A New Arrival

[Esme]

Esme staggered out of the woods, and gaped at the sight before her. Her father, when he was alive, had described Redwall Abbey as being a large structure, but she had never expected this!
She started to take a step, only to gasp in pain as her back twinged again. It had been hurt in the last storm to shake Mossflower, and she suspected that it might be infected in some way.
She clutched her bow, gritted her teeth, and dragged herself to the gates, desperate for the help she needed for her back. Pulling back her paw, she pounded on the solid timbers.
The movement caused the pain in her back to explode, and she passed out, collapsing on the dirt path, her mind going mercifully blank, her other paw, wrapped around the pouch hanging from her neck.

[Eastpaw]

Tapping sounded along the gates, the unmistakable sound of mole claws being tapped along wood. There was a scraping sound as the mole lifted the heavy bar blocking the gate, nearly silent chuffs sounding as the owner struggled before finally maneuvering the beam out of the way. The door swung gracefully outwards, beautifully balanced. A furry, dark head poked out around the door.

Seeing the ottermaid collapsed on the pathway, Hurrth shuffled outside to prod her gently with a digging claw. Getting no response, the mute mole threw up his paws. There was no way even a strong mole like the carpenter could carry the otter alone. He rushed into the abbey grounds, arms above his head, flailing as he tried to catch the attention of anybeast nearby. He couldn't shout, so he merely darted towards the abbey building, looking for anyone who could help.

[Warhound]

The blonde border squirrel was the first to notice the frantic antics of their mole friend, Hurrth. Sheathing the claymore he'd been polishing at the top of the battlements, Lhiam shouted to the overwrought mole just as sharp eyes espied the fainted otter in the distance.
"Hold on Hurrth, help's on the way!"

The spiky blonde head disappeared from view just then, hurrying down from the battlements in a whirl of blue tartan and bushy tail-fur, barely pausing to explain - in a few short words - "Hurt otter, Hurrth outside." to anybeast who asked just what he was up to. Bursting through the abbey front doors, Lhiam made a direct line for the carpenter mole, clapping a paw onto his shoulder, quick to survey the situation. "Well done Hurrth, I'll help you get her inside." Gesturing as though to lift her, Lhiam took note of the otter's paw grasped around something that hung from the ottermaid's neck. Not willing to give it much more thought, Lhiam lifted the collapsed creature by the legs, trusting the mole to hold up the other end, and together they would cart her into the infirmary.

Though Coor hadn't paused long enough in his flight to think he might draw the attention of other Abbeydwellers out onto the leaf-dappled lawns, the blonde squirrel wasn't objecting to the few creatures he caught approaching out of his peripherals, so long as no one got in their way.

[Esme]

Esme groaned when she felt somebeast lift her by the arms and legs. This immediately caused her to react, kicking out to free herself, even as she twisted and landed on her footpaws, her free paw pulling out her belt knife to defend herself.
Too many seasons as a wanderer had taught her to always be alert, and she cursed herself as her gaze flicked from the open gates to the squirrel and mole that had been carrying her, to the Abbey main building and the creatures approaching them.
Catching sight of several Dibbuns, she relaxed a little, just as her back convulsed again, and she hissed, hunching over a little as the pain ran through her.
She kept her knife held out, however, as she stared down the mole and squirrel.
'Who-who are you...? Where were...' she hissed again from the pain, but refused to let herself pass out a second time. 'Where were you taking me?'

[Eastpaw]

Hurrth slipped his paws under the otter's shoulders, lifting her in coordination with Coor. They had barely taken a step when the ottermaid awakened, twisting out of their grasp. Hurrth made a face of dismay as she landed on her feet unsteadily. Why did he always get the fidgety ones, the ones with-- holy Mossflower, she had a knife. He held out his digging claws, keeping the curious dibbuns back.

Hurrth snorted in frustration, knowing he could not answer her questions. He could talk with many of the abbeybeasts, if only because most of them had known him for years and understood the language he had made for himself, but she was an outside. The older mole wrinkled his face in a friendly grin, reaching one hand out to her. With the other he gestured up at the abbey. They needed to get out of the gateway before some clever dibbun decided to explore Mossflower wood by himself.

His digging claws descended on the knife, slowly, as to not startle her. It was a gesture to convey she should put the knife away.

[Esme]

Esme blinked at the Mole's actions, and then her eyes widened in understanding. Her gaze flicked to the Dibbuns, and she quickly put her knife away, knowing that the mole, at least was a friend.
She was about to speak to the little ones when one of them tried to dart past her onto the path, and she didn't hesitate to follow, revealing the wound on her back as she grabbed the little one by his tunic and lifted him up gently.
'Oh, no you don't, matey. I doubt they want you out there alone.'
'Lemme go, lemme go!'
The Dibbun unknowingly slammed his paws down on her back, and she gasped in pain, fighting to stay awake as the wound on her back ruptured.
'Dark Forest Gates, that hurts...! Yore a little trouble maker, you are!' Somehow, she managed to get back inside the gates, still holding onto the Dibbun firmly.

