Spring's first morning kissed him with tender mercy. His arms, so tight about himself, unwound slowly with the sun that peered down the narrow window. The little warrior gazed blankly at the strip of broken sunlight smiling on the far wall. It beckoned him.

The warmth was like a hug from the Good Mother herself. Martin coughed, pursed his lips.

"G-good morning," he tested his voice. It cracked thinly, and he started at the sound of it. "Good morning."

He offered a smile to the little window. The last traces of his voice died in the air, and again he sat alone. Martin cast a sidelong glance to the heavy door and stood on trembling legs.

"I've survived the winter, cat!" He prayed for strength and leant his weight against the grimy wall. There was silence. "What'll you take from me now?"

Fifteen paces. Fifteen more.

The silence weighed as it had never before. He lingered in the sun when he came to it, relished in its touch.

And when his footsteps echoed dimly to the lonely clank of the broken sword at his neck, he liked to pretend they were the following paws of a companion. And when his breath wheezed thinly and returned to his own ears he imagined the whispers of a friend.

"Bless the seasons, we've survived together."

Martin froze in his track, pricked his ears. The weak voice carried down the hall and died with a whisper. The mouse neared the heavy door and pressed his open palm toward it, closing his eyes with the whisper of a smile touching his lips.

"Your voice is like music, friend. Take care. Per'aps one day we'll meet on the other side of these doors, Gingivere."

Doors down the hall slammed open. The chattering clank of armor demanded silence. Martin's smile lingered.

The wall leant Martin strength. He could hardly register the silly creature's song for the rush of joy, of relief, that shivered down his spine and threatened to take his legs from under him.

In the name of mice! Is this what a friendly voice sounds like?

A bitter season's solitude rolled from the little warrior's shoulders.

He caught enough of the ditty to reply, and try as he might he couldn't recall the words he'd uttered but that he'd managed to catch himself and offer an introduction. A friendly paw stretched toward him.

This is a dream. It must be a dream.

But he grasped the paw, mildly, expected the wraith to shatter like the innumerable imaginings his internment had conjured. But the paw was warm, and the grip solid, and the smile was so very real-

Martin's throat tightened.

"Prince of Mousethieves, by the fur!" The Prince's features blurred, and the warrior blinked away the tears as he clung to the stranger's paw. "You could be the King of the Sky, as long as I've got a cellmate to speak to!"

He'd left more behind than he dared remember: friends whose names would never again pass his lips, memories buried in the barren earth. He hadn't known a friend in more seasons than he cared to count.

And now there's two, the fur of the back of his neck prickled. More than two, he corrected, smiling at their badger host. Raucous laughter drifted between the walls and through the door to Bella's study. Martin's smile grew. More than I can count.

Gonff and Din shoved one another from wall to wall, falling into a tumult of playful jabs and grapples. Dinny's strength gave him the upper paw, but the irrepressible mousethief wouldn't be kept down long. The pair rolled bodily into Bella's heavy table.

"Young rips," the badger shook her massive head with the ghost of a smile, shoving the wrestling pair away with a footpaw. She turned smiling eyes to the quiet warrior. "Somebeast ought to teach them some manners."

A beat.

Martin's lips curled in a wicked grin.

A wild weight knocked Dinny solidly about the shoulders.

The study rang with laughter.

His shoulders drooped low. Raw emotion burned in his throat, in his eyes tightly closed. Numbly, he felt the tears dampen his paws, clenched them tight so that his own claws dug deep into his palms. Log-a-Log and Dinny matched each other snore for snore.

Martin heard only the silence between.

He kept close to them that night, scarcely slept but guarded the dreams of his remaining friends. When sleep came, in short snatches, he'd bolt upright before fully awake. He paced their ledge, breathing hard, leaned close and counted the breaths of his friends till his own settled.

He filled Gonff's place between them.

If either noticed the next morning, the way the warrior's tail rested across Log-a-Log's pulsing wrist, or that the tips of his claws brushed the back of Dinny's neck, neither made comment.

"Don't hang about down there, matey!"

Martin's heart froze, and breathlessly he blew vile water from his whiskers. The rough vine fell before him limply, and he was up the side of the wall before he could register the feel of it in his paws. The mousethief was alive! Filthy and sodden, but alive- alive and smiling!

He took Gonff's paws heartily in both of his own, then spun to help lift the others. Log-a-Log and Dinny shook water from their coats and took up their lost friend in a hug, but it was Martin that lifted him bodily off the sodden floor.

"Yowch," Gonff laughed, wincing. "You've got the grip of a badger- no need to go throwin' a poor thief around, matey!"

Martin felt the reassuring beat of his friend's heart and released him gently.

He guarded the edge of the hollow that opened into Snakefish's prison. He wouldn't lose a friend again.

A/N: So how'd you like the little five-for-one? I feel like it's a nice change of pace from all the angst of the last chapter. Also, Martin/Gonff is my brotp. All the way. All the bro-ness. All of it.