*Ok people, this is the revised edition of chapter 1! Well, considering that the original first chapter did not feel Brian Jacques-ish, I think this is somewhat better, wot? Hopefully, with this rewritten chapter, you'll understand the story a little more than the last time.

Disclaimer: Redwall and its concepts are owned by Brian Jacques! The characters are mine, save for a few!

**Pleasepleaseplease read all the chapters in my story. Just because the first chapter doesn't seem interesting doesn't mean it's THAT sucky...


The sun had slipped into the horizon, taking the light of day with it, and enveloping the land in a cloak of darkness. Nocturnal birds aroused themselves and flew for their nightly hunts. Frilled lizards and their other reptilian relatives retreated from the surface with the departure of the sun, hissing with annoyance and longing to warm themselves on the rocks. Winter was not in their favour.

The grounds of Mossflower country were covered in a thick sheet of ever-white snow; typical when in the middle of winter. Snow had piled atop the branches of rowan, oak, beech and other trees in the forest areas; a few branches had broken under its immense weight.

A tawny owl waddled out of his hole, at the same time kicking snow off his perch. He spread his massive wings and flapped them, readying himself for another hunt for prey. As he flapped, the wind billowing from the wings dislodged some snow above the owl, causing them to fall and coat him with the soft material. The owl hooted twice and shook himself free of the freezing jacket of snow. Huffing and muttering to himself, he waddled out further down the branch until he was near the end. Behind, his mate and chicks lay quiet, sleeping and waiting 'til complete darkness overwhelmed the land, while in front, the final rays of light hid beneath the long stretch of land. It was time.

The owl prepared for his leap.

"They're too close for comfort! Hurry, into that yew thicket!" the sudden cry forced the owl to bounce back in surprise, making the branch bob up and down like a spring-lever. Grunting in distaste, the owl looked downwards to the floor, large and unblinking eyes searching for the would-be intruder… or intruders, judging from the noisy flopping of paws and scrunching of snow.

Three hooded figures came running out of the screen of green-and-white, stopping once to catch their breath before hurrying into the thicket directly beneath the owl's perch. His plumage helped him blend into the snowy evening.


The figure nearest to the back of the thicket huddled her whimpering bundles, stroking and urging them to be silent. Her emerald green eyes softened with love and fear for their safety, while her dark, bushy tail brushed furiously against the second figure. She wanted to save her young from harm! She wanted to ensure their future!

The second creature was obviously a fox, from the tip of his reddish muzzle to the end of his white-tipped tail. He lacked the evil and cunning most foxes had; this was the rare instance where vermin breeds ever had a heart for other creatures than themselves. He stared at the hidden opening, panting, thinking the next course of action. His dark eyes darted about, searching for any source of inspiration. The same eyes fell upon the still figure of the final escapee.

"Orthias, d'you 'ave a plan, mate?" the fox questioned.

The still figure shifted slightly before pulling back its hood, revealing a furry, blue-black muzzle and pale, amber eyes. White fur was beginning to tinge the area around the eyes; the wolf was older than any of them.

Jerking his muzzle towards the back of their hiding place, the somber-faced wolf drew out his dagger. "By and by, we've to run. But I can't cover all three tracks with those fleeting scum on our tails."

"No, please, Father, don't say that!" the first hooded figure whispered, almost desperately. "What about my children… your grandchildren? What'll become of their little souls?"

The old wolf snapped his jaws, pale amber eyes ablaze with impatience.

The fox took the hood and gingerly pulled it back, revealing the head of his mate; a female wolf, whose fur colour followed her father's, only with a white streak running down from the neck along her flank on each side. The fox held back the tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks. Slowly, he closed his arms around the female wolf and the little bundles, embracing them like it was their last. He watched the bundles; his children. One took the unmistakable appearance of him as a fox, while the other… he was unsure. It was a mixed breed! The fox's face lit up a fraction.

