Author's Notes at the end of the chapter

Rose awoke to the sound of Sister Amyl moving about the room. She was surprised that she had slept so soundly. Ever since Marshank, she'd had trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places without Martin around to keep watch. The realization of where she was and who she'd found the night before hit her almost as hard as she'd hit the wall at Marshank. She was glad that Sister Amyl wasn't looking, otherwise the kindly mousemaid might have seen the few tears that slipped down Rose's cheeks.

A quick brush of her paw was all it took to remove any trace of tears, and then she was up with a yawn and a stretch. Spending the night in a warm bed had done her joints good, she felt, allowing her to rise and dress without the aid of her crutches. She was tying on her headscarf when she noticed Sister Amyl's curious stare.

"I must apologize for being rude," Sister Amyl said, "But I couldn't help but notice the scar along the back of your neck."

Rose smiled at Sister Amyl. "I don't mind." Sitting down on edge of the bed, she explained. "Many seasons ago I became involved in a war near my home. A tyrant had lived on the coast, a few days journey from us, for many seasons. He was using slaves to build a fortress, with plans to rule the northeastern coast."

Sister Amyl nodded, and Rose recalled the tale from the night before. From what she'd heard, Tsarmina had set herself up to be an even worse tyrant than Badrang, although not quite as sound-minded.

Rose continued, "My brother was captured by the tyrant's horde one day while he was wandering, and I followed him to the fortress to try and rescue him..." She faltered for a moment, torn between explaining how she had met Martin or skipping over that fact and explaining it later. Realizing that Sister Amyl was still waiting for her to continue, she decided to leave out the part Martin had played. "That's when we realized it was only a matter of time before our home would be discovered. We joined with the slaves we freed, and many woodlanders, to fight back against the horde. We won, but the final battle claimed many lives. I very nearly died myself. The moles had dug a tunnel into the back of the fortress, and the tyrant thought he could use it as a way to escape. I ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he threw me against the wall." Rose paused and looked at Sister Amyl, trying to gauge her reaction.

Sister Amyl gave Rose a strange look, but did not question her. Rose continued, "They actually did think I was dead at first. I can't blame them. My brother, Brome, was the only trained healer we had, and even he was inexperienced in dealing with war. He'd already lost so many creatures important to him, I think he must have convinced himself that I was dead too. In the end, it was his decision to take me back home that saved my life, otherwise I might have been buried alive. Brome had to cut my scalp open at the back to relieve the pressure from all the internal bleeding I suffered. By all rights I should have died that day. I got lucky instead."

"I see," Sister Amyl said. "I suppose you're a bit like our Martin, then." Rose looked up sharply, and Sister Amyl laughed softly before explaining. "Don't tell Gonff I told you. He likes to keep newcomers in the dark until the end of the tale during the fourth feast. Martin went off after Tsarmina on his own. Her troops were stranded on the other side of Kotir, but she was still dangerous and he was already injured. I'm told that Gonff thought he was dead when they found him, lying there in the mud unconscious and covered with blood. It's a miracle that he survived at all." She hesitated and looked at Rose. "I suppose that's why I don't find it hard to believe your story," she said. "I only saw the extent of Martin's wounds once, when I was helping Abbess Germaine tend to him, but it was terrible to see. I've never known any other creature to lay so long at death's door and still recover." She fell silent, and the two maids sat together for a moment before stirring.

Sister Amyl was first to rise, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Well," she said, "I suppose I'd best get on with my chores now. Holiday or not, there's still sheets to be washed and clothes to be folded."

"Is there anything I can do?" Rose said, standing. "I'd hate to sit around all day when others are working."

Sister Amyl smiled at her. "How are you with children?"

"I like children," Rose said, not entirely certain why Sister Amyl was asking.

"Good. Then you can help watch the dibbuns."

The dibbuns, Rose found, were waiting impatiently in great hall. Bella and Rowanoak stood at the far end of the hall, each with a paw on the door handles. They kept the door firmly shut against the pleading requests of the dibbuns.

"'Urry up an' open th' door Miz Bella!"

"Us'ns wanna go out an' play!"

"Burr, oi bain't afeared o' 'ee cold."

"Please Miz Bella! We'll stay out of the way, we promise!"

The last unlikely statement came from Gonfflet, whom Rose recognized from the night before. Bella shook her great striped head, chuckling at Gonfflet's statement. "The moment we open these door you lot will go tumbling out," she said. "You will wait until Foremole Dinny says the moles have finished packing down the snow and clearing the drifts. Then you may go out." This announcement was met by groans of frustration, and the shrill voice of a tiny mousemaid exclaiming loudly.

