Me at Myself: You have many very important things to do these next two weeks, you do not have time to write a Redwall Hell fic.
My Brain:
Just... take this @raphcrow. I literally can’t thank you enough for pretty much birthing Redwall Hell with that dark!Martin picture that I think about all the time and for letting me constantly borrow the Lady. Also I don’t have enough blood in my small body to distill an offering of aromatic wine for you, but I hope that A Fistful of Fics™ will suffice. Or, y’know, a truckload of ‘em. *sweats* You’re also to blame for the song that inspired this piece. Never stop, raph matey.
I’ll probably scream at you about this when I reclaim my life sometime later but it’s finally time for a slice of............................................................... backstory.
P.S. @thegoldensoundtwice that thing is happening.
*stereotypical harp transition sound effects*
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The shores beneath Salamandastron were a hive of bustling activity.
Everybeast, from the smallest mole to the most brawny ferret, was working together to assemble the first feast in honor of the badger Lord's ascension. Eventide saw a multitude of bonfires blossoming all along the beach, pockets of creatures mingling to converse as preparations for the celebration came under way. The sun hung suspended in the sky above the horizon like a molten coin, its rays causing the surrounding wind-whipped clouds to blush in shades of fiery pinks and deep blues. A flock of sea birds danced through the air in an ecstasy of unfettered movement, their glittering eyes jealously watching the proceedings below.
Sounds of laughter and joyful singing carried across the sand, mingling with the music of many instruments. Several of the females had begun to dance in the seaspray. Cooks from every tribe were exchanging trade secrets, sampling the scrumptious offerings of their comrades and nodding to each other with eager approval. Countless mouthwatering aromas rode the gentle sea breeze. Not a single unhappy countenance could be found there. Sitting slightly apart from the festivities were a fox and a young squirrel, the odd pair content to enjoy the sunset. The fox gave a leisurely stretch and reclined against the side of the dune, a sigh of deep satisfaction escaping his lips. He was about to close his eyes for a quick doze when a flash of brilliant light caught his attention. He gave a start, craning his neck to identify the source of the distraction.
One of the dancers down the beach was a female fox. She leapt and spun, gravity naught but her plaything as her nimble footpaws sent flecks of seawater spinning through the air around her like scattered diamonds. The flickering glare of the bonfires glinted off the bracelets and bangles she wore, her fur shining like gold in the light of the dying sun. Forgetting his nap completely, the fox was thunderstruck. He sat up straight to attention, his eyes drinking in her every movement as one blindsided by fate. Her presence seemed to eclipse that of everybeast around her, like a flawless jewel set in the center of a priceless diadem.
The squirrel sensed the uncharacteristic change in his superior's mood. Ears twitching curiously, the squirrel's bright eyes followed the spellbound fox's gaze, his voice soft and wistful when he spoke, "Ah, tis the Lady. Skin me tail, but she moves like the wind!" Grinning, the youngster continued, "Y'know Gen'ral Amos, I heard some o' me messmates talkin' a few eves back. They say she's the firstdaughter of Leda, and that she can hear the very voices of the stars!" He jumped suddenly to his footpaws in excitement, sand flying everywhere. "Gen'ral, you should go say somethin' to her!"
The dark-furred fox grunted dismissively, tearing his gaze away from the dancer just long enough to pull his companion back down onto the sand in a playful gesture. "You liddle snip! We're supposed to wait here until Lieutenant Colonel Pennelegion comes to fetch us to join his Lordship's escort. Which reminds me..." Stirring, the General rotated his body to gaze in the direction of Salamandastron. The massive lump of stone reared out of the midst of the dunes like a colossal, misshapen sentinel. "Ryker," the fox began, his voice taking on an authoritative tone, "Go seek out Captain Spoons. My guess is that she's probably somewhere near the gaggle of shrew chefs over by the northern side of the mountain. Make sure she tells you where the flags and their poles have been stored, and let her know that I fully expect her to send an aide to report to me when her unit has assembled in parade fashion below the mountain's entrance. We must be ready to receive his Lordship at a moment's notice!"
"Yessir!" The squirrel saluted and shot away like an arrow from a bow. General Amos watched until the youngster’s form was swallowed by the ever-shifting crowd. He stood to his footpaws, idly brushing sand from his garments, his face growing hot as he struggled in vain to keep his thoughts from shifting to the dancer in the surf. Shaking his head resolutely, the fox tightened the strap on his swordbelt and began to make his way up the beach. Two pairs of eyes watched his ascent: those of the Lady dancing in the waves, and another pair, withdrawn and mysterious, peering down from one of the dark window slits carved into Salamandastron's stony hide.
Only one of those sets of eyes looked upon him without malice.
