Author's Note: Okay, I got some reviews for my one chapter story 'Ties' that really bugged me, so I have to say this. My stories are usually about the theme! I don't want any reviews saying, "BJ would never do that". This is my story. I have control of the characters so I can make them do whatever I want.

With that said my disclaimer is that I don't own the building of Redwall, but I do own all the characters in this story and its plot. Thank you.

Chapter 1

Inas Reiz, a light brown weasel toiled away in the blistering afternoon of the summer day that was currently baking the ground. 'Looks like this year's harvest won't add up to much,' the young weasel thought as he pulled weeds from the ground, while sweat rolled off his back in waves. Inas panted slightly, wetting his lips every few minutes to keep them from cracking painfully, but his own tongue was dry now.

He glanced up at the wooden cottage across the field. Inas could see his master sitting on the front porch, carving something out of a chunk of wood on his lap. The old squirrel never looked up from the wood; so fully focused on his project that he didn't notice Inas struggling. The weasel was sure he didn't feel the heat, either, with the way his brown eyes were furrowed.

He groaned to himself inwardly. It was up to his Master to give him water, and it looked like the squirrel could care less at the moment if he died of heat exhaustion or dehydration. So, trying to ignore the thirst in his throat, Inas continued pulling out limp rags of weeds that had sprouted up magically next to the infantile corn crops in the dusty soil.

Hot and dry was the weather. And so was he, but the weather had been consistent with this forecast since the beginning of summer. The only time Inas remembered it raining that summer was three weeks ago and that had been a twenty minute sprinkle at night. Any traces of that rain had dried up before morning had even dawned.

Swallowing to satiate his dry throat Inas continued working. His tongue was hanging out of the side of his mouth by now and he was on his knees trying to pull a particularly stubborn dandelion from the ground, but even his fit, moderately thin form couldn't uproot the plant. Taking a metal two pronged tool he'd been dragging with him through the field he began digging at the soil and the weeds. Finally, when he felt it loosen up in the little hole that he'd dug around it, Inas grabbed it again and this time ripped it out with so much force, he fell back on his bottom. He shook his head as he sneezed and coughed uproariously when the unsettled dust flew up into the air to coat him with another fine layer; he needed water.

At that precise moment a shadow eclipsed the sun above Inas as he put his tools back into the little belt he'd been given. His black eyes blinked up at the sharply silhouetted figure, until he finally came into sharp relief. It was Trat Straek, the son of Master Aeno Straek, who smiled at him winningly from above. Inas tried to ignore the canteen that clanked merrily on his belt, but it still managed to increase his thirst.

"Hello, Inas. How's the weeding of the crop going? Doesn't look like you're doing too well. Need a drink of water?" Those innocent, bright blue eyes were so contrasting to the true personality inside the squirrel that it almost made Inas gag. Trat, being the son of a warrior, was a spoiled brat that seemed to enjoy nothing more than tormenting his childhood surrogate brother. Or as surrogate as Inas could become when their relationship was like thin ice in a hot day.

The squirrel, who was the same age as he, was born a cruel child whose apparent lot in life was to torment Inas in ever way possible, while maintaining the innocence and character of a perfect angel. He was amiable to all the Redwall Abbey dibbuns and children and helpful to the adults.

In the Redwaller's minds, Inas was a bumbling fool, with an evil and mischievous streak. He was constantly in trouble when they visited the red stone building. So much so, that Aeno his Master, had almost literally tied Inas to his son with a rope. Trat was commanded to follow the weasel everywhere when they visited and it only got Inas in more trouble; Trat pinned every sign and pointed every arrow to the weasel when plates were broken or food stolen.

That was all part of life for Inas.

Now, as he stared at the squirrel, he knew Trat was waiting for him to confirm his question, then the torture would begin all over again. Knowing what he was in for, anyway, Inas just shook his head and replied huskily, trying not to let his voice sound cracked or broken, "No, Trat, but I thank you for the offer."

The blue eyes flashed with annoyance for a moment and a frown creased Trat's face; he wasn't getting the reaction he desired. The frown and the annoyance disappeared instantly, but his blue eyes hardened in determination. Inas would probably have to end up begging and weeping if that's what it took to get himself some water.

The weasel lifted his head though and stared back unperturbed by this behavior. Typical. Sighing inwardly, he began crawling around Trat with his head bowed in subordination; talking while he dragged his bag behind him, "Good day, Trat, I must be getting back to work. There are still plenty of weeds to pull in the southwest section of the field. Cheery-oh!"

He strangled a cough that had threatened to constrict his throat and reveal that he needed to slate his thirst and began digging up another weed. Somehow, the power of ignoring Trat gave Inas strength and he found the nagging of his dry throat distant now. But he suppressed a smile. That would land him in trouble if Trat accused him of teasing. Then again the squirrel might tell Aeno that anyway.

For a few minutes, Inas could only hear the thud of his two-pronged tool digging into the soil before Trat had recovered with a beautiful comeback. An agonizing one for the weasel. Trat walked to him and stepped in front of him, swinging his bushy tail idly and grinning nastily down at him like a cat eyeing its prey. He then undid the canteen at his belt and tilted his head back, pouring the sweet liquid down his throat and purposely slopping it out of his mouth and down his linen, light brown t-shirt.

Inas kept his head to the ground ignoring the clear drops that splashed in front of him. Trat shook his head vigorously as he finished swallowing the huge gulps. Then he said, "Ah! That is the stuff, friend. You sure you don't want any?"

