Welcome to Reed Keeneye's page of stories! Feel free to take a look around and read a bit!

About the Stories: (A short documentary by the Abbess)
Reed's Tale: A great auto-biography, with good detail and wise choice of words for descriptiveness. Overall Rating= 8/10
The Shrew Camp: You know me and my love for original stories. This isn't a long one, I'm afraid, but I still think that it's creative! Overall Rating= 6/10
Dawn of Rosewood Abbey: I'm a sucker for discoveries. Great story! Overall Rating= 9/10

Reed's Tale
By Reed Keeneye

I woke up surrounded by reeds in a marsh. Vane Bard had put me here, and I have yet to forgive him. He happened to choose a name that is an anagram for evil raven. He fit his name. He never needed an invitation, just a hint from anyone that there was a happy or strong colony nearby. Never a quitter or coward, my father fought until the bitter end when he showed up. Grandmother Sage never liked conflict, and fled with a most precious thing: me. A trained rat shot her down. Limping, she whispered an old lullaby. With the last of her strength, she crawled off, leaving me in the sheltering reeds. A boat full of shrews found me days later. I grow up among them, but never quiet fitting in. A traveler came by years later, and told me about Rosewood Abbey, where there were animals like me. I was reluctant to leave the shrews, but I needed a little more than they could offer. I still visit the shrews often(Their cooking is hard to match.).

The shrews that found me had been along that stretch of water many times since I had been placed there, but I never made a peep. I was silent until very late in life. Because of my silence, I never quite fitted in with my adoptive, arguing family, so I spent my days in the rivers, trees or reeds. I became a strong swimmer--rather unusual for a squirrel--, a silent spy, and a skilled weapon maker. We met a traveling squirrel once on our way down the river, and I was mystified. What kind of creature was this? I had met otters, mice and other animals, but this was a mystery. Someone that looked like me? Amazing! I listened to his tale of a place where there was all animals: mice, otters, hares, even a badger! I communicated in my special way to Log-a-log, and by the next morning, I was no longer an abnormal shrew, but a squirrel--and a talking one at that! The traveler--his name was Cedar Limpfoot-- had left the isle for adventure, and having found none the kind he was ! hoping for, headed back. He was from the same area, and Vane Bard had captured him--and killed most of his family, also--, but a clumsy crow had dropped him and Cedar fell into a robin's nest, high up in a cedar tree. His leg was broken, and robins aren't good at setting limbs, so Cedar earned the name Limpfoot for his useless leg. By the time we reached the isle a season later, Cedar had almost full control of his leg again. Cedar bragged to Abbess Lavender about my 'smooth talking', and I tried in desperation to deny it, but he was stubborn, and the Abbess intrigued. All my hard debating was for naught, because I gave a young 'un with a nasty temper a bath without a whimper. I almost became abbess two short seasons ago, when Abbess Lavender died peacefully of old age. I declined, knowing soon my archenemy and I would meet again, most likely on my trip back to the shrews every other season. Go back up

The Shrew Camp
By Reed Keeneye

A squirrel among the shrews; odd you might call it, but I say it's life--mine to be exact. I was found in the reeds by them when I was just a young 'un, my family taken by the evil raven Vane Bard. Just his name sends shivers down my back, all the way from my black ears to my midnight-tipped tail. I was a loner among arguers, and though Log-a-log, my adoptive father, tried to help, I still couldn't fit in. So, I went to the reeds--my namesake--and fashioned a string from the inner parts of the reeds. Some call it hemp, but I connected a butterfly-shaped stone, and called it Leita. Though the original string has worn beyond use, the stone is the same. Many a villian has fallen from behind, struck in the back of the head from my Leita, never to rise again. Vane is still out there, but it is fate that we meet again. Go back up