Hello! This chapter was edited since it was first posted. I'd like to thank Quarter Ava for her/his feedback. Feedback is very important to me in my development as a writer, so I'm very thankful for that :).
Also, I'd like to give a big shout out and thank you to my beta, Kelaiah, whose help is very important to me. You rock, Kel!
"Un segundo mas de vida, yo a dios le pido." -Juanes
"Yes, Harry," wheezed a gray-furred mouse, "we do have the requested volumes in our archives. I remember them well." He shivered lightly in his scarlet robe; the gatehouse air had gotten colder.
The burly hare sitting across from the hunched-over mouse noticed the beast's discomfort, and, gesturing to the dying fire in the fireplace, offered, "Brotha' James, are you quite alright? I could get you more firewood if you'd please, wot!"
Brother James smiled at the hare's kind offer, but shivered more violently as another draft of cold air washed over him from behind. The mouse turned in the direction of the draft and instantly realized the cause of it.
"No wonder it's so blasted cold, you left the door open when you came in, you great lump!" James hissed with a sudden intensity that it made Harry jolt upright and almost topple out of his chair.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Close it! Before my joints turn to ice!" the incensed mouse shouted at the flabbergasted hare, who finally jumped to his feet and rushed to the door, shutting it.
As the flustered hare returned to his seat across the table from where the elderly mouse sat, Brother James continued as if nothing had just happened. "Now, you were asking for a time horizon, as I recall. The three volumes of Ailments and Remedies that the Lord of Salamandastron requested should take around a fortnight for me to replicate, should I work from dawn to dusk every day. With this being an abbey, I hope you can understand why books of healing are too precious for us to simply give away indefinitely."
Harry nodded stiffly, replying, "Yessah. Thank ya' very much. The Lord of Salamandastron wished t'know what he could do in exchange for this favor?"
"We expect no reward at this abbey for work done for the good of others." After a pensive moment, however, the old mouse continued, "However, should the Lord of Salamandastron insist to repay this kindness, I'll direct you to speak with the Abbess, who would full well know better than I would anything this abbey may need."
"Very well, sah."
After a few moments' silence, Brother James dismissed the hare, "If that is all of the business you have with me, you and your company of..." He trailed off and glanced expectantly at the other creature.
"Hares, sah."
The mouse became annoyed again. "I know very well that you are all hares-"
"Well, technically, one of my company is a mouse-"
"Don't interrupt me, young'n! I was asking how many were in your company!"
"Oh! Um, eight, sah. Nine if ye include myself."
The old mouse's eyes reflected surprise that Salamandastron would dispatch that many of its fighters for a simple errand such as this. "Yes, you all may speak with Sister Claudia and she will help get you all situated in the dormitories. Hopefully she'll get you all settled before dinner; it'd be quite unseemly for guests to arrive to a meal late. And I may as well gather all the volumes that are to be replicated and begin immediately."
The mouse and hare rose simultaneously and walked to the door of the gatehouse, right into bitter cold, gusty outside. Before they parted ways, the mouse clapped the young hare on the back with a hardiness that Harry wouldn't have expected from such a frail-looking creature.
"Don't forget the firewood you promised me, son."
As Brother James made his way back through the light snow to the gatehouse, volumes under one silver-furred arm, the old mouse shielded his eyes from the sun which began to set above the gatehouse; he'd spent longer than he planned finding these volumes because of the library's severe state of disorganization. He resolved to have a stern talk soon with that bumbling young buffoon, Brother Matthew. James expected better from the one Redwaller he chose to replace himself as the Abbey's new librarian!
As the gray-furred mouse approached the gatehouse, he faintly heard a voice calling from outside the walls. He muttered something very un-Redwall-like under his breath, mentally blaming Matthew for his not being in the gatehouse to attend his responsibility, and quickened his pace to the gatehouse.
As he entered, warmth greeted him; a quick glance to the fireplace affirmed that Harry had not forgotten his promise. Placing down his retrieved volumes, Brother James rushed to the window overhead the gate and opened it.
A hoarse, strained voice called up to the old mouse, "Please! Help! Let us in, he needs help!"
