A/N: I introduce quite a few characters in the first chapter, so it's a little long. This should be interesting—please read and review!

Innocence

The towel was warm and rough, thoroughly drying and massaging the little Mouse's cold, wet fur. However, Reepicheep did not like to be kept in one place for too long. It seemed like his father had been drying him off for years, though it had only been a few seconds in reality.

"Let me go, I'm dry!" Reepicheep squeaked ferociously.

"It's your own misfortune," answered his father, still berating him with the towel. "Need I remind you, Reep, that you were the one who propelled yourself into the stream? Had you waited for the rest of us, we should have caught the fish together."

Reepicheep managed to squirm out of if his father's grip and scamper into the safety of his personal underground chamber. "Father," he said, "the point of catching the fish was to accomplish something noteworthy by myself." He picked up his tiny hunting spear and puffed out his little furry chest proudly.

Riding and catching fish was an important part of Mouse culture for those who lived by a river like Reepicheep's tribe. A Mouse had to sit quietly on a rock protruding from the river, waiting for a fish. When a big one came past—usually twice the hunter's size—the Mouse would spring into the water and rope the fish. The rodent would then ride the fish for a romp, catching smaller fish with his hunting spear along the way. If the rider was strong enough, he would guide the fish into an enclosed pond right near the Mouse Burrows.

When important messages needed to be taken downstream or upstream, the Mice would ride on their captured fish and deliver the message. Many Mice of Narnia were known to be excellent swimmers, and it was their form of "fishing" that taught them to do it.

Against his father's wishes, Reepicheep had run ahead of the group of Fishermice and tried to pounce on a fish himself. He was considered far too young and small to be of any use to the Fishermice yet. When a Mouse became a teenager, his first fishing trip was a rite of passage. Reepicheep felt that he was ready for his Mousehood ceremony even though he was only about ten years old. So he simply careened into the water and nearly choked himself trying to get the rope right; and when a fish finally arrived Reepicheep slipped off its back and was pushed roughly underwater by its tail-fin.

"Reepicheep, you need to be more respectful of your elders," said the young Mouse's mother, coming into the Burrow. Her buff-colored fur was in disarray and her paws were on her hips while her martial eyes looked quite fierce. "What have I taught you about honor? I know you're tired of being a child, and I was going to arrange something with the Elders. But I never expected you to outright disobey me. I'm disappointed in you, Reepicheep."

Reepicheep bowed his head and his tail drooped to the ground. "I apologize, mother," he said.

"Well, well, no need to get emotional!" the female Mouse answered brusquely. "Now don't drop your tail like that—sagging your honor, well what would the Big Ones think? Keep a stiff upper lip; there's a good lad." She then bustled away to see to some other business.

Reepicheep looked up at his father, expecting some kind of comfort.

"Well, Mother is right you know," said Father in his gentle voice. "You should have obeyed us. Yet still, she might have been a smidgen too forceful. How about coming down to the kitchen with me? I'm making Watercress Soup tonight and you can help."

"My pleasure, Father," answered Reepicheep politely. The Mouse and his kit began walking in the direction of the kitchen. The Burrow was made up of a long, curving tunnel about three four high and four feet broad. The round sides of the tunnel were insulated by thin, hard-packed slates made from earth. In some places these "walls" were decorated with hanging weapons, trophies, or noble-colored tapestries; but most of them looked as plain and dark as soil, which was virtually what they were.

There were doors at intervals on each side of the tunnel. Most of these entries—elegant and featuring double doors—led into the private living quarters of each Mouse's family. The largest door at the far end of the tunnel led into a huge underground cave. Divided into sections by Mouse-made walls, the cave was both a kitchen and a banqueting room.

Father felt that the kitchen was the best part of the Burrow, but Reepicheep felt that a good deal more swords and awards should be hung on the walls. "There's no space next to all the pots and pans," Father constantly reminded his son.

Reepicheep stared glumly at the dozens of brightly burning torches while sitting on the stone counter. Meanwhile Father was rhythmically reciting a poem and tapping his paws as he let watercress simmer in a copper pan. As Reepicheep stared at the torches he began to imagine that each flame was a bright city full of knights and ancient warriors. The cobweb in the corner must be the dark fortress of evil, from whence came the Spider Lord.

Reepicheep's fantasy continued and he stopped paying attention to his dad. Although Reepicheep liked the smell of sizzling greens and the sound of his father's voice, he wished he could be somewhere more interesting. He did not say this out loud because he knew that his Father had already had a difficult day.

