OK, I'm back now. Sorry about the long wait, but I had some decisions to make. Apparently, this while Time-Skip Arc is going to take a bit longer than I thought, only because I want to get the whole Parsley Mystery done and over with as quickly as possible. Now, I don't want to blurt it out, so I think that this little Time-Skip thing is going to be not just 3- 4 chapters, but maybe 5- 6. Oh well, as long as I could get some interesting things going, right? Ugh... I have a feeling that I messed up with pacing again.

Thanks to all who reviewed last time: Estia, Quavera Tava, Siran 744, Mosshadow, Scyphi, Icefox425, Shards-of-Airan, Red Squirrel Writer, Martin the Warrior of Redwall, Jarrtail, Myrkin, Reader, Foeseeker, and SnuffSnuff.

Leaving Behind

(because I suck at naming chapters :P )

Scubb had sprouted the two seasons she'd stayed at the mountain. She had eventually learned to read as well as write, and according to Miss Flannery, she was already above the standards of the regular classes of her age group. Everybeast said that Scubb ought to feel proud of herself, but she couldn't help but feel saddened by the news. Sooner or later, the cub was going to join back up with the other leverets in a group class and Miss Flannery was getting married, so she wouldn't have much time to teach for a while. Was her tutor serious about her progress or had she simply wanted to rid of her?

Sighing, the cub turned another page of the book, trying to cope without pictures as she swung her legs in the air. Absent-mindedly, she turned to look outside the window and at the happy leverets scampering about the courtyard.

Nevermind, she told herself, turning back to the book. The Library's better anyways. Nobody bothers me in here... all those hares gamboling about like drooling infants. Hmph! She turned her attention back to the pages, frowning as she came across another difficult word.

Whap!

The ball of paper bounced off her head and fell neatly to the table. Curious, she picked it up, smoothing it so that it was readable. Well, at least it could have been readable- but only to those who had a trained eye for Forbes's paw-writing.

"Meat me outside." It took less than a second for Scubb to hop off the table and clap the book shut, already scuttling over to the bookshelf to return it to the proper place.

---

"Did you get wot we need?" the hare asked, mouth smacking as he chewed. He was still a leveret by the mountain's standards, but he was already several seasons older than her.

"I've got it in the closet," she said softly, turning her palm upwards. Forbes sighed and nodded, digging into his pocket and giving her a fresh mint leaf. She sniffed the sweet scent before stuffing it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"Race you," he whispered, speeding down the hall. She growled, leaping after him as fast as her dress would allow, making sure to stick close to the walls. They reached their destination with no trouble, Forbes opening the creaking door while his companion watched.

"Treasure! Yarr," he said gruffly, using his best corsair voice. The bucket held nothing like treasure but Scubb had worked hard to obtain it none-the-less. She had been collecting whatever left-overs she could get and now it was this big stenchy mess ready to be used for their latest prank. Of course, Forbes would do it himself, but he was a hare, and as a rule would never waste food. Plus, Scubb spent plenty of time "pulling her share" scrubbing dishes in the kitchens while the leverets learned self-defense- something she was banned from.

She hated her chore with all her heart, oftentimes spitting on the clean plates as she scorned the sloppy creature that ate from it. But if there was anything that she had gained from her experiences in the kitchens, it was that she was sometimes allowed to take "samples" before supper was served. And then there was Lavender.

Just like Forbes, she was older than the little cub. However, the haremaid was absolutely nothing like the trouble-making rascal. She was practical, well-liked, pretty, cheerful, polite, smart, and she loved to read- every instructor's dream student. The first time Scubb saw her and her sickeningly sweet smile, she wanted to pour soap water into her eyes- that is, until she saw how the haremaid's leg twisted in a crippling deformity. Unsuitable for the normal recesses and physical exercises, Lavender (or as she was so aptly nicknamed "Luv") had found her use in the kitchens and infirmary.

She didn't seem to mind the cub's presence, just as long as she wouldn't curse. In fact, she seemed rather curious about the vermin, asking her all sorts of questions of sea life. It felt strange at first, explaining how the ship worked and skirting over details of the oarslaves. And then Luv would ask what there was to do for young ones, what the other children were like, and even more, what Bargra was like. It was nice to talk to Luv, but only when they were alone. When all the other leverets were around, Scubb couldn't fight the fact that she felt alone. Luv always had friends, you see, and had no time to chit-chat with a little child.

