Revenge on the Cliffs part 1
Far away from the abbey of Redwall stood the great eastern cliffs. They rose strait up into the sky as viewed from its base. They where barren, sinister and hiders of evil. For who would climb them willing, only those who’s fiery hearts and persistence blind the eyes of fear. Only those who’s mind is so corrupted in revenge and the belief to bring justice that it powers up their courageousness beyond its natural quota.
There is such a beast, a stoat by species. She began to climb, up the rotting remains of a long ago rope, yard after yard. Her eyes, sharp as the tip of the crescent moon, always looking up as if they in them selves where pulling her upward, upward to her prey.
The female stoat’s head came over the edge, ever looking. After she had hauled her self on the plateau’s top, she lay motionless on the sandy grass that blew around in elevated winds. Night fell over her, and yet she did not move.
The first of the sun flashed across the land, rising ever upward, and as it fell across the plateau plains it covered the stoat in a brilliant gold. Her eyes flashed open, at the fresh but merciless blue sky. Getting up, she began to search the ground with utmost care, for some thing, some thing that had driven her to the ascent of the cliffs yesterday.
Where and what was it? The stoat walked along the edge of the cliff for kilometers, stopping to drink from a small water fall that poured over the cliff and spear some fish with her glaive; she ate them raw.
As it was mid afternoon her head came up quickly, her eyes narrowed. Across the open plain in sight was a figure, a figure that was coming toward her. Her turban and tunic blew in the wind as she stood facing him.