Description: Chapter 2 In the woodlands south of Redwall Abbey, other young creatures were abroad that day: a small gang of water rats, eight in all, headed by one Groffgut. Leaving the larger vermin bands, they had wandered up country, seeking any opportunity to plunder, kill or cause terror. This was done in the hope of establishing themselves as a feared vermin band. Thus far they had made patchy progress, but Groffgut''s confidence was growing daily. Warm noontide sun slanted through the trees onto a quiet streambank. Some of the rats lay about by the shallows, fishing the limpid waters, whilst others foraged for nests with eggs in. Groffgut disdained such menial tasks, letting the others do all the chores. By virtue of his size, strength and quick temper, he was the chief. Stretched flat out, he gazed over the bump of his paunchy gut, idly watching the blue-grey campfire smoke blending amid sun shafts. One of his minions, Hangpaw, limped up from the shallows, displaying a small perch dangling from a line. "Yeherr, Chief, lookit, I gorra fish!" Groffgut was not impressed. "Yarr, s''only a likkle ''un. Stick it onna fire, an'' go an'' catcher some big ''uns." An excited whoop rang out from farther up the bank. "Yaggoo! Cumm an'' see dis, mates, I gorra h''eagle!" Groffgut heaved his bulk up irately. "Wot''s dat Frogeye shoutin'' about now?" Plugtail, another of the gang, came scurrying up. "Chief, Chief, Frogeye''s catchered a h''eagle!" Groffgut shoved him to one side. The rest followed him as he went to investigate, grumbling all the way. "Huh, shupid! Rats don''t catcher h''eagles, don''t dat ijjit know? It''s h''eagles wot catchers rats!" None of the gang had ever seen an eagle before, but there was no doubt that Frogeye had captured a big, fierce bird. It looked a lot like they imagined an eagle should look. Frogeye''s lazy eye, the one that normally remained lidded over, was blinking up and down, exposing the milky-hued pupil, as the rat danced around, prodding and tripping his find with a crude, homemade spear. The wounded and exhausted bird stumbled forward, desperately trying to get at the life-sustaining streamwater. Frogeye slammed his spearbutt into its body, toppling it backward, tail over crest. He laughed callously. "Yeeheehe! See, I told ya, didden''t I? I catched a real live h''eagle all by meself!" Groffgut drew his sword, which was in reality a broken scythe blade with a rope handle. Approaching the big bird, he stood on one of its half-spread wings, pinning the other with his blade as he inspected it. Had the bird not been injured or fatigued, any rat would have rushed for cover at the sight of it. Groffgut saw clearly that it was unable to resist. The bird''s savage golden eyes were clouded and flickering shut, a stream of dried blood apparently having sealed its lethally hooked beak. The magnificent dark brown and white plumage stuck out willy-nilly after being battered for leagues across stormbound seas. Groffgut gave the gang his verdict. "Aye, it''s a h''eagle, shore enuff!" Nobeast took the trouble to argue, though Hangpaw, a thin rat with a withered limb, ventured to enquire, "Wot''s we s''posed ter do wid h''eagles?" Threetooth, who lacked all but three fangs, cackled. "Yer eats ''em, I think."His companion, Rashback, so named because of an unsightly mange, scratched vigourously at his scraggy tail. "I didden know ye could eat h''eagles!"Groffgut eyed him contemptuously. "Ye can eat anybeast once it''s dead, turnep''ead!"Frogeye became huffy at not being consulted. "Hoi! Dis is my h''eagle, I catchered it. S''pose I duzzen''t wanner eat it, eh?" Groffgut pointed at Frogeye with his sword. "Tern around willyer, mate."Frogeye turned obediently, and Groffgut dealt him an enormous kick to the bottom, which knocked him flat. The breath whooshed out of Frogeye as Groffgut stamped a footpaw down on his back, sneering, "I''m the chief round ''ere! Who asked yew, malletnose? Plug, git yore rope round dis h''eagle''s claws, lash ''im tight."Plugtail flung his rope around the big bird''s legs and noosed them securely. The bird could only flap its wings feebly in protest. Groffgut issued his orders to the gang. "We''ll eat the h''eagle later. Let''s ''ave a bit o'' fun wid it first. T''ain''t every day yer gits a h''eagle ter play wid. Tow it back ter camp, mates!" The wood-gathering expedition had been a success. Tiria and her three friends had worked diligently, filling the cart with a selection of long branches and straight, thick limbs. It was mainly good yew staves, some pieces of ash and a selection of lesser but useful bits of willow and birch. The four companions were following the course of a stream, which they knew flowed close to the south path at one point. Once they reached the