I seem to remember this going a lot faster last time. The words flow pretty well once I start writing them, but it's a struggle to put in the time while trying to do a million other things.

Chapter 3: Warriors and Attacks

"Smooth, Martin. Smooth."

"Shut up. I know you were thinking it. I know we were all thinking it." Martin pulled the ice pack away from his face, revealing a black eye underneath. He winced, then turned the pack around and pressed it to his matted fur once again. "I mean, who names their daughter Columbine?"

"Someone'd had a kid before 1999?" Gonff suggested. He sighed. "Look, I'm happy to call ya my shipmate'n all, but I was gonna tap that. And if she thinks we're friends, that just ain't gonna happen. And man, matey, that be some great tail."

"We should probably think about the quest," Martin mentioned resignedly.

"Yeah, the great warrior quest you wanna go on so bad-like," Gonff agreed.

Martin sighed again. "Just between you and me, I don't. I really don't."

"What happened to risin' to the occasion?"

The warrior rolled his eyes. "I'd rather live."

"If we don't go…"

"Bella will kick us out. Yeah, I know, she read me the riot act."

"This whole thing is revenge for draggin' you into the quest, isn't it?" Gonff suggested after having a moment of realization. "Gotta hand it to ya matey, not a lotta mice'd take a fist to the face fer that."

Martin smiled sheepishly. "Actually, I didn't think of it, but now that you mention it, yeah, it's pretty sweet karma."

A dark snout poked into the broom closet. "Hey, if you two lovebirds are done fuckin', we should get going."

"We're not- wait, we?"

Dinny stepped into the room and explained, "Yeah, I pissed off the broad, so now I'ma roll with you guys. Dig it?" He laughed heartily. "Get it? Dig it, cuz I'm a mole? I just made that up, it's good, right?"

Martin rocked his paw back and forth and shrugged. "I mean, I'll take shitty puns over borderline-racist 1990s rapper speak mixed with a geriatric's attempt at the youngsters' vernacular."

"Great! It'll be a dope-ass road trip." Dinny clapped both of them on the shoulder, leaning uncomfortably between them. He looked at Gonff, then at Martin, and did a double take. "Warrior dude, what the fuck happened to your face?"

None dared to voice their concerns, but many doubted the wisdom of Tsarmina's plans. They had a secure position, plenty of food and ammunition, and a seat on the Security Council. It wasn't necessary of advisable to take a hundred warriors out to the forests of Mossflower to gather supplies. The woodlanders owned the forest and they knew it.

There was more to it than gathering supplies, of course. Tsarmina had her reasons. She needed a show of power, a dramatic action that would prove to those insolent woodlanders that yes, she was Queen of Kotir, daughter of Verdauga Greeneyes, technically elected and the rightful ruler of all of Mossflower.

The army didn't march so much as trudged, their morale sapped by both the perceived futility of their mission and the completely incoherent motivational speech their queen had given, where she'd railed against illegal immigrants and fake news for an hour. Still, they were professionals, and they would follow the orders given, no matter how easy and satisfying it would have been to frag the queen right then and there as she marched at the front of the column.

The woodlander's scouts had observed this action, reporting back without their foe ever realizing they'd been made. Immediately, Skipper of Otters and Lady Amber had thrown together an ambush. They had threescore fighters- thirty of the toughest otters and nimblest squirrels Mossflower had to offer.

Tsarmina's army began running into problems before they even encountered the woodlanders. Marching a well-drilled army into a forest and expecting them to maintain cohesion was an exercise in futility. It was not physically possible for the column to march through together, and they quickly broke up, with a few elements become completely separated. Tsarmina shouted at her officers, her officers shouted at their men, and their men bumbled about trying their best to get back into position.

Then the woodlanders attacked.

A flurry of swords came flying out of the trees, cutting down a dozen of Tsarmina's fighters. They replied with bows and Javelins, but the squirrels had already moved. A hail of stones from the otters' slings came flying in from one direction, arrows from the squirrels' bows the other. Screams of pain mixed with hurriedly shouted orders. Some of the latter were misinterpreted, and a trio of grenades sailed through the air, only to land back at the feet of other squads.

Tsarmina surveyed the chaos with barely controlled rage. Seeing motion in the treetops, she picked up a dropped Javelin and hurled it with all her considerable might. There was a satisfying thunk and the squirrel fell out of the tree. It was one of a vanishingly small number of minor victories. Her army was down to half strength, and for that they'd managed to take down maybe a handful of woodlanders.

Reluctantly, she ordered a retreat.

Ferdy and Coggs were two baby hedgehogs with delusions of grandeur. As any young woodlander would in such circumstances- though they were the only young woodlanders in the whole book- they fancied themselves to be warriors. Strong, powerful, ready to take on any vermin in their way.

The adults around them had encouraged this, Skipper of Otters in particular. At various times the two aspiring warriors had been tasked with important tasks such as guarding the larder and patrolling the halls of Brockhall. There was no shortage of praise for how brave and dedicated the little warriors were.

Which, in retrospect, had probably been a terrible mistake. It had gotten them into all sorts of trouble before.

This fateful afternoon, the two little hedgehogs were bored. In young ones such as them, there were no elaborate thought processes, just the insatiable pang of boredom and a desire to do something important. They donned their helmets (colanders), sheathed their swords (sticks), and set out hoping to find some badbeasts to kill.

