Summer Daze

[Tracy]

It was a morning in early summer, and promising to be a sweltering day. The sun hadn't been up long, but Ripley Kimmanae Contarelle was already winding down her daily workout. She was an early riser by nature, but she'd made it a point to come out and get some exercise in before the weather was prohibitive. She'd already completed a relatively short run, and was sitting now a bit above the tide, the sand still cool in the early morning, damp as she sat below the overnight tideline.

Ripley sat rigidly, spine straight and legs folded in front of her. Eyes closed, she was silent and still as her loose-fitting tunic billowed around her in the seabreeze. Normally preferring tight-fitting clothing during runs, it was just much too hot and humid for that to be comfortable. As normal, she was barefoot but for the linen strips she always wrapped around the soles of her feet for support when running.

The hare didn't often end her workouts with meditation, and it was still something she was trying to master. A mind as active as her body, it could be difficult to bring herself back to center when she was at Salamandastron. Her attempt at meditation was a pretty clear sign she was wrung out, and on that same token a clear sign she'd been at the mountain too long.

Some higher-ups in the Long Patrol had decided Ripley would be training some of the youngest cadets in basic scouting. The haremaid was great at her job on her own, but she was not a great teacher. It was miserable enough for her, one could only image how her trainees must feel about it. The new assignment had kept her at Salamandastron for a much longer stint than she ever had during her career in the regiment. Not only was training others fraying her patience and nerves, she had lost the much-needed reset that long runs into Mossflower gave her.

This would be another long afternoon of cadets that probably hated her as much as she hated them, so she would relish as much of the day as she could before slogging through that again.

[Django]

The solar-powered Cordin would not be caught dead inside on a day like this. Summer was his favorite season, and the freckled hare was out on his morning jog. No other beast had wanted to accompany him today, but that was fine. There were plenty of things to distract him on his run. The endless blue sky, the endless blue sea, and the endless white sand. With his back to the mountain, everything looked endless. That's the only word he really had for it. He wasn't a poet.

Clad in undershirt and breeches, he enjoyed the summer air with all his might. He started to hum whatever was stuck in his head, probably that song his mate Brody had tried to sing last night while woozy after a boxing match. What was it? Stones Under... water of some sort. Rippling... waving... rushing! Stones Under Rushing Water, that was it. He jogged in place next to a large sand dune, regulating his breathing. Okay, this wasn't so bad, running alone. If he just thought about his surroundings, and his mates, and random songs.

He backed up a few paces, then took the dune in leaping bounds, and at the crest, noticed a figure in the sand several yards ahead. Perfectly white with black-tipped ears and a loose tunic. Cordin slowed his pace. He knew this hare. Rushly... Wavely... Ripley! He slowed to a stop a few yards behind her, well above the high tide line. She was just sitting there. Doing nothing, saying nothing. Wasn't this a thing somebeasts did? What was it called? Mediation? No, that was a negotiation thing. Best to ask her.

Before he realized the impoliteness of his thought, Cordin said, "I say, what's that you're doing there, Ripley?"

[Tracy]

Ripley was not good at this. Her body cooperated; straight, still, composed. But her mind wandered, her attention easily splintering at the slightest provocation. She knew this session was a lost cause when she heard another nearby. They weren't quiet or subtle; whoever it was wasn't making any kind of effort to sneak up on her, so she didn't bother to turn her attention to them.

When said creature finally spoke, she sighed resignedly. Rolling her shoulders back, she looked out over the sea, the sunlight now catching and dancing over the whitecaps as the morning grew later. She laid back, letting herself enjoy the damp sand before the coolness of it was lost to the summer sun.

Her violet eyes tracked behind her, taking in the other hare from an upside-down perspective. There weren't too many hares that brought themselves out at this time of day, but she'd seen him plenty of times. It wasn't an accident she'd never joined him on a run though; her running time was not social hour.