"Dear, look! He's… He's followed both of us!" he murmured proudly.

Orthias couldn't help snap his jaws again. "Listen! That blithering Warlord is closing in on us, and he's sure to track us even in the dark! We need a plan now!"

The fox released his hold on his mate and hurriedly turned towards the darkened forest. His dark eyes burned with untold fury, and the fur on his neck bristled.

"Father, you and my family shall flee towards the east. Cover the tracks with whatever tricks yore dagger can do and make sure they can never find you. I'll lead them in another direction, possibly to the North. Once I shake 'em off, I'll travel eastwards until I find you," he barked.

"Stow that trash, my son! What if they catch you?" the old wolf was not yet pleased.

The fox's eyes were grim with foreboding. "Then… You will both have to fight for my freedom… at the children's risk…"

The female wolf immediately lashed out, scoring a mark in his neck.

"No! You're a fool, Wecrester! Why d'you wish to endanger-"

The fox threw his arms around her, tears coursing through the reddish fur. "Please… Just do as I say… it'll be alright…"

The sounds of more paws running through the heavy snow and cries of battle could be heard, growing louder and louder as the danger came closer…

Again, the fox hugged his mate together with the children, soon joined by Orthias. All eyes were brimming with tears, as thoughts ran through their minds, each one differing yet thinking almost the same thing: It would be a while before any of them saw each other again. Wecrester the fox allowed the female wolf to weep for a bit before turning her eyes to face his.

"I promise, if anything happens, I'll find a way to see the kids one last time before my time or yours... That ferret will regret raiding our village and slaying your mother. After all this, I'll come back to you and Father... and the kids..."

The female wolf's voice was a small whimper when she spoke. "Promise?"

"I promise..."


Abigail Greycloud and Snow Terrymount were returning from their stroll in Mossflower woods, tired and with the knowledge that evening had settled. The mouse and dormouse babe looked about their surroundings before spotting their beloved home: Redwall Abbey.

"Missus H'Abigail, why be night comin' effweeday?" the little babe asked, staring curiously at the now-twinkling sky.

The young grey mouse smiled and scooped up the dormouse, tickling her footpaw with a finger. "Well, Snow. All creatures need a rest, that's why night comes. The sun's light and heat will vanish for a while so that we could have a nice peaceful rest."

"But why does it have to come when I'm 'avin' fun?"

"Oh, time does fly when you have fun, doesn't it? It's nature that enables the circle of life, my little one. Ooh! Feel that wind; it's becoming very cold now! C'mon, back to the Abbey!"

The mouse dashed through the thick blanket of snow, headed for the red sandstone building that loomed in the darkness with its many lighted rooms. The young mouse grinned with satisfaction as the main entrance came into view, doubling her efforts and speeding forward like a light-footed hare.

The next thing she knew, she had tripped and tumbled, stopping slap-bang into the gate. The gate creaked open, and a brown red popped out to scan the area. Upon seeing the flipped-over mouse, the door was swung wide open and the squirrel gatekeeper helped her to her feet.

"Woo! Why, thank you, Quill!" Abigail gasped.

The squirrel puffed up his bushy tail, almost smiling. "My pleasure. Quite a loud knock ye gave there. Howwy, and it's almost dinner!"

"Food and food, the only thing in your mind and you're not even a hare! Here, I tripped over something when I was running. Take Snow from me first please," Abigail handed the dormouse babe to the gatekeeper before retracing her running path. The sight of a bundle had her calling out to the whole Abbey.

"Dear, dear, deary me! It's a babe! A babe! Mother Niru! Mother Niru!"


The babe was more suited to the title 'pup'.

It was half wolf and half fox! The pup was mostly coloured blue-black. Its pelt was patterned with creamy white fur, running from the back of its ears down towards the neck, through the underbelly, branching off along the sides in a wave pattern, rounding the hindlegs before ending at the tip of the tail. Its lower jaw was coloured the reddish-brown of a fox, and it had only one paw of the same colour.

