Jade: Good guess. I did enough foreshadowing for something like that, but you'll see soon that I did it for a totally different purpose. Oh yes, and I thought a few people would ask for a summery, so I just went ahead and did myself the honors.. heh. :)

Scyphi: Well, more advanced would be a better thing to describe it. Better yet, I'd just describe them as different, as you'll see in this chapter. The way they live requires different advancements to be made.

jarrtail:.... *doesn't know how to totally respond except by this:* No, I haven't read 'Digger'(whatever that may be, and yes... to the rest. I am eager... as well! :D

Foeseeker: Woah, I can't wait either! Hmm... gray characters... what a foolish concept! Heh.

Martin the Warrior: Hmm, you still don't have an account? Oh yes, and I'll update sooner next time. It's only been what... eight days since the last? Compared to months? Hmm. Oh, and you don't have to worry about 'grammar' mistakes *explains after chapter... don't go there yet!*

Anyway, It's nice to know every consistent reader is already back, save for the oddball who reviews for a single chapter here and there. O.o *Yes those are amazed eyes*

Anyway, onward!



"Don't be afraid!"

Lance and Martin brandished their swords, letting steel glint steel. When their fight had begun, Martin had had first strike, nearly slapping Lance's sword right from his paw. But it didn't take long for Lance to recover, and even then go further. His onslaught grew faster and faster. He was identifying Martin's attacks and countering them with such a force that nearly every buffet sent Martin stumbling back. Tiny beads of sweat collected on Martin's chin, falling in a near continuous cascade with every jerk he made. The attacks grew stronger, faster, until they seemed to come with such a torrent, that Lance's sword could barely be seen.

With gritted teeth, Martin hopped back, obliviously crashing into a pillar. His back slid down the wall until he found himself sitting on the floor. He let his sword clatter to the ground, looking up at his brother, who's visage displayed a great triumphant smirk as he lightly touched the tip of his saber on Martin's nose.

They stayed quiet for a moment, gazing at one another, the only sound being Martin's labored breathing.

Lance was the first to speak. "I warned you when I saw that look on your face. You were afraid when I began to get the upper paw."

A thin and embarrassed smile shown on Martin, quickly fading away. "That's the first time you ever beat me, and you did it so fast too. That new master of yours must be amazing."

Lance nodded curtly, taking a seat next to his brother on the cold marble floor. "Yes, he pushes me beyond my limits, something father never did."

Martin gave Lance the rise of his brow. "What are you talking about? Father's sessions were very intense, thank you."

Lance shook his head. "Two seasons ago, I would have said the same thing. But you see, he was too damn protective of us, especially after our fight. We just never went far enough brother, and the fight we just had, was just a taste," Lance leaned his head back on the sandstone and rolled it over to meet Martin's eyes. A serious tone lingered in his voice when he began again."Now Master Bartholomeo, that was something else. A trip to Hellsgates... he was Diablo himself."

When Lance looked away, Martin stole a furtive glance at Lance's scar. He bit his lip at the sight: Three gray diagonal scars, one passing over the right eye; which had healed completely. Though, he had always regretted it, and had nearly forgotten about it after the two season absence of his brother, but when he had seen it earlier that day, painful memories caused sorrow to rush over him like a giant tidal wave. He forced himself to look away.

"Now, you know my initiation as Redwall warrior is tomorrow, right?"

Martin nodded while wrinkling his chin. "Aye, you've accomplished something that many a beast here at Redwall want and envy. So do I. You follow in our father's pawsteps while I lay back and stick my nose into books. Even a future as a potential Father Abbot doesn't seem as... satisfying," He sighed. "Though, I suppose with that display of skill you just gave me, you deserve it paws down."

Lance smiled, something he did quite rarely when it meant for comfort, and hung a paw on Martin's shoulder, squeezing his trap. "Ah, don't worry brother. It'll be the life. We'll be two peas in a pod. With you as the Abbot, and I as your protector, we'll be the greatest duo this Abbey's ever seen. And afterwards, when we're both in the Dark Forest, you'll be able to ask Martin himself, and he'd agree."

Lance stood, dusting off his pants. Then Martin stood, for the first time noticing that Lance had grown taller than him, as he was eye level with his chin. "Looks like ya sprouted up during your stay there?"

Lance chuckled. "He he, just now noticing that? Typical of your Martin. You never were observant."

Martin scowled a bit, but then smiled wickedly, sharp white teeth glaring. "Now don't even start that. You're the one who used to steal from the kitchen larders and always got caught."

Lance cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, mumbling," Well uh, I um. I sorta just, maybe I could've uh... well I got 'way once wid it."

Martin nodded matter-of-factly. "Yeah, that's the time I took the blame for you."

