huge oak gate several firm thumps with her paw, then hallooed the insiders.

"Anybeast'd be welcome t'open this gate, if you like a note o' music and some such!"

[Django]

Django dropped to the ground, laughing uncontrollably as a gang of Dibbuns attacked him with tickles. Their eyes shone with glee, and their laughter mingled with his into the autumn sky. Their little paws found his ticklish spots around his neck, hips, and under his arms. They pounced on his torso to hold him down, their smiles wrapping twice around their pudgy little faces.

"Stop! Stop!" Django pleaded, tears of laughter streaming from his eyes. The little ones maid him no heed as they all rolled along in the grass, squealing with giggles.

"Gonna tickle ya aw day, Mista Jan!" a little hogbabe threatened, hugging one of his arms.

"Burr, ee be gurt ol' mouser, troiyin' tur tickle us likkle'uns," a young mole admonished, her blunt digging claws trying to force his other arm away from his ribs to get at his ticklish spot.

"Haha! I said it was-ahahaha-it was jus' a joke! Hehe-AHAHAHA!" the spotted mouse could hardly speak for laughing so much. His sides hurt from his mirth, and it was one of the nursemaids who finally rescued him from the Dibbuns.

"Great seasons! Leave that poor mouse alone, you little hooligans!" the sister shouted, herding the babes away from Django. When he was finally free, he took a few minutes to simply lay in the grass and try to stop laughing. Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, he got into a sitting position, letting out a shaky sigh, his cheeks hurting from smiling so long.

"Anybeast'd be welcome t'open this gate, if you like a note o' music and some such!"

Hello? What was this? Django turned towards the big oaken gates at the sound of the voice. Jumping to his feet, he scurried up to the top of the ramparts, leaning out over the wall to see the newcomer. Well, what do you know? It was a young mousemaid come to call. "Halloo, to ye too, Miss!" he called back with a wave.

Hurrying back to the ground, the spotted mouse opened one of the heavy gates to allow the visitor in. "Welcome t' Redwall abbey, mate," he greeted. "Gate's allas open t' friends!" He stepped aside to let her through, admiring her fancy embroidered tunic. "My name's Django. Wot's yore's?"

[Resh]

In hardly a moment, someone was at the ramparts calling a reply to her. Resh slipped the straps of her sack back over her right shoulder and took a step back to crane her neck upwards. A mouse who couldn't be much younger than herself waved a paw with his greeting, and then he was out of sight. Resh thought she could hear him flying down the steps.

The crack between the two oak gates grew as the mouse heaved one door open. Resh used one paw to sweep back the feather in her hat band that had fallen into her vision in the moment before she was seen, then -
"Welcome t' Redwall abbey, mate. Gate's allas open t' friends!" The sandy and spotted mouse who had hailed her from the ramparts stood before her, the faded green tunic he wore strangely becoming against his light fur. He moved himself to the side to allow her in, saying, "My name's Django. Wot's yore's?"
Resh took a step forward into the gate, sweeping off her hat in an extravagant bow.

"Me name's Resh, good Redwaller. Rose o' the North, performer, taleteller and singer extraordinaire." She straightened from her dramatic introduction, adding, "An' I'm pleased ta meetchu, Django." She could see green lawns stretched out behind her greeter, red and golden leaves quite lovely piled up against the sandstone of the great Abbey where the wind had pushed them. She took in a small breath; the air seemed nicer here.

Adjusting her fiddle strapped to her back, Resh said, "Oh, an' this is my Lady Dae, a fine fiddle, she is. Just us two seekin' a place to stay fer a few days in exchange for a little music, we is."

[Django]

"Me name's Resh, good Redwaller. Rose o' the North, performer, taleteller and singer extraordinaire." She straightened from her dramatic introduction, adding, "An' I'm pleased ta meetchu, Django."

"Pleasure's all mine, Mizz Resh," Django replied, closing and bolting the gate firmly as the female mouse stepped inside. She certainly had a lot of fancy titles. Well, it must go with the fancy clothing. You couldn't be regular old whatever-your-name-was if you wore a tunic as nice as hers and a feathered cap.

