I'm so glad for the quick response from all of you! You were all very generous with your comments before, and I'd love to hear all your thoughts a second time! Any theories, deeper meanings that you find, favorite parts... hopefully not too many short "update soon" comments :)

Okay, disclaimer: I do not own Redwall, Mossflower or Martin the Warrior. Brian Jacques does. I do own the as-of-yet unnamed characters, and the Between. About the Between: don't be too concerned about this chapter. It just explains how the choir knows songs and such. In this chapter, one of two non-canon creatures are introduced. I know that's a big no-no in fanfiction, but I promise there's a good reason for it.

They stood in a huddle, clutching each other with eyes closed, still braced for impact, mouths open in silenced screams. A few of them opened their eyes and looked around. They were surrounded by whiteness, stretching as far as the eye could see, with no way to distinguish ground from sky, or near from far.

"Hey, kids, we're okay. We're not falling anymore."

The rest of them opened their eyes and looked around. "Where are we?"

Sound was muted, like they were underwater, but every word had a dim echo.

"Is everyone here?" The director asked. She and the piano player took a quick headcount; only the bus driver was missing.

One Soprano had tears running down her cheeks. "Are we dead?"

A voice echoed around them. "Not quite."

As they watched, a mouse materialized in warrior's armor. with a sword strapped across his back. He smiled kindly at them. "You are in the Between."

"The Between?" the choir repeated.

"Who are you?" the piano player asked. "And what is going on?"

"I am Martin the Warrior. Times of great peril are coming to my homeland, Mossflower. My home, Redwall Abbey, is in great danger. Creatures such as you are needed"

They all gave him blank stares. One tenor ventured a hesitant, "...So?"

"So," Martin explained, "You are all being 'redirected' to Mossflower."

"None of us know where -or what- that is," a Soprano said, voice flat.

"You will soon learn. You will not be arriving in your current forms, however. The Between has to change your form, your clothes, your names. But your personalities and your relationships with each other will remain the same. Step forward..."

One by one, they were called forward and changed: squirrel, otter, shrew, vole, mouse, badger, hare. Then the last was called forward. Martin smiled at her. "You are the special one. You will be changed into a creature unknown to Mossflower, but common in your lands. A coyote."

The girl, a shy first Soprano, murmured, "Why? Why do I have to be different?"

"As I said, Mossflower will soon be in great peril. A different creature will be needed. It will be hard, but I can see you are strong enough to do what will need to be done. And," he gestured to the others. "You will have a family to support you."

The girl sighed and nodded, and the Between changed her. Now she had sandy fur, a bushy tail, long, thin limbs, and a thin waist. Now her head had a narrow snout and triangular ears. Her eyes slanted and turned green. Her t-shirt and jeans melded into a pine-green smock, her sneakers disappearing completely.

Finished, she stepped back into the group.

Martin continued instructing them. "Of course, none of you may keep your memories. As soon as you are 'redirected', your memories will be erased and replaced with the knowledge an average Mossflower creature would know."

"Wait."

All eyes turned to a Soprano mousemaid. She blushed at her own boldness and curtsied to Martin, stammering,
"Could we- would you- listen. We're a choir. If you erase our memories so we can't remember our songs, there won't be anything keeping us together. We'll drift apart." She paused. "So, could you somehow manage to let us keep our songs?"

Martin smiled warmly at her. "I can manage better. I'll make a partial link between all of you. Any song any of you have ever heard, you will all remember. And you'll be able to sing it without sheet music; the notes and the music will be in your memory. You will still have to work to make a song sound good, though."

The choir leader, now a shrew, laughed. "That's the whole point of a choir."

Her students laughed with her. Even Martin chuckled. Then, after all was quiet, he said, "Head for Redwall. Good luck."

Then all went dark.