A/N: I know I said I'd update every week, but that didn't really work out. I plan on updating one story a week, so plan to see this story updated around the 23rd again. That might vary a little depending on my homework, but sometime around then.

One note on this chapter, I know the cliffs were shown to the north on the map, but they were referred to and labeled as the southern cliffs, so I'll be flipping the southern cliffs and the northern hills from the way they were shown on the map.

"'Ungry, Martin?" Starwort asks me as he ladles porridge into the bowl I'm holding out. I say nothing, and try to stare him down, but have to lower my gaze. I could have faced Badrang's army alone without blinking, but now I have to look away. "Martin, are you all right?"

I walk away as I see Marigold touch her husband's arm lightly and mutter, "Let 'im alone fer now."

For now. The words echo in my head. How long is "for now"? Until Rose gets better? Until Rose doesn't get better? No – Rose will get better. There's nothing left for you here. Barkjon obviously doesn't think so.

What is better anyways? When she is physically better? When she is mentally better? When she can speak?

When she loves me again. Again. What if she never loved me? I looked down at my now half-empty bowl of porridge, suddenly sickened. I don't want to eat anymore of it. I don't want to eat anything else if Rose doesn't love me. Was that battle worth it if Rose was injured because of me and she didn't love me?

I dash the rest of the porridge from my bowl as I close my eyes tightly to prevent tears from falling. I crack one open and rub it, as though it was irritated, as somebeast sits down next to me. Make that somebeasts. Groot, his wife, Purslane, and their son, Fluffle, have all sat down beside me. When I make eye contact with Purslane, she opens her mouth to say something, but she must have noticed I didn't want to talk. She nudges her husband, and I close my eye again as they walk away.

I suddenly, and surprisingly, feel the brush of another beast's fur against my own. I slit both eyes open, hoping beyond hope that it will be Rose, but it is only Fluffle. A tear runs from my eyes and drops onto Fluffle's head before I have time to stop it.

He wraps his tiny arms around me as far as they'll go. "Don't cwy, Mawtin. We wonned."

"I know, Fluffle. Run along now." I manage to get out a coherent sentence or two. So what if we had won?

Losing Rose would be too high a price to pay.

Now you're just being selfish. Barkjon, Keyla, and probably the majority of the Rambling Rosehip Players, at least Ballaw and Rowanoak, would have been executed. And how many more would have been re-enslaved?

But Rose is important to me. I shouldn't have to sacrifice something I love.

You shouldn't have had to spend most of your childhood in slavery, either. Or lose your mother. Or have your father leave you when you were still very young. Lots of things we don't want to happen, do happen.

And what if Rose never recovers? It'll be all my fault. She nearly died trying to protect me from Badrang.

That was her choice. If she's willing to sacrifice yourself to save you, that's her choice.

Does that mean she loves me?

Would you have sacrificed yourself to save Felldoh?

Yes...

You're not in love with him, are you?

I sit down on the sand, right below the tideline, so that the waves hit the pads of my footpaws. I draw my right leg up to my chest, but leave my left stretched in front of me, because I can't bend that knee with the splint on. I have a faint headache, but otherwise, I feel physically all right.

Mentally, though, I'm not so sure.

I nearly died.

I can't remember anything from before I was injured or how I was injured.

Martin nearly killed himself.

The list goes on and on.

At the moment, more than the fact that Martin tried to kill himself, is the memory of how his sword frightened me. It's just a sword, and he wouldn't have used it against me. He even gave up his sword.

For what? For me? Why would he do that? I wish I could ask him, but I can't speak anymore than I can fly.

I stand up, biting my lip as my leg protests at being dragged upright. Maybe I can't ask Martin directly, but I could create a situation where he could explain himself.

I need that sword back.

I glance down at the splint. It's wood, but I can't imagine going into the water will harm it much. If it does, well, it'll hurt like Hellgates and I can get somebeast to make me a new one. Maybe Barkjon? He made me my crutches, so he could probably make a splint just as easily.

I balance on my right footpaw, letting my left leg hang loosely at my side. I bend down to one side, awkwardly, and grab my crutches. Nearly losing my balance, I throw them back farther on the sand, so they won't be washed away. I turn back to the water.

The first steps are the hardest. The sun is nowhere near its zenith, so the water is still freezing cold. I feel my dry fur prickle as my good leg starts to shake, and the leg I'm dragging begins to go numb. Martin had been standing close to this spot when he threw his sword, so I focus on watching the sand under and around me as I continue wading.