Adjusting her fiddle strapped to her back, Resh said, "Oh, an' this is my Lady Dae, a fine fiddle, she is. Just us two seekin' a place to stay fer a few days in exchange for a little music, we is."

"Music, eh?" the spotted mouse repeated, leading her further into the abbey. "I'm shore we gotta place furra fancy fiddler like yeself. Allas room at Redwall, y'know. I think we got some other fancy fiddlers here if'n yore wantin' t' meet 'em." He kept a wary eye out for more Dibbuns, just in case they had decided to tickle-torture him again, and indicated the Great Hall.

"I bet yore hungry arter travelin' so much, Mizz Resh," he said. "We got vittles aplenty in th' kitchens." Vaguely, he wondered how old she was. She looked about his same age, but she was probably a year or two older, most likely closer to eighteen than his sixteen years. After all, sixteen-year-olds didn't travel on their own.

[Resh]

"Pleasure's all mine, Mizz Resh," Django said, bolting the gate behind them. Resh couldn't help stepping several steps more into the Abbey grounds, a pleasant fall breeze rolling over the both of them. The creatures about the lawn looked comfortable in the shadow of their Abbey. "I'm shore we gotta place furra fancy fiddler like yeself. Allas room at Redwall, y'know. I think we got some other fancy fiddlers here if'n yore wantin' t' meet 'em."

"I ain't all that fancy, you know," Resh said, slightly sheepish. She plucked at the front of her tunic. "Me grandmum made this fer me, y'see, afore she died. Used to say red suited me, she did." I guess it does, those Northener's callin' me Rose and what not. "Didn't even know it would come to such good use t'me as a performer, she didn't." Resh shrugged and adjusted her cap. "But ye said there're other fiddlers like meself 'ere? Are there really?" Resh went on, her eyes perking. She hesitated and then added quieter, "Been a while since I played a good duet."

"I bet yore hungry arter travelin' so much, Mizz Resh," Django said. "We got vittles aplenty in th' kitchens."
Resh grinned, shaking off thoughts of late company. "I'm not all that 'ungry, actually. Y'kin drop that "Mizz" business, Django. I'm sure you can handle me name just fine without adding extra weight to it." She hitched her sack up on her shoulder again, looking out into the lawns. "I heard lotsa songs about this place, I have. 'An I don't got any doubt it won't live up to what they say," She said softly, watching little ones being herded across the grounds by a sister in a green habit. A leaf blew into her ear and folded itself out, letting the wind carry it. Moss was growing on the far side of a pond, and green mixed with Autumn colors burst from every corner of the grounds. Resh smiled a little.

[Django]

"I ain't all that fancy, you know," Resh said, slightly sheepish. She plucked at the front of her tunic. "Me grandmum made this fer me, y'see, afore she died. Used to say red suited me, she did."

"Fancier'n I am," Django chuckled. "I ain't got much more t' me name'n this ol' thing." He hooked his thumbs in the shoulders of his green tunic. "I 'specially don't got no fiddle. Can't play a note a' music t' save me life, y'see." It was true, he was better with a staff (and even then he wasn't all that good) than he was at playing instruments.

"But ye said there're other fiddlers like meself 'ere? Are there really?" Resh went on, her eyes perking. She hesitated and then added quieter, "Been a while since I played a good duet."

"Aye, there's a nice hare wot lives 'ere," the spotted mouse replied, stuffing his thumbs now into his black leather belt. "Pretty shore 'is name's Rook. Don't speak a word, but 'e plays th' fiddle like nobeast's business. I think he's makin' up a song fer our Autumn feast comin' up. Nice fella."

"I'm not all that 'ungry, actually. Y'kin drop that "Mizz" business, Django. I'm sure you can handle me name just fine without adding extra weight to it."

Django grinned cheekily, one ear flicking to the side briefly. "Jus' tryn'a be polite," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. If he'd learned anything at Redwall (unwillingly) it had been manners. Mister This, Missus That. It bugged him to no end, but he wasn't an adult yet. He had to obey his elders until the beast in question requested informality.