path, Redwall would be within easy walking distance. Tiria estimated they would reach the Abbey by early evening. Enjoying the freedom of the outdoors, and being in no great hurry, they opted to take a break for an afternoon snack on the streambank. Girry unpacked the last of their food, whilst Tiria checked the ropes which bound the cargo of wood to the cart. Brinty and Tribsy skimmed flat pebbles over the slow-flowing stream. The ottermaid felt quietly proud of herself; she had completed her task without any untoward incident. Cooling her footpaws in the shallows, she watched the noon shadows start to lengthen over the tranquil waters. Two green- and black-banded dragonflies patrolled the far reed margin, their wings iridescent in the sunlight. Bees droned drowsily around some water crowfoot blossoms, and birdsong echoed amid the trees. Tribsy left off skimming and sat down to eat. "Froo'' corjul an'' hunny sangwiches, moi fayverrit!" Tiria smiled. "Good old Friar Bibble, he knows how to look after hungry workers, eh Tribsy?" The young mole smiled from ear to ear. "Hurr, an'' us''ll be back at ee Red''all in gudd toime furr supper. Oi dearly loikes a noice supper, so oi doo''s!" Brinty took a long swig of the fruit cordial. "Don''t you ever think of anything but eating, old famine face?" Tribsy patted his stomach. "Whut''s to think abowt, maister? Oi bee''s nought but ee pore choild needin'' vittles aplenty to grow." Brinty watched the young mole demolish a sandwich in two bites. "You''re growing sideways instead of upwards." Girry gestured his friends to be quiet as his ears stood up straight. "Ssshh! Listen, did you hear that?" They listened for a moment, then Tiria shrugged. "Hear what?" Girry pointed upstream. "Over that way, sounded like somebeasts enjoying themselves, laughing and shouting." Tribsy wrinkled his snout. "Oi doan''t yurrs nuthin''. You''m squirrels can yurr better''n uz moles, burr aye." Brinty shook his head. "I don''t hear anything, either." Girry began climbing a nearby elm. "Well, I can hear it, there''s something going on up yonder. You three stay here, I''ll go and take a peep." Tiria cautioned her friend, "Stay in the treetops, Girry. Don''t go getting yourself into any trouble. I don''t want to face my dad back at the Abbey and have to tell him something happened to you!" The agile young squirrel threw her a curt salute. "Yes marm, don''t fret marm, I''ll be fine marm!" The ottermaid watched him ascend into the upper foliage. "Well, just be careful, and less of the marm, please! I''m only one season older than you, cheekybrush!"Tribsy commandeered another sandwich. "Oi''ll just finish off ee vittles whoile us''ns bee''s waitin''. Ho joy, this ''un''s gotten cheese on it, moi fayverite!"Brinty looked at his molefriend in amazement. "Is there any sandwich that isn''t your favourite?" Tribsy shook his head solemnly. "Oi b''aint found one as yet, zurr." After a while they went back to skimming stones. Tiria was by far the best skimmer, making one flat chip of bankrock jump nine times as it bounced over the water. It was rather pleasant passing an afternoon in this fashion, the ottermaid thought. She began to wonder what the fuss and stern warnings from her father had been all about.Just then, Girry dropped down out of the elm in a rush of leaves and twig ends. The young squirrel, breathless with indignation and urgency, gabbled out, "They''ve got a big bird hanging upside down from a tree and they''re lighting a fire under it, hitting it with spearpoles. We''ve got to stop them, Tiria, oh, the poor bird!" Grabbing her friend, the ottermaid shook him soundly. "Make sense, Girry! What big bird, where, and who''s hitting it? Now take a deep breath and start again, properly!"Girry obeyed, taking several breaths before he recovered. "I went upstream. I was up in a beech when I saw them. There''s about eight water rats, nasty-looking scum. Anyhow, these rats, they''ve got a big bird strung upside down from a bough, and they''re torturing it to death, I swear they are. Please, Tiria, we must do something to help the bird!"Unwinding the sling Wuppit from about her waist, Tiria took charge swiftly."Take an axe, Girry. Go on ahead of us and get close to the bird without being seen. Then wait for us. Tribsy, Brinty, take two good yew staves from the cart and follow behind me!"Plugtail and Hangpaw were trying to set light to a heap of twigs, leaves and moss beneath where the big bird was hanging upside down. They had to keep ducking as the other gang rats swung the hawk back and forth by prodding and striking at it with their spears. The bird''s wings hung limply outspread. Though it hissed feebly at its tormentors, there was no way it could stop t

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