Our mice anxously pondered what to do to escape from the house and sneak past the vermin milling outside. Robin rigged up an harness that would allow them to carry the magnificent rocking chair on one’s back, freeing up one’s paws for other tasks.

After some debate whether to wait until evening, or perhaps even until early morning to use darkness as cover, the patrol decided they needed to get back to Mr. Short as soon as possible. Quintain, master of quiet and stealth, would sneak to the far side of the village and torch one of the houses there, drawing the urgent attention of the weasels. Dain and Robin would use the ensuing commotion as the signal to dart out the back of the house and meet up with Quintain and Mr. Short.

Anxiously our two mice waited for Quintain to do his work. Suddenly from outside, they heard a shout.

“Ohhhs nooos Mawwty, it’s a barrn’n!”

Peering through the front window, Dain saw the two weasels dash off, and the mice made their move. Quickly ducking from cover to cover, they made their way to the outskirts of town. Arriving breathlessly, they meet up with Quintain and went to collect their charge. Approaching the bush they saw signs of disturbance and called out quietly, “Martin! Martin!”, with no response.

Then from the far side of they hear a snarling, boisterous voice, “Ahhh, Karwwl, lookies whats I’s a found!”

Cautiously the party looks through the brush to see a terrified Mr. Short dangling in the clutches of two vicous beasts. A short debate broke out whether they should just leave him to his fate, but everyone quickly agreed that a rescue attempt should be made.

Robin, encumbered with the chair, rigged his spear in the middle of the path, pointing up at a 45 degree angle, with the point right at weasel height. Dain drew his sword and circled around close to the weasels, while Quintain readied his bow.

Suddenly a ‘twange’ rang out as a small arrow buried itself into one of the weasel’s faces! Instantly Dain bravely dove from cover and dealt a vicious slice to the other fiend’s knees. The weasels dropped Mr. Short with cries of startlement and pain. Dain grabbed Mr. Short and they began bolting down the path towards the other waiting mice.

“Wowwzie, Geowgie! Thems getting thems away!” hollered one of the weasels as it snatched the arrow from his face, blood dripping down from the wound and began scampering after the fleeing mice.

A chase was on!

The other rascally weasel, clutching at his damaged leg bellowed, “I’m gonna gits you for that. Karwll, git thems!” and came hobbling after. Desperately the mice pound down the path trying to lure the weasels into their waiting trap. Quintain strung another arrow, but in his haste nicked the bowstring, causing it to snap. Dain stutter-stepped, hoping to throw the chasers off, but they lunged forward sensing an opportunity.

Dain managed to squirt forward and hollered, “Frank, now, now!”

Startled, fearing more mice ready to get them, the weasels slow and look around for the coming ambush. When nothing happened, George says “Theys aint got thems no Frank!”, to which Karl quipped, “Nor no beans!”. Having a chuckle, and feeling boisterous and bullying, the weasels leaped forward and snagged Mr. Short who gave a terrified squeal.

Robin, who had been waiting a ways down the trail, turned back and began to head towards the fray. Dain, having vowed to watch over the party, wheeled around and lept onto the weasels, whipping his sword at the pursuers. Mr. Short, once again freed, darted forward under the urging of Quintain, fleeing down the path.

Unfortunately, Dain was quickly swarmed under and abolished by the weasels, giving his life so that the others can go free.

Miserable and sad, the three mice manage to straggle back to Walnutpeck. The loss of Dain weighs heavily upon them. Our guard mice dejectedly head back to Lockhaven to report the dreadful news. Mr. Short, using his master carpentry skills, carved a tribute to him into the chair. Stories of his selfless sacrifice and the bravery of the Guard spread through the outlying towns. The legend of Dain’s sword, “Bird Bane”, lost to the weasels, get told by firesides for years to come.

Who knows, maybe the stories will spark a sense of wonder and adventure in some young mouse, who will join the guard or seek vengence upon the terrible weasels.