"Nothing, Dorchester," Ripley said in answer to his question. She wasn't necessarily trying to be facetious, but she didn't want to try to explain meditation when she clearly hadn't figured it out herself. She didn't really know the corporal, but the scout's mind was a living catalogue of Salamandastron. Cordin's face immediately brought up name and rank and other bits of information most beasts didn't keep in their heads for those that were barely acquaintances.

Her upside-down gaze stayed on him for a bit, seeing if he'd take her brief response as a dismissal. Her black-tipped ears were fidgeting a little as she started to hear a few other hares trickling out to the beach. "Good run?" she finally followed up with, understanding her solitude for the day was at an end.

[Django]

"Nothing is good," Cordin said, leaning his paws on his knees as Ripley looked up at him from the sand. "Er, I mean, doing nothing is good. I didn't mean--"

"Good run?"

Cordin bit his lip to keep himself from leaking so many words, and nodded. "Very good, yes, thank you. Erm..." Cordin also heard the pitter patter of hare feet from the mountain, but he let one ear keep track of that noise. His attention was arrested by the pretty indigo eyes of Ripley, set in a face that was white year-round. Cordin's couple-month winter coat felt drab compared to the immaculate snowy fur of Ripley.

"Erm, y'know, you can call me Cordin," he said, with nothing better to say. He could've talked about her white coat which had just dominated his thoughts, but he didn't really know her that well, did he? "If ya like." 

The noise at the mountain grew to a buzz. Daily training was beginning. Cordin vaguely remembered a promise he'd made to some cadets yesterday or the day before, but he didn't want to surrender to obligations just yet.

"Fancy a jog to keep away from the kiddies?" he offered. He also wanted to avoid his rambling thoughts for a little while longer. "You like running, right?" Something told him Ripley was a runner.

[markab]

Cináed still felt a bit on edge.

It had been months since he'd passed by Salamandastron; the last visit had been on purpose, this one little more than a coincidence. He'd intended to head to Redwall, to sit in on the nameday celebration he knew would be happening soon (and maybe get back to the days of actual good food) until he stumbled straight into the days-old evidence of yet another roving vermin gang tormenting the woodlanders who had the poor fortune not to live behind the impassable redstone walls of the Abbey.

But as it turned out, like he was, the gang was also passing through Mossflower, and instead of a simple day's trek to some ramshackle camp on the water's edge and few less rats or stoats or whatever preying on innocent beasts his mission turned into a frankly ridiculous week-long trek following a trail that was so painfully obvious he was almost embarrassed for whoever had left it. Day after day took him on a steady march from forest to field to coastline, scavenging what he could along the way and thinking, while chewing on the latest piece of tasteless plant, of what he was missing.

Eventually, though, finally, he caught up to them near a tiny river and, well, he couldn't say he was surprised by the state of the little group considering what he'd seen on the way. It was typical vermin, just a raiding band, why would they bother to cover their tracks? It wasn't like any woodlander would follow them to take them on, right? 

In truth, Cináed was in somewhat of a black mood even when they were all dead and everything was quiet again and he could sit and rest for more than half a night before hauling himself to his footpaws and carrying on.

It was early morning, before the sun had even decided to peek over the hills, when Cináed hauled himself up a ridge and realized he was a proverbial stone's throw from Salamandastron. Hadn't even noticed it in the distance, so consumed with the hunt he'd been on, and he was halfway down the beach towards the fire mountain when he caught his first glimpse of a Long Patrol hare sitting on the beach, followed swiftly by what was presumably a second one.

Cináed slowed his pace as he approached, though he wasn't truly worried about any reception. He certainly didn't look very Long Patrol, but he was a hare and doubted if he'd get too many swords up the nose for his trouble.

[Tracy]

Ripley was quiet as the corporal rambled a bit incoherently, trying not to grin. She let him talk as she tried to figure out if he was normally shy or something else was making him flustered. She had her suspicions, as his randomly approaching her out here on the shore did not a shy beast make.

"Fancy a jog to keep away from the kiddies?"

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before rolling herself up and hopping lightly up to her feet. Lifting each foot in turn, she adjusted the linen she'd wrapped about her feet before attempting to brush the sand from her clothing. When she turned toward Cordin, her gaze went past him to an approaching hare. Ripley took another moment to keep brushing sand off her as she waited just long enough for the other hare to get close enough for her to recognize. She still didn't.