"Open this confounded door!" Forbes's voice dragged her back to reality and she did him that favor, wrinkling her nose as he hauled the putrid thing through the doorway. It was lunchtime, so naturally the halls would be quiet and lonely. They didn't want anybeast to be seen acting suspicious. It would just ruin the prank.

Pewter pulled a glum face as he waited in the empty council room. Just why Major Darche wanted to speak to him in private at this time, he had no idea. Actually, that was a lie. He did know, though he preferred not to stick his whiskers into the business of promotions and officer rivalries. And I'm missing my vittles for something that doesn't even involve me? And he's late.

The door shoved open to reveal a decorated hare with a tray full of food. Although several years older than Pewter, he was still quite young and it was rare for somebeast his age to shoot through the ranks as he did.

"Major." Pewter stood up and gave a slight bow as his superior took the seat across from him, not seeming to care about the usual formalities one bit.

"Hullo Pewter. Didn't grab yourself some tuck, I see? On a diet?" the superior asked, taking a bite out of his pasty. Pewter felt a vein burst in his head somewhere but his face remained stoic.

"Not quite... sir." There was a suffocating silence as the major ate his lunch as if nothing was wrong. He probably thought it polite that he wasn't speaking with his mouth full, but it was the exact opposite with his audience starving and the silence dragging. Pewter longed to say something to speed up the process, though the thought of interrupting the Major's meal seemed... impolite. Rather, he resorted to sulking inwardly, just to keep his mind off his stomach. Even if Major Thornsbry is strict and says few words, at least he has the decency to be punctual, consider other beasts' time, or actually acknowledge a formal greeting... I'm just too polite sometimes.

"So," Darche said, scrubbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "I wanted to talk to you about the promotion. Of all the majors, it's obvious that my main competition is with Major Thornsbry. I would much rather be drowning in gravy than to let that old dusty beast get the better of me."

"That much is obvious, Major," Pewter replied calmly, both paws clasped over the table.

"Ah yes, and your input counts too, Lieutenant Major." Pewter could hear the smile in the other hare's voice. "After all, this is a very close race and any voice could put somebeast at a whisker-length lead."

"So you want me to vote for you?" the lieutenant major asked. This was a stupid question, and they both knew it.

"Of course," the major smirked. "Your rank gives you quite some credit."

"And why should I give you my approval?" In all honesty, Darche was a wonderful and bold fighter, if not too egotistic. He was also well-liked among the hares, a direct contrast to Thornsbry's sour personality. But however much the young hare was popular, he lacked grace with most of his older superiors. Pewter wasn't sure if Darche had underestimated the elders' keen sense of subtle sarcasm or if the disrespecting hare simply wanted to make a point. Whether or not he disagreed with the way they conducted their troops, Darche had no right nor position to give them insult.

Thronsbry, although stern and strict, at least cared for the rules and adhered to discipline. He had also served the mountain for seasons and seasons. Pewter imagined the degrading feeling that would nag at Thornsbry if somebeast so young and crass became Lieutenant Colonel.

"...You know, lieutenant major, there was a saying that an otter once told me..." he tilted his head and cupped his chin with a paw. "Oh, now wot was it... ah, 'You scratch my back and I scratch yours' was the term? How would you like to take over my seat, Future Major Pewter?" The idea struck Pewter's brain like an arrow.

"Oh, and don't forget," Darche continued. "Try to recall who it was that suggested your rise from private to second lieutenant in the first place."

Pewter said nothing at first, his mouth a straight and unwavering line. "... I thank you for the opportunity, Major Darche," he said carefully. "I am flattered by your offer and yet... I am also insulted." Darche raised his brows, raising a paw to interrupt, though Pewter ignored it.

"If bargaining was your way of rising through the ranks then I will not be a part of it. There's a difference between gaining and earning." He stopped at that, realizing that he had just quoted his father.