"We don' 'ave t' wait for da moles at 'ome!"

"You're not allowed out in the snow on your own anyway, miss Primrose," Rose said, recognizing the voice of her youngest niece. The little maid drooped visibly.

Sister Amyl came to stand next to Rose, frowning slightly. "I didn't realize that the dibbuns would be going outside first thing this morning, are you sure you're okay with watching them? Bella said something last night about the cold bothering your joints."

Rose smiled. "I'll wrap up nice and warm in a cloak," she said, "I should be fine then."

It did not take long before a knock was heard at the doors. Bella pulled her door ajar, and Foremole Dinny could be seen momentarily. Then the doors were flung open and dibbuns poured out onto the white snow. It was a winter wonderland the likes of which Rose had not seen in many seasons. The snow in front of the doors had been pushed to the side and packed down to make a safe space for the dibbuns to play without fear of losing any little ones to deep snow. The sky was clear, though a gentle shower of snow fell from where the wind blew it off the roof. Icicles sparkled in the sunlight, and frost patterned the stained glass windows on the side of great hall. Already the dibbuns were racing about, sliding across the snow on their bellies, jumping off small hillocks into drifts the moles had left untouched, and making plenty of snowballs to throw at each other.

Rose had just settled down on the front steps, wrapped in as many blankets and cloaks as Sister Amyl had been able to to find, when she spotted a familiar face. "Grumm," she called. The stout little mole turned at the sound of her voice, black eyes twinkling as he made his way through the dibbuns to the steps.

"G'mornin' Miz Rozer," Grumm said, tugging his snout.

"Good morning, Grumm," Rose said. "I didn't know you were out and about already."

Grumm smiled, gesturing to the scene before them with a hefty digging claw. "Oi joined ee molers t' clear 'way 'ee snow fer 'ee babbies, bur."

"They certainly seem to be enjoying themselves." She couldn't help but smile as she watched the young woodlanders play. Another mole, slightly shorter than Grumm, came to join them at the steps.

"G'day to 'ee zur, marm," he said.

"G'day to 'ee, zur," Grumm said, tugging his snout.

"Be you'm coomin' in wi' ee travelin' players las' noight?" the mole asked.

Rose nodded. "We were passing by the Gingivere farm just as they were heading out, so they asked us if we would like to join them." She smiled at the mole. "My name is Rose, and this is Grumm."

"Oi be Dinny," Dinny said. He turned to Grumm. "Thankee fer thoi 'elp clearin' 'ee snow."

"Et were moi pleasure," Grumm said.

Dinny grinned. "May'aps you'm c'n 'elp oi wi' clearin' a bit more snow? Et's driftered into turrible 'igh piles boi 'ee wall."

"Oi'd be 'appy to," Grumm said. The two moles waddled off, leaving Rose with her thoughts and the dibbuns.

The dibbuns were rather well behaved, Rose found. Though they pelted each other with snow, nobeast came to any harm. A few of the older dibbuns had begun pushing their younger comrades around in makeshift sleds. Keyla and Tulgrew's three sons, Felldoh, Hillgorse, and Juniper, had already made several new friends, and were running about as though they'd lived at Redwall their entire lives.

Rose did not notice the moles returning until the dibbuns set up a cry.

"Th' moles are back!"

"Alla snow be clearered 'way?"

"G'mornin' Unca Martin."

"Uncle Martin! Did you see the snowball I threw at Perrin?"

"Did you bring it, Uncle Martin?"

"Did you, Uncle Martin? Did you?"

Rose was not surprised to see Gonfflet and Chugger emerge from the crowd of dibbuns to walk behind Martin, clearly curious about whatever he was carrying. The warrior chuckled and continued walking toward the steps. He was carrying something under his cloak, though Rose could not make out what it was. "Good morning," she said when he reached the steps, accompanied by Dinny and Grumm, along with a host of dibbuns.

"Good morning, Miss Rose." Martin nodded to her. "Are you out here supervising the dibbuns?"

"I am," Rose said. "I didn't see you earlier, were you helping the moles clear away the snow?" She spared a glance toward the dibbuns, who were now crowding around behind Martin. Several were hopping on their toes in anticipation, and Rose could see a twinkle in Martin's eye. He was purposefully ignoring the babes to heighten the suspense of whatever he had brought with him, something Keyla did on a regular basis.

Dinny chuckled. "Burr, no marm. Marthen were stuck in 'ee gatehouse, buried by 'ee snow. We'm just dug 'im out."

Martin sighed and shook his head. "Looks like I'll be moving indoors for the winter if the snow keeps falling like it has." He began unstrapping his sword, which he was wearing across the back of his cloak. Taking it carefully from his back, he set it down next to Rose.