As Quill took a closer look at the curious youngster, he noticed a medallion hanging around the pup's neck.

"Mother Niru, he's got a medallion!"

The badger Mother gently tapped it, eyeing it curiously. It was a silver one, with gold rims and some odd scratches in it. "Hmm, I've never seen much of it before… Quill Brownbush! Where're you bounding off to?"

The gatekeeper waved a paw. "To fetch Father Abbot!"

Abigail yanked the energetic squirrel by the tail, almost ready to pounce on him. "He's taking his evening nap; always is before every dinner time! It's not right to disturb him!"

Mother Niru gave a brief chuckle and laid the pup down on her lap, stroking it gently.

"Mind him not, Abigail, I should think he can fetch Nathan instead."

Someone instantly hurtled past the door, tumbling heads over heels as he vainly tried to make his way hurriedly into the room the three Redwallers were in. A jumble of pawsteps later, a young brown mouse came flip-flopping into the room with oversized sandals and habit. Abigail couldn't help giggling.

"Nathan, novice of the Order at y'service, Mother Niru!" the newcomer greeted.

"My, oh my… you remind me of someone with that attire… He lived long before our time altogether…" the great badger murmured, racking her brains for the answer.

"Matthias the Warrior, ma'am?"

"Quill, how could you know?"

Quill Brownbush patted his habit sleeve delicately before leaping all around the room, calling out in a singsong voice, "The Matthias and Methuselah bells have pealed for the evening, hahahaha!"

Snorting with contempt and turning back to the young brown mouse, she smiled wistfully. "Nathan, soon you will be a full-fledged member of the Order… as a Brother. But, d'you mind a side-task?"

Nathan nodded for a while before pointing towards the bundle in the badger's lap.

"Is it that, Mother Niru?"

The badger let Nathan carry the bundle; the would-be Brother looked ready to jump for joy as he pulled the cloth to reveal an adorable and furry face! He knew the young pup was a half-breed – he could see it through the colour of his pelt and the structure of some limbs. But he didn't care. He suddenly felt the love and concern that all young ones needed, and this one, though not purely a single breed, needed the most out of him.

Something else hovered in the mouse's mind, and his brows creased with worry. Turning his head to all in the room, he asked, "Of what breed is he?"

Mother Niru closed her eyes, pawing them gently as if to chase away some nightmare.

"He's a wolf… and a fox together… A foxwolf…" she replied almost reluctantly.

"VERMIN! That child's a blitherin' vermin! It's happening all over again; Bryony wouldn't have liked this if she were still alive 'til now!" Quill cried, jumping off the armchair he was seated in. The squirrel gatekeeper's eyes were now fiery with a mixture disbelief and resentment for foxes.

"What does it matter?" Nathan's remark surprised all those in the room. "I'll raise him to be like any other honourable Redwaller, you bet I will. He won't be like all vermin, I promise. Hmm… Wot should I name you?"

A string of answers ensued, each making matters more confusing.

"Blacksnow?"

"Atrocious name, Quill Brownbush! How about Nightwinter?"

"Abby, it sounds girly! This'n is a male! Oh! I know, Whitewave!"

"Not so yourself, Quill. No, Starsky would be better, really."

"NO!"

"Phish-tosh, you and your badger heritage, Mother Niru!"

"Fine then. Quilltole."

"WHAT! Don't name vermin after me, tussock-tail! Though that name could be used fer my son…"

"Sunpaw."

"Brownfur"

"Aravende"

"Fleet."

The quarreling Abbey dwellers ceased their bickering and turned towards Nathan, eyes fixed in puzzlement. They watched as the mouse stroked the pup's medallion, smiling most lovingly at his new task. Abigail was the first to break the awkward pause.

"Beg pardon, Nathan. What did ye say?"

Nathan looked at her with knowing eyes. "Fleet. That's what I'll call him… some part of me says that's what his name should be… Fleet."

