Skipper Grug stood on the bank of the river Moss. His eyes lay west in the direction of Redwall Abbey.

"Aye, times ripe for leavin, we've held it off for as long as we could."
"Aye" The score of otters behind him agreed.

Silently he dived headfirst into the running river, the only thing betraying his entrance was a slight ripple on the surface.

One by one his clan joined him with somber looks on their faces. Nearly a score in all swam down the stream.
They had sad news to bring the goodbeast of the Abbey. The water was refreshingly cool as summer creeped upon Mossflower.
They would make good time if the weather stayed fair, and the feast would be plentiful as well.

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