A necessary and sufficient presumption to know when reading this fanfic is that Redwallers celebrate Christmas.
A howling wind and wet snow blowing in the face meant the winter had come to Mossflower and had set in. Tito, a thin and exhausted young rat, wrapped himself more closely in his ragged cloak and looked out of the hole.
"Bloody fang, close it, it's freakin' cold!" his father's husky voice made Tito obey.
"I only want to get out for a while, maybe find something to chow or ask someone for it," the young rat started mumbling.
In fact, he just wanted to get out of a stuffy hole. Tito's parents were deserters. A week ago, they deserted Flitch the ferret's gang. Tito's father had screwed up, and because of his mistake the gang had to abandon their lofty perch in winter. Tito's father did not want to wait to be killed and ran away with his family in the heat of the first day of nomadizing.
Being a deserter is no good, Tito had learned it. There is no chow, no sleep, no rest. Instead, there is always a chase, a fear to be caught any minute. And wounds.
Tito's father had been wounded in his hind paw during the escape and his mother had caught a fever while crossing the stream. But now they were lucky – they had approached Redwall Abbey quite close, and the vermin horde was really afraid of it, so they wouldn't dare to follow them. They had found an abandoned hole and settled in it, licking their wounds. A fireplace was smoking in the wet hole, Tito's father was lying on a pile of dirty rags, groaning. His paw had blackened and festered. His mother coughed and drank hot water. The air was filled with the darkness of expectation. They had to wait out the chase and cure, but it was getting even colder, and, on top of it, they had run out of food.
"Come here!"
Tito approached his father. The latter grabbed the young rat's paw and pulled to himself.
"Listen here, you. I hope you're smart enough not to wander near that damned Abbey, Redwall or whatever it is. Its dwellers cannot stand our vermin brother. Once they catch you, they're gonna twist your joints in a jiff. And don't tell them you've run away from the gang, they ain't gonna buy it, and you're gonna see your own guts on the ground right away! And even if they happen to spare your life, you little underfed idiot, they sure will find us. They say they have otters in their Abbey. And otters don't like us rats. They'll do away with us, and are you gonna survive on your own? Hell, no. Now get outta here, beg the locals to give us some chow, and don't go near that freakin' abbey, got it?"
"Got it" nodded Tito and nearly bolted away.
"Hang on, moron!" his father pulled a rusty hatchet from his girdle. "Leave your sharpener here. What kinda poor beggar are you with a weapon? Now beat it!"
Tito leaped outside. How great it was to finally breathe some fresh air after the stuffy hole with the smell of fear and disease stuck in that place. The young rat took a path towards the Mossflower dwellers' houses. Tito walked stealthily, hiding behind the trees. The spy's life in the gang had taught him to scout the area before taking action. Woodland creatures behaved in a strange manner, gathering together into groups and moving along the path altogether, as though they were going to the same place. Everyone was dressed up, they joked and sang songs. Dibbuns were led by the paw, the smallest ones were carried. The beasts seemed to be going to some kind of feast.
"A feast means a lot of food and a fuss. I'll get something," Tito cheered up and wedged himself in the crowd, pulling the hood over his head. Soon it would get dark, and he would quite pass for a thin mouse.
The crowd turned to a wide road, and soon the young rat saw something that nearly made him yell – they were heading towards the Abbey, the red sandstone stronghold! Tito felt sick, imagining his guts already on the snow. Away, away from this horrible place!
Tito reached the edge of the road, jumped over the ditch and hid in the forest. Having walked a bit forward, he leant to the tree to recover breath.
"Hi!" he heard a ringing voice behind his back.
Tito quickly turned around, his paw swung to his belt.
"You're a real gangster, aren't you?" a little squirrel was standing in front of the young rat, about the same seasons old, smiling in a friendly manner. There was a sincere curiosity in his voice.
Tito relaxed and put down his paw.
"Why," he started whining with his beggar voice. "What kind of gangster am I, I beg you? I am a poor orphan, I haven't eaten for three days, I'm dying of hunger and cold…"
"No way, you are a gangster!" the squirrel laughed. "You can outwit the adults, but not us! We, dibbuns, see e-e-everything! You're dressed like a gangster – with all these amulet bracelets and brass earrings like a real pirate – so big that I can even see them under the hood! You have scars, torn and swollen joints on your paws – that means you've been in fights. And this instant movement when you heard me – you itched for a dagger. An old hedgehog told me that the pirates and other gangsters do that, and I remembered. I won't give you away – we'll be friends! What do you say? I've always wanted to meet a real pirate!" the young squirrel widened his eyes and made a "scary" face.