The pup stirred from its slumber, prodding Nathan's arm with its kicking footpaws. It opened its mouth in a wide yawn and blinked open its eyes. They were the most beautiful emerald green eyes anybeast had laid on. The pup looked up at Nathan and smiled, before burying its small head deeper into the young mouse's habit.

Nathan huddled the pup closer and nodded to the others. "Fleet it is. Heh, even he likes it. I'll be off to the dormitories now."


Quill stayed behind with Mother Niru, small eyes alight with doubt.

"I don't know, Niru… The young one being half-fox makes me doubt our decision…"


Outside in the harsh winter night, perched in the bough of an old elm tree, the tawny owl listened as the twin bells of the structure tolled again. He stood stock still for a moment, listening as the soft, booming echo of the bells rang throughout the forest.

He had done what he could. He had saved the wish of the runaways. Now, night beckoned him back to his home.

"I foresee we will meet soon. But when we do, you will be in great peril," the owl murmured, unfolding his wings and taking off, the shadow of Redwall Abbey gradually shrinking 'til it was nowhere in sight.


Seasons later…


Extract from an unknown source, found at a hut east of St. Ninian's.

We arrived... and were fearful at first... but were reassured by those who have long inhabited the place. They welcomed us with kind words, and their faces were painted with the bright colours of warmth. They allowed us to stay, as long as we agreed to adapt to their lifestyle and defend the village from any mishap. We did.

For about a month and two, we basked in our new-found life and blended in with our fellow villagers. They laughed with us, played with us and even pouted with us. The smiles and laughter were not uncommon here any longer, for we had been accepted fully by the village head. Each villager was a member of our family, and none were left to suffer while the other triumphs.

But somewhere along the way, we just... drifted apart.

They began to talk to us less, and many a-times were we ignored. They began favouring others over us, and would only attend to us when it was extremely necessary. It was a lopsided affair. As more villagers suddenly fell into this odd trance, we tried hard to hold on to those closest to us. Sadly, majority had fallen into the clutches of this dreary plague. The only people who stayed with us were the village elders and those who were going through the same problem as us. The village head-whom I befriended with closely-had shown the painted face of dislike and disgust as I walked past one day. The feeling was upon me and my troupe. What had happened to this village?

For the next few weeks, we had fought hard to retain our comrades. We convinced them that nothing good would come out of joining the other party. And we even held joyous gatherings. But alas, I had lost my closest friend to the "favoured side".T he village head, along with those who I had first trusted as my friends, had favoured him over me. The feeling of dread washed over us all, as we stared horrified by the changes. We were overpowered by the reign of the village head, such that we were nowhere near being able to take back our friends and family.

We withstood the treacherous truth for many weeks, slowly turning into months. Few of us were on the brink of giving up to the "favoured side" but they held on. The burden of living with those who show no liking for us began clawing its way into the young hearts. One eventually relented and ran to pray-tell-where, despair crashing down upon him. The rest of us could only weep silently when we gathered away from the treacherous antagonist group.

It went on and on... until, I made my decision...

We would leave the village.

When night fell, we acted. We packed our belongings from the huts that we were given accommodation to. Items that were connected to those who had joined the "favoured side" were either discarded or left where they were. With the small number of us left in the troupe, we slipped out of the village with whatever supplies we could get our paws on. We took one last look at the wretched village, and stood against the moonlit sky. The thoughts of what had happened swam steadily in our minds. The warm and welcoming image of the villagers became that of cold-heartedness and hostility.

We remembered the ones we had lost within the village, and the thought of my closest friend came. Followed by the image of the village head, and her other three leaders. One of them was rather close to us, but was unable to join us due to his promise as a village leader. With nothing else to think about, we glared down at the once-friendly valley that had turned on us.

We, the Inarian Troupe, disregarded those who had failed us as our family and never looked back to the village. But, we wanted to know why all this had roused itself within the peaceful community. Why had they turned on us, why they had rejected us...? Where had all this dejection and betrayal come from?