[Sigurd]

"Och, young lad,ye be hurtin' ta' pretty miss, ye ken!" a highlander hare said, striding over. He wore his usual apparel, a plaid brass buttoned tunic, and had his straight sabre is a moss clothe scabbard, hanging at his side. His ears stood straight up, not at all dampened by the cold weather.

"Och, meh' lads, yeh' be taken yon' miss to thee' infirmary?" he asked. "Ah'll help thee' oot, ye ken!" he said, trying to get his arm over her to support her.

(Thought i'd join)

[Esme]

Esme winced back when he touched her back. Despite the evilness that had been trapped in the wound now being mostly gone, it still hurt badly.
'I'm sorry, mate, but I can' let ye touch me back. Tha' last storm ou' in th' woods, I got hit by a broken branch. Not the soft tip, either. Tis' one o' the reasons I came here.'
She looked over at the mole apologetically. 'I'm sorry for scarin' ye, mate, but I've been travellin' so many years now that it just comes naturally. Faced too many foes ou' there to count, m'fraid.'
She wavered slightly on her footpaws, and quickly pulled her longbow out of the quiver she usually carried it in so she would have something to lean on.
The bow was large, slightly longer than she was in height, and had carvings all over it that made it clear it was more than a weapon to her.
'Me name's Esmerelda, Esmerelda Jade, though most folks I get friendly with just call me Esme.' She held a paw out to the mole, a tense smile on her face.

[Grath]

Hurrth breathed a sigh of relief. It was a good thing that the young miss had understood him. Otherwise he might have had to take more drastic measures, Hurrth hated taking drastic measures. He was a very peaceful mole. Just then the dibbuns got the very idea he’d rather been hoping they wouldn’t. Hurrth managed to snag one of the little troublemakers, but the otter had to snatch up the other.

The carpenter shook his digging claws at the dibbun, a little vole, in an admonishing fashion as he walked back inside. The otter was awake, she could carry herself the rest of the way inside the gate.

'I'm sorry for scarin' ye, mate, but I've been travellin' so many years now that it just comes naturally. Faced too many foes ou' there to count, m'fraid.'

The plump mole let the little vole down with a pat on his tail to send him on his way. He turned to the otter, shaking his paws and head, doing his best to convey admonishment and rebuke. She didn’t know his private little sign language, so he settled for body language and a disapproving look. Hurrth did those very well. He was the middle child and had plenty of younger (and older!) siblings to practice on.

'Me name's Esmerelda, Esmerelda Jade, though most folks I get friendly with just call me Esme.'

Hurrth shook her paw briefly, but turned once again, leading the way to the abbey. If they kept making these stops, how could they ever get to the infirmary?

[Esme]

Esme tried not to laugh-it hurt too much to do so.
'Ye haven't signed your name yet, mate. I can't talk to you properly without one.'
She followed him inside, and gaped at the sight before her in astonishment. A large tapestry was draped across one of the walls, and in the center, was a mouse leaning on a sword as he smiled mysteriously. Around him, vermin fled in fear, but Esme didn't see them.
Her gaze was fixed on the mouse in front of her.
'Who is this? I know him, I know I do... I'm certain I've seen him somewhere... I just don't know where...' She blinked, frowning. 'Somethin' abou' a place called... Storm... hold...'

[DanceMastah]

High in the trees next to the walls, a wildcat was perched. His name was Deathfang, on account of the fact that his left fang poked out of his mouth a bit and was extremely sharp. He had been tracking the Esmerelda down for weeks. He traced the scar down his left eye, which as covered up by an eyepatch. Deathfang had actually encountered the otter-maiden. She had tried to interrogate him for whereabouts of her two sisters. He had attacked her, and had the upper hand, when she painfully gored his eye out. She had additionally slashed him three times across the eye. Deathfang had run off. She would not be forgiven. Ever. Pushing thoughts of revenge from his mind, Deathfang concentrated on sharpening his sword, which he was prone to do when bored.

[Sigurd]

"Och, then put ye' arm 'round meh' back, then, lassie!" the Highlander hare said, "Or, we can't get yeh' en', ye ken!" he said, with a friendly grin. "Eh, what mouse yeh' be taulkin' aboot, lassie?" the hare asked, bewildered.

[Esme]

Esme blinked, not even hearing the hare's offer of help, she was so caught up in staring at the tapestry. Underneath her breath, just loud enough for the others to hear she whispered a rhyme she'd heard in her dreams.

'Away to the north,
Your sisters have gone,
To that Northern coast,
Cold and alone.

Your kin are trapped,
Held tight and strong.
Follow the daisies,
As you have for so long.

Trust the Patrol,
That band strong and true,
They are there to help others
Like you.'

Esme's gaze was so fixed on the tapestry, that she never even felt the dizziness and pain hit once more, even as she collapsed at the foot of the tapestry.
The last thing she would remember seeing was the blade hanging over the tapestry, the same one that the warrior mouse held against the vermin in the tapestry.