"I heard lotsa songs about this place, I have. 'An I don't got any doubt it won't live up to what they say," She said softly, watching little ones being herded across the grounds by a sister in a green habit.

Django smiled and followed her gaze. Both his ears dropped back at the sight of the Dibbuns, and he ducked behind a nearby tree. "Don't let 'em see me!" he whispered frantically, peeking out from behind his shelter. "They'll tickle me t' death, the liddle brutes . . ."

[Resh]

"Fancier'n I am," Django chuckled. "I ain't got much more t'me name'n this ol' thing." Resh looked at his faded tunic, then her eyes caught green habit wearing sisters and brothers. Green seemed to be the color here. It didn't suit anyone badly.

"It's not all that bad ta just have one somethin' to your name. Can't tell you how many times somebeast 'as tried ta swipe me Lady Dae," She chuckled ruefully.

"I 'specially don't got no fiddle. Can't play a note a' music t'save me life, y'see."
"Huh, that's all right. Music doesn't do any good without somebeast t'listen to it," Resh said. "Sometimes I wonder if'n I likes to hear the music or be makin' it more." Resh thought about how her grandmother would sit and listen to her tell stories while she stitched, even though she was the one who had taught them to Resh.

"Aye, there's a nice hare wot lives 'ere," Django said.
"Rook, eh? I'd like ta meet him... e'en if he don't say anything, I'm sure he's good company. Met someone like that once, I did."

Django grinned and rubbed the back of his neck when Resh said he didn't have to call her miss. "Jus' tryin'a be polite."
"...That's good. I used to hate it creatures didn't pay good respect to me grandmum," Resh said quietly. "But really, no reason fer that with me. We about the same age, ain't we?" Resh said, looking at him.

Django ducked behind a tree, and Resh laughed right out loud at his comment. "Don't let 'em see me! They'll tickle me t'death, the liddle brutes..."
Resh grinned at him in full cheek, then jogged across the lawn to where the dibbuns were collected under the sister's watchful eye.
"Who're you?" A mouse babe asked, and the sister hushed him, saying,
"Manners!"
"Me name's Resh, but that don't matter right now. See me new pal o'er there, Django? Aye, him. See, wot he just told me was that he was dying to be attacked with the tickles, 'e is..." She let her voice trail off as the dibbuns grinned at each other and ran off towards Django, chortling and yelling and leaving a faintly amused sister behind. Resh gave her a brief bow, and then ran behind the dibbuns.

[Lyrielle]

Django ducked behind a tree, and Resh laughed right out loud at his comment. "Don't let 'em see me! They'll tickle me t'death, the liddle brutes..."
Resh grinned at him in full cheek, then jogged across the lawn to where the dibbuns were collected under the sister's watchful eye.
"Who're you?" A mouse babe asked, and the sister hushed him, saying,
"Manners!"
"Me name's Resh, but that don't matter right now. See me new pal o'er there, Django? Aye, him. See, wot he just told me was that he was dying to be attacked with the tickles, 'e is..." She let her voice trail off as the dibbuns grinned at each other and ran off towards Django, chortling and yelling and leaving a faintly amused sister behind. Resh gave her a brief bow, and then ran behind the dibbuns.

The lovely autumn was about to be ruined, thanks to the ill intentions of one particularly grubby squirrel and his merry band of miscreants. At least, that was the plan, anyway. Loading a hard green pinecone into a tattered but sturdy sling, a wicked grin nearly split Puck's face in half, the young squirrel's eyes flashing. Oh this would be fun. Cupping one hand near his mouth, a barbaric mimicry of a wolf howl shook the birds from their nests, the Lost Boys -- situated in strategic places nearby -- parroting their leader's war cry and watched delightfully as the green missile shot straight for the spotted mouse behind a tree. Puck had been trying for years to harass the good creatures at Redwall but he'd never had the chance to really fire anything over the abbey's tall, protective walls. Until recently, of course, when both himself and the trees were a little bit bigger than they were the last time he'd tried it.
"Get down!"
Puck hissed to the Lost Boys clinging to the branches as he watched, waiting for either a cry of pain or a string of curses he'd have to catalog away for later use. Yep, nothing like picking on weary travellers and random strangers for the sake of his own personal enjoyment.