When the water goes up to my shoulders, I realize this is hopeless. There's no sign of the sword, and even if I couldn't spot it on my own, the sunlight might be glinting off it. Maybe I'll go just a bit farther.

Before I know what's happened, the water is up to my chin. I turn to wade back to shore, but the awkwardness of the splint on my leg causes me to back up slightly. The water rises up above my head in an instant.

I can't swim! I need to breathe. My lungs begin to hurt almost immediately. My leg and arms flail uselessly in the water. I'm slipping deeper and deeper into colder and colder water.

I pant as I run up to Martin. The mouse is sitting with his back stiff and straight against Marshank's inner wall. His eyes stare straight ahead, but I know he doesn't see anything that's there. "Martin! Martin – have – have you – have you seen – seen Rose?" I touch his shoulder to make sure he's aware that I'm there.

Martin looks up at me, his eyes like stone and his mouth is set in a hard line. "No," he says shortly. He then twists his head a little more to completely face me. "Did she ask for me?" His voice goes a little higher at the end of that sentence.

I just shake my head and motion frantically for him to get up. "Martin, I can't find her! I found her crutches lying on the sand, but she wasn't there."

The mouse leaps up, and his paw goes reflexively to where his sword had been hanging from his belt. His paw gropes for a few moments, until he glances down and remembers the sword is no longer there.

A minute later he's racing halfway to the burned out gates. He spins on his footpaws so fast he nearly falls over. "Brome – where did you find her crutches?"

"Er, right above the tideline, I think."

Martin nose twitches. He spins again, sprinting to the gate. Most of the creatures eating are staring at us now. The mouse grabs Keyla's tunic as he runs by, dragging the otter up, but not losing any speed. Tullgrew, who was eating with Keyla, jumps up as well, and the two of us run after the mouse and otter, Keyla now having caught up with Martin and going along for the ride.

The four of us hop around and over the piles of burned rubble that had been cleared into piles from the scorched gate frame by volunteer crews. Starwort and Marigold drop their own bowls of porridge, bound over the long tables where they were serving out everybeast's breakfast, and join us.

As soon as we leave Marshank, we can see Rose's crutches lying abandoned on the sand away in the distance. Keyla, who has better eyesight than Martin, and is the farthest in the lead, suddenly yells out, "Mates! Rose just went under."

The four otters dive into the water without leaving their run. Martin and I lose sight of them as they disappear out beyond the shallows.

I start to laugh as Keyla flicks a bit of porridge at me with a claw. I reach to flick him back, when I hear, "Brome – where did you find her crutches?"

"Er, right above the tideline, I think."

Crutches? Her crutches? Rose's crutches?

Not a second later and Martin and Brome and sprinting headlong for the gate. Martin grabs the shoulder of Keyla's tunic, and I leap up to follow them. I stumble over a bit of rubble, but keep gamely on after Keyla, who's caught up with Martin.

As soon as we hit the sand, I hear Keyla cry, "Mates! Rose just went under." I glance quickly behind me, to see that Marigold and Starwort have joined us as well. The four of us dive into the sea.

The saltwater stings my muzzle and all the healing injuries, from enslavement and the battle, on my body. I grind my teeth, swimming even harder until I'm neck and neck with Keyla. Through the water, I can see a dark shape floundering. The shape becomes clearer as we swim closer.

It is definitely Rose, and her left leg is upsetting her balance, and she can't right herself in the cold water. Bubbles are rising to the surface from her muzzle as she runs out of air. When the four of us our almost upon her, we see her mouth gape wide, as she instinctively gasps for more air.

Her struggles worsen. She begins to sink down farther into the cold depths.

Keyla and I dive quickly after her. My lungs begin to burn as we start to catch up, but there's no time to go back to the surface to breathe again. A moment later, we reach Rose. Her eyes look glassy and her mouth is limply open. Her struggles have all but stopped by the time Keyla and I each latch onto one of her arms.

We point ourselves toward the light and blast upward through the water with our footpaws. Starwort and Marigold dive down from the surface and take Rose from us. Keyla and I swim the last few feet and break the surface.

I turn to face the crowd of creatures now gathered by Martin and Brome on the shore as I gulp air down. Keyla's chest is still heaving, but we look at each other briefly. His paw squeezes mine discreetly under the waves as we tread water. My face goes a little warm and I look away.

