Hey everyone, Patchy here again. This one started a little while ago, but hasn't really taken off for me until recently. I've been a huge World War 2 history fan since I was almost 12 years old, and love incorporating it in my stories. I know there are already a few WW2/Redwall fanfics out there, but I want to emphasize that I am in no way stealing any ideas or IP. This is just my own take on it.
Anyway, enjoy! And as always, please please PLEASE read and review.
Rain fell in gray sheets from the night sky as thunder rumbled like a monster clearing his throat. Lightning, hidden by the thick clouds hanging overhead, allowed just enough illumination to reveal the small dirt path running through a thick grove of thin, spiny trees that had long shed their leaves since the stormy December night.
A nesting woodpecker twittered gloomily as he sat in his barren nest, watching the path below in hopes of spotting a scrap of food for his empty stomach. He sat for a while before resigning himself to another night of hunger and fruitless hope. Chirping one last saddened note, he retreated back into his shamble of a home.
Perhaps if the sparrow had stayed for just a few more minutes, he would have seen the rickety bicycle twisting and skidding its way along the mud-ridden path; now slick as motor oil. And if he had paid even more attention, he would have noticed the apple that popped out of a basket affixed to the bike's rear wheel, landing in a puddle with a splash.
The raccoon, who was trying his best to keep the rusty heap on the treacherous path, didn't notice his suddenly displaced cargo. All he could do was lean into the harsh, biting wind as it drove rain into his already sodden body. The hood on his moth-bitten wool cloak flew back, allowing the rain to soak the one dry place on his aching and sleep-deprived body.
As he rode the trees gradually began to thin out and the path became firmer under his wheels. Soon he was riding along a bend in the road, following a long-since crumbled stone wall alongside. At the top of a gently sloping hill and surrounded on three sides by forest sat a tiny cottage, gold light flickering through the two windows.
He smiled to himself. Come on, he thought encouragingly, just a little more, and you'll be there!
Soon enough, he was. Shaking with cold and panting for breath he detached the small basket and rushed to the door, huddling under the small alcove while knocking on the door in a rhythmic pattern, two sets of fast-paced taps, followed by three loud thumps.
He heard the sounds of conversation and squeals of joy as someone walked to the door. Finally, after multiple clicks and clacks, it opened.
The squirrel who answered was young, hardly even an adult, whose reddish-brown fur gleamed in the dull candle light. Her green eyes lit up at the sight of the raccoon. "Oh, Bernard! I'm so glad to see you! Please, come inside. Are you alright? Were you delayed at all? Did you get the…"
Bernard smiled and held a finger to her lips as he stepped inside and hung his dripping-wet coat on a nearby peg. "Don't you fret, Penny my love. Everything's fine. Just a little wet, is all."
"Bernard, dear! It's so good to see you!" The raccoon looked away from Penny and towards the mouse sitting at the dinner table. She was old, her near completely silver-gray fur leaving no doubt about that. But her eyes bore a youthful and vibrant shimmer, one that seemed to emanate confidence and assuredness.
"Ah, Mathilde, it's good to see your face!" The raccoon said, placing his basket on the table before sitting down across from her. She smiled and held one of his paws in both of hers. "Tell me, dear, how was the trip?"
Bernard glanced at the basket. "Fine. Wonderful, as a matter of fact. The local baker gave me two loaves of his honey wheat bread, one of his special blends," he said, passing a discreet wink between the both of them.
Mathilde laughed and stood, pouring them all a cup of steaming hot tea. "Don't worry, my friend, Charles isn't here. He left this morning to check on the house in Dieppe, he'll be back in about a week."
Bernard grunted as he took a sip of the tea. "Good, I was never too fond of that hamster. Squinty little…"
Penny cast him a reprimanding glance. "Bernard, please! Charles is a good friend. He just needed to…prioritize his friendships. I promise you, everything is fine."
The raccoon sighed as he reached into the basket and retrieved a loaf of bread wrapped in wax paper. "I suppose," he said, starting to undo the twine knotted around the top. "But there was just something about it. I'm sure it's just me being paranoid, though."
He slit the paper with a large knife which was hidden in his boot, starting to carefully cut into the bread. Halfway down on the top, and then flipping it over and doing the same to the bottom. After popping a small chunk of the fresh bread into his mouth, he peeled the two halves apart.
