A few clarifications about my vision of the Redwall world:
1) A season in this story is just that – a season of the year. When comparing age of most characters with human lifespan, equate two seasons to one year – yes, most beasts do not live for very long. On the positive side, they also grow up faster – at the age of ten to twelve seasons, a beast already can be considered mature in body, if not in mind.
2) Average beast is two and a half times shorter, than your average human. Fish, plants, insects and large birds approximately are of their normal size. Small birds (sparrows, crows and the like), are significantly larger, than they are in the real life.
Author's note:
This story contains extreme violence, torture, bad language, and other mature content. You are warned.
Redwall is © Brian Jacques, blah, blah, blah…
1. The hungry traveler.
The spring has come to the Northlands. The snow still laid in deep hollows and dark corners of a boundless forest, but on sunny glades the ground already was dry. Green sprouts were breaking through withered remains of a last year's grass, and buds were swelling everywhere on trees and bushes. Among branches of trees, birds cheerfully sang their songs. Someone down below did not share their merriment. Hungry eyes of the large young weasel followed flock of sparrows, whirling at inaccessible height. Suddenly the verminbeast shook his head sharply and lowered his gaze. Rumbling in an empty stomach did not stop from it, however. With a sigh, he stretched a paw to break one of buds from a low-hanging branch, put it into his toothy mouth, chewed for some time and then spat with disgust. Thin and lithe built was inherent to nearly all weasels, but this one looked not simply thin, but emaciated. Even the healthy shine of his hide seemingly faded - instead of normal light brown color it was mottled gray-brown. From clothes on the youngbeast were only a waistcoat and a short trousers, mottled grey, to match his natural coloration - and obviously, they weren't enough in the cold northern spring. Not for the starving vagrant, at least. In his sinewy paw the weasel carried a wooden walking stick, with pointed lower end, and on his belt hung a long straight dagger with the bone handle. Almost completely empty haversack was stuffed behind his belt.
Suddenly, sensitive ears of the weasel caught sounds other than those of a wind, blowing through tree boughs and birds' chirping - sounds of clumsy steps and haggard voice. For a hungry and half-frozen beast, he reacted marvelously quickly, jumping away from open space and instantly disappearing amid roots of a tree - his fur and clothing blended with their surroundings almost perfectly. A few minutes later, a beast, whose approach the weasel had heard, appeared from behind of a nearby hillock. The elderly mouse was barely able to hobble forward, regularly stopping to take a rest. His unsteady steps, dirty, torn clothes, face, covered with dried blood, and continuous groans evidenced, that very recently he ran into someone, who was callous enough to beat the old beast, and beat hard. After walking for a little, the mouse sat on a wood root for another short rest. With a moan of pain, the hapless beast bent to look closely at his bruised footpaws, and when he straightened again, directly before him stand the weasel, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
"A-a-aahhh!" at a sight of the armed vermin, the mouse instinctively recoiled, trying to rise and run away, but his sore footpaws failed him and he fell on his back.
"Silence!" the words were supported with a menacing wave of the wooden stick, whose sharp point now was aimed directly at the mouse's throat. The elderbeast, who already drawn in air for a shout, immediately slammed his mouth shut, and cringed on the ground, cowering his head.
"No, please, I have nothing, please, don't kill me, I..."
"Be silent, I said," the weasel lowered his weapon. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have slit your throat seven times already."
The mouse immediately ceased his pleas. The unfortunate beast visibly shivered with fear
"It looks like somebeast already robbed you."
The old beast cautiously looked at the vermin.
"He j-just took their tribute... Yes, tribute..."
"Who did it?" angrily snarled the weasel.
The frightened mouse shuddered again upon hearing the harsh voice, but still hesitated for the some time before answering.
"The fox... It was of the foxes. From yours... From ban... From beasts of Delgor the Scarlet. He left me only clothes on my back, you can see it for yourself. I have nothing more to take!"
"And how long ago it happened?"
"At noon... Yes, at noon, or slightly later..."
"At noon, eh? That's only hour or two back," with these words the weasel thrust his stick into ground and bowed to the mouse. The old beast closed his eyes in fear, but expected blows and pain didn't come. Instead, he suddenly felt himself lifted from the ground by the strong paws and leaned against a tree trunk.
"Stop shivering," the voice of the vermin sounded as if he was displeased by obvious fear of the old woodlander. "Better say, who is this Delgor."