That was when it struck me. The one word rang in my head, and my troupe constantly worried about my well-being. But the realisation was so immense, I couldn't help but seethe as it came to my mind time and again. Finally, I dared to say the reasons for all this mishap...

...Betrayal had been sent upon us...


Fleet flipped the pages again, reading the excerpt from top to bottom to grasp the details. Before he could even read the first line, he heard a mighty thump on the floor. Daring not to flinch, he looked up from the book and stifled a squeal.

"Well, well, well. Wot do we 'ave 'ere, eh? A lil' bookworm in Sister Lina's library!" the deep voice of an otter boomed.

Fleet nodded his head slightly, afraid to utter even a word.

"Get yore tails a-movin', laddie! Lunch'n's 'bout t' be occurring sooner than ye can say 'Redwall'!" the otter continued, nudging Fleet out of the room. Fleet managed a nervous chuckle before he scampered down the stairs to Great Hall. As he did so, he thought about the lines that were written in the old book he found. It was describing a troupe of critters who settled in an unknown village, but something happened that made them divide the troupe into two separate groups. Fleet wanted so much to know what that reason was, but he had two problems. One: he hadn't a clue which season the event happened. Two: it was just an excerpt; Fleet had no idea where the real journal was.

His thoughts were broken as he felt someone bump into him. Then, a cheeky voice sounded, "Hurr, furgive me, maister Fleety. Oi doan't know ye was thurr afore oi boomped inter ye!"

Fleet smiled cheerily as he patted the mole's velvety head. "Ah, that'd be fine with me, Zini, me ole mate."

Zini tugged his nose in embarrassment. It was then he noticed the distant look in Fleet's eyes. "Wot's be in yore moind thurr, Fleety?"

"Huh- I'm sorry, but what?" Fleet asked in surprise.

"Youse be a-thinkin' too moch 'bout things naowadays. Oi reckon you bain't knowing about mole logic, burr aye!" Zini replied with a matter-of-fact nod.

Fleet groaned inwardly, wishing there was such thing as the wrong mole logic. Unfortunately, those didn't exist. Now he had to confide in Zini what was in his mind... unless... he asked Zini... Fleet grinned for a moment, resting a hand on the mole's shoulder.

"Zini, I don't suppose you know anything abou' the... Inarian Troupe?" Fleet inquired in a hushed voice.

"Oi thinks oi know a thing or two abou' ee Inarionee Troupee. Hurr, wot d'ye reckon ye wont with tha' ee knowledge?" Zini answered in a curious tone. He turned around and started to amble down the stairs. "Tha' thurr Troupee be nought but trooble, loike moi momma used t' say to us'n's back in moi Dibbun days."

Fleet curled his tail in thought. Well, looks like he managed to find one person to ask about the Inarian Troupe. But then again, would Zini's mother, old with many seasons of age, remember every word of it? It could be a problem. But he didn't want to think about it yet, not when there was still a chance to learn some of the story from an old molewife. "Hoi! Ye cooming daown, maister Fleety? Oi bain't waitin' if youse stays thurr when lunch'n's served," Zini called from a floor below.

"Could ye at least tell me somethin' abou' the Inarian Troupe, Zini?" Fleet asked, irritated.

"Moind yer manners, maister. Oi'll tell youse when oi feel loike it!"

Fleet rolled his eyes. Getting information from Zini was gonna be a lot harder than he thought.


Phoo! That was better. You'll notice that some characters here are not mentioned in the follow-up chapters and there is somewhat no link. YES, BE PATIENT ^^ Uhm okay, the fox's name of 'Wecrester' is pronounced as 'Waycurster'. And the bit where he was saying his final goodbyes to his family... I was listening to "Promise" from the Okami Soundtrack as I typed. I sort of cried. Bottom line: I SUCK AT TEAR-JERKERS! :D