They got their wish sooner than expected, running straight into the Kotir patrol that had just been devastated by Skipper and Amber's warriors. They were exhausted and demoralized, but also very, very angry, and the brutal battle commenced as soon as they sighted the young hedgehogs.

When the dust settled, a dozen vermin lay dying, and the two little hedgehogs literally in Tsarmina's enraged grasp.

"We are going to have some fun," the wildcat growled menacingly. As she glared at the terrified little ones, she felt something wet drip through her glove and onto her boots. "Annnnd... you just peed on me."

"So, how'd you break that sword, brotha?" Dinny asked as the trio strode down the oddly smooth path winding its way through the foothills of Mossflower. He licked his parched lips, quite an accomplishment considering molar anatomy.

"Tsarmina, the evil Queen of Kotir, snapped it in her great rage," Martin recited, clearly having practised this routine. "It was a symbolic action intended to break my spirit, but I, Martin The Warrior, remain steadfast in my resolve."

Gonff covered his mouth, trying mightily and failing epically at containing his amusement.

"Hell of a story," Dinny said, refusing to commit one way or another. "Man, I'm fuckin' thirsty. Which of you punk-ass niggas forgot to pack water?"

Gonff pointed at Martin. Martin pointed at Dinny.

"How fuckin' far is it to this cracker mountain, anyway?"

"This says about another thousand klicks," Martin replied, cupping a paw over his phone to shield the screen from sunlight. "Yup."

"Wait, what? How the fuck you know that?"

The warrior grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well, I can't really read old badger maps, so I threw it away and I'm just using Google Maps now."

"I be a dead man," Gonff muttered.

They continued down the path in silence, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. After cresting another hill and rounding another curve, a glint on the side of the road caught their eye. The trio approached cautiously, wondering what it could be.

When they got closer, they could make out its shape- a backpack. Martin rushed forward before Gonff grabbed him and pulled him back.

"I reckon this either be the answer to our prayers, or a roadside bomb," Gonff stated with a shrug. "Fifty-fifty."

Dinny shook his head. "I ain't no bettin' mole, but I watched a brotha' die once. Let's skedaddle."

"Fuck that, roll the dice." Martin smirked, and before anyone could stop him, leapt for the pack.

"Wait, Martin, no-"

Tsarmina couldn't sleep. How could it have all gone so wrong? She was supposed to be bringing in the glory days, making Kotir great again. But things had only gotten worse. After they'd returned from the ill-fated patrol, the castle writhed with discontent, and the crushing failure weighed on her shoulders.

She paced back and forth, over and over again, her paws digging into the into the lush carpet. William Lind's Victoria, her latest bedtime reading, sat abandoned on the nightstand. Her beloved Samsung Galaxy S3 was on the other side of the room, untouched since the day before. Her weapons and armor were carelessly dumped in a pile in the corner.

Suddenly, she collapsed to her knees, a yelp of pain escaping her lips. Though the carpet beneath her was perfectly dry and at some level she knew that, she couldn't help but feel it growing damp. A feeling of dread and terror lanced through her mind.

"So wet! So wet!" She screamed, the idea of water pouring uncontrollable through the castle as physically painful as scalding hot metal on bare flash. It rose through the halls to soak her fur and weigh her down, each touch hot as fire. "Oh god, I'm so wet!"

Suddenly, Kotir was gone, and she saw a grassy field with fire behind her and a pale figure striding toward her. Whatever it was, it was death incarnate, and she felt the overwhelming urge to run away. Instead, she reached out for a weapon. "Give it to me! Give it to me!"

Someone gave her one, and she was standing face to face with the pale figure. They also had a sword in their hand, and swung first. She parried one blow, took a hit, and managed to get a glancing strike on her opponent. "No, no, yes!"

Suddenly, she was on the ground and the stranger was above her. They flipped up their visor, but she couldn't make out the face because it remained blurry. The blurry figure said something unintelligible about regicide, and plunged their sword down.

Tsarmina screamed, finding herself back in her room in Kotir. She panted hard, struggling to control her breathing as cold sweat cascaded down her fur. The Queen cradled her legs in fetal position, reduced to a terrified child. "Fuck… fuck!"

The mostly male staff, of course, had a much more lewd interpretation of their Queen's anguished groans, pained screeching, and cryptic exclamations. Word spread quickly, and a score and a half of degenerate beasts were soon gathered outside Tsarmina's chambers.

Fortunata took one peek at the "excited" guards in the hallway and recoiled in disgust. With a whooping, Lana Kane-esque "Noooope!" she turned and left.

Columbine glanced over her shoulder, seeing nothing but the peaceful forest behind her. Normally, that would be reassuring, but this time it only heightened her anxiety. The stillness, the silence of the forest, it had her on edge. Idly, she thumbed the pistol inside her waistband. The magazine was fully loaded, but she would only need one bullet- for herself.

If she got the chance.

This was it. This was the place. The mousemaid took a deep breath, then rapped on the trunk of the tree three times. She mouthed a silent prayer to whatever gods were watching, as if it would help. If things went well, maybe she'd make it back, physically if not mentally intact. If not… she shuddered at the thought of the gruesome ways she would probably die in.

"I am here," a deep voice boomed.

"I am Columbine, representing the Council of Resistance in Mossflower," she recited, failing to hide the fear in her voice. "We humbly request your services."

"For those…" the shape slowly emerged from the shadows "…you must pay a price."