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ScottyArtContestEntry by F.F

Cover art by ForrestFighter

This is a fan fiction story by ScottyBlue. It is not considered canon, nor is it a policy or guideline.

GINGIVERIAN: A tale of Redwall

A note from the author

Hello, fellow Redwall Fans! This is a story that I came up with some time back; I regret not having started it sooner so that Brian Jacques himself could possibly see it. I will be writing it in installments, as it is rather long and I have not figured the entire plot out as of yet. Whether I will actually finish it or not I do not know; If I do decide to punt on it I will be sure to announce the fact so that someone else might come up with an ending for me. YSIC, ScottyBlue

From far away, we marched to lands

We had not ever known before;

Never again to return home

To bitter, cold, forsaken shores.

New friends we found; old foes as well,

Upon our first arrival there.

Would you like to hear the story?

Come, then, friends! Pull up a chair

And listen to our family's tale

Of friendship, sadness, love and woe,

Of battles, songs, feasts and fights;

That happened not so long ago.

Dibbun, Elder, Young one, Old one,

All you Redwall friends draw near;

I'll tell you tales of the descendants

Of the famed prince Gingivere.

Part 1: The Cat

Few earthly entities are more wild, more merciless, and more terrifying than a summer storm at night. This is especially the case if the storm happens to hit in Mossflower Country; the opressive darkness of the trees, crashing thunder and crackling chains of lightning overhead, overflowing riverbanks, and howling gales ripping the woodland foliage apart are enough to strike fear into the hearts of even the stoutest warrior. Any creature with a grain of sense would have sought immediate shelter at the first sign of the approaching typhoon; only the bravest, or possibly the most insane, would venture out into a night like this.

Like pellets of iron, enormous, wind-driven droplets of rain sheeted down remorselessly upon what appeared to be a slowly moving heap of black on the woodland floor. The traveler's clothes and voluminous dark cloak were in tatters; she was gaunt and emaciated, and wounded in dozens of places. With the wind blowing directly against her she could barely manage to put one paw in front of the other as she staggered onward, onward, ever onward.

Several times, due to the storm, she had been reduced to crawling on all fours, or inching along on her stomach; still she never ceased her progression towards her destination. Many times it had seemed wise to halt, or to find a hidden place to ride out the weather. But still she continued, knowing that there was no time to be lost. Onward, onward....the memories of the barren northern islands, viciously destroyed by ruthless enemies were burned into her brain. These same foes were sure to be following; failure was never an option in the Ranks of the Shadow. The mission had been total destruction; to them the mere thought of any escapees was simply intolerable.

Onward, ever onward, the determined creature staggered feebly against the mighty force of the weather. Two long seasons of traveling, losing her way, finding it again, fighting countless bands of robbers and thieves, sometimes going days without food or water, were beginning to take their toll. But she could not give up; there was a mission to be completed, and she, too, had left no room for failure. Resolutely determined not to rest until the goal was acheived, the traveler limped, crawled, struggled her way through Mossflower; onward, ever onward, to the safe haven of Redwall Abbey.

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