A small square of paper fell neatly onto the table. He snatched it up, quickly unfolding the parchment. He scanned the paper briefly, his face suddenly lighting up. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" He exclaimed, leaping up from the table and hopping from one paw to the other. "Yes! I knew it! It's here!"
The mouse was perplexed. Setting her tea down, she swiped the paper from his paw, staring at him worriedly for a moment before reading the paper. Suddenly she was up and dancing as well, whooping and hollering with joy. "It's here! It's here!" She shouted, linking arms with the raccoon and dancing giddily.
Penny was still out of the loop. "Would one of you kindly explain to me what is so…"
Bernard knelt in front of the chair and put both his paws on her shoulders. "The allies are coming, my love! They're sending a group of paratroopers, next week! They're going to destroy the enemy headquarters and secure a landing point! They're going to save us!"
Her eyes widened, and then she leapt up from the chair and joined the other two. "We're going to win! We're going to win! We're going to win!"
Suddenly, the coded knock on the door brought all their jubilation to a halt. All three stood in paralyzed silence until a high-pitched, sing-song voice warbled through from outside. "Mathilde, Penny, it's me, Charles! I forgot my good suit here when I left this morning, can I come in for a moment?"
Bernard glanced at Mathilde, who nodded and hurried to fold the message and slip in into her pocket. The raccoon's paw was on the doorknob when Penny's hushed whisper caught his attention. "Bernard," she hissed, paws trembling. "Charles doesn't own a suit."
He had just enough time to leap back before the door was kicked open. The stampeding of feet was all the three could hear as a dozen soldiers rushed inside screaming and brandishing their weapons. Bernard's paw shot towards his boot, but a rifle butt smashed him across the jaw before he could hardly move. Stars flashed across his eyes as pain lanced through his head. Something tricked out of his mouth, blood or saliva he didn't know.
Bernard was hardly conscious as the soldiers hauled him to his feet and threw him against a wall with the other two, who were somewhat battered but not seriously hurt.
Most of the soldiers were foxes, with a few shorter lizards dotting the ranks. Their uniforms were as gray as the night sky outside, and each rifle and submachine gun leveled at the three glistened in the dull candlelight. For a moment, the only sound was the pounding of rain outside and the occasional creak from the aging house.
Suddenly, the sound of slow footsteps echoed through the small house. A few soldiers shifted positions quickly as someone strolled through the ranks, stopping in front of the three terrified souls.
He was a fox; they could at least make out that much. But the normally copper-colored fur was a stone gray, meticulously combed and cut with a single black stripe running down the center of his head between two striking emerald-green eyes. His pressed and creased uniform was black as pitch, except for the silver buttons and medals glinting on his lapel. His polished black leather boots clicked as he tapped a foot, surveying his victims with a playfully vicious smile.
"Well well, what have we here?" He said, pulling off the black leather gloves covering his paws and stuffing them in a pocket. "An ancient mouse, a squirrel too young to ride a horse, and an over-eager raccoon stupid enough to reach for a weapon while surrounded by armed soldiers." He shook his head in mock shame. "The resistance must be on their last dregs if this is all they could drum up."
Mathilde feigned terror and shock, trying to repress the burning, roiling hatred tearing at the inside of her chest. "P…please, we d-don't know about the r-r-resistance. We're j-just simple farmers, trying t-to…"
The fox cackled. "Farmers? Is that all? Well then in that case, I'm sorry for intruding on your home. My soldiers will kindly leave now." He spat on the floor. "Don't waste my time, scum. I know everything, thanks to your friend here." He beckoned with a paw, and Charles was brought forward by two soldiers. His previously shining tan fur was streaked with dirt and drying blood; and his stubby limbs trembled around the enormous trunk of a body. His normally joyous and clever blue eyes were filled with terror and shame. "Penny, please forgive me!" He sobbed. "I had no choice! They were going to…"
The three prisoners jumped in shock as Charles was dealt a swift blow across the side of his face. The fox officer glanced at his paw briefly and sighed. "Another broken claw. I suppose I should wear gloves when such actions are required. Oh well, no matter. Guards, search those three and take that sniveling wretch outside until I deal with him."