Darche opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. Finally, he regained his tongue and his smile. "You know, I like you Pewter. You have quite a bit of backbone. I'm sorry if I offended you earlier, but I was just saying that I take care of my friends."

"Friends?" Pewter echoed. "I admit that you are friendlier to me than you are most others, major, but I still consider you an acquaintance. Good-bye."

Scubb and Forbes were climbing the steps, sharing the weight of the bucket between them. Right now, Scubb wished that she hadn't done such a good job at collecting all those putrid left-overs.

"Faster," Forbes grunted. "At this rate, it would just be better if I carried it myself." Scubb frowned at the challenge.

"Try climbing steps in this dress," she growled, plucking up her strength and trudging forward. But on her third step, her footpaw slipped and she dropped to her knees, nearly spilling the pail's contents.

"Careful!" Forbes scolded, recovering balance. Scubb was no longer grasping at the bucket. Rather, she was staring at her knees where fur and blood had been scraped off on the stone steps. Even her palms and elbows were bloody.

"Don't tell me you're going to cry," Forbes said. She grit her teeth at the insult.

"Of course not! It's just a flesh wound. Keep going." He put the bucket down on the steps, offering her a paw to help her up. She refused, turning her head away as she picked herself up.

---

"Oh corks," Scubb groaned.

"What now?"

"Lunchtime is almost over," she mumbled. "We won't make it to West Hall. We're still in South."

"Well it doesn't matter s'long we get this confounded pail someplace," her accomplice stated. "So what if we don't get to spill it on the older leverets? We can at least get somebeast."

"We might as well." To be honest, this little prank wasn't as fun as Scubb had hoped. She was looking forward to spending time with Forbes and getting to see the look on those hares' faces. But now it was ruined. It wasn't just that she had scraped her knee. It was just that this whole game just wasn't like she imagined it.

"How about this one?" Forbes asked, pointing at a set of double-doors. It was a rhetorical question, so it really didn't matter what she said. Plus, she didn't feel like arguing right now anyways. She just wanted to get it over with so she could get back to... get back to... get back to whatever it was she felt like doing. Soon enough, the young hare had dragged a nice bench to the doors and was standing on it, pail in his paws as Scubb held the door ajar and watched the empty halls, ears on the alert for pawsteps.

Forbes raised the heavy pail over his head, arms wobbling as he did so. For a second, Scubb thought the entire thing would up-end and drench him in filth. But instead, he managed to lift it over the the top of the door. Carefully, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth, the hare had the pail situated on top so that it balanced perfectly. However, his paws hovered over it protectively as he gave Scubb the cue to put the door-stop in place. Should anybeast push the door open, they'd have a nasty surprise in the next second.

Once their work was done they pushed the bench back in place. But once they were ready to run to their surveillance place at the hall's corner, they heard voices.

"I am telling you, Pewter, that what I said should not have irked you so much."

"Pewter?" Scubb gasped.

"F-father?" Forbes rushed back to the door, forgetting that he needed the bench. Scubb hurried, squirming as she dragged it against the stone floor.

"Help me with this," she said, her voice barely maintained. Forbes ran back in a panic, going to the other side and pushing the bench. The voices were nearer and their time was running out.

"If anything, Darche, I don't think I'll put a word in for either you or Thornsbry. At least I'm not going to be aiding your arch rival, so you should just be happy with that."

"You don't understand, Pewter." It sounded like Forbes's father was losing his patience, and that spurred the urgency.

"Hurryuphurryuphurryup!" Scubb whispered, holding the wobbling bench steady as Forbes retrieved the pail with sweaty paws.

"I don't want to hear any more." That was Pewter's voice again. It had been a long time since Scubb heard him even the slightest bit angry.

SCHLOOOOOP!

The next thing she knew, her eyes were shut while her ears and nose were filled with a terrible, foul-smelling stickiness. She cried out despite herself, opening her eyes to see that she was sitting smack in the middle of a giant puddle of putrid garbage. Scubb had never seen badger vomit, but if anything, that was one way to describe the mess: a badger was at a feast and accidentally swallowed down raw fish. He got a stomach-ache and rushed to a window but didn't make it in time. Yes, that seemed to be the story that went along with this picture.

