Lokrun wandered through the trees with no aim. He had been having a good season, thus far. He fished and collected various nuts and berries. His life was perfect or it would be if there was one less abbey in the woods. Lokrun hated the abbey and not without good reason. It had been eleven season since his holt was destroyed and his family slain, yet there was still no help from the abbey. They had sent someone to fetch help, yet none returned to them. The males had held out until the end until it was certain that they would die. Then, they foreced the elders and females to abandon the holt taking the children with them. Unfortunately, the villains caught up and everyone was slaughtered to the last babe. This is the cause of Lokrun's resentment of the abbey.
Yet, with all his hatred towards such an ignorant place, he had to admit that the guardian of Redwall Abbey, Martin the Warrior, was an inspirational figure. Lokrun desperately wanted to become like Martin, with his armor and sword. He had only heard of the sword through stories overheard from travellers, but he assumed it was an amazing weapon.
Lokrun hopped through the trees, heading in the direction of the abbey. He had spent so much time in these woods that he had memorized every detail about the paths and directions. Lokrun stopped when he heard some beasts talking. Upon a closer inspection, he saw that one appeared to be a gray squirrel. Next to the squirrel was a hedgehog and two mice. Lokrun gripped his stout yew stave tighter as he held it ready. If need be, he would defend himself from these creatures. He was not trusting of others since the tragedy eleven seasons past. Lokrun squatted closer to the branch as he observed the scene playing out below him.
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