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    The next morning dawned bright, clear, and cloudless, the perfect day for a feast. Breezes warmed by the sun wafted across Redwall’s lawn, winter’s last chills wafting across the faces of Redwallers, hares, shrews, and otters. Tables groaned underneath the sheer weight of food, and the air was filled with the chatter of feasters. Dibbuns squealed and shrieked as they ran around under the heels of their elders, pausing from time to time to snatch pieces of food or sweets off of other tables. The aromas of food of all kinds drifted through the air.

    Redwall’s cooks, helped by the Guosim, had outdone themselves. There was warm, fresh bread, cheeses of all shapes and sizes, more variaties of pasties than you could shake a stick at, and any variety of drinks from October Ale to cherry cordial to wine and chestnut brown beer. Also gracing the table were steaming pots of stew, including otter hotroot soup, and a favorite of Redwall’s few moles, their ever-famous deeper’n’ever turnip’n’tater’n’deeproot pie. These sat side by side with scones and cakes of all varieties, along with more garden-variety pies from cherry to blueberry and more. Other desserts included trifle with strawberries, apples, and chestnuts, candied nuts of all descriptions, and pudding.

    Sam and his friends laughed from where they sat as the Long Patrol hares stared at the spread with wide eyes. “What’s the matter, mates? Never been to a Redwall feast before?”

    “Ah, leave ‘em alone, Sam!” Jaygo and Tare had sat aross the table from the other youngsters, and were laughing as well. “Not as easy to come t’Redwall for a feast from Salamandastron as it is for a Guosim shrew!”

    With a loud splat both were nearly knocked off of their seats as two globs of whipped cream hit them right in the face. From where they sat together, Quill and Quinn looked at the whipped cream on their paws, then started tasting it.

    “I say, this is rather spiffin’ cream, ain’t it?”

    “Rather! C’mon, chaps, let’s dig in!”

    “Hold on there, you lot!” Nathaniel said, his sheathed sabre ready to whack any paws that made a move towards the food. “Wait until the Abbot says grace, wot? Gotta be polite!”

    “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Siran said as he walked past them towards the head of the tables. All of the Redwallers, Guosim, and hares clasped their paws and lowered their eyes, while Siran graced the food. The elderly squirrel’s voice rang loud and strong across the lawn.

    “Let these foods that grace our table

    “help us all grow strong and able

    “and let us all be safe and sound

    “from this day forth as seasons go ‘round.”

    “Now you can eat, chaps!” Nathaniel said. The other Redwallers laughed as the hares began to sheepishly eat, quickly followed by the Redwallers and Guosim shrews. Nathaniel sat down at his own place with the rest of his platoon, starting to take things from the platters around him. The hares dove into the food with gusto, their appetites unaffected even after eating Redwall food through the whole winter.

    “Swiftpaw! Oi, Swifty! Try some o’ these pasties! I ‘m particularly partial t’ the ones with carrots and turnip!”

    “Ta muchly, Biron! You tried any of this bread yet? There’s apples in it!”

    “Stareye, whaddaya think o’ their pies?”

    “Rowan, go easy on th’ trifle, chap! Still a lot o’ scoffin’ to do, wot!”

    “I say, Sage, you should try this deeper’n’whatever stuff! It’s top hole!”

    “I sure will, Hillock, ‘long as you try this hotroot soup! Not too much of it, mind; don’t wanna be like the lieutenant, wot!”

    “Yeah mate, don’t wanna become a steamed hare, wot!”

    Nathaniel felt a blush come into his face as he heard his hares talk to each other, shaking his head as he made a rough sandwich out of a scone and a slice of cheese and bit into it. The rest of the morning was a blur of talk and eating, songs and laughter. As others got full of food for the time being the other parts of the feast began to be populated, with Redwallers playing every kind of game from hide-and-seek to darts to ring tossing.

    Soon enough, however, all of the Long Patrol hares and otters had finished eating, and much of the day’s attention moved over to the abbey pond, where the boxing ring was. Redwallers gathered around the ropes cheering for either or both sides. All of the combatants stripped down to their trousers, and soon enough Log-a-log Ferro had elected to go first for the Redwaller side, while the Long Patrol’s first contender was a hare by the name of Clover, a slim Long Patrol hare with grey fur.