"I do like running," she answered, not really sure why he worded like he knew. Maybe he'd seen her out on the shore in the mornings, too? "But it looks like I'll be spared plucking up some polite way to turn down your offer," she said, lifting an eyebrow and nodding past him. "Looks like company. Not a Salamandastron beast."

[Django]

Cordin watched each of Ripley's movements carefully, as if afraid to miss something important. She spent an odd amount of time brushing sand off herself. He was mesmerized by her paws for some reason. They were lovely.

He almost didn't notice when she nodded past him. Suddenly on alert, he turned, noticing the stranger. A hare, but not a Long Patrol hare. Cordin squinted in the sunlight. Something about this hare was familiar to him... something about that golden fur...

"Cousin!" Cordin spoke before even fully registering which cousin this was. He trotted up a sand dune to get a closer look. "Cousin... Cousin Cináed! It's been a bloody age, m' boy!" He held his arms open wide for an embrace. "Wot finds you here at the mountain, eh? North 'n South drivin' ya mad?"

[markab]

"Looks like company. Not a Salamandastron beast."

Cináed slowed himself to a halt as the female hare locked eyes with him, waited patiently as so not to seem anything like a threat. Her companion, however, was nowhere near as alert to what was going around him, and spent a couple seconds too long staring at her paws --

Cináed coughed. Politely.

-- before he straightened up and followed her gaze.

He'd been expecting something from the hare, probably words, but instead the other just squinted at him as if he was confused. Cináed met his gaze, somewhat unsure as to why -- perhaps he was just surprised to see a non-Long Patrol hare around, though they certainly couldn't have been that rare.  Went to open his mouth to speak, before it got any more weird than it already was.

"Cousin!"

Oh. Cináed squinted back in turn, and now that he knew what was going on Cordin was pretty instantly recognizable.

"Cousin... Cousin Cináed! It's been a bloody age, m' boy! Wot finds you here at the mountain, eh? North 'n South drivin' ya mad?"

Cordin had his arms held out for an embrace; Cináed stepped into it, gave him a pat on the back before stepping away. "Aye, somethin' like that. Meant to be at Redwall now, in truth, but I've had vermin linin' up to ruin my week."

[Tracy]

Ripley hovered a little awkwardly in the background, thought she felt less awkward than she probably looked. New creatures were interesting to her, though she was unaccustomed to being the one not to know someone. She didn't make any immediate move to introduce herself, content to spectate like a fan.

"Wot finds you here at the mountain, eh? North 'n South drivin' ya mad?"

Was Cordin speaking gibberish? Was that some kind of Northern idiom she was unaware of? At the corporal's exclamation of his cousin's name, Cináed, followed with the new hare's accent, she knew she'd at least called the Northern part correctly.

It occurred to her that maybe it was rude to just hover in their family reunion and she was about to duck out and head back to the mountain. At Cordin's exuberant embrace of his family member and Cináed's comparitively unenthusiastic response immediately interested her in their conversation again. Now she wanted to know if that was his personality or if he secretly disliked the corporal. There was an easy enough test for that.

Offering her best smile, she gave a cheerful wave to the new hare. "Pleasure, Cináed," she said winningly. "My name's Ripley, welcome to Salamandastron."

[Django]

"Aye, somethin' like that. Meant to be at Redwall now, in truth, but I've had vermin linin' up to ruin my week."

"Well, we've certainly got a shortage of vermin here," Cordin said cheerfully, paws on his hips. He was practically beaming. Nothing interesting had happened at the mountain since he'd been knocked out in a boxing match two weeks ago.

As Ripley introduced herself, Cordin found himself staring at her again. My, my, that smile could take first prize in championships. Before he made a fool of himself again, he was able to wrestle his attention away from her and back to his cousin in time. "Yes, yes, welcome, bally welcome! Mi mountain es su mountain, and all that. Hungry, ol' boy? Brekkers is almost done, but I'm sure I can nab a few crumbs for a weary traveler."