The mouse clasped himself with the both paws, trying to calm down, and cautiously opened his eyes.
"He is a robb... er, a fox, you know. The big fox. Beasts say he's called the Scarlet because of his fur. There are a few other foxes with him - they came to our country last winter..."
"Interesting," - the weasel turned his back on the mouse, picked up his stick and looked down. The beaten up mouse left a clearly visible trail behind himself, which indicated a direction better, than any words. Smiling, the youngbeast started to walk along it.
"Wait!" suddenly exclaimed the old beast, surprised by his own words.
"What?" the vermin stopped for a second and turned his head.
"If you aren't from Delgor's band, it is dangerous to you to go there. They will rob anyone, woodlander or vermi..., er, or not woodlander."
"Hm," - the weasel shrugged, turned away and moved further. "We shall see."
"But they are dangerou..."
"I'm dangerous as well," retorted the annoyed youngbeast, without looking back. "And I'm not a coward that trembles before every lowly brigand in the Northlands. I'm Aulbek, Aulbek Ta...".
He cut short his phrase in a middle of a word.
"Never mind. Who I am is irrelevant for you anyway."
And after saying so, he hurried forward alongside of the fresh trail.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
This day developed wonderfully for Coalpaw. Like many vermin thieves and raiders, the old fox wasn't too lucky in life, as his scrawny body and thin, flea-infested fur evidenced - until Delgor accepted the seasoned but unlucky robber in his small band. The Scarlet Fox traveled across half of the Northlands in a company of vermin mercenaries, before he decided to seek his own fortune, and knew, where to find easy prey and rich plunder for himself and his followers. Life was good, and loot was plentiful ever since Coalpaw joined him. Today, for example, the black-pawed fox managed to catch the elderly mouse, who set out to visit his relatives with the whole bag of gifts and tasty foods. As usual, in this quiet and little-known to outsiders part of the Northlands, bullying the unarmed woodlander into submission was incredibly easy - a few threats, complemented with brandishing an axe, and he prostrated himself before the robber, pitifully pleading to spare him. Coalpaw truly enjoyed this sight, so for some time, he kicked the helpless mouse, just to hear more screams. Fortunately for the victim, the fox was hungry and tired, so he let the mouse go after only a short beating and started building a fire - the dinner seemed more attractive at the moment, than humiliating of the weaker beast. In his opinion, most of the freshly plundered food was too good to divide with companions. Therefore the bandit scoffed greedily, until his belly was ready to burst. Of course, after consuming such copious snack, he felt no desire to move anywhere. In fact, now, when Coalpaw was sated, weary and warmed by the bonfire, he wanted to sleep. The fox rested himself against a tree roots and stretched his footpaws to the dying fire. Perspective of revenge from the woodlanders didn't bothered him one bit - through entire last winter, weak mice, stumbling hedgehogs and timid rabbits, who lived in these parts of the forest, never mustered sufficient courage to actually fight Delgor and his vermin. Coalpaw was nearly asleep, when his ears caught the quiet sounds of approaching footsteps. Though barely audible, this noise instantly awakened the experienced fox. He sat up sharply, and opened his eyes, just in time to see Aulbek, walking to him at a leisurely pace.
"And who ya are?" growled Coalpaw menacingly. His paw darted to the long handle of the battleaxe, lying beside him. The robber lived to his age, because during his long and miserable dibbunhood he learned to always expect the worst from unfamiliar vermin. Or from familiar vermin, for that matter...
"Are you blind? I'm a weasel, moron," voice of the approaching beast was dry as a bone, picked clean ten seasons ago.
Coalpaw felt a cold sting of fear. Unlike peaceful wood inhabitants, which he used to intimidate, this weasel was armed and looked confidently, despite his youth.
"Not funny, wormspine! Let's see, if ya like my joke!" the bandit grabbed his weapon and tried to jump to his footpaws. But his stuffed stomach slowed him down. Coalpaw barely started moving, when Aulbek jumped forward, traversing remaining distance between them in a blink of an eye. Weasel's sturdy walking stick hit the black wrist so hard, that the fox's fingers unclasped and his axe fell back to the ground. Before Coalpaw had time to scream from a sudden pain, Aulbek struck him again, this time aiming for the head. The unlucky robber slumped down, knocked out instantly.
"What joke, old bastard?" the weasel smiled humorlessly. The unconscious fox remained silent. Aulbek's second blow left a deep graze, and blood already started to soak the dirty red fur on his head, but the skull seemed intact. The weasel twirled his polished stick, pointing its sharp end at the throat of the injured beast, and swung, still half-smiling. But the killing blow stopped half-inch short of fox's skin.