[Django]

Django's eyes went wide as his ears flattened back and he tried clambering up the tree. "No! No! Wait!" he pleaded as the Dibbuns came racing over, tackling him. Their squeals of laughter drowned out his breathless cries for mercy as they ruthlessly set about tickling him "to deaf!!"

"Please--AHAHAHA--stop! I can't-haha-I can't take it! HahahaAHAHAHAHA!!" the spotted mouse tried desperately to pull some of the little creatures off him, but in vain. They giggled and only held onto him tighter as half their forces located his ticklish spots once more. He doubled over in mirth and shut his eyes tightly. Opening one a crack, he located Resh, grinning in spite of himself.

"Gonna-hah!-gonna git yew fer this, Resh! Hahaha!" he laughed. Finally, the sister had to come rescue him again after nearly five minutes of tickle torment. Django was on all fours, breathing heavily and trying to get his laughter under control. Leaning back on his heels, he braced his paws on his knees, raising one brow and grinning at the mousemaid. "Are yew ticklish, Resh?" he asked off-handedly.

Suddenly, THOK!! A sharp object struck him at the base of his skull. He stumbled forward, catching himself with his arms. Biting back a curse of pain, he looked up, wondering what in the world had hit him. Rubbing the welt building up on the back of his neck, Django picked up the green pinecone that had suddenly appeared on the ground nearby.

"Get down!!"

Curling his lip in scorn, the spotted mouse cast about for the source of the voice. "Nay, get up, ya cowards," he called back. "Show yoreselves! Wot are ye, children?!" Well . . . he had no idea who he was talking to.

[Resh]

Resh watched with a certain amount of hilarity as the dibbuns attacked Django. His feeble attempts to escape up the tree lost against the numbers and Resh turned an attentive ear to his pleas amongst the laughter.

"You can't take it, you say? I dunno, you seem pretty happy t'me..." Resh said, grinning. The army of dibbuns persisted in their task, shrieking and laughing along with Django. Resh could hear an occasional, "Git 'im roight thir!" and "Mista 'ango, 'ow you like dis?"

"Gonna-hah!-gonna git yew fer this, Resh! Hahaha!" Django spluttered at her amidst his own helpless mirth. Not standing to watch Django be tortured any more, the sister rescued him, shooing the dibbuns away.
"All right, you wretches, away with you!" Her voice was stern, but Resh detected a small smile.

"Are yew ticklish, Resh?"
Resh backed away, her paws held in front of herself defensively. "I ain't never been ticklish in me live since I was a babe, I 'aven't!" She said with a nervous smile. "Don't 'ate me fer that! Everybeast looks good dressed'n laughter."
She was saved from potential revenge by a projectile hitting Django in the back of the head. A green pinecone bounced off into the grass.

"Show yoreselves! Wot are ye, children?!"
Resh's eyes flashed to the ramparts, beyond of which she thought she could hear voices. She smiled brightly. "That bump on y'head don't look too bad on you, either," She said. "I think now is a good time t'give me a tour of the battlements, don'tchu think?" She asked, mounting the stairs to the walltop. "I ain't too shabby at throwin' pinecones, either, among my other achievements."

[Lyrielle]

Curling his lip in scorn, the spotted mouse cast about for the source of the voice. "Nay, get up, ya cowards," he called back. "Show yoreselves! Wot are ye, children?!" Well . . . he had no idea who he was talking to.

Puck snickered and called back in his most obnoxious, high-pitched voice possible; "Show yoreselves! Wot are ye, children?!" This brought about a raucus chorus of laughter from the Lost Boys, several of them ready to heft more pinecones over the walltops and down upon the heads of several unsuspecting Abbey dwellers. "Now!" He hissed, hopping from one bow to the next in a single fluid motion, ducking just in time as a pinecone whizzed overhead, nearly hitting one of his dirty tufted ears in the process. "Watch it! Yew cudda 'it me, bumblebrain!"
Tagg, the orphaned 7 year old baby squirrel smiled weakly, ducking back beneath the foliage. "Sowwy Puck, oi'll aim 'igher next time!"
Puck snorted.
"yeah you'd better, adlebrain, or else the only thing yew'll be holdin' is yer head!"
Bumble, Tagg's twin brother, scrunched his face up, snickering. "Can we throw more pinecones now, Puck? A noisy mousy is tryin' ta talk to ya!"

