Good Lord above, it has been a while! Feel free to scream and yell and hunt me down with predator drones if you deem it necassary, because my lateness can only be blamed on one thing. *points to self* This guy! I'll admit whole-heartedly, though, I hit MASSIVE writer's block a few weeks back and just kind of fell off the wagon, so to speak. That, and my new-found addiction to Top Gear didn't help things.

Anyways, I apologize for both the lateness in updating this and the short chapter. I just want to get something out before the dreaded writer's block returns, so hopefully this will get me motivated to keep updating.

Enjoy, and as always, R&R!

Present day:

The storm had finally passed by the trio's fifth day at Redwall. Everybeast was so overjoyed to see the heavy clouds and damp air pass that an impromptu breakfast was arranged on the Abbey lawn. It was an undoubtedly slap-dash affair. Dibbuns took to eating wherever they could find what they thought to be a good spot, even if that was in one of the apple trees or atop the battlement stairs. Some of the older abbey-dwellers did their best to control the excited babes and young ones, who had been forced to stay indoors for almost half a week.

As they tucked into the food, only a few noticed the distinct sound of wooden staves clacking together, coming from near the orchard. Those who did only took a quick peek to satisfy their curiosity before going back to breakfast.

Wincing as he caught Jonas' staff with his own, William ignored the painful shock of the brutal mock-combat and turned his weapon up and under the otter's guard, catching him a light tap on the head before ducking another swing.

Jonas backed off a few paces while waving his paws and panting breathlessly. They both heaved in breath after the furious sparring session. William leaned his ash-wood stave against a shoulder and trying to rub the feeling back into his battered paws. He and his mentor had been engaged in such a manner for hours, since the dawn had finally broken against a cloudy sky. Jonas had taken it upon himself to teach him every practical skill that might be required of William. The work was sometimes odiously dull, but underneath the mask of fatigue and disinterest, the young mouse's determination was clear. Ever since Jonas had told him of Thomas' fate, William had been frantically trying to glean every bit of knowledge he could take advantage of.

"Whew, I think that'll be enough of that fer one day," Jonas said, still breathing hard. "Don't want t' kill yoreself in training before we even reach th' enemy."

They both made towards the buffet tables, where breakfast had been set. As both otter and mouse began to fill their plates, Abbot Henrik appeared nearby. "Good morning," He said, addressing them cheerfully. "I take it your training session went smoothly, William?"

He smiled politely. "As smoothly as smashing eachother with sticks can be, Father. But yes, it did."

The squirrel chuckled, beckoning to them with a paw. "Come, I have something to discuss with you."

William's brain was already clicking away, trying to figure out what the Abbot's intentions were as he and Jonas followed, until they reached the shade of a large oak tree near one corner of the walls.

Henrik sat, Jonas and William following his lead. The elderly creature didn't speak for a few moments, choosing to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths of the sharp, clean air. "I understand that Thoran still wishes to travel with you."

William's heart sank as he began to stutter out a response, trying anything to save their plan from utter failure. "Father Abbot, we weren't...he'll be fine with Jonas and..."

He stopped as the squirrel held up a paw for silence. "What I was going to say, young one," he said, a glint of mischievousness in his old eyes, "Was that I think it would be an excellent idea for Thoran to experience the outside world. Even as the head of the abbey, I don't believe it's very healthy for beasts to be bound inside these walls forever. I was much the same, at one time in my youth. The thirst for adventure is a hard one to resist. And with Jonas' acquaintance not far from here, I am sure his safety is well in paw."

Both creatures sitting opposite him were shocked, mouths agape. Jonas managed to recover first. "What in...Forgive me for sayin' so, Father, but how in the blue blazes did ye find that out?"

Henrik smiled knowingly. "I have been a member of his abbey for many, many seasons. Eventually, you learn how to pick up certain tidbits here and there."

The otter regained his composure to some extent. "So what yore sayin' is that Thoran can come with us?"

"Both of you, along with Thoran, have my blessing on this journey, so long as you swear to keep him safe." He said, resting both paws on each of their shoulders. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Yes," William responded confidently. "Yes, you do Father. Thoran's wellbeing is our number one concern for as long as he is in our care."

"I don't doubt it for a moment. Now," He said, wincing slightly as he stood, "Why don't we go enjoy breakfast with the others? It's a beautiful day, and the good Friar has prepared a meal good enough for any two hungry warriors."

"Right paw front, bring the staff up under my arm. There, you see how that works?"

Thoran nodded, repeating the motion again. He blocked a slow swing from William, stepping under and tapping his ribs with one end of the stave. They had been practicing simple martial combat for almost two hours, but as Jonas put it, "Any sort o' defense is better'n sitting down and gettin' slaughtered."

The pine marten had been elated after hearing the news that he would be accompanying the group on their journey. Of course, they hadn't told him about their plans to leave him behind somewhere safe after a few days, but there was no reason to. It would only spur him on to try and follow, and that was something none of them wanted.

William nodded in satisfaction as Thoran repeated the maneuver again before signaling to stop. "It's almost time for dinner, and we can't let Jonas get there before us. There wouldn't be much left if we did, I imagine."

It felt strange to him, teaching another beast not much younger than himself how to fight. Obviously it was nothing too dangerous or advanced, but the concept itself seemed foreign to William. He looked at the smaller creature walking alongside him, clothed in a simple brown habit and sandals, compared to his armor and swordbelt. The distinction was shocking.

"Do you mind me asking you something, Thoran?" He asked suddenly.

The pine gestured with a paw. "No, not at all."

"How did you come to Redwall?"

He could hear the marten inhale sharply. "I...uh..."

William shifted awkwardly. "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand..."