Rose allowed herself a brief glance at the sword. She'd never seen it up close before. The ruby set into the pommel caught her eye almost immediately. It was a deep blood-red, cut so that it reflected the light no matter how one looked at it. It was, Rose decided, the most impressive feature of the sword that she could see, although she could not compare it to the blade as it was sheathed in a scabbard of hard black leather. She felt a strange detachment, trying to reconcile that the sword Martin had sought after for so long was now sitting next to her on the steps.

Dinny nodded knowingly to Martin. "Oi'll tell Miz Belle tha' you'm'll be movin' in'o 'ee cellar in 'ee evenin'," he said. "We'm c'n move thoi things t'morrow."

"Thank you, Din," Martin said. He waved briefly to the moles as they trundled inside, then turned to face the crowd of dibbuns. "Well now," he said, smiling. "What could you all be waiting for? Is there somebeast still inside?"

Gonfflet ran forward, practically vibrating in anticipation. "Did you bring the shield?" he cried.

Martin laughed and pulled the bulky item from under his cloak. "I certainly did," he said. The shield was small and round with a simple design. The only real ornament was the large 'M' emblazoned on the front. Rose could see two straps attached to the back of the shield, presumably for holding on to it in battle. Martin had been carrying the shield with a rope strung through the two straps and tied in a loose circle which he slung over his shoulder. After removing his cloak, Martin untied the rope and set the shield upside-down on the snow. "Who wants to go first?" he said.

Scattered whispers broke out among the dibbuns as they dared each other to be the first on the shield until Chugger settled the matter. The young squirrel settled himself in the middle of the shield with his paws locked firmly into the arm straps. "I'm ready, Uncle Martin," he said. Martin nodded, then suddenly set off at a run, towing the shield and Chugger behind him. Chugger whooped and hollered, yelling for Martin to go faster. They circled around the area the moles had packed down, snow flying everywhere, before coming to a stop next to the steps. Chugger rolled off, still laughing as a little hedgehog climbed onto the shield. Martin made certain the babe had a tight grip on the straps, then he took off again on his circuit around the main lawn.

It seemed that this was a traditional midwinter game. Every dibbun who was old enough to recall the winter before hurried to fill in the newcomers on what to hold on to and why. Martin made round after round on the packed snow, sometimes towing two, or even three little ones on the shield. Rose could not help but laugh with the dibbuns. They were thoroughly enjoying themselves, as was Martin, it seemed. The warrior mouse joined in with the laughter and hollering, sometimes calling out when he was about to turn and other times just veering sideways suddenly. He always called the turn when the littlest dibbuns were on the shield, though.

Finally, after what had to be Chugger's fifth ride, Martin stopped and sat down on the steps next to Rose, saying, "Go off and play for a while, you lot. I need to catch my breath." The dibbuns obeyed, running back to whatever games they had been playing before Martin joined them. All except Keyla and Tulgrew's sons and Chugger, who still lay laughing in the snow.

Felldoh, the eldest of the three otters, bounded up to Martin. He stood watching the warrior mouse catch his breath before asking, "Why does everybeast call you uncle?"

His brother, Juniper, joined him. "Chug was calling you Uncle last night, too," he said. "Why? You're obviously not his uncle."

Martin, who was no longer gasping for breath, chuckled and said, "Chugger's the one who started it. Why don't you ask him?"

The three otters turned to look at the squirrel, who was still on the ground laughing. Mayflower, Keyla and Tulgrew's daughter, came over to join Martin and Rose on the steps, looking on curiously as her brothers approached Chugger.

It took Chugger a few moments to get her laughter under control, and even then he would break into giggles every few words. "Ahahahahaha. Martin's the one who suggested it. Hehehehehe. My parents were gone when he found me, hahaha. Hehehe, so since Martin doesn't have a family, hahahahahaha,and I don't have a family, hehehehehe, I decided he was going to be my uncle. Hahahaha, isn't that right, Uncle Martin!"

Martin nodded, shaking his head at the chuckling squirrel. "Most of the other dibbuns picked it up from him," he said.

Mayflower nodded, having caught onto what her brothers were asking about. "I see," she said. "So it's like how we all call Auntie Rose 'Auntie', even though she isn't really our auntie."

"Can we call you Uncle Martin, too?" Felldoh asked.

Martin shrugged. "I don't mind," he said.

"Uncle Martin," Juniper began chanting as he spun around in the snow. "Uncle Martin. Uncle Martin."

Martin turned to Hillgorse, who was frowning slightly. "You don't look convinced."

Hillgorse shook his head. "Chug also told us that he's got four grandpas, but that's impossible."

