Book 1: The One-Eyed Ferret
1
The squirrel Maven hurried down the stone steps of Redwall Abbey, mumbling jumbled curses to herself as a lit lantern bounced around in her left paw, joining the chaotic rhythm of her legs descending the many stairs. Taken out of her pleasant and well-earned dreams by her good friend Brother Flynn, she was called to come to the infirmary at once. As she reached the smooth and cool floor, Maven made her way to where the infirmary sat and soon saw the door to it. She was just placing a paw to the knob as a peculiar sound struck her pointed ears, causing her to stop.
A cry was going out through the air. A sobbing, childish scream; not unlike the whine of her infant son Mullen, when he wanted food or attention. With greater haste in her stride, Maven quickly entered the infirmary, new purpose driving her forward at such a speed. Dashing by the fireplace and the dancing red flames held within it, she saw two shapes at the end of the room. The larger one was in a blue nightgown, and the other was in a brown robe. She recognized both in that instant, and a panting breath exited her nostrils a single time as she stopped in front of them.
Brilia, the Badger Mother of Redwall Abbey, looked to Maven expectantly as the kindly, old, glasses-wearing mouse Brother Flynn stood behind her with the crying bundle in his hands. "It's a relief to see you've come so quickly, Maven," Brilia was the first to speak in her rugged, but at the same time gentle voice as Maven watched Flynn try in vain to comfort whatever child he was holding.
"What's all this about?" she asked with a healthy mixture of seriousness and grumpiness in her soured tone, placing her lantern upon a nearby, currently unused bed. "I was awoken by Brother Flynn saying that there was something important afoot in need of my eyes. It had better be just as he said, or not even the spirit of Martin the Warrior'll curb my wrath, because I just spent the last half of the night trying to put my son back to-"
"Maven, dear, you must listen to me," Brilia interjected in as polite of a tone as she could muster. "We do have a bit of an emergency in dire need of tending to, but we don't think it's important enough to warn the whole Abbey over."
Maven sighed and flicked her bushy, reddish-brown tail behind her, clearly telling the Badger Mother of her agitation. "What appears to be the problem, Brilia?"
"A stoat and its young'un just turned up not an hour before," was what Brilia answered with. As her sentence finished, Maven's eyes widened in surprise. Brilia went on, her arms folding disapprovingly. "Flynn took them both in without a second thought. The stoat's full grown, the other's just a babe. It's who's in the good Brother's hands now. I don't quite agree with that level of prudence from him, just allowing a pair of vermin such quick entry, but..."
Maven carefully brushed by the much taller badger and walked up to Brother Flynn. With a sigh, he showed the face of whom he held to the squirrel. From what little she could see of it, it bore white fur all over its tiny, fragile body, but had the distinct visage of a weasel-esque being, as she had been told of. It looked far too young to be a Dibbun, and was most likely a newborn less than a week-or-two old at the very most.
The little creature continued to cry out helplessly. From what Maven could see, to her horror, long-dried blood trailed from the empty socket of where its left eye once sat, staining a small portion of its otherwise near-colorless, white facial fur a vivid crimson. The other eye, a strange pink tint in its shading, opened once or twice as its fit went on, but remained shut and tearful for most of it. Quickly Maven suspected someone had gouged it out of the small creature some time ago, but her freshened instincts drove the thought from her head and she returned to the present.
"I can see why you two asked for me. Well? Give it here, Brother!" she quietly rasped at Brother Flynn as she put her arms out. With a nod, Flynn acknowledged her urge to help the poor kit and carefully gave the baby weasel-creature to Maven. "Poor little tot..." the squirrel whispered to the child as soon as she had it in her paws in a manner akin to what she had done with her son that very night, holding it close to her sleeveless garment-covered chest and placing a steady claw to its mouth. She could see its small jaws were riddled with pointed, minuscule teeth. "Shh, shh... There there... It'll be alright. There's a sweet little goodbeast."
Maven's warm words and actions had great effect, as Brilia and Flynn silently watched as the babe's cries began to die down to a mumbling whimper after a short few minutes. Licking her paw, Maven carefully began to wipe some of the blood from the tiny creature's soft white fur, and when she had cleaned as much as she felt comfortable with, she checked it over a second time. After assuring herself that all was fine, she turned back to the badger and the mouse.
