Belated gift for a friend's birthday. Cobb the Gob belongs to the lovely Mrs. P. Cap'n Tamarack (a.k.a. The Fearsome Lady Chopsnout) is mine. Picture inspired by the below scene out of Redwall Lockdown.

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“Mr. Cobb, are you kicking me?” Tamarack asked as she sat down across from the mole, her plate overflowing with rhubarb pie, pasties, fish, and spring salad. Something had knocked her leg beneath the table, and Colm was already off to fetch his own food.

The mole dropped a forkful of carrot casserole on his lap as his eyes widened. “No, Miz Tam. Oi would never do that.”

“Well, if it ain’t you, then I got a right friendly spider pulling at my belt just now.”

At Cobb’s frown, the vixen grabbed the paw she could see, now groping along the bench, and jerked upward.

“Yeowch! Whatcher go an’ do that fer, ye blasted landlubber?” The owner of the paw appeared, wriggling and hissing. She yanked herself free to stem the blood dribbling from her nose.

“Are you all roight, Miz Kitty?” Cobb passed the young wildcat his napkin.

“Why’re you hiding under the table, Bludd?” Tamarack snorted. “Not to mention punching me like I’m some corpsified beast what don’t care no more.”

“I was treasure-huntin’, matey,” the kitten babbled around the white-now-red-spotted napkin. “Saw me a bit o’ treasure an’ ‘ad at it. Jist an ‘onest freebooter plyin’ ‘er trade.”

“Treasure?” The only treasure she had was… “Bludd! You’re not allowed to steal that. Not never, you hear?”

Bludd wilted. “C’mon, mate, didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

That had sounded rather harsh. Bludd was good for a laugh now and again. “Sorry, Bludd. Just getting a bit tetchy. Ain’t had a chance to fill up the belly proper, aye? Oh, and this here fellow’s Mr. Cobb. He’s working for my family.”

“So, they’ve sentenced ye t’ th’ wheel an’ chain, matey? Bad luck after ‘scapin’ a dungeon.”

“You’ve met before, have you?”

“Not properly, Miz Tam. She’m were… excited ’bout moi being locked in th’ Abbey dungeon. Oi thought she’m runned off.”

Bludd placed a paw over her heart. “Asked ‘im t’ join me crew. Almost! But pinchin’ veggibles ain’t part o’ th’ pirate code.”

“Right, well, Mr. Cobb, this is Bludd. She sleeps in the graveyard sometimes.”

“Doan’t it get cold in th’ noight?”

“Dead beasts tell no tales,” the kitten explained, tapping her bloody nose.

“And they got the best sort of loot: the kind as ain’t nobeast using no more.”

“Miz Tam.” Cobb’s mouth flattened into a grimace.

“Mumma says it’ll stick if you make funny faces like that, Mr. Cobb.”

By this time, Bludd’s paw had crept across the table and appropriated a mushroom pasty from Tamarack’s plate. It disappeared beneath the napkin. “Is that where ye got that there silver medallion in yer pocket, matey?”

“Not… quite.” Tamarack exchanged a glance with Cobb as she pulled the cloakpin from her pocket and showed it to Bludd beneath the edge of the table. The vixen was careful to hold on tight. “There’s been some trouble, and we found this around about where it started.”

“Eh? Is Brother Tompkins in trouble?”

“Brother Tompkins?” Tamarack pocketed the cloakpin and slapped Bludd’s paw before the kitten could steal another pasty. “Go get your own. And what do you mean Brother Tompkins?”

“Well,’s like th’ one he’s got, innit? Can’t blame an ‘onest freebooter fer lookin’, can ye? No, says I,” the wildcat grumbled, claws reaching toward Cobb’s plate. The mole slid it to the right, and Bludd scowled at him. For a moment, Tamarack thought he might actually stick his tongue out at the little fiend, but he resisted the temptation and settled for a frown.

“Where did you see it?” the fox asked. “Where exactly?”

“Don’ rightly recall.” Bludd crossed her arms and turned her nose up. “Might do with a bit o’ skilly an’ duff, though.”

“Bludd, I–” Before she could finish, Tamarack caught sight of Merritt’s cart. The ferret was gone. “Cluny take the Long Patrol! Here, Bludd, you can have my plate. All the skilly and duff you can eat. Mr. Cobb, I need you to ask her proper about the other pin while I go take care of something.”

“What? But, Miz Tam… Oi’m not s’posed to be alo–”

“Mumma and Papa and Grannie are just over there. You’ll be fine.” She stood as Bludd’s furry tentacles latched onto her plate and drew it in. Dinner would have to wait.

“But…”

“We’re in this together, Mr. Cobb… ain’t we? I need you to do this for me.”

The mole hung his head. “Oi’ll troi, Miz Tam.”

“Cobb th’ Gob, ‘s what I’ll call ye!” Tamarack heard Bludd announce. She didn’t need to look back to know that the mole was staring after her.

Sorry, Mr. Cobb.