[markab]

"Well, we've certainly got a shortage of vermin here."

Cináed barked a surprised laugh. At Salamandastron? No. "I imagine," he said. "Got to trackin' a group all the way from Mossflower. Pretty close to the Abbey, but seems like they had the good sense to steer clear of this place."

"Pleasure, Cináed. My name's Ripley, welcome to Salamandastron."

Cináed tipped her a nod of his head. "Thank you," he said, and gave a side-eyed glance to Cordin, who had also been distracted by her introduction and was staring at Ripley with what Cináed could only describe as a Look in his eyes. Capital letter important. Cináed's lip twitched, but he held himself back from laughing with a impressive force of effort. He'd met his cousin a few times before, but that had been years ago, before Redwall, and they hardly knew each other well.

"Yes, yes, welcome, bally welcome! Mi mountain es su mountain, and all that. Hungry, ol' boy? Brekkers is almost done, but I'm sure I can nab a few crumbs for a weary traveler."

Cordin appeared to have straightened himself out. Cináed turned back to his cousin. "Aye, that'd be appreciated. Feels like I've been chewin' on grass for the past week." He glanced up at the mountain. "Though if you point me in the right direction, I could just head in myself, if you like. Didn't mean to interrupt your gatherin' out here."

[Tracy]

Cináed's response didn't exactly answer her question, but he seemed okay with Cordin. Perhaps the difference in their reactions was more a comment on the corporal's personality than that of the visiting Northern hare. His comments on vermin in Mossflower had both interested her and pained her. It had been months since Ripley's last travel into the Wood and that there was anything going on there that she wasn't aware of was aggravating.

"We're not really known for our cuisine, but if you've been eating grass, you probably won't be hard to please," Ripley said, sounding a little tired as her mind was still on how she missed traveling. Well, she supposed she should eat as well, and maybe she could get the visitor to tell her about what he saw in Mossflower.

Once they came into the mess hall, most of the food had been thoroughly picked through, barely more than some cooked oats that were now cold and baskets of whole fruit. You couldn't be late to a meal in Salamandastron. Ripley's personal schedule made it common for her to miss normal mealtimes, so she'd made her own arrangements. "Wait here, I'll find food." Without further comment, she disappeared through side doors toward the kitchens.

A few minutes later, a different, older haremaid in a headscarf and apron came out with plates of warm pastries, filled with a variety of fruits and cream, along with pitchers of cold water and tea. She smiled warmly at the cousins, "Ripley said we had a visitor who just missed breakfast - an' we can't have our guests goin' hungry!" she said in a pleasant, motherly fashion before winking and moving back toward the kitchens.

It was some minutes more before Ripley returned, cleaned up and changed. She'd changed back into her normal form-fitting patrol clothes; green tunic with brown belt low on her hips. Sitting on one hip was a silver buckle of a running hare, a very old symbol of the Long Patrol. They were uncommon now, but were often seen on the Long Patrol runners of many generations past.

She came around the other side of the table, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Good, I knew Lottie would take care of you," she said as she snagged an apple pastry before taking a seat, sitting on her feet like children often do.

[Django]

Cordin was happily tucking in to the food brought to him, and speaking to Cináed at the same time. 

"So, lad, ya say you're heading to the abbey?" he asked, taking a big swing of water. "Any particular reason? The rest of the family there?" 

Cordin hadn't seen his extended relatives in so many years, he sometimes forgot he had them. His parents were retired now, and spent much of their time away from the mountain. Cordin almost wished to join his cousin on his trek. Though restlessness wasn't in Cordin's nature, it could get rather dull living in a mountain full of nothing but hares and one badger. 

"Oh, they're having that naming feast, aren't they?" Cordin recalled the seasonal event the abbey put on when they would give the weather a name for the next few months. "I've never been meself, but I've heard it's a hum--" 

Ripley returned then, dressed in a uniform Cordin must've seen her dressed in a thousand times before. Somehow the glow she was sporting after a morning workout just made that outfit look even better. 