    “Now,” said Abbot Siran, who was serving as the referee, “I want a nice, clean fight from both sides. That means no kicking, no biting, no scratching, and no striking below the belt line! Is that understood?” Siran got nods from both sides, and with that nodded in satisfaction. “Both sides will continue to fight until one group runs out of fighters! Now, both fighters shake paws!”

    Clover and Log-a-log did so, Clover giving Ferro a friendly smile. “Don’t worry, sah,” he said. “I won’t go easy on ya just ‘cuz you’re short, wot?”

    Log-a-log only gave a grin in answer. “Don’t worry, mate, you don’t need to worry about that.” With that, both fighters got their paws up in a boxing stance. Brother Song rang what was normally a dinner bell, and the fight began.

    “Go get ‘im, Clover!” shouted a hare named Tussock. This started off a cheering war as all of the other spectators started to cheer as well, all rooting for one side or another.

    “Show that long-eared pansy what for, Log-a-log!” Jaygo shouted.

    “Aye, knock his block off!” added Tare.

    “Don’t let the little bugger fool ya, Clover!” Quill called. “Stick ‘n move!”

    In the meantime both fighters were circling each other. Neither had made a move as they had waited for the other to attack first, but finally Clover lost patience. Taking some quick steps forward he swung a low punch aimed at Log-a-log’s snout.

    “Uuuuuuuuungh!” Many of the Redwallers winced at Clover’s groan and the sound of impact. Log-a-log had darted around the punch, then thrown a strike of his own that had hit Clover square in the stomach, the only part of the taller beast that he could easily reach. The hare doubled up, heaving for air, before Log-a-log threw another punch, this one hitting Clover right on the chin. With another loud yelp of pain Clover’s head snapped upward and he fell to the ground on his back, twitching weakly but unable to stand.

    The Long Patrol were all shocked silent, but the assembled Guosim and otters started cheering as Log-a-log shook Clover awake, shook his paw, and then left the ring. Clover was helped out by some of the other hares, and the next two fighters, an otter called Brookback and a hare named Hazel, entered the ring.

    “Don’t feel bad, Clover,” Nathaniel said as Tom and Starbuck helped the other hare to a nearby bench. “We’ll get ‘em back for that.”

    “I don’t feel sore t’wards him, sah, not at all!” Clover rubbed his chin where Log-a-log’s uppercut had struck him. “I will be wantin’ a rematch though, wot!”

    “You’ll ‘ave plenty of time, Clover. The shrews aren’t going anywhere.” Nathaniel turned towards the group of hares that was watching the other fight. “Oi, Sorrel! C’mere and take care of Clover until it’s your turn!”

    “Yes, sah!” Sorrel jogged over and sat.

    The tournament continued for the rest of the morning as both hares and otters fell. As competitors were knocked unconscious they were hauled out of the ring and either laid out on the grass or sat down on tables. Three different times Log-a-log Ferro would return to the ring, and each time he would knock out another hare. Tom Coarsegrass, the big Northern hare, laid out both of Skipper’s sons, Elek and Kay.

    “I must say, Father,” Friar Bale said as a staggering Tom fell to his knees and then landed flat on his face on the ground, having been knocked unconscious by an equally big otter by the name of Rapid. “They all seem to be enjoying it.”

    Siran shrugged as some hares dragged Tom out of the ring by his feet, the big youngster too heavy for them to pick up and carry out on their own. Gracepaw, the seemingly demure, lone female of the Long Patrol, then knocked Rapid flat on his rudder with a single punch to the snout, and continued to do so until Rapid could no longer stand. “So long as nobeast gets themselves seriously hurt. I still want this to remain a friendly competition; none of them should have bad feelings towards one another when this is done.”

    Log-a-log Ferro hopped back into the ring as Rapid was borne out of the ring by some of the rest of the otter crew. A flurry of fists later Gracepaw was flat on her back, her eyes fluttering shut after Log-a-log had struck her in the jaw with a thunderous right hook. As the haremaid was gingerly carried out of the ring, the shrew stretched as he waited on his opponent.

    This time around his opposition was none other than Starbuck, the other boxer among the Long Patrol hares. The young buck shook his head to get the shock of fur that stuck up between his ears out of the way, then he and Log-a-log squared up.

    By this time Nathaniel had come over to where Sam and his friends were. Sam turned to Nathaniel. “So, what do you think Starbuck’s chances are?”

