Farrarl was getting better. There was no doubt about it, he thought as he lay on a dining table that had been repurposed to be used as a bed. The presence of food and friendship did wonders on his weakened body. His muscles filled out, his fur grew shiny, and he could actually get out of bed without collapsing and frothing at the mouth.

Farrarl got out of bed, the movement lithe and fluid. The fact that he was much, much bigger than the other beasts made living in the Abbey slightly awkward. For one, he had to stoop whenever he moved through a doorway. He also had a prodigious appetite, devouring anything that resembled food at dinner. But living at the Abbey had definite upsides, he thought. Good food, plenty of friends, and helping plenty of other people. It was certainly an upgrade from being draped over a chunk of wood while floating in the ocean.

As Farrarl stooped through the doorway, Prioress Calla stopped him. "There's something the Abbot wants you to see." She murmured quietly. Farrarl, curious, followed her as she glided through the halls.

After some time, Calla stopped and gesture at him to speak to the Abbot. He was standing in the middle of a massive hallway, staring at something on the wall.

Noticing Farrarl's presence, he smiled and said, "Thank you, Calla. Farrarl, if you may come where I am." Farrarl walked next to him, and as he looked at the wall, he gasped.

Hung on the wall was a magnificent tapestry, as long as Farrarl was tall. On the richly woven cloth was a depiction of beasts that Farrarl didn't recognize, but it was clear that almost all were running in fear. The one that wasn't was the main focus of the picture, an armored mouse with a sword clamped in his paw.

It was, without a doubt, the mouse that had spoken to Farrarl as he had drifted to shore. What was his name? Martin, that was it.

Frurry heard the gasp and smiled. "You know this mouse, I presume?"

"Yes." Farrarl muttered. As if in a trance, he gently stroked the fabric with his paw.

"This is Martin the Warrior." Frurry explained. "He was the very first Abbey champion, and one of the Abbey founders. It was he who slew the wildcat Tsarmina and countless other vermin besides. It was also he who defended the Abbey til' he died. This was his sword."

Farrarl looked down at the Abbot and saw that he was holding a sword out to him. It was obviously the sword depicted in the tapestry, and it gleamed with unusual ferocity. The unusual thing was, it wasn't fancy. There was no gold, no jewels, no unnecessary adornment. There was a handle of black wood, a gleaming blade, and that was it.

However, as Farrarl took it from the Abbot, it was obviously a perfectly forged weapon. Despite having been made for a smaller beast, the cool wood fit perfectly in his paw, and it was perfectly balanced. Farrarl knew, then and there, that it was far superior to any weapon that he had ever seen.

"A fine weapon, isn't it?" Frurry asked. "Twas' made by Boar the Fighter- one of the greatest swordsmiths in the land. He forged this out of metal from a falling star, and gave it to Martin."

"Why are you showing me this?" Farrarl asked suddenly. Frurry merely smiled.

"Martin told me… in a dream. Tis' uncommon in the Abbey, but it happens. However, he only appears when great events are taking place." Frurry explained. He cast an eye on Farrarl. "Considering that you've seen him too, I would hazard a guess that you are part of those events."

Farrarl waved the blade in the air. His giant paw made it look like a dagger, but it was so well balanced that he couldn't feel its weight. "Take it." The Abbot offered suddenly, seeing the admiring glint in his eye.

"What?" Farrarl said, caught off guard.

"Take it." Frurry repeated. "An Abbey champion only appears when they are needed, and I would say that you are that champion. If you are to fulfill that role, you need this weapon."

Farrarl felt humbled by the Abbot's words. "Thank you, Father."

"Ah, no need to thank me." Frurry chuckled. "The sword's always here for those who need it. Now, if I'm not mistaken, there's some strawberry cordial in the kitchen that needs drinking!"

"Agreed!" Farrarl said heartily. His spirits lifted, they both walked out of the room in the direction of the kitchens.


Unbeknownst to them, there was a languid sense of malice outside of the Abbey walls. The giant constrictor coiled itself in the dirt and leaves, the brown blotches on its back rendering it near-invisible.

It had already checked around the giant sandstone walls. There was no way through… yet. All it took was an unlocked gate, a poorly shut window, and the snake would find its way in.

The snake flicked its tongue in and out, tasting the faint odor of living meat that hung around the Abbey. When that happened, the boa constrictor would enjoy it dearly.