All right folks, here we go! xD Coyote and Rodo – hop in! ^^
It was a nice summer day in a coast village far away from place called Redwall Abbey. In fact only a few town's goodbeasts had ever heard about that name and even fewer knew what it meant. And the rest didn't even care. Why should they take notice about some distant place anyway? They had everything they wanted right here.
The village was so small it didn't appear on any big maps drawn from the coast-area. But then again, few fisher-villages did. It wasn't due to their small size but because of their insignificance: the small towns didn't product anything the big merchant companies would be interested in, so trading caravans just passed them by taking their goods to the bigger markets. On the other hand the towns didn't need the merchants since they could product all they needed on their own. The ocean gave fishes, shrimps and clams. The forest gave wood and small cultivable parcels of land gave just enough for small village come by. So no wonder if towns like that become isolated from the other world as they didn't need anything from it. And outside-world didn't desire anything from the village. It was a good arrangement or so many of the old folks kept saying.
This village was one of those tiny towns, nameless and which existence the rest of the land didn't care about -- Though for the most of the inhabitants the town was the whole world they knew. It stood surrounded by wild grass-covered hillocks like on bosom of a small valley while the same hills protected the cottages from the strong ocean winds. The hills also effectively hid the village from the spying eyes if you were on the foot.
From the ocean the small village was easier to spot, as it faced widely open towards the salt waters like admiring the waist blue waves which broke into rocky cliffs and sandy beach with mighty rumble. The forest-line started behind the town, providing both food and building materials for the villager's residents. With all these the villagers felt secure in their town. Perfect peaceful haven, many said as they went on with their ordinary lives.
Sometimes it also felt so boring.
Jarret yawned mouth open wide and rolled on his stomach. He was lying on the hay-roof of one of the village's houses. It was his perfect (and hopefully secret) napping place from since he had become big enough to climb up here. The villagers called it a town hall, but actually it was just a slightly bigger house than the rest of the cottages in the town. All the town court's meetings were kept on the market place as this building wasn't even large enough for a big gatherings.
But what made this house an extraordinary landmark - and also Jarret's favorite spot - was the wooden bell tower which made the town hall the biggest building in the village. Well, you could call it "bell tower" thought there wasn't any bell on top of it -- only a metal gong. What Jarret had hear, the villager's founders had placed it there for case of an emergencies, to be tolled as a warning-signal for the villagers. But half-mouse had lived in the town for 19 years now and he had never head the gong's bong even once. But he still liked to climb top of the tower and peer to the sea.
Jarret yawned again and searched for a better prone position. His jet-black fur absorbed the sun's warmth and made him feel cozy. maybe he should just continue napping...