"Damn it," strangely, now Aulbek's voice was tinted with anger. "Consider yourself lucky this time, wretch. But I hope somebody will flay your worthless hide very soon."
The weasel resisted the temptation for a second, then gave in, viciously kicking the unmoving body two or three times, and turned to collect his trophies. To his satisfaction, Coalpaw still had enough stolen food to stretch for a few days. Chewing a scone on the move, Aulbek quickly crammed everything edible in his haversack. After a little thought, he also shoved there a knife, taken from Coalpaw's belt. Certainly, this rusty strip of iron did not go in any comparison with his own razor-sharp dagger, but it was more fitting for mundane tasks. The fox's axe seemed too heavy and unwieldy, so the weasel thrown it into the dying bonfire. Then he picked up his stick and walked away, without looking back.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"So, this terrible weasel, who beaten ye nearly t' death was all alone?" - the voice of Delgor the Scarlet was thoughtful and caring, but Coalpaw shuddered visibly, maybe from the gut-wrenching sounds made by a whetstone, on which the large fox was sharpening an edge of his broadsword, maybe because he sensed thin-veiled fury behind the calm facade of his chieftain.
"Errr... yeah," mumbled he almost incomprehensibly.
"And armed with a simple stick?" inquired Delgor.
"T' was a whole quarterstaff," quickly answered Coalpaw. "Look, how he mauled poor me with... aaaghhhh!"
A powerful throw of the heavy whetstone sent the hapless bandit sprawling.
"I wouldn't refuse to know, why he hadn't nailed ye right there and then?" pondered the robber chieftain absently, examining his newly-honed blade. "Probably, didn't want to smear his fur with yer stinkin' blood."
Coalpaw writhed in the dirt holding nearly-smashed snout with both paws and trying to hold groans of pain. He was lucky, that whetstone didn't break his jaws, but the stronger fox could quickly correct this, if provoked by the further demonstration of weakness. But Delgor only sighed after looking at the pathetic sight, and stood up from tree stump, on which he sat. Unlike his lean, bony henchbeasts, the vividly red fox wasn't only tall, but also strongly built, with bulging muscles, thick paws and magnificent glossy fur - obviously, if he ever suffered from malnutrition, that was a long time ago. Iron chainmail, covering his torso, and good long broadsword provided an additional advantage over poorly armed average vermin. Five foxes, of which his small band consisted, obeyed the stronger warrior without asking any questions - because they knew, that he would answer them with his fist, and that if they would be lucky. Now three of them were observing their leader and waiting for his decision with keen interest. Telling the truth, Delgor didn't care at all about Coalpaw's scratches, or the handful of stolen food, but simple thought of allowing other vermin to steal and plunder in the surrounding country, which he recently began to consider his own small domain, was insufferable.
"On yer paws, lazy scum!" roared the big fox with all might of his lungs. "Today we are goin' on the weasel hunt!"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
At evening, Keran Rustfur finally figured out, that he is hopelessly lost - first time in his short life. Skinny and disheveled young squirrel, no more than two seasons past dibbunhood, spent most of his conscious life in the woods, around his family's lonely house, and considered himself a seasoned forester. But despite his confidence, he was cautious enough in his long lonely strolls, never moving really far away from known parts of the forest, and instead expanding those parts bit by bit. Until today. Today, there was something in the spring air and the bright sun, that excited the young squirrel more than usual, and pulled him away from house, to chase birds amid tree branches, to explore unknown reaches and see something, that he never seen before. And now, when the sun began to set, and the heavy clouds covered the sky, it suddenly dawned on Keran, that he has no idea, to where this chaotic trip brought him. This realization didn't particularly frighten the youngbeast - on the contrary, it excited him even more. Prospect to spent the night in the wood alone was slightly scary, but at the same time fascinating for him, as any new adventure. The squirrel still had some of the food, taken from the kitchen this morning, and while he heard once or twice, about the band of foxes, roaming the countryside, he never paid much attention to such rumors. How they could catch an expert treeclimber like him, anyway? Thought, about what his mother and sisters could imagine, seeing, that he hadn't retuned for the night, bothered Keran for a second, but the squirrel ignored it. They barely noticed him, when he was at home, why should they worry, when he wasn't? However, considering the low-hanging clouds, promising a rain, sleeping at open air wasn't a particularly alluring idea. Of course, he could climb to the top of some large tree and look for a light or a smoke, marking presence of somebeast's house, but this plan was rejected almost immediately. Being somewhere between twelve and thirteen seasons old, he liked to think of himself as of an independent squirrel, capable to survive in the woods without help. Therefore, Keran started to search for a suitable refuge without delay. After half an hour, when the sun already was below the horizon, he could congratulate himself, having found the large tree, nearly torn from earth and broken in two few seasons ago by a furious hurricane. Under its roots, partially ripped from the ground, a small cave was formed. This wasn't a perfect shelter from rain, but better than nothing. And, as if to remind him it, first large raindrops fell from the sky at this very moment. Shivering from the cold water, the squirrelkid hastily rushed to the cave and tried to get in. In the next instant Keran sorely regretted not only his decision to hurry there, without looking and sniffing around first, but also that he left his home today at all. Because just as he kneeled before the low entrance, a pair of strong paws seized him, and pulled into the darkness!