    “Fairly good, I’d say, wot.” Nathaniel had a confident smile on his face. “Starbuck’s been th’ champion o’ the Salamandastron Youth Patrolhare Championship fer ‘round eight seasons now.”

    Starbuck and Log-a-log shook paws, then backed away, waiting for Siran to start the fight. As Starbuck was the shortest of the hares, Log-a-log actually was equal with the young hare’s head, though Starbuck’s ears still made him taller.

    “Go show the little bugger what for, Starbuck!” Some of the hares shouted. “Give ‘im a real Long Patrol thumpin!”

    “You can do it, Log-a-log!” Jaygo shouted from in front of Nathaniel. “Knock the little rabbit’s block off!”

    “Begin!” Siran said as Friar Bale rang the bell again.

    Log-a-log and Starbuck advanced on one another, their paws up and ready. Log-a-log started off throwing a pair of rapid left jabs aimed at Starbuck’s snout. The young hare dodged around the punches and in retaliation threw a right hook that Log-a-log barely ducked under. The shrew chieftain danced backward and the two began to circle one another.

    Starbuck went back in and threw an uppercut punch at Log-a-log’s jaw. Ferro backstepped to avoid the punch and then went back in for a counterattack, but a loud thud echoed around the ring and he staggered backward, his nose bleeding slightly from the jab that Starbuck had landed. Log-a-log rubbed his nose, looking at Starbuck, who gave him a wink.

    Log-a-log let out an amused huff and the two started circling again. Starbuck stepped in again and tried another feint before throwing an uppercut at Ferro’s chin once again, but the shrew dodged around it and tagged Starbuck in the ribs with a hard right, making the hare grunt in pain and backstep. Log-a-log followed after him, trying for another punch in the ribs, but Starbuck smacked that punch away before throwing a counterpunch of his own. This time the thump of impact was followed by an audible yelp as Log-a-log backpedaled, nursing his rapidly swelling eye. The sight of it sent up a whoop from the hares.

    “Go on, Starbuck!” Quill shouted. “Give it to ‘im!”

    “Show the wee beasty a proper Long Patrol thumpin’, lad!” Tom added.

    The fight continued in earnest, both combatants taking and receiving hits as they went at it hammer and tongs. Thumps and cracks echoed off of the abbey walls, along with grunts, yelps, and eeps of pain. The cheering from all sides had subsided as the Redwallers and Long Patrol hares simply watched the fight. Starbuck’s sandy fur began to grow dark with bruises, the hare bleeding from a split lip and a cut on his cheek, while Log-a-log Ferro’s right eye had swollen shut.

    Ferro ducked under a hook that Starbuck had aimed at his temple, delivering a one-two punch to Starbuck’s stomach that had the young hare gasping and backpedaling. Ferro continued after him, continuing to jab him in his ribs and stomach as Starbuck fought desperately to get his breath back. A sloppy left jab lashed out from Starbuck and struck Log-a-log square between the eyes, but the shrew fought through the pain to deliver a massive uppercut square to Starbuck’s abused middle.

    Starbuck went down on his paws and knees, heaving for breath as Log-a-log stepped back. Nathaniel pushed his way through the audience to get close to the other hare. “I say, Star! You alright, mate?”

    His answer was a loud retching noise from Starbuck as he vomited most of his lunch onto the ground. The stench and sight of it made many Redwallers backpedal, some of them attempting to keep down their own lunches. Starbuck retched twice more before he finally stood up, wiping his mouth and glaring daggers at Log-a-log. “’m fine, sah. Just gonna teach this little ruffian a bit o’ manners!”

    “C’mon then, lad,” Log-a-log replied, grinning. “I ain’t done with you yet!”

    “Give ‘im a punch tae th’ snout, Star!” Tom shouted. “Don’ let ‘im get tae ya!”

    Siran allowed the fight to resume and Starbuck came out swinging. Log-a-log tried once again to tag him in his stomach, but the young hare was wise to that tactic and blocked that punch, then hit Ferro with an uppercut that rattled his jaw. A hook to Log-a-log’s cheek made his ears ring, and a hard punch straight to the snout made the shrew yelp in pain as more blood fountained from his nostrils. Log-a-log staggered backwards, and Starbuck took advantage of his open guard to throw one more thunderous right. It collided with Log-a-log’s jaw and knocked the shrew flat on his back.