"--dinger, a real hootenanny, wot?" Cordin's mouth finished his sentence, though his mind was on other things. "Er, yeah, cheers, Rip. Lottie's the real deal, isn't she?" He took another bite of a pastry, red blush coloring his freckled cheeks.

[markab]

"We're not really known for our cuisine, but if you've been eating grass, you probably won't be hard to please."

"There's only so much wild garlic you can go through before lettin' the vermin run starts to sound like a good idea," Cináed said wryly, and followed the duo up to the foot of the mountain at a trot, thankful that the conversation had been cut short before it got anymore awkward than it already was with his cousin doing his level best to make eyes at Ripley upon every given opportunity. It was shaping up to be a nice morning, but in truth he'd had enough of sunlight the past few days; only took a few hours of baking in the heat before Cináed started to wish for rain, or at least the cooler Northlands. Inside Salamandastron, it was cooler, sun replaced by welcome shade as they wound their way through the vaguely-familiar pathways and into the mess hall.

He and Cordin made their way to one of the wide oak tables while Ripley took off into the kitchens, and Cináed peered around at the cavernous walls surrounding them, thinking, as he always did when he ended up at Salamandastron, about the Long Patrol. It was always in the back of his mind; he felt like it had been an unspoken decision among the entire host of his family that the five children eventually join the Patrol as their father had done. Cináed still wanted to, and all, it was just a lot of freedom to give up. If he'd be cut out for the life at all. 

He was saved from making awkward small talk with his cousin when a older hare in a headscarf, bearing plates of pastries and pitchers of water that she set before them.

"Ripley said we had a visitor who just missed breakfast - an' we can't have our guests goin' hungry!"

She was gone almost before Cináed could thank her, and as Cordin promptly began tucking into the food Cináed selected a pastry and poured himself some water. It was nice to drink something that was cold for once, instead of lukewarm and tasting faintly of the leather it had been stored in.

"So, lad, ya say you're heading to the abbey? Any particular reason? The rest of the family there?"

"I --"

"Oh, they're having that naming feast, aren't they?"

Cináed flicked a glance at him. "Aye, that they are. That, and they practically raised me for four years, after my parents died. I like to check in once in a while. Like I said, though, got a little distracted on the way. I'm sure I'll miss the feast by a mile, but what can you do."

"I've never been meself, but I've heard it's a humdinger, a real hootenanny, wot?"

Cináed might have responded but for the odd change in tone mid-sentence and, unsurprisingly, when he looked up Ripley had returned, setting herself onto the bench across from them. He managed not to sigh and took another big bite of pastry instead. They said he lacked tact. Swallowed as Cordin stumbled through another awkward sentence, and then finally replied. "Nameday's somethin' like that, yes," but despite his vague exasperation he couldn't quite keep the edges of a smile from his face thinking about the place. Hopefully everyone there was doing well.

[Tracy]

At the mention of the Nameday, Ripley figured they must be talking about Redwall, and gave a groan of frustration. "I forgot they'd be having their solstice feast," she mumbled with a shake of her head through bites of pastry, as if she were saying this to herself. The haremaid made it to their seasonal festivities fairly often. When she had Mossflower patrols, she had a lot of freedom to pick her routes, and even when it wasn't completely necessary, she was quick enough to work the abbey into many rotations.

The scout was fully aware that she'd gotten Cordin riled up. She wasn't convinced of it earlier, but it wasn't difficult to see the instant switch when he'd noticed her this time. Her violet eyes lingered on him for a few moments as his face reddened, almost daring him to try and make eye contact. She took a sip of her tea, then moved her attention to Cináed.

"You mentioned vermin in Mossflower? Any attacks on Woodlanders?" Her questions seemed a bit abrupt, but it was pretty normal coming from a Long Patroller, particularly one whose job description included keeping up on Mossflower activities. She had many acquaintances, maybe she'd even call them friends, in all parts of the Wood, and her concern for their well-being made her better at her job. On a more selfish note, heightened vermin threat might also convince some of the mountain's decision makers to allow her back out on patrol.