Everything was so sudden, that the squirrel didn't even had a time to understand, what happening. He managed only to squeak once, before his nose was pressed down to the ground and some pointy thing pricked his neck.
"Try to scream, and you will die," cold, harsh voice was coming right from behind his ears. But Keran could not scream, even if he tried to. Icy grip of terror literally paralyzed him. He could not see, what kind of beast was sitting on his back now, but the smell, filling the space under vault of roots he has, this acrid smell he recognized immediately, even though he never encountered it before. Woodlanders described it to their dibbuns in tales and histories warning youngbeasts about cruel and greedy vermin. The mustelid stench! In his entire life Keran never was so frightened, not even when he once fell from a tree branch into a river and nearly drowned. He was too scared to resist, too scared to scream, and almost too scared to hear the question of his captor.
"Who you are, and what, in the Hellgates, you need here?"
Haven't received any answer, except for a frantic shudder, the vermin reflected for a moment, then slightly weakened his grasp and removed the weapon from the squirrel's neck.
"Don't fear. I won't eat you. Do as I say, and nobody would be hurt. And now, answer my questions. So, who you are?"
"I'm Keran... Keran Rustfur" - squirrels' voice quavered from fear quite pathetically, but he barely noticed it. - I'm lost here in the woods... accidentally... I didn't know, that is it your cave."
"Mine cave?" responded his captor, slightly amused. "I'm here just for one night. You are alone?"
Keran thought about lying, but quickly understood, that it was too late for this, even if he will be able to gather enough composure and wits for this.
"Yes, I said already, that I'm lost".
"Lost, eh? That's good, Keran," for a few moments, the vermin was quiet, as if deliberating. "Listen closely, squirrel. Now, I shall release my grasp. But don't even think about anything stupid. I am stronger than you and I am armed and I can see in this darkness. You will spend the night in this cave, because I wouldn't appreciate a crowd of woodlanders coming here to bury me in my sleep. In the morning, I will be on my way, and you could go wherever you want. Do you agree?"
"Yes, I agree, mister weasel," despite this words, the squirrelkid decided to flee at the first opportunity. As soon, as he will reach a nearest high tree, he will be safe!
"Don't call me 'mister weasel'," grumbled the vermin, rising from his back. "I have a name".
"And what it is?" cautiously asked Кеran, getting up to sit.
"Aulbek. Make way, squirrel," weasel's paw, invisible in the pitch-black darkness, pushed him to an earthen cave wall.
"I want to build a bonfire, but now all this excuse for firewood, that I gathered is scattered across the cave - it wasn't very nice for you, to fall straight in the heap," explained the mustelid.
Keran, who realized, at last, what so painfully dug in his hide, when he was pressed to the floor, swiftly crawled away. The weasel, seemingly, said the truth, about his ability to see in the darkness, besides, now he blocked way to the exit. Keran gritted his teeth and leaned against a cave's earthen wall, waiting for a more convenient moment for flight. A few minutes later, his captor at last managed to kindle a fire with flint and iron. Its dim light, at last allowed Aulbek to be seen, and the two beasts stared in the faces of each other. For a time, both were silent. The weasel seemed slightly confused, upon discovering, that his prisoner was a very young and quite lanky squirrel. The weasel likely would be able to count Keran's ribs under his dark, rust-red fur, from where he sat, if not for the squirrel's old shirt, freshly stained with earth. In turn, young woodlander was surprised, how thin his captor was - it was amazing, that youngbeast, who obviously suffered from starvation, could remain so strong. He was surprised even more, when Aulbek spoke, in almost guilty tone.
