Veil woke with the feeling of utter euphoria. Gone was his misery over last night's affair, gone was his uncertainty over what was happening in the village, and most importantly…
Gone was Swartt's nagging voice from his mind. The old warlord's mental berating had long since ceased to persist in the young ferret's mind.
Plus, he had the wonderful feeling of having so much to do.
Carefully, he pried himself from Myst's embrace. He had been as good as his word and stayed with her until she slept, and even after that he was still content to stay until he himself was claimed by sleep.
He could tell by the ghost of a smile on her sleeping visage that her dreams were indeed pleasant.
Wonderful.
He sifted through his new array of clothing and found a navy blue habit. Putting it on, he cautiously walked out of Myst's hut.
As usual, he had woken an hour before dawn, as he always had since he had first come to Southsward. Good, that meant more time to take care of business.
As he strolled down to the waterfront, he reflected on his own dreams, which had been more pleasant than any he could remember. As with many of late, the subject had been Myst. But they had all been the same: Just Myst, standing there, and him with the feeling of utter self-loathing.
But not now.
In his dream, he had been sitting on an empty, sandy paradise side by side with her, the sun turning to a crimson semicircle as it set in the distance. Hopelessly romantic, yet better than the alternative.
He reached the waterfront. Slipping out of his robe, he slid quietly into the warm, placid sea.
Cleanliness was a virtue Veil had come to cherish of late. Although he had no real influences that would cause this (he had, after all, once slept in a mudhole for two days to avoid Tigrus the fox), he had found the familiar feeling of freshness to be…intoxicating. It was enough to remind him of his days of swimming in the Abbey pond with Firetail, his old partner in crime, those days when his misdeeds had gone no further than stealing food from the kitchens.
I was so innocent once, he thought, and found that he no longer cared. It was behind him now, and with it, Veil felt the old voice of Swartt Sixclaw slip from him again.
He allowed the glassy surface of the water to close over his face, wallowing himself the feeling of the cool water.
He had brought with him his old traveling bag, the only luggage other than his axe (now resting against Myst's wall) that he had ever carried. He now opened it, the smell of old leather greeting his nostrils.
To the casual eye, the bag contained the most unsorted variety of junk under the sun. To a more keen beast, it contained all one needed to fend for one's self in the wild side of the world. Veil withdrew from it now his old knife (the one that he had tried to defend himself with against Swartt), a small piece of crystal mirror, and a piece of soapstone.
He grimaced as he looked at himself in the mirror. Although his days of good eating at Middledune had put the shine back into his black-and-white fur (he had made the mistake of challenging Percy to an eating contest two weeks ago), his whiskers had grown utterly out of control, giving him a haggard look belonging to one of sixty seasons, instead of eighteen.
Oh well. Carefully, with the mirror in one hand and his knife in the other, Veil carefully began to rectify the problem. After he was done, he rubbed the soapstone over himself entirely, and then dunked himself one last time before swimming out.
It was a far way out to the rocks, no doubt about that, but Veil had planned on it being a one-way trip. Carefully paddling with his head above the water, he eventually reached the grotto where they had had to leave the boat.
Fargan had trashed it, Veil saw that within the first second of climbing over the rocks, but he hadn't sunk it. The mast was still in one piece, and it seemed the rudder was almost untouched. But Veil saw that the tiller itself had been slashed in half, and the sails were no more than sheets that had been cut to ribbons.
He slipped into the shallows beside the boat, inspecting the hull. He saw only one real thing that worried him, yet not unfixable. There was a fairly deep cut in the woodwork that water was lapping through at a slight rate.
To work, Veil, the content ferret thought.
Myst had kept a small amount of pine resin on board for problems such as this, and Veil wasted no time in heating it up and layering it on the hole. After the leakage had stopped, he found a spare line and lashed the tiller together as best he could. For a precaution, he also placed pine resin on the mast.
He collapsed into the shallows, exhausted. Although all the superficial damage to the boat had been repaired enough to bring it to shore, Veil had pondered the problem of the sails and still thought up nothing to replace them.
