I own absolutely nothing and I'm warning you in advance, my story may well contain:

swearing,

hazardous spelling,

inappropriate grammar

I will always try to minimise the last two, but unfortunately I often miss words (mainly acronyms and homophones), if I get Five corrections for one chapter I'll take it down and repost, if it bothers you so much don't read my stories. I believe swearing to be an integral part of speech and I will use it if it fits the character who is speaking got it? Also I will probably update unbelievably irregularly and disappear for months at a time but that's just me. I am writing this cos a friend (lews therin t) told me to write it, before he gets mad at me for not publishing the two stories I promised my normal word processor (open office) is uninstalled so I'm stuck using flipping MSworks (oxymoron in my opinion) anyway.

Abbot Saxtus was sometimes not as young as he felt he should be, not that at thirty one seasons he was really old, he was young in comparison to most abbots, most of the abbey council for that matter. But by his age many beasts were inclined to believe that their abbot ought to have developed a greater degree of decorum.

Perhaps it was something Dandin had planted in him many years ago, but when Saxtus spoke to beasts who voiced this opinion he often felt the urge to poke out his tongue, or tie their whiskers together. Both of these were unacceptable ways to vent his occasional bouts of immaturity which was probably the reason that on the last day of the summer of the early acorns (n1) the young abbot had abandoned the Abbey habit in favor of a white spun shirt and was currently watching the dibbuns play a catching game which also involved running and hitting the ball as hard as you could. Saxtus had a suspicion of when this game had originated and was debating going over to join the youngsters when he heard some beast running towards him.

"Abbot Saxtus ,sire!" a levret, skidded into a salute by the mouse's foot paws

"what ever is the matter Calin? is the abbey burning down?" joked the abbot, Calin Bramwil Woodsorrel (n2) wasn't exactly known for being the calmest of Rosie's brood, but this was worried even for him

"N-no sire, Bruvvas Hubart an Simieon Sire ses you're to come t' the infirmary, right now?"

"the infirmary?" Saxtus was on his feet now and striding towards the abbey, serious and worried look on his face, he pulled his habit on over his head as he walked

"yes Sirr, they found two dibbuns in the forest, by the river sir,"

"Dibbuns? ours? are they all right?"

"they didn't tell me sire but ma Mel said..."

"I said young Calin to not dawdle and get the lazypaws abbot here as fast as possible."

n1(better season name? anyone?)

n2(congratulations to any who work out where his middle name came from)

any good? tis my first Redwall fic and I haven't read the books in a while.