Brother James looked down on the now snow-laden path that led to the Abbey's main gate and was greeted by the sight of a shirtless, pleading stoat with a pure white winter coat, as well as a cart in tow. And in this cart was an unconscious squirrel sporting bloodstained bandages over his abdomen and one of his arms. Brother James did a double take at the sight.
"Please!" the stoat called up to him desperately. "Papa's hurt. You have to help him!"
After the shock of the situation in front of him wore off, the recognition of who was in the cart dawned on Brother James. He furiously accused, "What'd you do, what did you do to Lucas, you vermin!"
The stoat gasped, and tried to stutter out a response.
"Speak, ye' spineless cowardly scum, or I'll end ye'!" threatened the old mouse.
"I didn't do anything!" the stoat whimpered out, tears welling up in his large dark eyes. "He got hurt fighting vermin, you have to help him!"
The gatekeeper, caught between suspicion of the vermin at his gate and concern for his old friend, asked, "Are ye' armed?"
Hesitating only for a second, the stoat drew the dagger stashed in the belt around his black trousers and, turning around, hurled it as far as he could; it wasn't very far, but he turned around to the gatekeeper and screamed, "Please, you have to help us!"
This satisfied Brother James, who, springing up to the wheel controlling the raising and lowering of the gate, turned it with a strength that his age belied. The stoat frantically took the arms of the cart and tugged it through the snow, making it under the gate. After lowering the gate back down, the old mouse ran out of the gatehouse as briskly as he could and took one arm of the cart. "Follow my lead, stoat, we need to take him to the infirmary."
The stoat sat on a chair, shoulders sagging, mutely watching as a healer peeled back the injured squirrel's bandages, observing the injuries. The healer, surprised at how rudimentary the bandages seemed, looked at the shirtless stoat and immediately understood that the bandages were the torn remains of his tunic. The squirrel, Lucas, moaned quietly, but was still unconscious. The healer, a hedgehogmaid, turned to the stoat and asked, "What happened to him?"
The white-furred creature swallowed, and quietly responded, "We were taking our fish to the market, but two... vermin... ambushed us. They wanted our valuables, but Papa wouldn't have it. They took out their weapons, and he took out his sword. And I..." The stoat's throat constricted, but he choked out, "I couldn't move. I was so scared." He took another look at his injured father before dropping his face into his paws, sobbing, "I'm such a coward!"
The healer, surprise written on her face, glanced at Brother James, and back to the stoat. "Calm down," she said steadily to him. "I need to know your name."
Without looking up, the stoat replied, "Micah."
"Micah," the healer gently said, placing a soothing paw on his shoulder. "I need you to tell me how long ago this happened."
"Y-yesterday, at about noon."
They all froze as they heard another, louder, moan come from Lucas. An eye opened slowly, and the squirrel tried to croak out something.
"Don't try to talk, Lucas," the healer hurriedly said, bringing a cup of water to the squirrel's mouth so he could drink. After Lucas had clasped the cup and drank it, he had several spluttering coughs, and winced visibly from the pain. The healer put a paw on the squirrel's forehead, paused, and began to re-examine the squirrel's wounds, cleaning them, applying herbs, and bandaging them.
Mustering his will, Lucas began to speak, holding out a paw. "James, it's good to see you."
The elderly mouse smiled, going to the squirrel's side. "Likewise, though I'm thinkin' of knocking you silly for forgetting to bring back your overdue books." James then chuckled. "Although the library has technically passed into Brother Matthew's responsibility. I tend to the gatehouse nowadays."
With a faint smile, Lucas faintly chuckled, but, wincing, quietly said, "I'm tired, so listen close, James. That creature next to you is my boy. I found him when he was a babe, and I've loved him as a son ever since. He's a good creature. Please... make this a good home for him."
What his father just said terrified Micah, who cried, "Don't talk like that, Papa, you said that they would be able to heal you here!"
The squirrel smiled, "Of course they will. I'm feeling better already. James, they have to be serving supper soon, is that right? Please take Micah down to the great hall, and make sure he makes some friends."
The hogmaid jumped on this, urging them out so that she could take care of her patient without him moving or talking. After the door to the infirmary closed, the hogmaid turned to the squirrel and, swallowing, declared, "Lucas, your wounds, they're-"
The squirrel interrupted her in a pained and faint voice, "-infected, I know."