He was still thinking about it when a wolf whistle stopped him dead in his tracks.
Still lying in the shallows, he whirled around to find Myst in a red satin dress lying prettily on the rocks. As his jaw dropped, she winked at him.
He realized with a cold shiver of shock that he had left his clothes on the shore. He blushed, and tried to sink deeper into the water, hoping it was murky enough to conceal his…extremities.
"Errrr…Myst? I'm kinda…not wearing anything."
"Good," came the lusty reply.
Veil cowered in the shallows, desperately trying to change the subject. "Uh, I think I fixed the boat! J-just, uh, the sails are pretty screwed up, we're going to need new cloth!" He laughed nervously.
"Oh? And what…cloth…should we use?" she cooed, as the satin dress slid off her back.
Oh, heck, was Veil's last sentient thought before she slid down with him into the cool waters. Without another word they were both up against the side of the boat, slowly sinking into the dance they had begun that day they brought the boat here. The passionate light returned to their eyes as the fires within them began to speak for them.
"You and I have unfinished business on this boat, Veil," she said in between each kiss.
"Mmm, I always finish what I start. You?"
"The same," came the sultry reply.
They came together with the bliss that so many have felt before, and Veil's last conscious thoughts were, perhaps, that he somewhat understood his dream that he had had before entering the tent, the "switch".
Myst had always kept a ship's blanket handy on the boat, which they both lay under now, leaning back against the masthead, huddled in each other's arms, watching the sun rise.
"You know, it doesn't get much better than this," he said at last.
"I think that sunrise is how I fell in love with this place," she replied.
He didn't answer, which was fine. They were both content to enjoy the moment, without the need for sound.
He wondered darkly if Fargan would leave them to enjoy it. He doubted it.
Myst seemed to read his thoughts. "I wish we could be left to enjoy it."
The time has come, Veil thought. "What if I told you we could be?"
She turned to him, surprised.
"I've never believed in destiny, Myst, but I do believe everything happens for a reason. What if the reason I came here is to help you all?"
"But Veil, how? You're just one beast, they - "
"If I could get the support of all of Middledune, Myst, we'd outnumber them three to one."
Her voice dropped to a more somber tone. "Veil, we tried that. Many lost their homes, some lost their lives. Julia died because of it."
Veil was silent. He knew her story, and he knew she better than anyone could understand loss.
"Veil, I don't want to lose any more of my friends."
"You once told me that it was hatred of Fargan that kept you going."
She looked at him.
Veil continued. "You know my story. I tried to poison an innocent being because I hated him. I killed two foxes because they had done things I hated. I carried on all the way to Bat Mountpit because I hated the Abbey.
"And then I did something that astounded me. I saved a life out of love, not hate. And rather than embrace that love, I rejected it and carried on because I hated myself.
"But I can't do it anymore. I don't want to be driven by my own hate. I want to stop, and yesterday, I think I had a vision of how.
"I am going to raise a resistance. I am going to fight Fargan. And I am going to win."
Myst to one look at those blazing eyes of blue and knew he meant every word he said. "Veil, even if we won, where would we go? There won't be any food if Fargan cuts us off."
The vision of the Abbey orchards in all their splendor rose once again to Veil's eyes. Those shades of red, gold and green as the apples began to ripen. The rays of sunlight through the emerald rows of the trees. The crisp, perfected sweetness of the first succulent bite of a russet apple. And the feeling of cool, soft grass beneath his paws.
He smiled, a full, happy one that lit up his entire face to her. "I know a place."
She could see from the gloriously happy look on his face that it would be wonderful. "Redwall Abbey?"
"Mm-hmm," he murmured contentedly.
"Tell me about it," she said inquiringly.
"First thing's first," he said, taking her in his arms again.
Before his own passions lost his train of thought, one last thought rose to his mind.
One day, I will sit with her in the orchards eating russet apples beneath the shade of a tree on the soft, grassy ground. And we will talk and laugh and eat and kiss and do every other wonderful thing there is to do.
One day, I will go home.
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Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease R&R!!!!! It really makes my day!
-TK