Lance crossed his arms. "Well it was I who begged father not to kill you after you ran away that time. He eventually gave in, and that saved your ungrateful ass from being striped of it's precious fur!"

The brothers laughed, just like old times. After their laughter died down, the two continued to walk, until Martin noticed that Lance's countenance shown a bit of confusion, and that he was stroking his chin thoughtfully. He addressed him. "Something wrong Lance?"

Lance licked his clops before replying, his voice quailing a tiny bit. "Well, really nothing important... just um. Well at tomorrow's initiation, master will be there... and perhaps... another guest, a mousemaid."

"Who?"

"Her name's Ezmeralda. She's his daughter... adopted daughter, that is. Since he's a squirrel, and she's a mouse. And now that I've told you, I have to ask you a favor."

Martin's face remained as stolid as ever, but inside he winced. Whenever he did a 'favor' for Lance, it usually ended up quite bad. "What?" He asked, tense.

"I'd like it if you accompanied her. I've told her quite a lot about you while I lived there, and she's been wanting to meet you for quite a while!"

Martin heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, that's all? No explosions, no thievery, no strings attached?"

"Well eh, one rule," Lance deviated his eyes from Martin a bit, as if he was looking at something behind him. "You're not to tell father, mother, or anyone about her, especially Matthias. As a matter of fact, keep her far away from Grandpa. He can be a bit presumptive. Will you... do that for me?"

Martin wanted to ask more, but he figured that he'd best not pry any further than he was wanted. Instead of questioning further, he responded with a dull, "Fine."

Lance squeezed his shoulder one last time, his blue eyes bright again, as if content. "Thanks."

The next day at the initiation, he never saw them.


The first thing Martin saw after passing the woven foliage was more foliage, but in a more natural form. He was now more in the open, in view of a less denser version of Mossflower. What struck him odd right away, were the giant trees that hovered over him, and the lack of small ones. The trees were all attached by thick cords of overhanging moss. He squinted his eyes, and in the distance saw a black object moving in between moss. He couldn't help but revere the squirrels for uniqueness. Create a village out of trees and bridges; treat everything and everyone below like an enemy until proven not so.

"Stop!" Commanded a gruff voice sternly from the boughs above. Martin did so, his acute sense of hearing catching the ominous creaking of wood above. These squirrels, he knew, were too skilled to let the trees creak under their weight. He gulped, the instinct to escape returning. It was the creaking of their bows as they arched to make room for the arrows that could kill him. He hadn't been nearly this tense the last time he came here, seasons ago to visit Lance.

As if to make Martin more wary, a giant squirrel leaped from the bough, skillfully landing in a crouched position directly in front of Martin, facing him. As he rose to his full height, he kept his eyes locked on Martin the whole time, until at last he was looking down at him, unblinking. Tattoos littered the squirrel's body almost wholly; all green, with motley insignias, the foremost being the emerald iteration of a bird around his left eye. It's beak was formed in an oval around it, and from there it's body grew, feathers acting as the squirrel's fur, it's small beady eyes lost from Martin's view at the top of the squirrel's head, and at the talons ending near the bottom of his muscular abdomen, right above a pair of faded green shorts.

Both beasts breathed easily. The peripherals of Martin's eye caught the other squirrels as they finally poked out from underneath the overhanging blanket of the upper foliage. They too, had green tattoos, but not nearly as defined, or as many as the giant squirrel.

The squirrel huffed out his nose, and then sneered, addressing Martin harshly. "What business do you have here, Martin the Incubus."

A smirk crept up the side of Martin's mouth. "So, a giant like you is made wary, even in my presence."

"You're not welcome here..."

"I'm sure I'm not, but I must see your leader."

"Wolfwood has no business traitors." The giant pulled out a small dagger from the back of his shorts. He pointed it maliciously at Martin, teeth clenched.

A feminine voice erupted from above. "Father, don't!" The creaking wood sounded again, this time a bit tighter.

The squirrel's visage seemed to suddenly lose its strain at the cry, becoming something between desperation and realization. He mouthed the words: "Martin the Incubus...", then stepped back. He glanced at his kin above, then at Martin below, then again at his kin.

He wants to protect them?

Martin nodded, antagonizing further. "Killer of forty beasts in a single night, that's what they say. Do you really want your daughter to be in danger?"

Martin's infamy baffled the squirrel, eventually forcing him to do what he considered was the right thing. "I'll escort you to him now."


The inside of the leader's little hut was nothing special, except for the fact that it seemed to be in the highest tree in the village; a climb that had worn Martin out a bit. He scowled at the fact that he was already getting out of shape.