Thoran shook his head. "No, it's alright. I...It was twelve summers ago, just before autumn. From what Abbot Henrik told me, there had been rumors of a vermin band moving through Mossflower during that time. Eventually, they stumbled onto Redwall. There weren't more than a score of them in all, mostly just land-bound searats or weasels. But the leader of that band was a savage creature, almost insane in his desire to conquer the abbey. He..." The young Redwaller had to pause for a moment. "He was my father. I never learned his name, but after a failed siege he left my sick mother and I here, since she couldn't travel. She died a few days after they took her in."

He looked down at his paws. "You can probably see why the other abbey-dwellers don't like me. Son of a crazed vermin bent on destroying Redwall." He smiled mirthlessly. "I guess I don't blame them."

They stopped near the entrance to the Great Hall, William settling a paw on his shoulder. "Thoran, you're not responsible for what your father did. It's not your burden to bear. You're just as much a goodbeast as any other creature here, maybe even more so to have overcome what you have. Any who say otherwise are liars, in my book at least."

The marten smiled; a genuine grin this time. "Thanks, William. That means a lot. Now, let's get something to eat before Jonas scoffs the whole meal, plate and all!"

The meal was far more than a simple dinner. Even on such short notice, the kitchen staff had created a vast array of dishes and treats after learning of Thoran's soon-to-be-departure. All manner of pasties, soups, breads, trifles, and anything else the cooks could think of were amassed in a seemingly endless array on the massive tables.

By the time William had loaded his plate and sat next to Jonas, the otter had dug through two entire deeper'n'ever pies, three leek and potato pasties, and an almost innumerable amount of cordial and October ale. "Evenin', lad," He said between mouthfuls. "What's the word?"

William spoke as he ate. "Well, Thoran can definitely swing a quarterstaff better than me. I'm no good with the clunky things."

Thoran shrugged. "Oh, they aren't that bad. Of course, when it's the only thing resembling a weapon you can find, there's not much of a choice."

Jonas grunted. "We'll have Astrid teach ye how to fling arrows one o' these days. Useful little skill, that."

"Yes, it is. Especially when your enemy doesn't deserve the courtesy of a face-to-face confrontation."

Everybeast jumped a little at the squirrel's sudden appearance. She was standing idly behind them, with a cup of elderberry wine in one paw and the undeniable hint of a scowl on her features. She sat down next to Jonas, taking a short drink from the cup. "It's settled, then?"

William realized she was talking about Thoran. The pine marten shifted uncomfortably in his seat until Jonas nodded shortly. "Aye, he is."

Astrid quaffed the rest of her drink in one gulp. "Well, then that's the end of that. When do we leave? I want to get underway before the rains set in."

All eyes turned to Jonas, who had promised the group a firm answer by the end of the first week. He rubbed his chin with a paw, humming quietly to himself for a moment. "If all goes well," He finally began, "I'd like to be seein' the outside of the walls in two days, three at the most. Astrid's right, I don't want t' be caught on the mountain passes when the storms get there. Thoran, ye get those maps I asked fer?"

The marten nodded. "Jeremiah got them for me; he's an apprentice to the Abbey recorder."

"Good, two days it is then. We'll leave early in the morn; I want to get an early start." He glanced up at William. "Make sure yore weapons an' armor are in proper order, lad. I see a speck o' rust, an' I'll have ye scrubbin' till yore paws ain't nothing more'n stubs, unnerstand?" His tone made it an obvious jest, but William nodded all the same.

Jonas drew himself up and sighed. "Get some rest, everybeast. 'Tis a long journey we got ahead of ourselves."

Two days passed far too slowly for Williams' liking. He scrubbed the chainmail with sand and vinegar until it shone like sunlight, sharpened his sword's blade until it was hard and sharp enough to cleave a beast in two, and checked his equipment over and over again. One of the cellarhogs, who also happened to be an accomplished blacksmith, made him a new knife from a trio of hammered and cut barrel rings. They had received travel rations and supplies from the generous Redwallers, and William had been given at least six scarves or strips of cloths from giggling maids to carry into battle as his colors.

There was a farewell feast the night before the group's departure. Abbot Henrik said grace, asking for protection and fair travels. The meal was astonishing in its size and quality, and by its end William could hardly keep his eyes open. He finally managed to stumble upstairs and into the dormitories where he was sleeping.

Sitting in his bed was a small cloth bundle, with a piece of parchment tied on with string. He undid the twine and read the note.

A knight does not go into battle without his coat of arms, William. When you reach the Verkora, they will know who you are and what you will do. Wear it with pride, and do not forsake your oath.

The surcoat had been made from simple linen, light in color and the perfect size to fit over the armor covering his chest. And though it was surprisingly thin, it seemed strong enough to last through the worst. But it was the badge embroidered on its front and back that made William inhale sharply and sway on his feet.

Stitched into the cloth was a brilliant blue shield, edges colored with gold thread. In the chevron's center was a green oak leaf, over which was lain a sword not unlike his own, each symbol crafted with obvious skill and quality. There was not a sign of rushed worked or shoddy material to be seen anywhere on the piece.

William laid down the surcoat and carefully placed it into his rucksack, still enthralled by the simple coat of arms stitched onto the fabric. It was such a mundane thing, almost boring, but yet it held his gaze like a flawless jewel. A small chill went up his spine as he let a paw stray over the fine threads. Somewhere, deep down, he knew this insignia meant more than he would ever understand. But for now, it was just another whisper of a memory in the back of his mind.

Eventually he was able to tear himself away and seal the pack, intending to wear the surcoat the next morning when they set off. As he laid his head down on the pillow, a small grin crossed William's face.

The real journey starts now.