The Mice of Narnia were in grave danger, and as each day passed more bad news came. Today, Father had gathered news from the other Fishermice that a regiment of Mouse warriors near the River Rush had been killed. The tribes of Mice were rapidly decreasing. Reepicheep really had no idea why the neighboring colonies were dying out, nor did he think about it much. The events of the real world, at this point in Reepicheep's life, seemed distant to him.

The thing that was not at all distant or strange to him was the grief that his father showed. Reepicheep could see it in his dad's eyes: depression. Mother was suffering in her own way. She did not sigh and mourn quietly like Father; she had bouts of rage and spent hours of extra time outside, hacking things with her sword.

"Good day, Greenathreep," a stately black Mouse addressed Father. "Are you tutoring your son?"

Reepicheep broke out of his thoughts, leapt off the counter, and respectfully bowed to the black Mouse. "Good day, Chief," he said excitedly. "Actually, my dad's not tutoring me. I do not intend to become a cook, sir, but a warrior."

"Well," said the Chief Mouse, whose name was Rhevercheek; "you're on the path to becoming a fine one. My daughter informs me of your astounding skill with the sword, despite your young age. Still it may be difficult finding a place in the ranks, for there is no shortage of eager warriors in our tribe."

Father dumped the watercress into a deep pot and started adding some vegetables. "Now Reepicheep," he said, wiping his paws on a patterned cloth; "what's so wrong with becoming a cook like your old daddy? Or, if you don't like being confined to the kitchen, why not be a Fishermouse? There are precious few of us now, and you showed courage when you went after that big fish today."

Reepicheep's proud smile caused his whiskers to lift and his eyes to twinkle. "I welcome any challenge, be it sword or fish! Of course," he added with a slight dip of his ears, "steaming vegetables may be the most gruesome challenge of all."

Rhevercheek laughed heartily. "You are a spirited squire, Reepicheep," he said. "Just the way your mother was at that age!" The silvery fur about his eyes creased into a serious expression, and he faced Father. "Greenathreep, I have come to discuss the news we received this morning."

Father looked slightly disappointed, but he understood. "Reepicheep, I suggest you amuse yourself with the other kits for a while, alright? I shall see you at dinner."

Reepicheep bowed respectfully and departed. He left the kitchen after politely asking for a small wedge of cheese, and headed for the fencing room. It was the third door on the right from the kitchen. The odd thing about the fencing chamber was that it was square-shaped instead of round, and had walls of rough pale-grey stone. The room was bright, thanks to the air passages that were cut into the roof and went straight up to the outer world.

All around the sides of the room there were tables and chairs for strong beginner's weaponry and armor. Many young Mice were darting around having a romp, and only a few were actually practicing their skills. Leading the frolickers was a little female Mouse, about a year older than Reepicheep, with pale grey fur covering all of her body except her fluffy white-furred chest.

"We shouldn't be scampering around as if we were otter pups!" Reepicheep commanded with an authoritarian shake his whiskers. "We ought to be practicing our swordsmouseship!"

The little female Mouse bounded over to the wall on all fours, where she grabbed a wooden rapier. She shouted, "Narnia!" and whacked Reepicheep over the head.

Reepicheep squeaked in pain, and reached out for his own sword. His outstretched paw was whacked by the girl Mouse's weapon. Reepicheep was getting thoroughly whipped, but as last he scrambled over, grabbed a fake sword, and defeated his opponent.

"Geeniveek!" he shouted, wrathfully. His eyes were narrowed and his whiskers stuck straight out almost horizontally with rage. "That is not the way we Mice do things! You attacked me when I was unarmed!"

"I just wanted to see if you would attack me back," shrugged the girl, Geeniveek.

"I can't attack the leader's daughter; it's the rule. The Chief says you're too delicate and you have a public image to keep up."

Geeniveek frowned. "Oh yes, it's a shame isn't it? I wanted to see if you'd break the rules and have some fun for a change. Come on, let's fight. You know I'm almost as good as you."

"I suppose…" Reepicheep considered…"if I were careful not to hurt you…alright, let's do it."

The young Mice crossed their swords and began their bout. Reepicheep, even with all his dreams of becoming a warrior, had no real concept of how serious their mock-fight really was. He didn't understand then what being a Mouse Warrior involved; he didn't understand the burden he would receive or the cruelty that went on around him.

Soon, that would all change.