Introduction: This is my very first fanfiction I am writing for this site and I'm sure it is terrible. Hopefully that is just self-doubt and this story isn't really that bad. Obviously this is a Redwall fanfiction, and it has been years since I have read any of the books or watched the cartoons so my Brian Jacques Speak is way off. This is why I am dreading doing any moles...yikes. If you're still willing to read this story after the introduction, I salute you and I hope I haven't let you down.

The half moon's light was shyly reaching through the tops of the trees of Mossflower Woods, revealing the band of weasels and rats trudging through the night, guarding a cart of supplies, and were ever watchful despite the silence of the forest. A ruffle from the cart caused alarm to the group and they all held their weapons up, aimed upon the cart.

The cart was untouched, undisturbed by the paws of any but a soft breeze played with the corners of the covering. The weasel leader was not satisfied and ordered the rats pulling the cart to yank off the blanket covering. The rats obeyed and everybeast was ready to stab into the culprit, but there was nothing there but food, weapons, and armour.

"It be jus' the win' then, eh?" The leader tapped his furry chin but nodded and motioned for the group to head out once more. The serenity of Mossflower continued and the band of vermin relaxed a great deal. There was nothing out there not harm them this night, they could make it back to their hideout by morning and perhaps even snack a little on the way. Everybeast was thinking of the glorious food underneath that blanket and how rich it would taste in their hungry maws.

One rat licked his lips in anticipation and rubbed his hands greedily, but he would have to wait not doubt till the leader allowed them all to have a quick bite to eat. Oh but how hungry he was! They had been surviving on the rations that ran out days ago, but this food was for the entire army. But he was so hungry!

"Cravin' some of that food aren't ye?" came a whisper into the rat's ear. The rat yelped and turned to the speaker to see one of his one of his companions, cloaked in black with his face hidden in the cowl and shadow. The rat licked his lips and a nodded. "Aye, that I am."

The rat's companion sniffed the air near the cart. "Come mate; let us have a small bite. Me stomach is startin' to howl. Mightin' be givin' us away. What d'ye say then?" The rat shook his head furiously, his eyes wide in surprise. Was this creature willing to invoke the wrath of the Ironpaws, the leader of the group, just for a bite of food?

"Ye crazy? What d'ye think that mad ol' weasel d'to us'n if'n he be catchin' food in our paws." The rat hissed at his cloaked companion. The cloaked figure held out his gloved paws in apology but then looked back at the cart, and his stomach growled softly.

"Not fair it is, that ol' weasel has been eating the stuff but not us, not even a piece." The cloaked figure complained. The rat looked surprised once more and eyed the leader ahead. "Ironpaws 'as been eatin' from the cart?" the rat whispered to his companion. The cloaked figure paused and patted the rat on the back. "Ye have not been noticin' it then? Aye, ol' Ironpaws has been takin' more than a fair share, he has. Seen it meself, I be thinkin' if he could d'it so could we."

Filled with anger, the rat nodded his head. "Aye, we should be getting' some food too, why should we be starvin' while that weasel be stayin' nice and cozy." The cloaked companion clapped the rat on the back. "That be the spirit, mate."

The hungry rat slipped a paw underneath the cart and felt around for something to eat, but and sharp whack on his rump made him jump and squeal. The rat hopped up and down and turned to face the weasel leader with a grim expression on his face.

"An' jus' what d'ye think yer doin', scum?" the weasel asked, snarling. The rat looked around nervous and saw that his cloaked companion had not fled but stayed steadfast at his side. The weasel followed the rat's gaze and saw the defiant figure, a rather unfamiliar figure.

The weasel was about to question the cloaked creature but was interrupted by the rat he had whacked. "Ye have been taken food an' we want some too. Why should we be starvin' while ye stayed fed?" That statement drew the attention of others. They all glared at Ironpaws and he hissed at them in return. "Lies, ye be sayin' lies an' no more. Who told ye these lies!" the weasel grabbed the rat by the neck held him above the ground, his legs kicking, trying to touch ground. "Or did ye make them up yerself?"

The rat shook his head wildly. "No, no, h-he told me!" the rat pointed at the cloaked figure and Ironpaws tossed him aside. The weasel pulled out a wicked whip and eyed the figure. He raised the whip but the figure cried out, "Don't be callin' me a liar, ye've been stealin' the food, why else would ye say no to our requestin' for food, eh?"