((xD sorry, short.))

[Django]

Django growled in frustration as he was met with a cheeky imitation of his own words and another volley of pinecones. Letting loose a string of profanity under his breath, the spotted mouse got to his feet, storming past Resh and looking for his staff. He'd left it somewhere . . . Ah! There it was.

Snatching up the weapon, he hoped he at least looked more threatening than he felt as he called out, "Oh, so I'm dealin' wid a slew a' Dibbuns, eh?" He snorted, cursing again. "Figures yew lot 'ide inna trees 'stead a' fightin' like real beasts!"

The truth was, Django didn't want to look like an idiot in front of this newcomer, Resh. But, unbeknownst to him, he was probably doing that just fine on his own. Whoever was hiding in the trees had just gotten him started. A teenager yelling at a gang of mischievous kids. Yeah, there was nothing more manly.

((Hmm, I want to bring Cyle and Trace into this somehow. I think they would enjoy Puck's company.))

[Resh]

Resh heard a high-pitched mimic of Django's words from those in the trees, and a moment later another volley of pinecones rattled against the ramparts. She picked up a slew of insults from the voices in the trees, mingled with the language coming out of Django's mouth, and she couldn't help herself falling against the steps in helpess laughter.
"I didn't - Hahaha! Didn't think you - ahahaha, hee hee - Abbeybeasts would know - Haha! -- Words like that, but... ahahahaHAHA!" The end of her sentence was drowned out by her own laughter, her arm thrown over her eyes as she tried vainly to collect herself.

Django stomped past her, seizing a yew staff and yelling, "Oh, I'm dealin' wid a slew a' Dibbuns, eh?" Resh guessed he didn't like being defaced in front of a new guest. "Figures yew lot 'ide inna trees 'stead a' fightin' like real beasts!"

A pinecone hitting Resh's elbow brought her out of her laughter. Rubbing the sting ruefully, she looked at Django shouting and decided on action. Dumping her Lady Dae and sack on the wallsteps, she ran up the remaining way, scooping up pinecones and calling to Django as she went.

"You can't 'it 'em with a stick if'n they're in a tree." She started hurling the pinecones back at the offenders.

[Lyrielle]

Snatching up the weapon, he hoped he at least looked more threatening than he felt as he called out, "Oh, so I'm dealin' wid a slew a' Dibbuns, eh?" He snorted, cursing again. "Figures yew lot 'ide inna trees 'stead a' fightin' like real beasts!"

"Oh, so I'm dealin' wid a slew a' Dibbuns, eh?"
Puck nearly fell out of the tree, he was laughing so hard. "Do yew lot 'ear this idjit?" He whispered to Lir and Boon, Bumble on the otherhand, was scratching his head. "Whatsa slew, Puck?"
Thrown off by this question, the squirrel's tail drooped, their fearless, obnoxious leader obviously trying to come up with a good enough answer. "It's like a...a type of pudding."

"Are you sure?" asked Lir, the black squirrel's eyes narrowed.

Puck shot him a menacing stare. "Of course I'm sure, mossgut, what've ye got termites in yer brain'er'somethin? You know I'm right!"

Lir shrugged his dark shoulders, ducking suddenly when a pinecone whizzed by overhead. "They're returning fire, Puck!"

"a'turnink fire!" chirped Grisle, the 5 year old hogbabe who had a habit of incorrectly repeating what other beasts said. Puck snatched him off the nearest branch just in time, a pinecone knocking into the knotted bark where the babe had been just moments ago.
"Stay down and don't get in our way, got it Grisle? You too Mavin!"
The hogbabes nodded, and settled into a little abandoned hollow until the older boys needed them.

