Chapter 1

The sun was high in Noonvale as a small mousemaiden and her badger-nanny walked up to one of the cottages. The badgermum, with her large, heavy paw, knocked three times on the door. They were answered by a male mouse. He was tall and round, gray with age, yet his eyes and movements showed remnants of youthful quickness.

"Yes?" he asked, his eyes roving over the two females.

"Markas the Warrior?" the badger-lady asked, her own eyes looking the male up and down.

"Speaking."

"I am Merola. I have brought you your niece, Lily."


"But she can't stay here," Markas argued.

"And why not? You're the only family she has left," replied Merola, sipping her tea daintily.

Lily, in the meanwhile, was wandering about her uncle's cottage. There wasn't much room, what with all the swords, axes, armor, and chests scattered all around.

"But you can see for yourself! This is no place to raise a maiden! Besides, I haven't got any room for you two to stay in."

"You can make room. Just get rid of some of these boxes."

"These 'boxes', marm, contain articles of some of my most treasured memories, and I can't be parted with them."

"So you would put the convenience of your silly little bric-a-bracs over the needs of your own niece? When she needs the most?"

"I didn't say that–"

"And what about your poor brother? I thought the two of you were fond of each other! Wouldn't you want to do this for him and his wife at least?"

"But don't you understand, she'd be miserable here."

"My parents are dead."

Markas and Merola turned and looked at Lily, who had spoken.

"I'd be miserable anywhere."

Merola turned and smiled triumphantly at Markas, who threw up his paws in resignation.


Markas watched sadly as a pair of sturdy young otters carried out some of his beloved chests.

"Oh, don't look so downhearted," Merola snapped. "Honestly, you'd think we were throwing them into a bonfire instead of building a shed to keep them in."

"I hate to think of them being out of my reach," explained the old mouse, shaking his head.

"Then we shall have to make sure to bring them in often," said Lily. "That way you can show me what's in them. I've been wondering about them all day."

Markas looked at his niece with a raised eyebrow.


"And this," Markas went on, pulling out a purple robe embroidered with gold, "was what I got to wear as an honored guest to the birthing celebration of Prince Cedar in Southsward."

"Ooohhh, Uncle, its so beautiful!" Lily cooed as she felt along the soft fabric.

"Try it on, see if it'll fit."

"Oh, can I? Oh!"

The mousemaid slipped it on. It was much too large for her, but she loved it all the same.

"Oh, Uncle, I feel like a princess! Did you ever meet any real princesses on any of your journeys?"

A gleam entered the old mouse's eye. "Oh, yes indeed. . . ."

"I think we better save those stories for when you're older, miss!" interrupted Merola.

Markas laughed and agreed, much to Lily's indignation.


Lily was ten seasons when she came to live with her Uncle Markas. She was fifteen when he left in search of adventure. Though saddened by his departure, the mousemaid understood how warriors often got a need for adventure and excitement, and the serenity of Noonvale didn't always supply that.

Before he left, Markas promised his niece he would bring her back something extra-special. Upon his return two seasons later, he gave her a rather large basket.

"I do wonder what it is," Lily said as she opened the lid.

As soon as she opened the basket, a small face stared up at her.

". . . .a baby?"

"A ferret baby," said Merola, raising her eyebrows.

"I came across a small tribe of ferrets. Or at least what used to be their tribe. From what I heard, that particular tribe wasn't a bad lot. They were content to mind their own business, but a band of river-rats attacked them, slaughtered the whole lot of them. Only this little one was left, hidden in a burrow beneath a tree. I only found her by the sound of her crying. I felt so sorry for her, and, well, Lily, you and her have something in common. Neither of you have any parents. . . ."

"When you said you'd bring me back something extra-special," the mousemaid said, lifting the ferretbabe in her arms, "I didn't expect this."

"She really hasn't the experience for raising babies," Merola said.

"Well that's where you come in, see?" Markas replied, giving the badger-lady a look similar to the one she gave him on the day they first came to Noonvale.