"Did you hear that?" Scubb couldn't tell who said that. There was still gunk in her ears.

"Ugh! That smell!"

She felt a shadow over her and she looked up, expecting a stern hare with a disapproving face. However, it was just Forbes, standing on the bench as he pulled the bucket off his head, grimacing as a small shower of grime washed into his ears. Scubb had the urge to run away, but right as she stood up the door opened and two hares were staring down at them.

"Fooooorbes!" Major Darche growled, recognizing the filthy urchin as his son. "What in blazes have you done now, boy?" For a second Scubb didn't know if Forbes was going to break down apologizing. He did seem scared now that he was finally faced with his father. Pewter came right behind the major, stopping in his tracks to gape at the slime-slick fox cub.

"I- I..." Forbes stuttered. But then fire relit itself in his eyes. "You should very well thank us, sparing you the embarrassment. If it wasn't for us, you'd be hopping through the halls with turnip gravy in your aaah- aaaaaaaah!" Major Darche swiftly claimed his son's ear, pinching and twisting it as he pulled him along. Forbes now had his head tilted as he was trudged down the hall.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience my son has caused you, lieutenant major," the major said without looking back. "I will have to cut this conversation short, so good day."

Scubb stayed frozen to the spot. Only when she heard the tap-tap-tapping of Pewter's boot did she stand up and attempt to brush the muck off her new dress. She figured that Major Thornsbry wouldn't be pleased to hear the mess she'd gotten into today. And speaking of majors, she wondered what kind of punishment Forbes would get. She was lucky that Major Darche didn't even notice her, much less look at her.

"Scubb," Pewter said in a nasally voice. She looked up at him, seeing a handkerchief crammed against his nose.

"T'wasn't my fault!" she huffed. "It was Forbes's idea! We didn't know it was you in the first place!"

"Why do you even get into these kinds of mischief, Scubb?"

"None of your stupid business," she blurted before clamping her mouth shut. Pewter sighed. She hated to see him disappointed, but she couldn't help it. She just wanted some fun was all.

"I just don't understand you," he told her. He walked away, nodding at her to follow. She did as she was told, though she did so sulkily, stomping her paws so that big pawprints of rotted slime was left in her wake. "Why do you play with that Forbes? You know that he is a spoilt brat that gets away with everything. The only reason why his father is punishing him now is because that leveret made a mess of himself and because he very nearly dumped a bucket-full of that-that... that... wotever it was on the major's head. You could make better friends than that, Scubb. You could if you tried!"

"But they're all so boring," she groaned. "And I like the way Forbes doesn't care about rules. He does whatever he wants whenever he wants and nobeast gives a hoot about it."

"He's a trouble-maker, Scubb, and he's a terrible influence on you."

"But he's my friend," she said defensively. "And the Long Patrol Code says that only dirt betrays friends."

Pewter sighed again, wondering how he was supposed to explain things to her. He heard some talk in the distance and realized that he had just missed lunch. He would be lucky if even so much as a morsel was left. His stomach rumbled in agreement.

"Scubb, I have no idea what Major Thornsbry's reaction would be, but if I were you I would keep quiet about it and run to a washroom and clean up whatever evidence I can. Now, off you go." She blinked curiously at him.

"I'm not telling. Go!" he ordered, and then she scampered off to the nearest stairs. There was a cry somewhere out there. Something that sounded like "Good heavens, what is this mess?!"

Scubb had washed up, cleaned her dress and hung it to dry, just as she was told and acted especially good for the rest of the day. She avoided the Major and everybeast else as best she could, staying quiet and locked up in her chambers pretending to read. The whole time she wondered about Forbes, though. She worried about him. That major really did look mad. His face was almost beet-red. She put her book down and decided to take a walk. There was no way she could stay cooped up in her room any longer.

She wandered absent-mindedly, wondering if she would dare to knock on Forbes's door after what happened. Would Major Darche get mad at her too? Would he yell at her and tell Major Thornsbry? That would be terrible luck, as she had gotten away scotch-free and all. She imagined what The Major would say to her.