"I believe it's a girl," she told them; her words hushed and full of caution for the creature's sake. "Besides what's been done to her eye, she's healthy, but malnourished. One of you should get something to feed her while I keep her nice and calm."
"And I'll go get some warm and wet towels so we can clean up the child, and then I'll see if she's caught an infection," Flynn helpfully suggested as he adjusted his glossy spectacles and picked up Maven's lantern. Without prompting, the aged mouse started to hurry his robed form off to the far end of the infirmary, his sandals audibly scuffing against the stone ground, before turning back to them. "Brilia, could you come and help me with it, please?" his voice echoed.
"Of course," Brilia responded. She was just starting to speedily walk away as Maven spoke up.
"Where's the other one?" she asked, worriedly. "You said we have two here, and that one was full grown. I've got the child here, so...?"
As she once more set to following Brother Flynn, Brilia pointed at the other, far end of the infirmary, where the fire was going strong in the fireplace. "He's been sitting there and smoking his pipe since he arrived. He told us his name is 'Bragni'. Be careful around him till we return, Maven," the badger warned a final time before her large form disappeared through the room's door, closing it behind her with a soft clap of wood. Turning herself about with the young child safely in her grasp, now uttering only the occasional mumble or mewl, Maven walked toward the fire. She was able to get a good look at him as she passed by to get to a seat closer to the warm flame, now noticing him after having unwittingly dashed past the stoat when she first entered the room.
He was a fairly fat stoat with a bloated belly showing through his woven vest, and tangled, unkempt whiskers hung from his filthy and worn face. A pair of large, dark bags could be seen through the fur under his black eyes, indicating he had not slept well or at all in some time. He wore a look that showed off half-open eyelids glaring anxiously at the fire directly, and if he hadn't had a long, lit pipe in his hand and mouth, one would say he was practically asleep to begin with.
Maven stat in a chair close to the fire, just a short distance away from the stoat. Looking to the relaxing child, she then shifted a glance at the older stoat and thought of something to say to him.
"Who's her mother?" were the first words to come out of Maven's mouth, all of them affably given. The creature turned to her, briefly looking to the kit before staring back to the fire and grumbling some gibberish to himself, formally replying afterword.
"S'far as I know, she's got none 'round 'ere," Bragni bluntly stated in a coarse and high-pitched voice, causing Maven to stare at him blankly in shock. "Never saw 'er, but 'eard she was somewhere far 'way. My sis Leafburd though, she helped me care for the critter, while she lasted. She was taken by 'er wound on our way southward not three days ago. Would take me all night to tell ya the details, but we plodded on wi'out rest. Father's a wicked weasel, I'll say that too."
"You're not her father?"
"No, a'course not," Bragni shook his sagging head, before deeply ingesting another breath of his pipe and exhaling a musty cloud of dark gray smoke through the air above him. "She's no stoat; she's a ferret. Her father's a ferret my sis told me came from land elsewhere and northward, not native 'round 'ere. Goes by the name o' Sagan, the 'White Stag'. Calls 'imself a 'pure' ferret. See that white fur o'er 'er body? See that pink eye? It ain't 'cause she's a normal ferret, I'll tell ya. Inherited it from dear old dad she did. Freakish."
Maven checked over the infant in her steady and ever-careful arms in time to see her yawn, before casting another glance at the stoat. "What happened to her eye?" the curious squirrel asked, finally deciding she wanted to know the reason. To this, Bragni let out a mighty sigh.
"Sagan gouged it out, and it weren't even a day after we was introduced to his spawn either," he mumbled, one of his whiskered lips twitching briefly. "Did it nice and slow with a grinnin' scowl on his pretty face. I think it was 'cause 'e was havin' a bit too much celebratory ale that night with his ol' muckers fer his own goodsake. Came in to see his kid after being told my sis finally put 'er to bed, pulled out his skinnin' knife after a quick stare at that little blighter, and that was that. By the Claw! I can still 'ear Leafburd's screamin'. No beast deserves 'at, much less to see it."