    The hares sent up a cheer as Starbuck shook his smarting fists, the youngster panting heavily. Log-a-log managed to raise his head, giving Starbuck a woozy smile. “N-n-nice p-punch…young’un.” With that his head fell back and the shrew chieftain’s eyes closed. Abbot Siran threaded his way into the ring, raising Starbuck’s paw.

    “Young Starbuck is the winner!” The announcement saw another cheer from the hares and some groaning from the Guosim, while Nathaniel worked his own way into the ring and gave Starbuck a pat on the back.

    “Nice job, mate.”

    “Thank y’kindly, sah.” Starbuck shook his head woozily, then looked at the Abbot. “If it’s all th’ same t’you, Abbot, sah, I’d like t’ recuse meself from th’ competition, wot! Think I’m all tuckered out.”

    Siran nodded understandingly and Starbuck left the ring, the other members of the platoon crowding around him and patting him on the back. Nathaniel chuckled as Starbuck was lifted onto the shoulders of the others, and they took him off to be paraded around the abbey grounds as some of the Redwallers, Guosim, and even some otters joined them.

    Siran chuckled at the sight, then looked at Nathaniel. “Well now, Lieutenant, it would appear that with young Starbuck and Log-a-log Ferro’s fight done, you and Skipper are the only ones left.”

    “Well then, sah,” Nathaniel said, dusting off his paws, “let’s get it over with, wot!”

    They waited for Starbuck’s celebratory parade to come back to the ring before the final match was announced. In order to prevent more injuries like Starbuck and Log-a-log’s fight, Abbot Siran decreed that both combatants have their paws taped.

    “Don’ let the brawny riverdog intimidate ye, Lieutenant,” Tom said as he took a few bandages from Daren’s medical bag and began wrapping them around Nathaniel’s paws. “Jus’ remember tae not stay ‘n one place too much, ye ken?”

    “I trained under Sergeant Jerrin just th’ same as you did, Tom,” Nathaniel said as he thumped his paws together, feeling the gentler impact of the tape. “I’m no stranger t’boxing, wot!”

    “Jus givin’ ye some advice, Lieutenant.” Tom said, smiling. “A Skipper o’ otters ain’t like th’ two little pups I saw off. Wager th’ pater would be scrappier ‘n his boyos.”

    “We’re rootin’ for you, Lieutenant,” said a hare named Trey, patting Nathaniel on the shoulder. “Do Lady Skystripe proud, wot!”

    “Are you ready, Lieutenant?” Abbot Siran asked. Nathaniel nodded and stood up, thumping a fist into his paw and rubbing it in.

    “Ready whenever Skipper is, Father Abbot!”

    Sam and his friends watched as the last otter and hare came to the center of the ring, their paws taped up. “Who do you think will win?” he asked.

    “Skipper, easy,” Jaygo said. “’E’s bigger, tougher, ‘n stronger.”

    “Dad’s no stranger t’brawling,” Elek said. “Me ‘n Kay learned everythin’ about fighting from him.”

    “Not very much if’n you ask me,” Tare said as he elbowed Elek in his sore gut. “That Northern ‘are took care o’ you two pretty quick!”

    “Watch yourself, you little furball.” Kay grabbed Tare around the neck and began vigorously rubbing a fist against his headfur. “Me ‘n Elek got some good hits in!”

    “It’s hard to tell, if you ask me,” Rollo said from where he hung over the ropes. “Neither of them have fought so far, so they aren’t tired out like the others.”

    “Are both of you ready?” Abbot Siran asked, looking from side to side. Both combatants nodded. “Right. Shake paws, you two, and then fight.”

    “Best o’ luck, Skipper,” Nathaniel said, giving the otter a friendly smile. “May th’ best beast win, wot?”

    Skipper smiled back. “Aye, best beast win.”

    The two backed away from one another and got their paws up, starting to circle. The crowd was silent now, all watching in anticipation to see which of the two sides would come out on top. The sun was now directly overhead, beating down on the brows of the otter and hare as each one waited to see which would attack first.

    Skipper finally broke the silence as he took a step forward and swung a wide, powerful right hook aimed at Nathaniel’s cheek. The hare ducked under it and threw a superb right hook towards Skipper’s chin, but the otter leaned back, his whiskers twitching as Nathaniel’s fist soared directly in front of his nose. Skipper countered with a thunderous overhead left that caught Nathaniel on his forehead, knocking him to one knee and opening a cut over his eye.

