Hey everyone! I've recently begun the Redwall series, and I'm in L-O-V-E! So, I'm starting some of my FanFiction stories on them. This is my first one, so remember- I'm only at the end of the first book as I'm writing this, so my stories will advance with me, everyone!
I hope you enjoy, and if you have time, I adore reviews! Thanks!
-x-
Like the night itself, a winding shape curved silently across the damp soil, coiling slowly around a flimsy fern stem. Tightening the bonds around the thin plant, it snapped its upper half cleanly away from its stem, fringed leaves trembling in the breeze.
Raising the broken shaft of fern into the air like a flag, it waved high, grasped by a coil of a sleek black tail. In the heavy silence cast by the winter night, a slender form bobbed through the rather sharp winds, heedless of the lashing snow that whipped about.
"You there! This is a private land, you are not permitted to-" The voice that had moments ago been a demanding hiss was cut off. A blocky brown rat fell from a low tree branch, an arrow protruding from his throat. Slowly the black, shadow-like form advanced upon the fallen rodent. With the gentleness that a mother would entreat a child, a bare silver paw was extended, caressing the fur of the rat's blood-smeared neck. And then, withdrawing the paw just as gently, it lashed out with sudden, startling speed to grasp the shaft of the arrow.
Jerking the projectile from the gouged throat of the rat, the cloaked black figure that now stood before him took a single step back, a silver-skinned tail sweeping across the frosty, frozen earth. A second paw extended away from the dark robes, drawing a crimson rag along the arrowhead, wiping the blood away cleanly to leave nothing but the blue quartz.
"Who g-goes there?" A nervous voice suddenly tittered from above. Claws scraped on bark, and a small gray rat now leaped from the tree's trunk to land beside his fallen comrade. His eyes grew wide, coarse fur fluffing up in stricken alarm. He whipped his body around, a spray of snow swirling up around him before it was caught by the wind and swept aside.
Beneath the lowered hood that covered its unseen eyes, a roughish grin crept along the lips of the cloaked figure, now up against the other side of the birch tree. Narrow tongue sliding slowly around an equally narrowed muzzle, a silver paw raised to gently draw the hood further downwards, so that only the rat's pointed nose struck into view.
"No one of your interest," The voice that emitted from this rodent was like the cold icy winds that swept by, like the chiming of an ancient bell. With calm composure, the veiled rat swung around the tree trunk, lowered onto four legs as it sauntered slowly towards the now terrified sentry, hips swinging with ease.
"Y-you… You killed him…!" The voice of the fluffy gray sentry rose to a wail, throwing his small paws high. "Alert! Alert! Intruder!" He shrieked, lashing his tail wildly as he leaped back. "Help! Backup! There's an-" He was cut off with a horrible, choked gurgle. A dagger was slid smoothly back out of his throat, once again having its quartz-carved blade cleaned with the crimson rag. Gripping the bound leather hilt tight in a silver-tinted paw, it was slid into a dark sheath, hidden beneath the cloak and strapped around the slender waist.
Faintly, sounds came to keen ears. The hood still shadowing its eyes, the rat lowered its body, and then leaped. It scrambled up onto a low branch with ease. Then, like a squirrel, it began to leap from tree to tree.
A small band of six rats came skidding through the snow, swords drawn. The leader, an ugly, mud-brown thing, swung his jagged sword high in an arc with a demanding bellow. "Show yourself, you filthy, maggot-ridden coward you!"
Up above in the trees, a sly grin inched its way over the jet-black muzzle of the mysterious rat. And with that, it arched its back, dug hooked claws into the birch bark, and hurled itself to a holly branch, scattering snow silently.
Soon, after much leaping and jumping through the tree branches, the lean, cloaked shape arched into view, leaping from a tree limb to land on the snowy ground. Ahead, the ground sloped steely away into a shaded hollow. Snow cluttered up against the sides of small, run down looking buildings, though the scraggly streets were cleared, aside from a thin layer of gathering frost. Dim lights flickered in the square windows, lanterns swinging in the wind.
Smashing a silver-skinned paw through a puddle of frozen water, listening to the satisfying crack, the shadowy shape of the rat flitted forwards. With a single bound it was sliding across the cracked flagged stones of the little village streets. A long, curved tail reach up, snatching a candle-lit lantern from a stout pole to grip in the coils of the rodent's tail tip.
It made straight ahead, only curving sharply to the left when a shabby little tavern came into view. Gripping the iron handle sharply, the rat gave it a hard twist. Locked.
Uttering a rather irritated hiss, it slid a bony paw into the folds of the cloak, revealing a jagged piece of what appeared to be a jail bar. Using this as leverage, the rat jammed it against the base of the doorknob. It fell away with a crack, thin lacerations veining through the rotting wood of the door around where the handle had been. The door swung in with a creak.
A blast of cold air swept into the cheerful little tavern, sending hats off heads and coins to the floor. Several rats and other woodland creatures were gathered in the cavern, but all fell silent as this unknown visitor entered the room. Instantly, all leaned in to their friends and companions, whispered conversations rising around the room as the door swung shut against, kicked back by a strong hind foot.
"Eh, who do you think you are? That door was locked for a reason!" An infuriated hiss greeted the rat, bare foot coming back to rest on the creaking floorboards. Without a word, the rodent rushed forward like a shadow, taking an easy leap to land on the counter of the bar.