Maven shuddered and let her ears lower as she looked down at the now-soundly sleeping ferret with a new expression of disbelief and sympathy. "But... why? Why on this good earth would he do such a thing to this little creature? To his own daughter?"
"'Cause of some prophecy he follows or some'n. Took 'er eye 'cause o' that fact, and I know, 'cause he was rantin' on and on about it to us like a braggart as he was gettin' ready to do it. Was gonna take the other one too, and then do something really bad before my sis worked up the guts to interfere. I guess I did, too."
"And after that?"
"After that? That's when he stabbed 'er for gettin' in the way. That's when we ran with the stolen kit in our arms, out of our camp and into the woods before any of 'em could give chase. That's why we're 'ere, and that's why me only remaining kin is gone. All 'cause 'o that little bludger you're holdin' right now. Almost wish I left it behind if it meant gettin' Leafburd back."
Maven thought for a second before she spoke to Bragni again. "Who was your sister?"
"Leafburd was the leader 'o our tribe, and a good one if I say so myself. I served 'er well and proper before Sagan came along in that fancy polished armor o' his. Was the only one willing to serve 'er after he took us over with his horde o' fighting vermin, all of 'em being the meanest-lookin' rats I ever did see. Burly buggers too. Had no choice if we wanted to keep our fur on our bodies. Soon as we surrendered, he put my sis on babe-watchin' duty! Made 'er care for his royal brat while he went out and had himself a rich time with the rest of our former tribe, makin' sure they knew who was the new boss before... you-know-wot happened."
"Do you know her name, then?"
"Wot's that?" asked Bragni, placing a free claw to one of his ragged ears.
"Her name," repeated Maven.
"Ah... got no name either. 'Less 'Whinger' counts. It's what I called 'er on account of all that whinin' she's been utterin'. Nearly drove me mad, she did," he managed to chuckle, though it sounded more like a chortle made to cheer himself up than his company. His calm and tired visage changed not a moment later as a thought crossed his weary mind. "Wait a second... I think I'm rememberin' something I 'eard Leafburd call 'er, just as she was passing on the road. Sagan personally told 'er most things he had on his mind, after all. With that last breath a' 'ers, I think she went and said... 'Nettlewhite'. Don't know if it's the tot's name or not, but I'm willin' to bet my tail it is. Don't know any other reason she'd say it."
"'Nettlewhite'?" Maven repeated. "I've never heard a name like it."
"Neither 'ave I," sighed Bragni. "But I'm sure it means somethin'. I can't think straight for the life a' me, but that's prob'ly 'cause I'm thinkin' about what I'm gonna do the second you lot kick us out come the morn, after brekkist ends..."
"You don't have to leave, you know," Maven brought up. Bragni's near-shut eyes split wide open.
"Ya mean I- er... we can stay?" he inquired to Maven as he pulled his pipe from his mouth, very much perplexed, especially considering the cold welcome he faintly remembered he was given by Brilia. "How long?"
"As long as you want, so long as you act as a goodbeast should and do your part around the Abbey," Maven said to him, before brushing her careful paw over Nettlewhite's still forehead. "It is part of our creed and duty, as commanded by the Charter. And by Martin's name, a true Redwaller never forsakes the Charter. This Abbey was built around it."
Bragni placed his pipe down after having himself another wiff of it and strummed a claw through his messy and dirty whiskers. "So... I can settle myself down here? Get food and water aplenty?"
"Once again, yes," the squirrelmother repeated. She waited for the stoat to ask something else, but when he failed to meet her expectation, peered over to him through the dim orange light with squinted eyes. His pipe rested idle on his lap, dull smoke slowly arising from it, and the only sound to be about the room now was the crackling of the fire. It didn't take Maven long to realize that Bragni had fallen asleep.
Her gaze fell over the unconscious Pure Ferret, who was slumbering as soundly as the stoat. Maven failed to take her view off of the missing eye she bore, and just seeing it now made her gut twist and turn with discomfort. And as the seconds leapt by, the squirrel dutifully watched over the kit with her motherly gaze, patiently waiting for Brilia and Brother Flynn to return.
Author's notes: As a heads-up, this takes place long after the events of The Rogue Crew.