AUTHOR FORWARD - CAN BE SKIPPED
PROLOGUE FURTHER DOWN

This story is a fairly long one. For ease of reading, I'll be releasing three chapters each week. Chapters will be uploaded Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. The story will run fifteen weeks.

Each chapter is between 2,000 and 3,000 words.

If you have not read any other work in my Vermin Badger series, don't worry. Each is a stand-alone work. Characters will be introduced as if this is your first exposure to them. There is a sense of continuity between the various stories, but missing any will not affect this one. If you have read any of the previous stories, you'll run into many familiar characters. Otherwise, sit back for an enjoyable read.

Be aware that my story does not adhere to the canons of the original. It is one of the liberties a fan fiction offers, tweaking the originator's are the primary differences.

1 - I have eliminated accented speech. Such things as moles, hares, and dibbuns, are difficult writing and a real pain reading. I'll not inflict such things on my readers.

2 - My story has woodchucks. Too many tell me no such creature existed in the Redwall universe. The same is true of hamsters until Triss. Consider this how I exercised my literary license.

3 - Character ages are in human terms. I always found the aging process in the Redwall novels confusing. Some characters went from nappies (diapers) to elder in the span of two seasons, or less. To add to the confusion, some characters aged at a faster rate. All of mine will age in years, not seasons.

4 - My stories are not obsessed with food. You will find feasting and meals, but I'll not slow the adventure for an over-descriptive account of the food offered.

Prologue
The Opening

Summer heat hung heavy over Redwall Abbey. If any resident had chores that took them outdoors, they kept a pitcher of water close. Even those who braved the bright sun for the shortest of times made some joyful exclamation when they returned inside the cooler Abbey. Only the very young considered such a beautiful day a special gift from the Eternals as they frolicked under a cloudless sky, oblivious to the heat or humidity.

A woodchuck bounded out of the communal dining hall everyone called Cavern Hole. He raced through the Abbey's long hallway towards the main doors. In his eagerness, he did not spot the other creature just entering the Abbey. They collided. The youngster lay sprawled on the hardwood flooring staring into the hooded face of the other beast.

The older beast stood in the doorway framed by the sunlight. Two black paws reached up and pushed her green habit's hood off her head. "Why are you in such a hurry, my child? The day is new and there is plenty of time for enjoying it." The older squirrel reached down, extending a paw. "So what has our young scribe so animated this morning?"

Hassellick accepted the squirrel's helping paw. "Our Chief Historian told me at breakfast he is considering me for the position of historian. I'm excited at getting to my new duties; I didn't look where I was going. Accept my apology, Mother Abbot."

She smiled. Now that she was indoors, the woodchuck could see how the Mother Abbot's green eyes twinkled.

"I know all about your pending promotion. Who do you think told me about it while we were conversing late last night? I'm pleased you pursued this task with such diligence; I know how much the dust in our basements makes you sneeze. I do hope your story is finished before next season's festival. It can be part of our celebration."

With that, the squirrel continued on her way. Hassellick remained by the front door and listened to the footfall of the elder's sandals as they ascended the marble staircase. He watched the upper floor's railing, but the abbess did not reappear. The sounds of her movement receded until the Abbey became quiet once more.

After closing the door, Hassellick stood atop the steps, scanning the courtyard. Where shall I go? My mind is full of ideas, but none feels right. Perhaps I should find a quiet place to consider my options. Problem is, if I wander beyond the outer walls, some elder will decide I can better spend my time gardening.

The woodchuck shrugged. "One more dibbun by the swimming hole will never be noticed."

As he passed a small stone, he gave it a vicious kick. He watched it bounce across the cobblestone courtyard as he turned down another paved path. "How I hate being called a dibbun. I might not yet have the years to be an elder, but I'm not some irresponsible pup either."

When the path he followed continued beyond the small orchard, his eyes searched for a shady spot. He slung his backpack down and knelt beside it. His paws rummaged through the material he had gathered earlier. He arranged all his writing implements neatly. Satisfied, he leaned back and stared into space.

His mind wandered. Thanks to a light breeze, the rustling leaves created a kaleidoscope of green patterns against the blue sky. A twig snapped so close that it startled him. A glance to his left found the cause of the disturbance.

"So, brother, what brings you outside when you could be working on your letters somewhere nice and cool?"

The female woodchuck stood next to his tree, her fur dripping wet. For a moment, Hassellick considered sending her back to the swimming pond, but welcomed her company. So many times in the past she had proven an aid to him, he couldn't dismiss her without cause. It took no more than his paw patting a grassy spot. The two rested, both comfortable in their shared silence. When he began to speak, she leaned closer.

"I have a problem, sister. I need a true story of Redwall, and I'm reluctant to go rooting through all those dusty scrolls in hopes of finding something everyone will enjoy. If I cannot come up with a memorable story, I may lose this once in a lifetime opportunity at becoming the Abbey's historian. But right now, my mind is a complete blank. I have no idea where I should begin."

"Forget about entertaining everyone at our next season festival. If the story you select doesn't move you, it will not capture their attention either. You need something that fires your passions, dear brother."

With that, she gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek and made for the pond once more. As his sister strolled across the grass, another beast turned to observe her approach. The elder then looked in his direction; Hassellick waved a greeting. The elder raised a paw before settling on the lawn, her back to him as she watched the many younger dibbuns enjoying the water.

Hassellick stared at the back of Redwall's most infamous resident. At least he remembered others describing her that way when first they met. Then, like the flash of lightning in the darkest night, an idea came to him. Without moving his eyes from the unsuspecting female, the woodchuck pawed the ground as his fingers quested for his writing implements. His pen raced across the paper in the special script recorders used. He paused, once again gathering his thoughts.

Perhaps the greatest stories ever told are those filled with romance. Love provides even the weakest of creatures, the strongest of motivators. We willingly risk everything to gain what we see as a chance at happiness. For love, we travel great distances. For love, we sacrifice wealth, power, and position. But is there a point where we fear to reveal our true inner self to another?

I shall relate a true account of our resident vermin. Yes, such a beast lives within our Abbey. It does indeed astound me Redwall would harbor such a creature. From where I pen this tale, I can see her. So I shall give you a story of love and hate, and how one conquered the other. It tells how our own special vermin met another beast that saw her as a creature worthy of love.

All romantic narratives are enjoyable, but I believe they overlook one important element of life. We cannot measure success with the blood of our enemies. In our haste at penning the glories of our victories, we forget the tears shed by those who lost so much. What we perceive as victory often has a high price, which brings me to my second tale.

This will be a story of two teens stolen from our midst. They stand alone against a powerful enemy. And we learn together the price of failure and the pain that comes with it. Yet hope, like love, remains a potent emotion. It keeps us moving when common sense tells us we should surrender.

Gather round and hear how I weave these two threads into a tale that would rival our Great Tapestry. Though my saga shall focus on two hearts drawn together, it will also reveal the tragic events that parallel this love story as one could never be without the other. Listen to my rendition of events that has such meaning to me, for I am a participant in this history. And I challenge you dear reader to find me … if you can.