"OUCH!" shouted Boon, the ottercub rubbing his ear. Puck picked up the nearest pinecone, loaded it into his sling and returned fire, intending to give just as good as he got. "Don't just stand there whinin', hit 'em back!"

Boon had a funny look on his face. "I don't think it was a pinecone that 'it me, I think I got stung by a--"

"BEE!"

Startled, Tagg, who was petrified of bees, nearly fell out of the tree had it not been for the quickness of the black squirrel Lir, who hoisted the seven year old back up with some difficulty. Puck looked annoyed. "Stupid bees, of all the trees yew picked ter sit in-- WAIT." Scrambling over the other boys, Puck examined the medium-sized hive hanging from a nearby branch, a bee hovering dangerously close to his nose. "Lir c'mere, I got an idea!"

"You can't 'it 'em with a stick if'n they're in a tree." She started hurling the pinecones back at the offenders.

WHOOOSH!

The entire bee hive had been chucked at the innocent Abbey Dwellers, Puck's wicked eyes gleaming as he watched it, waiting gleefully for it to land. "Git over here guys, yer about to see a show!"
Nothing like watching beasts go to extreme lengths to ward off bees. Plus the hilarious little dances they did as they slapped themselves and hopped, skipped and dived into the water was always worth the effort. Puck hadn't walked away from this unscathed, and he was busy ignoring a few nasty stings on his arms from when he'd pulled the branch back -- Lir, who had helped, was also sporting a nasty sting on the tip of his nose.

[Django]

Django's eyes practically glowed with fury and shock as the bee's nest was hurled at the abbey. "Oh, those little--" a most unrighteous curse left his mouth as he dropped his staff and leapt off the wall top, nearly breaking his ankle as he landed ten feet down. The bees were swarming now, and he hoped Resh hadn't gotten in their way.

Django winced as he felt a sharp pain on his arm. He looked down to check if he'd gotten stung and noticed a nice, fist-sized pinecone lying right next to his foot. He snatched it up and ran towards the trees from whence the volleys of projectiles and the bee nest had come. He hurled the hard little cone with all his might, waving away a few bees who'd found their way down from the ramparts. He winced as he was stung twice more on his arms.

He hoped he'd hit the little miscreant who'd mocked him. "A bee's nest, eh?" he called. "That's downright low, e'en fer yew spineless lot!" He had to resist the urge to cuss again, considering the group of abbey dwellers gathering at the door of Great Hall. His ears perked up at the sound of a loud THOK!!

He prayed it was his pinecone clocking one of the little cretins on the head.

[Resh]

Resh could hear the chaotic talking, yelling, and insulting from the trees again as she whipped her last pinecone blindly in their direction. A vivid "OUCH!" brought a satisfied look to her face, until -
"I don't think it was a pinecone that 'it me, I think I got stung by a--"
"BEE!"

A bee...? Startled, Resh looked around the battlements for any hovering insects, a nuisance they didn't need. But then she made out a loud whisper from the other side.
"Lir c'mere, I got an idea!"
Oh, no...
A moment later it came wizzing over the ramparts, trailing a horde of bees in its perfect arch.

"Git over here guys, yer about to see a show!"

Django lept from the wall, and Resh winced at his chosen route of escape. She dived to the side, rolling down the wallsteps. Oof, ouch, bump, whoof - A dizzingly moment later, she ended up on the lawn upside down, her footpaws still on the bottom step and her arms protecting her face from the swarm of bees. The incessant humming of the bees rang in her ears and her arms sported many stings. Finishing her roll down the stairs by getting right-side up, she immediately started looking for more projectiles. Django had already found one and hurled it over the walls.

"A bee's nest, eh? That's downright low, e'en fer yew spineless lot!"

"You call that a show?!" Resh yelled out, indignant. "Lemme tell you something! Bees ain't nothing like music or dancin'!" She paused, not sure where she was getting with her yelling. "Bet you lot dance real good when bees are hurled at you," She finished, plopping down on the lawn to count her stings. The bees were dispersing themselves about the Abbey grounds, and she wasn't in the mood to fight back anymore. She was here for music and t'learn more stories, not to fight a crew of miscreants.