"A liddle 'elp, mates?" Marigold asks, from a little ways away, where she and Starwort are treading water and supporting Rose's head above the waves.

Keyla and I swim forward and each grab one of Rose's legs. I take care not to jostle her left leg. The splint's cloth bindings have all but fallen away from the mousemaid's struggles and the water itself. Marigold and Starwort each set a shoulder under Rose's upper back.

The crowd waits with baited breath as we swim back. When all our footpaws touch sand and the water falls below our waist, Starwort and Keyla carry Rose quickly, but gently, to where a few of Brome's assistant healers are waiting. Starwort and Keyla back away as the healers bend over her. I look over at where Martin and Brome are standing. The two of them are unconsciously huddling together and staring at Rose.

There is a loud gagging sound as one of the healers withdraws a paw from Rose's mouth. Two more healers ease her onto her side as she retches and vomits up quite a large quantity of water. "Breathe slowly," one healer instructs Rose.

She coughs for a few more seconds but then her chest begins to rise and fall regularly. Under her fur, she looks a little pallid. Around us, everybeast begins to cheer and applaud. Those closest to us, pat me and Keyla and Starwort and Marigold on the back.

I'm knocked out of the way of the congratulators as Brome suddenly rushes to his sister's side. "Rose! Rose, what we're you thinking?"

Rose doesn't say anything; she can't say anything. "Maybe she was tryin' to kill 'erself," Keyla murmurs to Brome.

Brome's eyes slide over to Martin for a long moment, before he shakes his head. "No. She wouldn't've."

Rose weakly sits up, turning even whiter bordering on a tint of green. A healer emerges from the crowd and begins to resplint her leg. While this happens, the mousemaid points to Martin, mimes throwing something, then finally points to about the spot where we rescued her.

Keyla and I look quizzically at each other. Brome stares uncomprehendingly from Martin to the sea and back to Martin. Then his eyes widen. "The sword?"

Rose nods vigourously.

"You were trying to get Martin's sword back?"

Another nod.

I turn, noting Martin's shocked expression – I've never seen him show emotions other than anger, in time to see Keyla slip back beneath the waves. I blink a few times, before running into the water after him.

We swim out to the spot where we rescued Rose. "I'll search to the right." I nod and take a few deep breaths. I plunge under the surface to the left and swim down into the darkness. The bottom is just an inky splotch beneath me. I can hold my breath for quite a long time still, so I swim down towards it. The sun barely reaches down here, and the cold is stiffening my limbs.

I shake my head. This is useless. With one last glance and shuffle of my paws through the sand, I flip around so that my head is pointing upwards. I push off the bottom with my footpaws only to widen my mouth in sudden pain. Water rushes into my mouth, but I quickly clamp it shut and force myself to swallow the salty liquid.

The keen blade of the sword is now poking up through the sand and rocks. My lungs are burning. I grasp the hilt of the sword with a paw and push off again. My throat and mouth are on fire from the salt. Blood trickles from my footpaw as the light draws nearer. I kick once more with my legs and come up.

Keyla's waiting for me there. I draw the hilt of the sword a bit above the surface. He grins and dives back under to head for shore. I cough a couple times to try and clear some of the water from my body and sheath the sword awkwardly before following. I walk out of the sea and shake myself.

I haul the sword out and approach Martin. He's blinking rapidly, eyes misting a little. Rose's mouth is set in a tight, expectant line as Martin takes the sword from me. I hadn't even noticed until now the sword was gone.

"Wait just a minute." Geum elbows her way out of the crowd. "He risks his neck in that battle to get his sword back." The mousewife points a long claw menacingly at Martin. He opens his mouth to respond, but she plows on. "He risked all of us for something he wanted, and then throws it away. What kind of hero is he?"

Geum storms away, and most of the creatures around us begin to mutter reproachfully. I'm shocked when many start to follow Geum's example. Rose frowns and tries to stand, but the healers hold her down. If she could speak, she'd be screaming right now. Soon, only Keyla, myself, Starwort, Marigold, Barkjon, Brome, a few healers, and Martin remain.

He's holding the sword in both paws: one gripping the hilt so hard his knuckles have turned white and the other supporting the blade out in front of his body. He swings it up and around before sheathing it in the scabbard he still had attached to his waist.

The mouse looks down at the sand before looking off into the distance at Marshank. His voice is dead and devoid of any emotion. "You were right, Barkjon. There's nothing left for me here." He turns and walks south, towards the cliffs. He walks away forever.