The young rat blinked several times before answering. But the squirrel didn't look dangerous, and besides, there were a lot of bad things in life anyway, so… Why not make friends with him? After all, if something went wrong, Tito could run away.
"Well, I… I'm no pirate, but I used to be in the gang," Tito tried to speak in a low voice, like major members of the gang, not just errand rats. "I'd been in a great many scrapes 'til I got in these parts by a twist o' fate. I'm Tito the Furious, an' you?"
"I'm Binty! And what are you doing out here?"
"Licking my wounds…" the young rat frowned. The image of sick father and mother appeared in front of his eyes. Not that he loved them much, but he would not survive without them. And they would not survive without him either.
"And you?" Tito asked Binty like an echo.
"Oh, me!" the young squirrel slapped himself on the forehead. "I totally forgot! I have an important task – to pick a huge Christmas tree. And then our Commander will chop it down and bring to Redwall.
"And how is he gonna do that? You said it's huge," Tito raised the eyebrow suspiciously.
"Why, he is a Commander! An otter! He'll carry anything."
The young rat's face got peevish.
"Okay. And what is this Christmas thing that the tree is for? Is it some kind of boozing after getting a lot o' loot?"
Now it was Binty's turn to show surprise.
"You don't know about Christmas?! That is the most magical holiday of the year! Everyone feasts, sings and dances around the trimmed Christmas tree! Everyone gives presents to each other! And the main thing," Binty bent to the young rat's ear and whispered with a great deal of conspiracy, "Christmas is the time when the most amazing dreams come true!"
"No way!" Tito exclaimed incredulously.
"I mean it! That's why all the beasts wait for this holiday!"
The young rat whistled.
"I wish I could visit this… Christmas holiday or whatever. Amazing dreams coming true… Cheeses!"
"So why don't you come? We'll have a great time! The fact that you're a rat is no problem at all, even Mossflower foxes come to our feast! Redwall hosts everyone given their good intentions," the hot-eyed little squirrel kept persuading Tito.
"You're right, but I look like a gangster, you said it yourself," Tito shook his head. "I come to you an' they'll do away with me, an acorn gets a bag o' nuts," the young rat made a cutthroat gesture.
Binty plunged into deep thinking and suddenly leaped up.
"I know! I'll bring you a tunic and a cloak and you'll easily pass for a woodland rat. Then we'll pick a Christmas tree and go for the feast!"
The young rat was tortured by a bad feeling, but the restless squirrel was already on his way jumping over the branches, having cried out "I'll be right back!".
Indeed, no sooner had Tito thought this situation over and had decided to run away than Binty was already back.
Tito took off his ragged cloak, put it in a tree hollow and put on a woolen green tunic over his own one, short and shabby, amulet bracelets hid under long warm sleeves. The young rat hid his brass earrings in a deep pocket and belted a woolen girdle around his waist, matching the colour of the tunic. Finally, a grey warm cloak over his shoulders – and there he was, if not a mouse, then a perfectly right-minded young rat from woodlands, not some vile gangster.
"And now – the tree!"
Binty made a stunning leap, and Tito suddenly burst into laughter and whistled with delight. Okay, the tree!
It was very nice choosing the tree – with an air of the utmost importance, Tito rejected the trees that Binty selected, commenting on them like a real pirate:
"This one's twisted like a hoodoo fox's soul! Won't do."
"And this one's docked like a tail of our Filch! What a shame!"
"Are you out of your mind?! This one's half-sized like an underfed weasel!"
Binty kept looking at his "old hand" buddy with admiration, and Tito was finally able to feel somewhat bigger than a simple errand rat, a pathetic creature. It was the first time he had been listened to and even agreed with! Finally, they found the Christmas tree that no one could have ever found any fault with, not by any stretch of imagination.
Merrily singing, they ran towards the Abbey, where festive tables in the open air had already been set out. Everyone was dressed in warm clothes, enjoying their hot meals and dancing, which kept them from getting cold. The Commander set a Christmas tree, and the dibbuns' joyful shrieks pierced the icy air. Soft snowflakes started to fall, and the wind calmed down. The midnight was approaching. The Christmas tree was trimmed with sweets, candied chestnuts and colourful ribbons. The decorated beauty invited everybeast to the circle dance. And the food! It was beyond all praise! Various cheeses, soups, pottages, pies, salads, snacks and hot meals, candies and jams, crispbreads, scones, plats du Molechef, Abbey pudding and so on and so forth. The tables groaned with food.
When it was time for dessert, Tito had already been stuffed and couldn't eat a piece. Binty and a small vole, Forget-me-not, were sitting next to him. They kept putting food in Tito's plate and amused him without a break.