[Lyrielle]

"Did yew see their faces? HAHA! We should do this more often, eh? Let's add bees to our list of tricks guys -- come on, let's go before they get some stone slingers or--"

THONK!

Puck, who had boldly stood up on the branch, his back to the Redwallers, had suddenly found himself victim to a well-aimed pinecone courtesy of Django. "OW..." Their fearless leader swayed on his feet and tipped right out of the tree with an outrageous yell, Puck's nails tearing against the bark as he struggled to gain purchase -- but ran out of tree bough and plummeted straight to the forest floor.
WHUMP.
The skinny little red squirrel had landed rather awkwardly, and Puck, after regaining consciousness, found one of his arms didn't feel so good. Oh rat droppings. This was bad. Grimacing through the pain, the youngster turned his fierce, feral eyes upon the beast who had thrown the pinecone, scrambling up onto his feet. Ow ow ow ow, okay, arm's definitely injured. Baring his teeth, Puck started back off down the path; suddenly cupping a paw around his mouth, Puck let out a wild, exaggerated wolf howl.

Lir, who was still in a some shock from Puck's fall, the Lost Boys having stared, petrified at their fearless leader as he'd tumbled straight for he ground, recognized Puck's signal. "CODE RED GUYS, Puck's hurt! Boon, go distract those Redwallers -- Tragg, Bumble, you two are fast climbers, go get the ropes, we have to get 'im back into the trees!"
The gray squirrels scambled away immediately while Boon, the 13 year old sea otter, dropped down by Puck, baring his teeth also.
"You okay?" Boon whispered to the grimacing red squirrel, and Puck gave a tiny jerk of the head; no.

Boon cast weary eyes on the spotted mouse with the staff. Considering he was the only one of them armed...things could get ugly.

(( xD Squirrel down!))

[Django]

Django could not have been more glad at that moment. Not only had he hit one of the hooligans, but it looked like he might be the leader of the little band of miscreants. His smile could have gone twice around his face as he stormed up to the two younger creatures. His staff gripped tightly in his paws, he pulled it back, ready to thwack either one of them should they make a move.

"So, I were right," he growled. "It's jus' a bunch a' Dibbuns. No wonder yore fightin' so dirty." He snorted, shoving the butt of his staff into the red squirrel's face. "Now yore tricks're all used up, ain't they? Wot gives ye th' right t'sling pinecones an' bees' nests at beasts wot ne'er done nothin' t'ye?"

((Kinda short, sorry. But I really like writing for Jan.))

[Resh]

(*begs on knees* Please forgive meeeeee! For not posting, much less not being present... T_T [<-- tears of shame.])

Resh was about to start feeling sorry for herself for her plethora of bee stings when the squirrels started shouting again.
"CODE RED GUYS, Puck's hurt! Boon, go distract those Redwallers -- Tragg, Bumble, you two are fast climbers, go get the ropes, we have to get 'im back into the trees!"
The small red squirrel had let out a yelling wolf's cry that was the pure picture of wildness. The whole crew seemed pretty practiced in baring their teeth, but Resh picked up on what was going on. One of them had tumbled from the tree tops, and his arm looked like it had received the worse of the fall. Resh winced.

"So, I were right," Django was saying. "It's jus' a bunch a' Dibbuns. No wonder yore fightin' so dirty. Now yore tricks're all used up, ain't they? Wot gives ye th' right t'sling pinecones an' bees' nests at beasts wot ne'er done nothin' t'ye?" He had the butt of his staff in the face of the injured squirrel, and there wasn't even a moment of internal struggle - Resh stepped between them.
"Django!" She confronted the mouse, using her paw to thrust the end of the staff towards the dirt. "Don'tchu think 'e's 'urt enough? 'Twas your pinecone that did that to 'im, ain't it?" She said. Her whole body throbbed from bee stings, and if she was in the company of her old adopted mum again, she'd probably be in tears. "He needs help, I bet. Wot you call dibbuns can't fix that, prob'ly! I don't fight so much, but I don't think there's any official rules, and they did some damage and you did some damage back, so can't y'take it at that?"