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Clang! Bang!
The sound of clashing steel echoed through the undisturbed stillness of Mossflower Wood. Frightened birds screeched as they fled their nests to avoid the deadly onslaught of the fighting otters. The one named Dusk hacked away mercilessly with his gleaming twin axes while Crono, his opponent, countered every blow with his equally awesome javelin. Blades whirred in blurring patterns as the two adversaries exchanged blow after blow. Dusk was swift and powerful but he did not posses Crono's experience and cunning. Each movement was crucial to the fighters and it didn't look as if either of them was going to back down. Crono dodged, weaved and faked to throw his opponent off guard. Finally as Dusk swung Crono sidestepped and in a flash he was on top of the otter like a wolf. After rolling on the ground in a tie-up it proved that bringing Dusk down would be no easy task. Once cornered he went berserk and battled like a wildbeast.

He slammed down on his opponent's weapon with both axes until Crono's arm started to throb, and he dropped the javelin. He had underestimated his brother. He started dodging again, while waiting. Just one false move... Finally Dusk swung his axe sideways with all his might. What came next happened so fast that Dusk was left baffled. While he was recovering from the attack his brother had tripped him, grabbed his javelin and was on top of him again. Dusk lay there on the ground with javelin point at his throat until bitter realization dawned on him. I... I give up.' He murmured. Crono quickly sheathed his weapon on the strap holder on his back and he helped his brother up. You know, that was real close.' He bluffed. A couple more swings of those axes of yers and you would have gut me brother.' Dusk stared at the ground, ashamed, knowing his brother was only trying to make him feel better. They had often come to the beautiful clearing in Mossflower Wood to test their fighting skills against each other. Dusk was never able to bring his brother down.

Crono was very popular in their village. He had been through many battles and wars and the scars littering his body proved it. He was also popular with the girls because of his dashing good looks. His family was so proud of him that his father, also a great warrior in his time, presented him with the glorious jewel studded javelin he always carried with him. The very one he used against his brother. Dusk was tired of living in his brother's shadow so one day he ran off into the woods and tattooed his entire body with permanent dyes and herbs. It made him feel unique and fierce. Although this was true, young Dusk had never seen any real action on the battlefield unlike his older brother. That was part of the reason he came to the clearing every sunrise with his brother to practise. He dreamed dearly that one day he could experience some real fighting so that he could bring pride and honor to his family name, Parabola, and stop living in his brother's shadow.

Sadly, Crono did not miss the misery portrayed on his younger brother's features. Wut's the long face for you little brute! Don't worry bout' losing to yer big bro. After all, I aint got any enemies cause they're all dead by my own hand. I've been a warrior for more seasons than you can count and I know yer a warrior born. Trust me. You'll live your dream.' Dusk brightened up a great bit. Do you really think so?' He asked, his determined eyes shining with hope. I know so.' Crono said. As they made their way back through the thick foliage Crono added grimly under his breath. Maybe sooner than you think'
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Grasshoppers chirped. The wind rustled through the trees. Night had come over Mossflower Wood. The bushes rustled. Something moved! The moon and stars in the black sky illuminated the scene bellow. A squirrel named Prowler pounced through tree branches with a confident grin pasted on his shady face. The night was his! When it came to wits, Prowler was your squirrel. An experienced warrior, and a master of stealth, Prowler was one of the best. After being raised by his father in the village of Stella, he packed his bags and became a traveler, occasionally cleaning the land by slaying vermin. Now it was night and Prowler was on the hunt. Faster! Finally he closed in on his crestfallen prey. A scarred rat named Crud. He had been on the run from Prowler since last moon when his crew's ship crashed on the rocks. He was the only survivor. Crud had always been treated harshly and was only a lowly searat. Now he was alone and he was the boss of himself. But now, ever since he entered Mossflower, the forest had been completely against him. There was no food or shelter in the woods and he lived off of random herbs and weeds with always having the fear of being poisoned. If only he could get out of this cursed forest he could start his life over and plunder for goods.

He drew his curved scimitar knowing that the only way out was to get past his hunter. I have you now you filthy vermin!' The perilous squirrel sneered. Crud slowly backed away, his scimitar now fully raised. I warn yer, come a pace closer and I'll rip your guts out and stuff em down yer ears!' Prowler ignored the threat and took a step closer, still grinning. He drew his favorite dirk and circled the terrified rat. He pointed his dirk at him. Come you yellow bellied excuse for a fighter. Try your luck.' Right then Crud started to panic. Without thinking he launched himself at the calm warrior. He brought his scimitar down on thin air. The squirrel was gone! Confused, the rat looked wildly about him, in search of his superior opponent. Suddenly he felt a burning pain in his left shoulder. He felt it with his free paw and screeched when he found Prowlers dirk sticking out of his limb. In a flash Prowler revealed himself, savagely ripped the dirk out of the rat and got ready to finish him. Clutching his bleeding shoulder he begged. Please sir, I was just joking around wit' yer. C'mon I'll be outta here right away, just give me another chance, I beg you!' He cried, still clutching his limb, as he scrambled on the bloodstained grass to put as much space between him and his predator as possible.

Enjoying himself, the black squirrel raised the dirk, his dark eyes gleaming wildly. Crud let out a shriek and covered himself with his paws. Again something in bushes moved. An awkward silence fell over Mossflower. Suddenly, right when the warrior was about to throw the blade for the kill, a group of shadows silently swept by and something whistled through the still air. Crud, still covering his head with his paws, finally opened his eyes. There, laying before him, was the lifeless carcass of the once mighty warrior the Prowler. A poisoned arrow sticking halfway out of his heart. Bewildered and terrified he scrambled up to his feet and jetted through the forest which had brought so much unhappiness to the cowardly searat. The grasshoppers chirped once more. And then once again. Silence.