Penny's face was twisted with anger as they were all hauled to their feet. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she somehow managed to speak clearly through her clenched teeth. "You monster! You filthy, disgusting, violent beast! You…"
The fox clamped a paw across her mouth and smiled maliciously. "Compliments will get you nowhere, my dear. Now be a good little squirrel and…"
Before he could react she clamped down on his paw with vice-like power. He howled, striking her with his free paw until she fell to the ground, dazed. Above Bernard's shouts of vengeance and Mathilde's wailing cries, the fox roared his fury. "Insolent, disgusting creature!" He fumbled at the holster on his belt, fingers twitching in blind rage. "I will show you the meaning of pain, whelp!"
A soldier shouted above the noise just as the fox chambered a round into the pistol. "Commander, I have found something!"
The officer took a few short breaths before stuffing the weapon back in its sheath and turning to the soldier. "What is it, dunce?"
The short, skinny ferret was obviously nervous as he held out the slip of paper. "It was in the mouse's pocket, Commander."
Snatching it from his subordinate's paw, the fox read only a few lines before a broad, toothy grin split his face. "Oh, this is…this is…excellent! Fabulous!" He howled insane laughter again, his face contorting into a strange grimacing smile, with one eye squinted shut while the other bulged nearly out of its socket. Regaining his composure shortly after noticing the slightly confused looks from his soldiers, he folded the paper and placed it into his chest pocket. "Thank you, my friends," he sneered at the three captives, "you have not only just secured my position as a commanding General in the Faction, but the destruction of any enemy forces operating within the next ten weeks. I'm sure your fellow prisoners in the camp will be overjoyed at the news, since that is where you are destined next." He waved a paw to the guards. "Take them away."
Bernard couldn't stop himself. The blind wrath burning behind his eyes exploded as he charged towards the fox's turned back, hand swiping the knife from a nearby soldier's belt with a deftness gained from years of experience. A roar erupted from his throat as the blade gleamed, extended out in front of his body.
This time the fox didn't fumble. The single shot sounded like a cannon in the enclosed space and flashed like lightning. A gentle wisp of smoke rose towards the ceiling as the brass casing tinkled to the floor. The smell of burnt powder and smoke quickly filled the tiny space.
Bernard stopped in his tracks. His pawtrembled, and the knife fell to the floor with a clatter. The raccoon's astonished eyes fell slowly to his chest, where a single rosebud of red began to blossom on the front of his shirt. He shakily went to a knee, starting to gasp for air. Suddenly, he groaned and fell as his breath came in short, raggedy gasps.
Penny, who had shut her eyes and turned her head away from the blast, suddenly screamed and rushed on all fours to Bernard's side. "No, no, no! Please Bernard, don't…" She collapsed into shaking sobs, clutching onto her friend like a piece of driftwood in a mighty storm.
A paw caressed her cheek. She looked into his eyes as he smiled and managed a few words. "I love you, Penny." he whispered before a final sigh escaped him, and the paw fell slowly to his chest.
Penny wailed, resting her head on his shoulder. Her body shook uncontrollably as she sobbed and gasped. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at the fox standing with a satisfied look on his face. A low growl erupted into a roar as she leapt towards him only to be stopped by a furious barrage of fists and rifle butts.
Mathilde could only sit in a state of numb distress as they were both hauled away, Penny screaming and cursing as they were dragged into the rain. Thoughts snapped through her mind like gunfire, sporadic and sharp. A single tear rolled down her cheek as they were shoved aboard a large truck, which rumbled and shook as it pulled away into the night.
The fox, still inside the cottage, grinned maliciously at the sight. He looked down at the floor and knelt, picking up the small brass shell and examining it between two fingers. With a grunt of satisfaction, he placed it in a secret pocket on the inside of his jacket. The pocket clinked and jingled with numerous other casings as he did.
He fished the leather gloves out of his pocket and slipped them back on over his paws. Turning towards the table, he selected a low-burning candle and strolled leisurely to the small bookshelf. His fingers danced over the titles, occasionally selecting one and throwing on the floor in a pile. When a clump of ten or so books had accumulated, he stepped back and let the candle slip from his paw.
He grinned as the flame kicked into life, quickly beginning to devour the pile of books and bookshelf. "Oops, silly Me." he guffawed, strolling out of the cottage as the flames grew.