Martin grinned. "No, he's right. Chugger does indeed have four grandfathers."

Now it was Rose's turn to be sceptical. "How in the name of seasons did he manage that?"

"He's an orphan," Martin answered. "I was part of a group that traveled to the north the summer before last. We found Chugger during our journey, and of course we couldn't leave a toddler on his own in the forest. Chugger's been creating his own family ever since."

"I suppose that makes sense," Hillgorse said. "Why were you in the north?"

Martin's smile seemed to falter slightly, and Rose noticed a far away look in his eyes. "I was born in the north, but I came south when I was very young. I decided it was time that I found out what had happened to my tribe, so a group of us went north."

"You're from the north?" Juniper asked, still spinning. Martin nodded. The young otter came to a sudden halt and hopped up on the step between Martin and Rose. "Uncle Martin," he said, suddenly serious, "Have you ever met Auntie Rose before?"

Rose was taken aback by the sudden question, but Martin took it in stride. "You'd have to ask her," he said. "I don't remember meeting her before, but that doesn't mean that I haven't." Rose nearly choked on air, frantically reminding herself that Martin did not remember his time in the north.

"Why's that?" Mayflower asked.

"I can't remember much of my life from before coming to Mossflower," Martin answered. He stared vacantly at his paws for a moment, before turning to smile at Rose and say, "Though I would certainly hope never to forget such a pretty face as yours."

Rose couldn't help herself, she blushed. Martin was up and off to play with the dibbuns again before she could respond. Felldoh, Hillgorse, Juniper, and Chugger bounded off after him, laughing and cheering. Mayflower stayed behind, eyeing Rose suspiciously. "He likes you," she said.

Rose blushed even more. "I'm sure it's not that," she said quickly. Mayflower shook her head, and went off to join the others.

Left alone on the steps, Rose tried to cool her burning cheeks. It had been seasons since she had allowed herself to think finding Martin, but nothing she had imagined had prepared her for this. There was the sound of the door opening behind her, and then Brome was standing next to her.

"How is it that you always end up watching the dibbuns?" he asked, chuckling.

Rose nodded noncommittally. It wasn't as if Brome didn't know the answer. She was good with dibbuns, so she had become the go to for many parents in Noonvale.

Brome wasn't taking her silence for an answer. "Alright, spit it out, Rose."

Rose shook her head and looked at him as he sat down next to her. "Spit what out?"

"You didn't even notice Primrose falling into the snowbank just now, and you're staring at the battlements as though you want to fight them. What's wrong?"

Rose sighed. "I fell in love with a memory, and it's come back to haunt me," she said.

"Martin?" Brome nodded at the warrior mouse, who was engaged in an unevenly matched snowball fight.

"It's been 22 seasons, Brome," Rose said. "Besides that, he doesn't even remember me."

Brome let the silence hang between them for a long moment as they watched Gonfflet and Chugger team up with Felldoh, Hillgorse, and Juniper. "You've never shown interest in anybeast else," he said finally.

Rose shook her head. "I knew him for 14 days, Brome. Every scenario I've imagined has been based on those 14 days." She sighed. "We're not the same mice who met at Marshank. I've changed since that summer, so have you, and so has Martin. He was so serious then, so full of pent up anger and rage. But now," she paused to watch the snowball fight, "Now he seems so happy. I've never seen him smile like that before."

Brome nodded. "He certainly does seem happy here," he murmured. "Do you think it would be right of us? To make him remember all the horrible things about Marshank?"

Rose sighed. "I don't know," she said.

There was a shout from the lawn, and the two mice looked up in time to see Tintin nail Martin in the face with a snowball. Martin sat down hard, brushing snow from his face with a dazed expression. Little Primrose ran up to him, trying valiantly to return her brother's snowball. The little snowball fell to the ground before crossing half the distance. Shaking his head to clear it, Martin swung Primrose onto his shoulders and took off after Tintin.

Brome shook his head and smiled. "How could Papa have ever thought Martin was a threat?" he said.

"He didn't know Martin," Rose answered simply. "I don't think either of us truly knew him either. We only knew him while he was preoccupied with rescuing the other slaves. We never saw him during peacetime."

Gonfflet and Chugger had joined up with Tintin and pounced on Martin from behind. The warrior mouse fell face first into the snow, tossing Primrose into a snowdrift where she landed harmlessly rather than being crushed beneath the falling adult. The dibbuns were upon him immediately, burying him under the snow.

With a sigh, Brome stood, calling out over the chaos, "Breakfast time."