But suddenly Tito felt very sad. He felt he did not belong here, it was a foreign holiday. He had sneaked into this feast by deceit, he was a gangster and a member of the gang, albeit a deserter. Tito remembered his parents who hadn't had a bite for the whole day, they were sick, and he was gormandizing with delicacies. Was he a traitor? Did he deserve this feast? These beasts had been working hard all the year round, growing, planting, preparing for winter and were now reaping the harvest of their labour throughout the year, that's why they were joking, laughing and feeling light of heart. And Tito's heart was heavy. He really liked Redwallers, but he couldn't stay with them. He was a vagabond and a gangster, and his family was the only place where he belonged. He had a different path, different friends and different destiny. His future was to be a spy and serve until the rank of a somewhat major gangster – an assassin or a thief. Christmas was not for his kind…
"Tito!" Binty shook his friend by the shoulder.
"What?" the young rat looked up.
"Let's go for a circle dance!" the squirrel and the vole grabbed his paws. "Come on!"
Tito's eyes tingled and he uttered:
"Wait for me, I'll join you soon."
Binty and Forget-me-not started to dance, and the young rat faded in the shadow and then ran to the garden. He leant to the apple tree, buried his face in his paws and wept bitterly.
The gang had taught him not to snivel, and he never cried, even though he was a small dibbun. Tito took cold, pain and beating with courage, as he knew there were much worse things.
But now he was weeping as if he were going to die of grief. For the first time in his life he was happy, surrounded by friends, with something magical in the air, and the Night of Dreams was about to come, and he simply could not be happy about it! He could not keep this happiness in his heart so that the delight of this amazing evening would warm him every day of his difficult life. He could not – because it was not his holiday!
"Is it possible that on such a magical evening someone can be so sad to be crying so bitterly?" a soft voice was heard from the back.
Tito shuddered with surprise and wiped his tears. An abbot dressed in holiday garment was approaching him noiselessly.
"I'm not crying," the young rat replied and took a deep breath to calm down. The rule of the gang – never cause trouble to the adults – worked again. "I'm fine."
"I dare not agree with you, young man," lord abbot objected and put his paw on the rat's shoulder.
They stood in silence. There was music playing in the distance, and the snow was falling down softly. Thousands of stars were shining in the sky.
"Was that a shooting star?" the abbot asked. "Although, even if it wasn't, it's still time to make a Wish. On a Christmas Eve, even the most incredible wishes come true."
"I don't know what to wish," Tito said gloomily. "I'm trapped, and no beast can help me."
"No beast, you say?" the abbot seemed to be so much surprised that the young rat nearly laughed. "You think even such a worldly-wise old mouse like me could not give you a piece of advice? You think I have read all those books in vain?"
"You're laughing at me," Tito sighed.
"And you don't believe me!" the abbot frowned. "Why are you so sure I can't help you? You know, all the wisdom and all the books in the world are useless if you cannot make a dibbun stop crying on a Christmas Eve."
"I wish I could tell you everything, but this secret is not only about me…"
"Do I look like a chatterbox?!" the priest took off his glasses in resentment. "Well, mister, I must say, your manners leave much to be desired!"
Tito took a deep breath.
"All right! I'll tell you. My parents and I used to be in the gang and then deserted."
Strange as it may seem, the abbot was not surprised at all.
"And this is the reason why you were so upset? Trust me, being an honest beast is far better than stealing and killing."
"No, you got me wrong. What I mean is, we're not woodland rats, we're former members of the gang."
"Well… Former!" the abbot smiled.
"Wait… So you knew it?" Tito started to realize everything. "From the very beginning, you knew who I was?"
"Of course I did!" the old mouse smiled. "You have holes from brass earrings in your ears, and your paws are beaten, as if after many fights. The clothes are ours, from the Abbey… We have actually known about you and your parents for a week already, but we can't succeed in helping you, you are too distrustful. You won't take our food and you keep throwing away the medicines."
"So you knew everything?" the young rat was puzzled. "Why then you and your otters didn't, like… do away with us?"
"Because there is, like, a reason," the abbot mimicked. "We're not thugs."
Tito started to laugh – it was a huge weight off his shoulders.
"Tomorrow morning, take some food and medicines to your parents, tell them you've solicited it from woodland dwellers," the abbot winked. "Otherwise, they won't take it from Redwall."
"Thank you so much!"
"Now go – have fun, and make sure you dance in the circle all night long, don't shirk!" the priest commanded, tongue in cheek. "And don't forget to make a Wish!"
Tito ran towards the Christmas tree, where Binty and Forget-me-not were already waving at him. While running, he was constantly repeating his Wish in his mind: "I want my parents to settle in this place so we could live here, always!"
And the Wishes on a Christmas Eve always come true, even the most incredible ones.