Instead of a door, the treehut had moss acting as its entrance, much like at the gate of the settlement. They entered, the first thing obvious was that it was very dark. At first, Martin thought that no beast was in there, until the giant squirrel gave a salute to the darkness. "A visitor sir, Martin the Incubus. Lance's brother."

The salute turned into a bow and the squirrel backed out the door. Another silent moment passed; the darkness and loneliness of the room pressing its weight on Martin, until finally an elderly, albeit strong voice emanated from the interior of the room. "Hello Martin, it's good to see you again."

"As it is you." Martin retorted, with a hint of vile distaste. He didn't like the old squirrel at all. Here was the beast who had shaped Lance.

The squirrel chuckled, and a flicker of light appeared in the middle of the room, giving a bit of definition to the figure. Martin could now see the elder's thin shadowy lips, locked in a mocking smirk. "What brings you to my Fortress?"

"To figure out what you taught Lance. To understand how he could fight so sensately and deftly."

Another chuckle. "Hard work... and dedication.

Martin clenched his paws. He could practically see the smirk widen. "That's the biggest load of garbage I've ever heard." The smile narrowed, and for another moment, silence pervaded the room.

"Well then, the truth is quite.. bizarre. Lance wouldn't even believe it until he... realized. Then again," The squirrel leaned a bit forward, chair creaking under the shift of weight. "You have it too, don't you. It had been dormant in Lance and I had awoken it, but it seems that yours has been alive for quite some time."

Martin arched his brow in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh don't be so ignorant. You're an observant fellow. Though, I'm sure that's only happened over the past few seasons. You are a keeper of the sixth sense."

Martin's eyes widened. "What?"

"It's the..." A pause. "It's the tingle you get down your spine when a beast attacks you from your back. It's the push the trout get when they head upstream. Of course, something like that's in everything, but yours goes much deeper, and the more you use it the stronger it becomes. You begin to feel things, to understand. While most beasts feel something wrong, you know something is wrong. You can feel others around you, understand them. You can grasp nature by the paw and use it as a weapon. And at moments when you need it the most, you can alter your surroundings, both mentally and physically."

"That's impossible."

"Are you so sure? How do you think you've survived this long? I imagine that you've been... hunted... quite a lot in the past few seasons. Can you not think of one thing like this, or did you put them all off as mere... miracles, or luck?"

Martin thought for a moment, until it dawned on him. "There was one time."

"Mmm hmm."

"I was captured, and another along with me who's name was Icarus. He had believed that I murdered his mother, and detested me for that. He was hurting, sitting across from his mother's killer. I felt different then, and I looked at him. And as I looked at him, my anger grew, and his declined. He told me later that he was no longer angry, and yet I shivered with anger... an unnatural anger. At what, I knew not. But I think I...took his anger away from him."

"So you sensed it and exchanged your moods hmm? Interesting, Lance couldn't do that. His abilities lied more on 'giving' his enemies a sense of terror and loss. It delusions them, creates things that arn't there. Will he attack me from the front, or swing from the side. They might see a side attack, when he attacked from the front... the very thing that had helped me to survive in my youth. Indeed, he was very much like me. Except, you switch yin and yang. You are their shepherd, much like.. Ezmeralda."

Another silence, the sound of wind chimes tapping together lightly right out the door. "So can you help me?" Asked Martin.

The lamplight increased, and the old squirrel picked up a cane that had been leaning on his chair and made his way slowly over to Martin, until their eyes weren't an inch away.

Martin gasped when he saw the squirrel's eyes, lit up greatly by the bright lamplight. Beneath their dark exterior he could see a milky blue, and the eyes seemed to stare straight through him, instead of at him. "You're blind."

"Aye, been so since birth. But it's never hindered me, oh no."

Martin licked his lips. "So can you... help me?"

"No, I cannot. You give and I take. We might have the same source, but we are nothing alike." He began slowly. "Though, my daughter is a giver, like you. Come." The gestured for Martin to follow. "I'll take you to her, so you'll finally understand..."


Hola! Just so you know, in your reviews, there's really no reason to correct any grammar. I don't give my chapters more than a second... sometimes third... glance. After all, it's only fanfiction. While I exercise my creative energies on it, I don't really care for perfect grammar or not. However, original fiction is totally different, and I'd want corrections then for sure. I want you to put more emphasis on 'how did it make you feel', 'was it good or bad', 'Does it further excite the story, or makes it fail'. Things like that.

Time for a lil' copy and paste!

Remember to review, I mean, even a sentence saying you read it and you thought it was good/bad can go a long way for a writer's morale. Though, if you think it was bad and you don't like it, please don't say this unless you tell me something I can improve on. Be a critique, that's all I'm asking for, and if you don't have the time, leave a sentence. :)

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