    Nathaniel shot back up and slammed a left punch into Skipper’s chin, knocking the otter’s head back and sending him staggering backward. Nathaniel continued forward and thumped a jab into Skipper’s chest, making the chieftain cough. Skipper ducked the next punch, a right hook aimed at his eye, and clubbed Nathaniel in the stomach with a punch. The hare’s breath left his body in an explosive cough and he doubled over Skipper’s fist, which opened him up to a hard punch to the snout that spent blood spurting from his nostrils.

    As Nathaniel staggered backward Skipper advanced on him, two punches finding Nathaniel’s cheeks and snapping the hare’s head left, then right, before he blocked a third punch and slammed a retaliatory punch right into Skipper’s own nose. More blood stained the grass and Skipper staggered backwards. The exchange over, both fighters began to circle one another again, panting lightly. Nathaniel’s eye was rapidly swelling shut as blood trickled over it, and numerous bruises were starting to show from where Skipper had punched him in his face and at his midriff. Skipper rubbed his chin as they circled one another, though he was in better shape than Nathaniel, with not as many wounds.

    The two came together again as Skipper hurled a hard left hook at Nathaniel’s eye. The hare ducked under the punch and then popped back up, landing two jabs against Skipper’s jaw before a swipe from the otter’s paw made the hare back away. Skipper retaliated with a hurled right at Nathaniel’s chin, but the hare blocked the punch and slammed a punch of his own into Skipper’s stomach, making the otter cough loudly. A second punch caught the winded Skipper in the cheek, knocking his head to the side and making him stagger backwards.

    Skipper dabbed his paw against a split lip as he and Nathaniel started circling each other again, the crowd still silent. Both of the combatants were now sweating profusely, sweat mingling with blood and making them wince as it trickled into their wounds. Nathaniel was the one to attack the next time, catching Skipper in the muzzle with a hard left hook. Skipper countered with a punch of his own and the two simply stood there, trading hard blows and sending sprays of sweat and spit everywhere as punch after punch landed with meaty thuds. Redwallers winced at the sounds of blows impacting and the yelps and squeals of pain that both fighters let out, along with explosions of breath from punches to the stomach and the loud snapping sounds of teeth clacking together from uppercuts.

    Neither fighter moved away from each other, the brawl continuing as both pairs of footpaws moved around one another. As the fight continued the blows came less often, the sounds of impact weaker, and the sounds of pain becoming weak grunts. Both combatants were now panting heavily, covered in bruises, and running out of steam.

    Skipper slammed a thunderous uppercut into Nathaniel’s chin, knocking his head back and making him stagger a few steps backward. The hare simply stood there, staring dully at the sky, his eyes half-open and his chin pointing upward, while his ears drooped down his back. Abbot Siran made a move to get inside the ring and check if the young lieutenant was still conscious, but in a burst of motion Nathaniel swung a punch down and slammed it hard into Skipper’s eye, knocking the otter chieftain to the ground, flat on his back. Immediately after Nathaniel joined Skipper on the ground, his cheek in the dirt as his eyes fluttered shut.

    Neither of them moved. Siran came into the ring and knelt by them. After a quick check, he stood back up and raised his arms. “Both of them are unconscious, so…it looks like a draw!”

    Groans rippled through the crowd. Skipper’s crew and the Long Patrol platoon both climbed into the ring, gathering around their respective leaders. Tom gingerly picked up Nathaniel and slung the limp lieutenant over his shoulder, while Skipper’s crew picked their chieftain up by his arms and legs. The two were carried out of the ring and were laid flat on their backs in Redwall’s orchard. There, Brother Tay, Redwall’s healer, saw to the both of them.

    “Will they be alright, Brother?” Sam asked, peeking over the otter’s shoulder. Tay nodded, and then gently pushed Sam backwards.

    “They’ll be fine, Sam. Just, please, stand back and let me work.”

    Abbot Siran turned to the other Redwallers. “They’ll be fine, everybeast. In the meantime, go back and enjoy the feast.”

    “Aye, ya heard ‘im!” Tom said, his much stronger voice carrying over the gathered audience. “Back t’ the feast! All o’ ye!”

    The Long Patrol and the otter crews ushered the Redwallers away from the orchard, leaving Tay to his ministrations.