The dibbuns left off burying Martin in a mad scramble to the doors, tripping over tails, cloaks, and footpaws in their hurry. Brome was swept inside with the first wave, yelling for the dibbuns to take off their cloaks before descending on cavern hole. Rose watched them go, laughing at the harmless fun of the youngsters before she started to gather up the cloaks and blankets wrapped around her. She jumped at the sound of Martin resurfacing from the pile the dibbuns had buried him under, shaking his head to rid himself of snow. Chuckling quietly, he made his way over to the snowdrift where Primrose was still sitting. The little maid giggled as he pulled her from the snow and carried her over to the steps, where Rose, Gonfflet, and Chugger were waiting for them.

Rose shook her head as she gathered the last of the blankets. Martin certainly hadn't been so carefree when she knew him before, but she was glad that he had been able to adjust to a peaceful life. Bracing herself against the steps, she pushed upward. Pain shot through her footpaws and she fell back with a gasp, dropping the blankets and clutching her aching limbs.

"Are you alright?" Martin asked. He hurried forward, setting Primrose on the step and kneeling down.

"I'll be fine," Rose gritted out from between clenched teeth. She paused a moment to compose herself, then said, "You go on ahead, I'll be down soon."

"Are yore footpaws 'urting agin, Auntie Rose?" Primrose asked.

Rose nodded. "I'll be fine," she repeated.

Martin did not look convinced. "Chugger, can you carry my shield?" he said to the young squirrel. Chugger nodded and took the shield. Martin picked up the cloaks Rose had dropped and handed them to Gonfflet, together with Rose's crutches, then began buckling on his sword.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked, watching her crutches disappear from her reach.

Before she could react, Martin had scooped her up, carrying her indoors with Chugger, Gonfflet, and Primrose following behind. Once inside, he leaned against the heavy doors until they closed, then carefully set Rose down so that her back was against the wall. Chugger and Gonfflet waited a few moments, until Martin told them, "Go on ahead, we'll catch up in a minute." The two youngsters nodded and left after depositing their things next to Martin, although Primrose stayed behind. Martin watched them go, then turned to Rose and began rubbing the life back into her footpaws. Rose winced as pins and needles prickled her footpaws, but it seemed to be helping. After a few minutes, Martin stopped and helped her to stand. "How's that?" he asked, handing the crutches to her.

"Still a bit sore." Rose took the crutches and leaned on them. She gave Martin a small smile. "It's better, though. Thank you."

Primrose tugged on Martin's tunic. "'ow'd you know wha' t' do?" she asked.

Martin smiled at her. "I had to learn a few seasons ago. The cold tends to set into the bones after a creature's been wounded."

"You been 'urt like Auntie b'fore?" The little maid stared at the warrior with wide eyes.

Martin knelt so that he was level with Primrose. "I have," he said quietly. "War is a terrible thing, even when fought for a just cause. The scars of war can stay with a creature for long seasons after, sometimes for the rest of their lives."

Primrose tilted her head to the side. "If it 'urts you, den why'd ya fight?"

Martin ruffled her ears gently with his paw. "I fought so that youngsters like you could have a better life," he said. "My scars hurt from time to time, but it's worth it when I see dibbuns growing up happy and free."

Primrose nodded, as though deciding that this was a good answer. As Martin stood, she pointed to the sword strapped across his back. "D' you still fight?"

Martin shook his head, retrieving his shield from where Chugger had set it against the wall and hanging it from his sword belt. "Not anymore. I gave up the warrior's life last winter."

"Why?" Primrose wanted to know.

"Mossflower is peaceful now," Martin explained. "We have no need of battles and wars." Primrose considered this, then opened her mouth to speak. She was interrupted by a loud growl from her stomach. Martin chuckled. "It sounds like we're overdue at breakfast," he said. Together, he and Rose folded the blankets and cloaks, then placed them in an alcove to be put away later.

Primrose tugged on Martin's tunic again, this time holding her arms up. "Up please," she said.

"Primrose," Rose scolded, "You're old enough to walk on your own."

Martin swung the little maid onto his shoulders, laughing gently. "She's still small enough to be carried." The three mice crossed great hall with Rose's laughter ringing about them.

Shout out to Lady Storm for all her help beta reading this story, it would be nowhere near as good without her help.

Review Responses:

Thomas the Traveler: Thank you for the kind words. I'm most definitely planning to continue this story

nebula212255: Now if I told you whether or not he regains his memories that would just defeat the purpose of the story ^_^ I'll definitely be continuing though

Lady Storm: Thank you ^_^ I hope you enjoyed chapter two

Faith: Hopefully this chapter provided enough information for you on how Rose survived. Unfortunately, I don't think chapters will be getting up much faster than a month or so apart.