There, claws digging angrily into the thick glass of a rum bottle, a tall and lanky weasel stood, coarse fur paled to a scattered gray in the dead of winter as it was. His eye was the color of molten gold, tinged around the edges with a dull, timber brown. Yet he only had one eye, it appeared- for his left eye, or where it should have been, was covered with a pale, beige-leather patch that slung around his skull. His long, black-tipped tail flicked up indignantly behind his back, a scowl curving his rounded muzzle. Long body risen up upon his two back legs, he shook the rum bottle angrily, the golden liquor sloshing about against the neck of the bottle.
"Who do you think you are?" He shouted once again, glaring daggers at this rat. "Shoo, shoo, you! You're getting that filthy snow all over my counter!" He hissed, swiping at the silver feet of the rat.
The sly smirk on the black muzzle never changed as the rat raised its foot in innocence, leaped from the counter, but landed beside the weasel. The black cloak swirled around the hidden form beneath, though the sheaths bumped softly against each other from where they hung on the concealed belt. "I'm looking for someone. You know him."
Completely ignorant of the weasel's angered questions, the rat slid a paw back into its cloak, producing a piece of tattered cloth that could have passed for parchment. Hood still shadowing this unknown rat's eyes, it slapped the cloth down on the table, jaws now forming to reveal a mouthful of dangerously sharp frontal teeth. "Look at it." The rat ordered, gruff voice almost a whisper, though its voice was a strict order as it seemed.
The weasel uttered a growl in his chest, swinging around to place the rum bottle on a wooden rack laden with fine-looking bottles. The rat's foot tapped on the ground, seeming impatient.
Tap, tap, tap.
Finally, the weasel turned slowly back. He eyed the rat with his single eye, and then slowly shifted his gaze. It lingered on the torn strip of cloth, dark pupil slowly dilating as he stared at the neatly written words.
'Am that is'
"What does it mean?" Demanded the rat, its foot coming to a halt as it watched the weasel from beneath the waving hood. The weasel, shaking his head slowly, backed up.
"I don't know-" He began. Instantly, the rat had thrown him into the back room that branched away from the main building. Its silver-skinned forepaws forced him against the wall, a dagger whipped out to linger near his neck, the cool, smooth blade against his throat. He uttered a weak cry. "What in the name of gal-gors and juniper weed are you doing!"
"Hang me by my ankles and maim my ears if I really were to believe that!" Hissed the rat, a cold fury beginning to rise in its voice. And then the voice dropped, deathly calm. "I am losing my patience with you, Russel. Tell me what those words mean!" The rat tightened its grip on the poor weasel's shoulders, the side of the blade digging harmlessly into his fur, brushing the skin with deadly intent.
"Okay, okay! Put that damned knife down, though!" The weasel, Russel, began in a shriek, and then his foreboding tone became a whispering hiss, winding around the two. "It means..." He began, halting his words.
The rat's eyes narrowed beneath the black hood. But, finally and after a moment of hesitation, the dagger was withdrawn and shoved back into its sheath beneath the billowing cloak. "Very well. Speak now, ermine!" The rat bared its teeth, tip of its dark, whiskered snout jutting into view as it stepped back again.
The weasel took his time, smoothing his pale, blotched fur and flicking his tail before stepping forward. "It is a name, Elizabeth." The rat started, reaching a silver paw low to grip the hilt of a dagger. The weasel merely smiled, cocking his head and twitching his rounded ears. "And yes, I know remember you now, dear girl." The weasel's jaws parted ever so slightly, single eye scanning her cloaked form rather hungrily.
The rat drew the dagger in earnest, jamming it into the hem of his short trousers before lodging it against a wall. Withdrawing another, she held it up to his throat once more. "As I remember you, Russel. So great to see you again." Her mocking voice was a whisper against his ear, silver tail snaking around. It released the dimly lit lantern it held, its flickering glow the only thing illuminating the room at this point. "Now, you will tell me what this… name… is." She breathed, running the smooth side of the blade over his thin-furred neck. Russel only smirked, tilting his head back as if to allow her further access to his throat.
"Quite gladly, Elizabeth." Russel grinned roguishly, his dark-tipped tail flicking slowly against the wall he was pinned to. Yet, grin still plastered over his short muzzle, he stared at her with his single golden eye, as if wishing her to beg for the answer.
"What is it, then?" Elizabeth hissed, quickly losing patience with him. Suddenly, Russel struck out. One of his front paws caught the top of her hood and, in one smooth movement, had flung it back to rest on the rat's shoulders. Odd, glittering jade eyes glared darkly at Russel as Elizabeth hissed at him, unable to reach back and pull her hood back over her head with the daggers in her paws.
Russel only smirked, using his paw to fiendishly stroke her rather beautifully stunning face. She had jet-black fur, the deepest jade eyes, high cheekbones, translucent whiskers, and sharp, white teeth that were quite currently bared. And that was only her face! Her flattened ears did not, sadly, allow him to view their sleek silver forms.
"Very well…" Russel mused; as if this was nothing more than a simple Sunday walk. "The name hidden in those words is…"
"What?" Elizabeth demanded, pressing the dagger to his throat once more, green eyes alight with mingled excitement and rage.
"Matthias."
-x-
Hey everyone, just wanted to thank you for reading, and I hope you liked the prologue of my first ever Redwall story! If you had the time, I appreciate reviews, especially ones that could help point out mistakes and give me some good criticism! Bad reviews and unnecessary comments, of course, will be ignored, so don't both flamers!
Anyways, thank you! Remember, while I'm writing this I'm only right at the end of the first book. My stories should become more advanced soon enough. Thanks!
Oh, and yes, all characters that are not from the Redwall stories are mine. Like Elizabeth and Russel both are. I won't point them out, since there will be many. But if they aren't in the books, they're mine! And no, Redwall and such are not mine.