Merola snorted, but looked down at the ferretbabe resting peacefully in Lily's arms. "What'll we call her? Have you thought up a name?"

Markas allowed himself a smirk of triumph before saying, "Yes, actually, I have. I thought 'Primrose' would be a good choice. The burrow I found her in was surrounded by them."

"'Primrose' is a lovely name," Lily said, smiling down at the beautiful ferretbabe. "Primrose. That's just the type of flower she looks like. Her fur is the exact same color."

"Yes. And may she also grow up to become like a primrose," Merola said grimly, but she still couldn't stop herself from noticing how adorable the ferretbabe really was. . . .


"No, not another one!" cried Lily as she picked up a small harebabe out of another basket Markas had given her.

It had been a season since the arrival of Primrose (who was doing all the typical mischievous things any Dibbun would do), and already Uncle Markas had gone off on another adventure and brought back another orphaned baby.

"Her parents were woodland hares," the old mouse explained. "The mother became ill with fever and died. It's a miracle her daughter didn't get anything from her."

"And what about the father?" questioned Merola.

"Fell off a cliff on a dark, stormy night. He had been trying to go see a healer vixen for his wife, but got lost in the storm and apparently couldn't see where he was going. What else could I do but bring the little one back here?"

"Well, I don't suppose you could've done anything else," admitted Lily as she cradled the little hare. "What shall we name her?"

"Oh, she's already been named. 'Petunia'. That's what the mother told me before she died."

"'Petunia'. That's a lovely – no! Primrose!"

Merola hurried over and retrieved the season-old ferret from knocking over a vase.


Two seasons later, Merola stood in the kitchen of the little cottage, reading aloud to Markas and Lily, both of whom held a little one in their arms.

"'I have heard tales about the charitable retired warrior, Markas,'" the badgermum read from the letter she was holding, "'about how he takes poor orphans into his care. Though my little one is not an orphan, she might as well be. I am completely unable to give her the life she deserves. I do not wish to inflict upon her a life with me as her mother. I would much rather she grew up in the kindness of such creatures as Markas the Warrior, and all his household. I beseech you all to take in my little Pansy, and raise her as your own. Please do not keep my request a secret from her, though. I wish for her to have some idea why I left her, and hope that she will understand someday. My thanks to you all.'"

Merola turned the letter over before stating, "That is all. That's all her mother wrote."

"Poor thing," Lily said, peering down at the bundled-up squirrelbabe, lying in one of the cradles Markas had carved.

"Yes," agreed Markas. "Having a name like 'Pansy'."

"Uncle!" cried Lily, unable to hold back a laugh.

"Well I think the least the mother could've done is give her a better name!" Markas explained.

"That'll be enough from you," said Merola. "But I must say, I hope we don't get any more babies. Not that I mind them, but I'm not getting any younger, and I don't want all the woodlands thinking they can just drop off their young uns with us anytime they want!"

"I doubt they will," Lily comforted. "And besides, we're not in this alone. We have all of Noonvale to help us, its not so bad."

"Indeed its not," remarked Markas. "The only bad thing around here is the name 'Pansy'."


Yet another season passed, and Lily found herself reading a letter addressed to her from Markas (who had left for yet another adventure).

"'Though I love it at Noonvale with you and the other three flowers, there are still adventures within my heart that yearn to be satisfied. I know you'll understand - you always seem to. I shall always love you, little niece, never forget that. You truly are your father's daughter. But something else I wish to impart to you: in one of my chests, there are some necklaces that I want all the little ones to have when they grow up. There is a turquoise necklace I want Primrose to have, a pearl necklace for Petunia, and a coral one for Pansy. Each necklace has a story behind them, and I hope to return in time to tell the maidens those tales. Give my love to Merola as well. I shall miss that old stripedog for the time being.

'Internal love and affection, Uncle Markas.'"

Lily set the letter down.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then the mousemaid distinctly heard Merola sniffle, muttering, "Stripedog."


Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall, Noonvale, or anything from such a series. Neither do I own 'Ballet Shoes', the movie that this fic is based on (I haven't read the book, so I'm taking more from the movie than the book).