Sorrel Swifteye watched the fox approach. She sneered disgustedly at the wolf pelt, recognising it as the skin of Urgan, who had died two seasons ago. She herself had pushed it out into the sea.

Clover Swifteye, her twin sister, stood next to her.

"Should I go for a dekko?"

"No. Let me."

Before Clover could argue, Sorrel had leapt down from the ridge on which their home stood, fled through the tunnel and climbed up a high birch.

Sorrel listened to the conversation between the horde.

" 'Ere, s'not fair. You've got that cloak. I'm frozen 'ere. Give us a go, will ya!"

"No! Get your own, frognose! Urgan Nagru 'imself gave me this cloak, an' I'm not givin' it up for the likes of you!"

"The likes of me, hey? Well, the Foxwolf says you're to be fair, an' he's goin' t'make me a Cap'n, so there, toadbrain!"

"Make you a Captain? You gotta be jokin', not when there's fine figures like me around!"

"Queen Silvamord," interrupted a small female rat, who was white rather than grey, "Queen Silvamord said that since I was her personal maid, she would see I was promoted. And she gave me this cloak made out of fox fur."

"Here, Ashfur, give it a rest!" retorted Bragnose, who was forever boasting about his promotions, which he rarely got.

Sorrel wrinkled her nose.

"Funny smell around these parts," she remarked carelessly to Bragnose as she fell into step with him.

Bragnose sniffed. "Can't smell anything, mate."

"I'm no friend of scumbags, rat!" snarled Sorrel suddenly. Swinging her loaded sling, she cracked Bragnose about the head. She clouted Ashfur's snout for good measure, and then vanished.

Sorrel landed next to her twin.

"Clover, we are in big trouble. We need Paris. Where is he?"

"Back in the cave with Amine and our protégés."

"Right, I'm going there first, then. There's something that's bothering me."

"What?"

"Just a nasty bump on Hector's head, nothing bad."

Clover's tail rose till it was touching her sister's chin.

"You'd better not be lying to me, Sorrel Swifteye. I'll know."

The sling was emptied immediately.

"Don't you trust me, Clovy?" asked Sorrel plaintively. "Look, I can't fight with an empty sling, can I? And you can hide it in your brush so I can't load it again."

Clover took the sling.

"All right, you old treewalloper. But the first hint of trouble and I'll rip it to bits. Like you said, you can't fight without a loaded sling, can you?"

Sorrel smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"No, sister, I can't sling with no stones."

Sorrel's tail whipped up and slapped Clover's head. She fell to the ground as Sorrel's brown eyes swam with tears of remorse.

"Sorry, Clover. You made me do that. I will never allow vermin to drive me from my home. I leave only of my own free will, and it will always be so. Now, I'll just tie you into the elm by our cave so you don't fall out, and I'll have a nice little skirmish. I do hope that those nasty vermin haven't run to their leader to tell on me. It'll spoil the fun."

A/N: Well, do you like it? I do. It's based on The Bellmaker, in case you haven't guessed.

Sorrel is one of my favourite characters. I don't use her that often, but when I do, I do. She can be very annoying, like Paris, or beautifully obedient like Clover. I prefer her Mariel mood, though, arguing over things she doesn't like doing -- it's out of character, you dimwit!

Sorry about that. I tend to fight with Sorrel over everything -- in reality (which I very rarely face) she is a tiny orphaned red squirrel who has adopted me as her sister.

Disclaimer: Bragnose, Ashfur, Clover, Hector, Paris, Amine -- Wouldn't it be quicker to say what isn't yours?

The aforementioned all belong to me. Urgan Nagru, Silvamord -- they belong to Brian Jacques.

I don't own Sorrel. Sorrel owns me …

Isn't she bad-tempered?

Help!