Sigh. You know the drill. I thought this was original when I first wrote it on the Redwall Wiki. My friend Zaran Rhulain offered to post it for me, and I let him. HE's praqctically vanished from the face of the earth, so I decided to post the revised version I was working on. When I joined this site, however, I saw a bazillion of these stories. Dash it all. Well, here goes and reviews appreciated!
A note: bold text is from the POV of the woodlander telling the story in the future. Italic text is flashbacks, unless used to emphasize text. Normal text is, of cousre, from the POV of the characters trying to live through the Dark Forest I have created for them! Also to clarify, I will only use the horizontal lines
^like that to show switches in time. I know, I love complex.
Prologue: Enter the Players
Whispering voices roused him from a deep sleep. His battle instincts, long unused, caused him to move quickly as he pulled his dagger from its place hanging above his bed, careful not to wake his slumbering wife. He noted with dismay the patches of rust and corrosion pitting the blade to the point of uselessness. He should have maintained it.
He opened the door outside and followed a faint light. It reminded him of that long night so many seasons ago, back when he had been a young 'un. He smiled, recalling his long-gone best friend's cocky smile and wholesome laugh.
The light entered Noonvale's library and he followed in silence. He lost it for a minute amidst the dusty shelves and old tomes, but arguing and sleepy voices soon got him back on track. "Wanga, why yoo bwing us here?" a cross Dibbun he recognized as his own son Riordan demanded, "I tired!"
He shook his head in amusment and sheathed the blade. Dibbuns. He should have known. The squirrelbabe Ranga was climbing a high shelf, scanning the titles as she responded to her inquisitive friend. "Wemember da stowy yoo Daddy wead us wast nigh'? Welw, da second book's here."
"Dere's anover stowy wiv Martin ee Wurrior?" a plump harebabe asked.
Ranga nodded. "Yes. It after war wiv Badwung, back when Mommy and Daddy were likkle!" There were gasps.
"Dat old? Wow!"
"Did they figh' in da big battle!" Ranga squealed in triumph and pulled a tome nearly as big as she was from the shelf and threw it onto a nearby armchair. She nimbly leaped after it and opened it to the first page. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud, stumbling over the longer words.
The adult who had followed them smiled as he heard long dusty memories brought into the light at last from the dark recesses of his mind. Ah yes. Those were the days. Back when he was young and strong, and free as the wind. Back when many friends who were now dead walked the world and were alive. Ah, yes. Those were the days . . .