"You aren't hurt? Didn't want to grab you so harsh, just an old habit kicked in."
"Yes, I'm not..." seeing, that nobody forbids to him to move, Keran quickly examined himself and moved his limbs to and fro. It looked like nothing was broken, and he could endure a few bruises and scratches. He decided not to ask about the weasel's 'habit', and how it was developed, fearing to receive the honest answer.
By this time, smoke from the small bonfire filled the cramped cave - entrance was too small for all of it to flow through in time. The weasel had sneezed a few times and started to pull his rather meager supplies from the haversack. He hungrily bitten off a large piece of scone, then took a half-empty jar, partially full of strawberry jam, and suddenly stopped, glaring at Keran. The squirrelkid involuntarily shuddered.
"Hey, kid, do you have some food? Don't try to hide it."
"Well... yes," sullenly answered Keran. Lying was useless - the weasel always could search him. With a heavy sigh, he reached to his bosom, and fetched a loaf of nutbread from inner pocket of his shirt. Cursing silently, the squirrel stretched his paw with loaf to Aulbek, but the weasel pushed it away.
"Eat it yourself. Woodlanders looking at me with hungry eyes spoil my appetite."
Keran didn't need a second invitation and immediately filled his mouth with bread, fearing that the vermin could change its mind. Both beasts quickly finished their scant suppers. The squirrel picked up crumbs, which fell on the clothes and ate them. The weasel licked his lips and stuffed remaining food back into the haversack - he still was hungry, but decided to eat sparingly, because he didn't know when he would be able to acquire more food. Then Aulbek looked up at Keran, and the squirrel shuddered again, noticing, that the mustelid eyes were... hungry?
"Stop trembling," his obvious fright hadn't gone unnoticed. "I already said, that you won't be hurt. And if I wanted to do something bad to you, I would have done it thirty and three times by now. Why woodlanders are such cowards?"
"I'm not a coward!" indignation forced Keran to forget fear for a second.
"Yeah?" the weasel shrugged its narrow shoulders. "Why then you are shivering? Why you didn't resist me? Why you still aren't tried, say, to throw a pawful of coals into my face and rush to the exit?"
The squirrel has opened his mouth for an answer, but the words remained unsaid, and not because of fear. He realized, that Aulbek was right.
"That's right, you cannot argue this," summed up their short argument the weasel. Then he moved closer to his prisoner: the rain outside poured as from a bucket and small streams of water, which leaked inside the cave, almost reached his footpaws.
"I'm going to sleep. And you should sleep too," Aulbek yawned, demonstrating the magnificent set of sharp white teeth, that, however, lacked left lower canine.
"And don't think, that you can run away. I hear everything even in my sleep. Otherwise, they would have finished me a long time ago..."
"Who are 'they'?" this time Keran failed to constrain his childish curiosity.
"That's none of your business, kid," cold, even threatening tone of the weasel instantly killed all desire to ask further questions, or show anger about being constantly called a kid.
Aulbek shifted, trying to assume more comfortable position on the cold earth. At last, he stretched his long body across the floor, so, that it blocked the squirrel's way from the cave, and closed eyes. Weasel's right paw still was holding the wooden stick, and he moved his dagger so, that it was under his back. Keran curled into a ball in a corner and closed eyes too. But the young woodlander had absolutely no intention to sleep, however. As well, as absolutely no trust in sincerity of Aulbek's words. Every fool knows, that vermin are untrustworthy deceivers! Waiting, until his captor will fall asleep and then trying his luck in flight appealed to the squirrel much more, than simply sitting, and guessing, if the weasel will be true to his words. Bonfire was slowly dying down to embers, and the uncomfortable shelter of the two young beasts gradually plunged into darkness. Aulbek and Keran were silent and still: both seemed sleeping. The squirrel silently watched his captor from under nearly closed eyelids, but could not say, whether the verminbeast really fallen asleep, or only pretends to do so, just like him. In any case, he decided to wait for an hour or two, just to be sure: succumbing to sleep while sitting on the cold and rough ground, near to the fearsome weasel, was impossible anyway, so Keran wasn't afraid of this. At least, so it seemed. The squirrel didn't even notice, at which moment his fatigue finally triumphed over fear and discomfort...
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