Prologue

Little Timothy skipped his way down the dirt-laden path between the Darkwood Forest and Castle Grey. He and his family lived in a small grass hut about a mile away from the great castle, never seeing the sight of it for all the trees that grew about their home.

The small mouseling kicked a rock and skipped after it before kicking it again. Where on earth had his father gone? He said he'd be right back after gathering some dry sticks and red pine needles to make the fire so that they could cook the fish that they had caught just a few hours earlier. Timothy paused his little game to glance about. No sign.

His father couldn't have gone too far. The boat that he was lugging around may have been just barely big enough for himself and Timothy both, but it was heavy. But Timothy's father was a strong, stout stoat. He carried both the boat and Timothy sitting in it once. That was loads of fun!

Worry began to eat at the little mouseling. He cleared his throat and called out, "Father? Father?"

No answer came back. Gathering up what little courage he had, Timothy quickly began to backtrack his steps about fifty feet back, to the point where he and his father parted ways. Then, he began walking towards the direction that he saw his father head off to. The grass grew green here, beside the path where many beasts have walked. And soon, the little mouse caught sight of a rather familiar thing.

The boat!

He picked up speed and made it to the wooden dingy. It lay upon its side, tilted from its round underside. The mouse glanced in it. Not here. Then he walked all around it. Not anywhere.

Then, the sound of a twig snapping behind him caused the mouse to jump nearly a whole foot in the air before he spun around.

The creature before him wasn't his father. Far from it. This beast was shorter than his father, but his bare arms displayed sinewy muscle that seemed to move as the creature knelt down.

"Are you all alone, little mouse? Where are your parents?"

This creature was a ferret, the mouseling could tell. But his whole body, including half of his smiling face, was covered in tattoos. Depictions of scenes that inspired horror; tongues of flames licking houses, entire cities swallowed by crashing waves, blades clashing, and other things could be seen all over the ferret's muscular arms and even showed through the V-neck of his shirt on his chest. The ferret's face tattoos, though, were quite unusual. A black sun shown towards and over his right eye; strange curling lines went from the ferret's right ear to outline his upper jaw towards his nostrils; and what he could guess were waves of the seas flowing up from his neck and up the ferret's lower jaw. All perfectly covering half of his facial features.

"I…I don't know…M-Mister…"

The tattooed ferret glanced towards the boat and then tilted his head, as if in thought. Then he nodded his head and spoke, "Ah! You mean the stoat who was carrying that boat over there?"

The mouse nodded eagerly. "Yes! Did…did you see him?"

The tattooed ferret nodded and said, "I did indeed. He came by just a few moments ago, set that boat down, and went into the forest there. Said something about finding some firewood."

Timothy quickly looked towards where the ferret was talking about. "Down that way?"

"Aye, that is correct, lad. If you hurry, you may catch up with him."

Timothy nodded and smiled at the tattooed ferret. "Thank you, Mister!" Then he began to take a step towards the edge of the forest.

That's when he felt something cold and sharp glide along under his chin. He stopped and his legs couldn't respond, leaving him standing there, dumbfounded. He coughed and something red flew in flecks from his mouth and began to dribble down his chin.

"Don't worry, child." He heard the ferret's voice as he fell to the ground. "I did say that you'd catch up with your father."

The world began to darken. It grew cold.

The ferret sighed as he sheathed his kukri knife. He always carried two. He watched the mouseling quiver and die on the ground, blood flowing from the open wound in his neck. He had hoped that he would sever an artery, but apparently his aim was off. The ferret hated seeing the mouseling die so slowly.

Placing a hand upon the young one's face before shutting the eyes, he kept his smile upon his lips. The father was still in the forest. He will return and see his dead child. And there's only one thing that the father can possibly do from there: get Lord Aralld's attention.

"It is a shame, little one, that you come to me in my time of need. Chaos calls for sacrifice sometimes. Chaos is cruel. No doubt that you will receive a proper burial."

The ferret's sly grin framed his raspy chuckle. "Or your father can join you. And the mother can send word. Yes. That's much more fun!"