Others in the group looked at one another and agreed. Ironpaws hadn't let them eat any and if he was as hungry as them, why wouldn't he?

"Ye want to keep it all for yerself!" screamed one of the vermin. With that, slanderous cries rung out and all the vermin attacked the mighty Ironpaws. Hunger and betrayal filled them with battle rage, enough battle rage to blind them of the cloaked figure digging through their supplies and slipping food into its shadows.

"'Ey! What's he doin'?" came a cry and all turned to look at the cart. Everybeast spotted the thieving creature and moved in on the cloaked figure. The creature, realising his dilemma was quick to react, he jumped down from the cart, evading a swinging claymore and a furious spear, and sped off into the depths of the woods.

"Gah!"

The cloaked figure was hit in the back with an arrow that sent him sprawling to the ground. The figure groaned and was yanked up roughly by the meaty paws of the leader weasel. "Well, well. I knew ye didn't look right, little thiefy. Let us be seein' who ye are."

The weasel jerked the creature roughly, sending the hood flying back to reveal the red fur, big ears, a long, slender snout and unpleasantly cruel eyes. "Get your paws off me, weasel!" the fox snapped angrily at the face of his attacked but the weasel simply knocked the smaller creature into a tree.

"Enough of that now, foxy. Ye be stealin' from Grimpike and Strongal. An' fer that ye be answerin' to 'em." The weasel said with a sneer. The fox's eyes filled with terror and his voice cracked with fear as he pleaded. But they fell on deaf ears as Ironpaws dragged the terrified fox behind him. He motioned for the vermin to once again head out, however; this time the forest was not so quiet for the pleas of mercy filled the Mossflower night.

Grimpike paced around the underground chamber he and Strongal called their "audience chamber". Food was running low and moral was dropping. The band they sent out to raid for supplies was late and Grimpike was impatient.

Strongal watched the rat aimlessly pace around the chamber and he smiled with amusement. "Be at ease Grimpike, they will be here soon." The rat shot an angry look at the stoat he called partner. They had spent weeks building up this army and to have it destroyed because food was low would cause the rat to do no less then jump off a cliff. But Strongal was right, they had been gone for a long while, they could not been gone much longer.

Suddenly, a nervous messenger burst into the room, kneeled and stammered his news. "Ironpaws has returned an' he says he was attacked by a fox who is now his prisoner." Strongal smiled deviously, he always enjoyed prisoners, the torture, the blood, and the screams. Grimpike saw the look on his partner's face and pitied the fox but the fact that the red-furred fiend had caused delay soon wiped such feelings away. "Bring 'im here!" Grimpike commanded. The messenger hesitated for a second, "Now!" Grimpike barked sending the creature tripping on his own tail.

Minutes later, the struggling fox was dragged in by Ironpaws. The weasel tossed the bound fox at the feet of Strongal and Grimpike and fox shook his head and looked up dazedly. There was a sharp intake of air when he saw who was standing before him. The creatures he believed were just rumours floating around the vermin world but now it was evident they were real. The fox controlled his fear, he knew begging would not aid him; most likely it would only make things worse.

"What shall we do with you, foxy?" Strongal darkly chuckled. He grabbed the fox by the scruff of the neck and the fox's belly let out a soft growl of hunger. Strongal smirked and lifted the young fox off the ground so they were face to face. "Hungry are you? Well so are my creatures. Perhaps you can help with that."

The fox controlled the fear in his voice. His demeanor was serious and calm but inside his heart was screaming. "What do you mean by that, sire?"

Strongal cackled, they always got so respectful when their life was in danger. "Why, do hungry vermin ever ask what is it they are eating?" The fox let out a gasp, all control of his fear lost. The powerful stoat tossed the fox back to Ironpaws. "Take him to the kitchens."

The fox struggled, begged, and pleaded. "No please! I'll do anything! I beg of you, mercy, no! I'll do anything, sire, I could be of great service. No please, no!"

Strongal broke into laughter and sat down, slamming his fists against the wall. Grimpike grimaced, as the fox disappeared into the halls of the underground hideout. He wasn't planning on eating any meals produced tonight.

To be continued...