Author's note: According to several of my friends what I thought was R is really just a strong PG-13. :)

Disclaimer: All thing Redwall being to BJ. I just play with his world and characters. ;)

Prologue

Something's wrong, shut the light,
Heavy thoughts tonight
and they aren't of snow white.
Dreams of war, dreams of liars,
Dreams of dragon's fire
and of things that will bite.

Sleep with one eye open,
Gripping your pillow tight
Exit light
Enter night...

-Metallica

The night was gloomy and oppressing. Heavy rain fell in sheets from black clouds over a grove of trees. Thunder boomed loudly and blue chain lightning flashed across the heavens. Fat drops of water ran off the leaves and splattered when they hit the muddied earth. The scent of the rain and far off scent of burning wood filled the air. The little stream that ran through the grove was swelled to twice its normal size and growing. Its brown waters rushed through the trees noisily, covering ferns and undergrowth with its ever-growing hungry waters.

A short red squirrel watched the 'stream' with cold eyes. The squirrel wore a soaked green and brown tunic and a recurve bow was strapped to his back. His arrows were kept dry in their quiver by the cloth he had fashioned into a bag and his bowstring was concealed from the element by the leather pouch it rested in at his belt. Two dagger hilts protruded from his boots. His green eyes flashed and his harsh features were angered. He curled his lip in contempt at the natural force that was uprooting beloved plants. He stroked the limb of the poplar he sat in with frustration. If only we could stop that water's destruction...

He hated this sense of being able to do nothing, this helplessness. Punching his paw furiously into the trunk of the poplar, he shut his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin white line. Without another glance at the flooded water, he swung from the branch above his head into the oak beside it, heading towards his home.

The slick wood made it harder for him to keep a grip, but he managed. The squirrel fixed his hard eyes on the sheltered flet that was his home.

And was taken aback to see two tall, cloaked figures sitting there.

He touched the dagger hilts with a paw, ensuring that he would be able to draw them quickly, before swinging into his flet. The squirrel narrowed his eyes at the two who sat cheekily at the table he had crafted lovingly for his wife.

"Who are you?" His voice was deep and demanding.

The cloaked beasts shared a glance before one stood gracefully, towering over the squirrel. A soft, cultured feminine voice emitted from the shadows over its face. "Is thy name Birch Swifteye?"

Birch clenched his jaws and glared up at her. "What my name is doesn't matter. Who are you and why are you in my home?"

She swished her tail and Birch noticed how much like a squirrel's it was. "We are those who art named the Shadowslayers." She paused and threw back her hood to reveal a startlingly beautiful face with hazel eyes and sleek midnight brown fur. The face belonged to a pine marten. Her voice took on a warning tone. "It would be wise to tell us your name."

The squirrel swallowed. Pine martens were cruel vermin who ate the flesh of their victims and were even better climbers than squirrels. He pulled himself up to his full height and glowered dangerously at the vermin. "And what if my name is Birch? What of it? Now where is my family?"

A silvery laugh came from her as an amused twinkle entered her eyes. Her companion sat taciturn and still as ever. "Well, Sir Birch, I feel the need to warn thee that thou might not be pleased with them."

"Where. Are. They!" The squirrel ground out, anger and worry thrumming through his veins.

The pine marten laid a paw and his shoulder and smiled down at him. "I wouldst suggest thou look down."

Against his own will, Birch looked over the edge of his flet. What he saw unleashed an agonized cry.

Bloody strips of fur littered the ground and the heads of his wife and sons were gnawed on, but he could still see their terrified and pain-filled expressions. A lithe wildcat, a fox, and three ferrets patrolled the base of the tree, weapons gleaming in the flashes of lightning. The wildcat glance up at him, emerald eyes shining with glee. She let loose a harsh laugh at his expression and called up mockingly. "Oh, dear, Master Swifteye. Upset, are we? Well, this is what happens when you leave your family alone. Bad for you. Marvelously entertaining for us."

Rage made him shake and he roared, dashing to leap down and teach the wildcat a lesson. The last thing he felt was a blinding pain in his head before the world dissolved into colored specks lightening into a white light.