This is about a shorter story in-between the books Martin the Warrior and Mossflower. I'll hopefully be able to finish this. This is what I have so far.
Hey my first ever fan fiction! Thanks to KK (foreverdreamer101) for getting me into this writing again!
If you read Redwall books and have not yet read Martin the Warrior and plan to, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS! It gives away the ending to Martin the Warrior. But, if you have already read it or do not plan on reading it, enjoy.
December 11, 2004
The Red
A better, more beautiful day could not have made the world brighter. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there was not a cloud to be seen in the sky. The yellows and whites and pinks of the tulips covered the field with a blanket of color. The gentle buzzing of bees filled the crisp air. Water trickled down a stream; sparkling and shimmering in the sun. Blades of grass and tall cat tails rustled in the breeze. Yet the breeze wasn't as comfortable and relaxing as it used to be. There was a slight chill in the air.
Summer was ending.
Martin shivered slightly; partly from the chill, and partly by surprise. This was the first sign of autumn he had noticed. He was too deep in thought to notice his surroundings. His warrior instincts screamed inside, telling him and scolding him about how foolish he was. How could he, Martin the Warrior, son of Luke the Warrior, let himself sit by a stream, dazed and half asleep? He should be ashamed! He is not fit to carry the blade of Luke the Warrior.
But guilt did not win on that sunny afternoon. Martin was too exhausted to think about such things at the moment. Depression was taking over his young, strong body. His fearless mind was clouded with images of the ones he had loved and left behind. But one image stayed forever in the center of his brain. He could see her gorgeous eyes staring right back at him; fluttering her long, dark eyelashes. He could see her dancing in a sea of sunflowers, her jade green dress twirling around her. Her high, heavenly voice rang through his ears like a choir of angels. What were the words? Martin couldn't quite understand them. Something about a river, and a vale… Then the wonderful smell of the mouse reached his nostrils. It was a mixture of sweet honey and red roses. Rose.
Laterose.
Martin sighed deeply. This was the third time that afternoon he found himself in almost unconsciousness, staring at his one true love. He wanted to reach out and touch her, she felt that close.
Laterose.
But she was too far away. And she was never coming back. She was gone forever.
Laterose.
Martin hung his head and started sobbing uncontrollably. The death of Rose was taking a toll on his mind and body. He felt ten seasons older. He was no longer brave, fearless and strong. He was weak and cowardly.
"Rooooooose!"
Martin bellowed as loud and long as his lungs would allow it. Why me? He thought. What have I don't to deserve such intolerable punishment?
Martin punched the ground with his fist. He then stood up, wielding his sword. Furiously he hacked at the cat tails and tulips. He sliced them to strips and pieces. He then threw down his blade and ripped at them with his bare paws. He bit, he tore, he strangled them until all vegetation around him had been pulled up by the roots. He didn't know what had come over him. He could barely see through the red fog that seemed to be suffocating him. He wanted to punch and kick. He wanted to hurt somebeast. He wanted to watch something bleed. He wanted to kill.
Martin fell to the ground in an exhausted heap. Panting heavily, he stared at his reflection in the stream. Tears streaked across his face, leaving deep lines like canyons. His eyes looked tired and defeated. This was not the mouse he once was, the mouse he thought he knew. This was not Martin, son of Luke the Warrior. Martin blinked back more tears.
He saw another reflection in the water besides his own.
"Having some problems, are we?"
Martin turned around. Through the fading red mist, he could make out a figure standing before him. Was it a hedgehog? He couldn't see any spikes. An otter? No, it couldn't be, the voice was too high pitched.
"I'd say you'd got some Bloodwrath there, yup yup."
Martin blinked. The red was gone now, but for some reason, he still wasn't quite sure what exactly this creature was. It looked like a mouse, but it was larger, and it had extremely big teeth, like a rabbit. It had a thick tail, with a long, black dorsal stripe, like that of a badger. And there was something about the cheeks. Of course there was something about the cheeks; they were twice the size of the creature's head.
Martin shook his head to see if he was hallucinating. "Um…what-er-who, are you?"
The beast smiled and fluttered its eyelashes. It was a female. "For the what, well I'd be a chipmunk. And for the who, my name be Azalea, yup yup."
Martin was confused. "What exactly is a, er-"
"A chipmunk, you say?" Azalea interrupted, "A chipmunk is a small rodent that collects acorns, berries and seeds and store them in their rather large cheek pouches." She poked her cheek and winked. "I'm the last of me kind in this neck of the woods, yes-sir-ree."
So those were cheek pouches, Martin thought. With those, there was no need for a haversack. What a lovely adaptation!
"So, who were you fightin'? You got that Bloodwrath, yes you do." The look on Azalea's face turned serious.
Martin shrugged. "Oh, er, nobeast. I was just, er, sleeping, and I, uh…" his voice trailed off.
Azalea smiled again. "No need to explain further, sir. You look mighty hungry, yup yup yes-sir-ree. Would you like some vittles?"
Before Martin could answer, Azalea had her mouth opened wide, and her paw on the inside of her cheek. She had just about punched the side of her face, when two small blackberries popped out. She spat them out onto the ground and gave Martin that goofy grin of hers.
"Nuthin' like the old cheek pouches to keep your vittles toasty, yup yup. Would you like half?"
Martin stifled a gag. That berry had been in her mouth, or, to be more precise, in her cheek, and she wanted him to eat it? At least the otters' hotroot soup wasn't covered in chipmunk saliva. He couldn't tell her that, however. This was second nature to her, she was just being friendly.
"I'm actually not that hungry." Martin said innocently. "Thanks for offering, though."
Azalea shrugged, "Suit yourself, yes you will." She popped the blackberries back into mouth and chewed hungrily. "Hey," she said through a mouth full of food, "you from this area are you?"
Martin was getting used to the chipmunk's strange dialect. After all, he had befriended three moles and their quaint mole speech over the past season. "No, I'm from up north. I'm just doing some traveling."
It was true. Martin was born in the Northlands, and he was doing quite a bit of traveling. Although, he didn't know where he was going exactly.
"From the north, eh? Then what are we doing down this far south, then? Azalea asked.
Martin hesitated. He had promised himself never to speak of his past lest he unknowingly send ruthless villains to Marshank or Noonvale. He couldn't bear to think of any harm coming to Rose's family and his other good friends, especially if it was because of his doings. But, Azalea wasn't a villain, and there was nobeast around to overhear them. He could almost hear his father's voice ringing in his ears. Haven't you learned anything from your experiences, son? Are you a fool? Are you not the warrior I raised you to be? Martin's heart put on a fierce battle with his mind. For all he knew, there could be a band of roving weasels that spent their free time stealing food and treasures and taking the lives of innocent woodlanders, hiding in the bushes.
"I just wanted to get away for awhile," Martin finally replied. "There is so much more to the world than the Northlands."
Azalea nodded. "I admire your courage and need for adventure. I've never been much of an explorer myself, yup yup."
Suddenly, a low cackle was heard from the bushes behind Azalea. After a shaking and rustling of leaves, a group of four creatures emerged.
Didn't Luke just say how foolish Martin was? Martin's warrior instincts weren't working as well as they used to.