"Honestly, Ward," he would say as he picked up his pace stick. "Believe me, I do not enjoy punishing you but you leave me no choice. If anything, you make me do it, as it is my responsibility that you learn proper behavior. Now, turn around, tail up, and paws against the wall."

But she wondered if he'd really spank her, being that he had recently said that she would soon get too old for spankings. Maybe he would've sent her to bed without supper for a week? She tilted her head thoughtfully, a thought striking her. What did The Major mean by "he made him do it?" How does she "make" him spank her? What about when the other leverets would taunt her or giggle when they think she'd not looking. They "made" her spit at them or swear at them, but nobeast listen to her explanations. They didn't think that her reasoning garnered any merit at all. So how does she "make" The Major spank and punish her? She scowled, infuriated by the injustice.

The fox continued tottering around, stopping by the library for a moment to pick up a book. Then she went to the cafeteria for a bite, though she didn't feel very hungry. But just in case she was starving in the middle of the night she slipped some biscuits in her pocket. Then she walked down the halls again, Forbes still on her mind. For some odd reason, her feet led her down to the double-doors where the trouble started. Seeing who was there, she almost turned back and walked away in shame. Almost.

"Forbes?" she asked. The leveret looked up from his work and scowled.

"Well I see you got away with it."

"It's not my fault!" And now she wondered why she even cared in the first place. He ignored her and continued mopping at the dried-up green chunks. She noticed the wooden tag with the word "Trouble Maker" in bold and suddenly felt a little bit sorry for him.

"So did your biscuit-crunching, medal-grubbing father make you do this?"

"Yes," Forbes hissed. "He was really angry." And then he stopped mopping to look at her. "But... I think that he was also angry about something else. Remember what they were talking about?" Scubb scrunched her face, trying to recollect.

"I think they were talking about the big promotion," Forbes said. "That's all father's been talking about. He must've wanted Pewter's approval."

"I doubt Pewter's supporting The Major," she said. "He and Pewter don't see eye to eye, you see. Pewter's too polite to say so, but everybeast thinks he's too stuffy."

"I don't know," Forbes said thoughtfully, slapping the mop against a particularly stubborn stain. "I doubt that my father'd be so angry if Pewter was on his side."

"Hm." And now Scubb was bored with the subject. Why anybeast would want to be a higher-up, she had no idea. Pewter said it was all boring paper-work and that all the fighting and war was exaggerated. "Did your father beat you?"

"He never beats me." The way he said it, it was almost as if he were proud. And then his stomach gurgled and he grimaced. "But I can't have supper for three days. Worst punishment a hare could ever take." She suddenly remembered the biscuits she'd saved and pulled them out of her pockets.

"I got these," she said. She unwrapped the napkin and showed it to him before rewrapping it again and putting it on the nearby bench.

"Thanks," he grunted.

"I'd better go now," she said. "It's getting late and Major Thornsnot wants me back by his crummy curfew. And," she paused. "Thanks for not telling."

"No point in both of us getting into this blinking mess," Forbes shrugged. She waved her good-bye and walked down the halls again, ignoring all the other hares. There was no way that Pewter could be right about Forbes being a "bad influence." As far as she could see it, she was already bad, so there was no way that Forbes could influence her. She figured that Pewter wouldn't understand anyways, being that he was always well-liked and all. He had tried to make her and Braddock into friends, but that turned out wrong. She hmphed at the memory of that bratty hare as she trudged on.

Pewter returned home to his darkened room. It was going to be a long day tomorrow and he might as well get some rest. Upon lighting the candle, he noticed a little envelope sitting on the floor. Curious, he bent down to pick it up, flipping the plain envelope open and taking out the card within. On the front was a drawing of many splotchy brown hares of variable sizes gathered around a large triple-layered cake.

"You're Invited to My 8th Birthday" the card read in childish scrawl. "Love, Braddy." Pewter couldn't help but smile at the invitation. His nephew was growing up. And then a shadow snatched his smile away.

But he's getting closer and closer to that age, a voice told him. You'll have to tell him eventually. He slipped the card back into the envelope and placed it on his desk. Then, he walked over to his study. He remembered two envelopes that Parsley had sent him just before she passed on. The first one, he had burned, and he'd sorely regretted it. He entered his study, the candle fighting against the gloom.