Inas nearly gagged as he tried to force the sensation of cool sweet water running down his throat from his mind. His chest labored and his heart began pounding rapidly in his chest, but still managed a sort of neutral calm as he pulled another weed, "I am sure, Trat. But thank you for the offer again."

Thunk!

Inas blinked as he was suddenly looking and inhaling the dust of the field. Trat had brained him with the canteen. While only half-full now it was still quite heavy and it was metallic. The bright white stars of pain flashed in his blacked out eyes and he groaned; the beginnings of a serious headache was now besieging his mind.

"Listen, slave! Unless you're too dumb to notice, I want you to beg for your water! Your food; your clothes! They are mine and I will issue them to you at my will and no sooner. Understand?'

Inas rolled his eyes as the world spun in his mind. It roiled his stomach, nauseating him, but he nodded vigorously. Then responded in a somewhat breathless voice, "Yes, Master Trat. I understand, sir."

Trat narrowed his bright blue eyes and brought the arm with the canteen back again. Then he delivered the weasel a hefty blow, knocking him clean unconscious. Inas sighed, as though content, and the world disappeared in a hazy black and was replaced by a feverish dream.

"Now, tell me again, what happened, Trat," Inas stirred fitfully as Aeno Straek's voice assuaged his hearing, bringing him back to reality. The old squirrel was sitting next to him on the floor sponging a rag to his head as he interrogated Trat.

The young squirrel conveyed no emotion as he stared back at his father, smiling icily in the warm flickering light of the candles burning around the cottage living room, "I was walking out to Inas to give him his water when I came across his body lying in the field. Must've fainted from the heat or something."

"Fine. Get ready for bed," Trat's smile never slipped and he bowed cordially as he backed out of the room and into the hallway that took him into his own. Aeno watched him go seemingly as cold as his son, then turned back to the other young beast.

Inas flinched back and immediately broke any eye contact he might have had. Truly courteous sons or young beasts did not speak unless spoken to, and elders always started the conversation first--what Aeno had taught both boys from their infancy.

Aeno was a strong dark brown squirrel still in combat shape from his younger days as a warrior for Redwall. The old squirrel had stood up for Redwall when his son was four and had helped overtake the strong army of Issvor Turack, an intelligent and emotionless Pine Marten that seemed oblivious to all suffering he created. However, he did not punish his soldiers unless deserved and those were rare instances. All beasts in Issvor's horde respected him fully and had been ready to sacrifice themselves willingly for their Lord.

Inas' parents had been apart of this particular army; just two regular soldiers who followed orders without question. Both weasels had taken a liking to each other and they soon found themselves with a son, and more problems arose.

Raising a child on the move and in a military environment was unsettling for a young mind and both adults had preferred to raise their son in the lone wilderness. His father had decided that after the war, they were going to resign and make a farm in the woodlands where they could grow up away from oppression and in seclusion.

The dream was never realized. Issvor had decided to assault Redwall with his vast and willfully obedient army, but had still managed to come out worse. Isan's mother was lost in the second battle for the red stone prize when she got pole-axed by a stone. His father had died in the last battle right before Issvor had decided to move on to a more winnable prize; Isan had stayed behind mourning his dead father.

He'd been out there a night and a day when the Redwallers found him crouched next to his father. His four year old self had hissed and bared his teeth, tensing his muscles and readying his claws. Inas knew the Redwallers were responsible for both of his parents death, but he had yet to comprehend why the Redwallers had to kill him. Aeno had taken pity on him--to a degree--and had decided to raise him with his own son.

The leaders of Redwall had agreed and that's when the horror for Inas began. Aeno drilled it into him day and night for the first year he lived with them, "I took pity on you and I took you in to raise your miserable hide into something that might just resemble a good beast. Remember that, slave, you are mine. You will obey both my son and I. You are to get food only when I see you have earned it. Water, bathing, and the clothes you receive will also depend on your work and behavior. Should it be unsatisfactory, you shall not receive anything. It's all or nothing, boy."

So was Inas' life for the next twelve years. He owed his life to Aeno for teaching him and raising him, and he would never be able to repay it. 'I shall forever be in his debt as I have not been grateful enough. I do not deserve his hospitality,' Inas thought as he continued to stare at the floor in complete submission.

Aeno moved away stealthily to the table and said, "Trat found you fainted in the field. For that, boy, you will not get any dinner. You've been issued your daily amount of water already."

Inas sucked in a breath and spoke quietly, but clearly, "Yes, sir. Thank you for the water and my punishment. I shall complete my work the next time, Master."

"Speak up, boy. You need to sing out your words to be heard; I've become hard of hearing lately," Aeno said as he turned around from the table to face the weasel.

The weasel breathed harder and bit back the anger trying to overwhelm him. Then he spoke louder, "Yes, sir. Thank you for the water and my punishment. I shall complete my work the next time, Master."

"Good, now get ready for bed," Aeno swiftly left the room, stretching his sinewy body as he too went to his room. Inas watched him go before he got up himself and plopped down into the woven basket piled up with blankets. While the basket had grown with him, the living room had always been where his bed was placed.

Sighing from the futility of fighting his redundant life, Inas flopped back into his bed to stare at the ceiling. Nothing had changed from the first day he'd come. Nothing would. It was his life and he was a prisoner in it.