The rats, stoats and weasels played with the ball, along with a handful of otters, foxes, hedgehogs, ferrets, mice, voles and squirrels. Suddenly, the ball flew high into the air, the many mammals stared in amazement as it soared through the air. It then landed with a crash into the cores of apples that had been gathered into a pile, along with various other fruit. Flies buzzed around the rotten food as the young creatures looked on in dismay.

"I'll give anybeast who gets it a bronze coin!" cried a squirrel, large grin on his youthful features.

"I'll get it." said one of the young rats, looking at the pile with a grim smile. He then darted off to grab it.

"GO DESKEL!" hollered another rat, smaller in size then his brother.

Deskel finally returned, grinning triumphantly.

As the squirrel fished through his pockets for a bronze coin, one of the stoats noted a large group of woodlanders heading towards the village.

"Reeeedwaaalll!"

"Siiilveeerstreeeeam!"

"What's that?" questioned a hedgehog.

"Redwall. That's a peaceful group!" cried one stoat, recognising the name, "I'm going to go see them, I've read a lot about them!" he finished absolutely giddy. He then did exactly what he said- he started to run over to where they were.

An older stoat who bore a resemblance to the younger one, and was obviously is brother, looked over to Fievly, a rat, "Think I should go with him?"

"Eh, you decide. Don't worry, they're just a bunch of woodlanders, Sprague." the tall rat said with a shrug.

The older stoat watched as the younger was cut down by an otter, the otter did so with a bit of regret in his eyes. Of course, it was only a bit.

The young, vermin and woodlander alike, shrieked and dashed away, except for a seldom few who could only stare in horror as the life they knew was wiped out.

---

The whole background of the scene was white. As white as an ermine in the northlands wearing a white tunic in a snowstorm... It was a bit odd really.

"Redwall made a mistake." said Martin, watching to see the reaction on the young otter's face.

"Obv'ously." grumbled the otter bitterly, eyes wide and yet his brow was furrowed, "So the warriors who lef' two days 'go...?" he let the question hang in then air.

"I'm afraid so." answered the mouse warrior, it looked as if it pained him to utter any words on the subject, "Sliver, you won't remember this until the time you need to. Then you must search out the young ones that were there that day."

"They're still 'live?"

There was a moment of silence, "Not all of them. Some of them are, yes..."

"Wouldn't all o' the woodlanders 'ave been saved?"

"Would you spare traitors?"

"They considered 'em traitors?"

"Aye.You'll know when the time comes."

"That soun's somewhat familiar."

"I think I've said it before."

Sliver allowed himself a thin smile as the mouse warrior began to fade away, fading white as the white background of the dream.

--------------------

Sliver liked remembering all dreams he'd had. Thus, he tried to remember the one he had just had. He couldn't; no matter how hard he tried. The young otter shrugged and got out of bed; it wasn't uncommon to forget a dream.

A/N: The otter accent in the prologue is badly done in this prologue and I can't make it any better, unless you wish to point out some places where the speech could be fixed. I would fix it and thank you. The otter speech is better in chapter two. I promise.