There were shelves and shelves of old history books and family journals lining the walls, and towards the back of the rooms was his oak desk, passed down for generations along with the rest of the house.

"Here is the will, sir," a hare said to him, holding out a pure white envelope with a wax seal.

"The will?" Pewter asked, eyes flicking between the envelope and the sickly old hare on the bed. "I- I..."

"Your father changed it recently," the hare said. His curiosity sparked, Pewter accepted the envelope and broke the seal.

He looked up from the parchment. "But I don't understand," he began. He looked at the informant, realizing he was talking to the wrong beast, and turned to his father. He had grown ill and sickly over the past few months and it was painful to see him like this: too weak to take a stroll, reduced to eating simple broth, coughing after every breathful.

"Father?" He knocked at the open door out of politeness.

"Come in, son," he rasped. "Come in." Pewter obeyed with a slightly-bowed head.

"I just received your will, sir," he began, holding up the envelope.

"Yes, yes," the colonel said impatiently.

"You," he paused, picking his words carefully. "You gave me the entire property and all the precious heirlooms while Parsley receives-"

"Whatever is in her room and all the rest of the new furniture and not a speck more!" he huffed.

"But sir," Pewter said, "she's your daughter. Whatever mistakes she's made in the past, don't you believe th-"

"No," the hare grated, suddenly going into a bout of coughing. Pewter sat beside him helplessly, envelope going warm in his paws. After recovering the old hare continued. "I refuse. How could she ruin the family name like that? After all I've done for her, how could she?"

Of course, Pewter thought, noticing the hurt in his father. It's the old hare pride. One of our greatest weapons can be our downfall in times like these. He's more stubborn than a typical hare.

"Don't you at least want to see her?" he coaxed. "I'm sure she'd want to see you. She loves you, you know." For a second Pewter's heart rose as retired old Colonel McCombs paused in thought.

"No." That word brought his hopes shattering. And then the old hare reached a wrinkled, bony paw out and gripped Pewter's own paw. "I think that my son is enough," he wheezed. "I want to spend my last moments with my son by my side. I am proud of you." Pewter didn't know what to say. He just sat there at first, patting his father's shoulder as another coughing fit started acting up.

"Yes sir," he said in a sad, resigned voice.

And now both were dead and there was nothing he could do about it. Reaching up, he picked a key from one of his tallest shelves and walked up to his desk. He didn't know why, but he just wanted to make sure that it was still there. He bent down and pushed the key in a keyhole in one of his drawers. There was a small little click and he pulled the dusty drawer out. There, sitting all alone in its little rectangle of dust, was a neat little envelope addressed to Braddock.

Parsley had entrusted Pewter with this letter, for when her son turned of the right age. He picked it up delicately as if it would crumble into dust at just the slightest touch. Suddenly he felt his gut twist as his claws itched to tug at the seal. It was then that he remembered why he'd locked it away, keeping in the dark for so long. Out of sight, out of mind.

No. He forced himself to put the envelope back down in the drawer. Parsley had entrusted him with this secret and he was determined not to break his promise. Fulfilling this wish was the least he could do to make up for his mistakes. But still, the envelope clawed at him. He shut the drawer and locked it tight. There, the secret could wait for a few more seasons- at least, until Braddock would learn the truth.

OK, I know that it probably doesn't work that way in real life, but yes, the rise to Lieutenant Colonel is a little bit like an electoral race in my world. I mean, the other hares have to put some input, right?

So, what do you think about the new characters introduced? First there's Forbes, and then Major Darche, and then there's a mention of Lavender (Luv) who I couldn't squeeze into this chapter. Flashback revealed some things, but I hope to get things rolling in the future.

First of all, Scubb's nature kinda smoothened out considerably, just like her speech did, though she is still rather feisty. Silly me, I forgot to add the ages.

Scubb- 7 1/2 ish?

Forbes - 11- 12

Lavender (Luv) - 11

Braddy - Going to turn 8

Pewter - Geeze I don't know... um... I'd say 28

Darche - 32?

OK, so you know the drill! Read and review please! :D