Though by his own admission Grip was more familiar with the northern River Moss than the Great South Stream, the territory of the Guosim shrews was expansive enough that he was a decent guide, and he knew roughly as much about the waterway from his elders as the Nevarrs did after their single trip upstream that had brought them to the abbey. Between the three of them, Grip and the sea otter siblings kept their craft well out of danger — though their arguments and petty squabbles often turned into shouting matches that would frighten scores of birds off the riverbanks. Mossflower shrews had a reputation for being quarrelsome beasts, but it seemed that the Nevarr sea otters could match them in contradictory nature. Deyna more than once had to act as peacekeeper between his trio of guides, who were cuffing one another about the ears one minute, and then laughing and singing jovial ditties the next. The warrior of Redwall was secretly grateful that there were no major splits or tributaries in the river that might warrant any crucial decisions or changes in direction; according to both Grip, Tikky, and Tumbol, the Great South Stream would bring them more or less straight to the Western Sea without even a sharp split in the river. He would be horrified to think of the argument that might break out between his companions if there was.

On their first morning after their encounter with the river-rats, Grip swatted Deyna's forearm pointedly. "Alright, mate, you brought this upon yourself, you know. Do you mean to tell us how you came to be raised by vermin? Or was that just a kind lie for that mad old hare?"

"I almost wish it was a lie, mate," the Taggerung admitted grudgingly with an amiable shrug. "It's a bit difficult to explain… and it's going to be years until the recorders at Redwall have gotten all the accounts written down and organized to tell the tale properly. There were a lot of beasts involved besides just me."

"Well, tell us your side of it," Tikky proffered. He fixed his paws behind his head and stretched out for a rest. "Nothin' bettah than a good story on a voyage like this'un."

Eventually Deyna gave into their coaxing, and he spent a good portion of the next few hours recounting his childhood to his friends — and to their credit, Grip and the Nevarrs were excellent listeners. Except for occasional questions to clarify parts of the story, the trio was uncharacteristically silent for him. Even so, it still took hours upon hours to do the long yarn justice. It was time well-spent, too. By the time the tale was finished, their first full day upon the river had reached its end, and Tumbol claimed the first watch at the tiller. She and her brother planned to keep the ketch floating downstream even through the nights, to speed them on their journey. When asked whether there could be a danger of rocks ahead that might not be spotted in the night, the she-otter smiled and shook her head eagerly. "We only 'ad to shore the Lily and walk past one set o'rapids on our way up," she assured Grip. "They ain't nothin' to be a'feared of, but Oy hope to be good an' ready before Oy face 'em. We'll be fairly close to the sea by then. You'll see the spray up ahead, even in the dahk, so rouse the ship iffin' you spot any white water a few days from now."

That night when Deyna awoke to take the third shift, he rolled over to find that Tikky had been staring straight at him from his seat by the tiller. The Redwall warrior pushed himself into a sitting position and whispered to the sea otter in a voice that was only just audible over the rippling water running by. "Everything alright, pal? You look as if you're sitting on a hornet."

The cheeky Nevarr was uncharacteristically solemn. He edged to one side and allowed the Taggerung to take the tiller, but made no move to spread himself in the belly of the vessel to rest just yet. His eyes glinted in the moonlight. "Just tryin' to figger you out, mite."

"Figure me out? How so?"

Tikky snorted and crossed his arms, settling his back against the gunwale. "You said you was raised by Juska vermin," he hissed. "Taught to be the best assassin alive or summat, yeah?"

Deyna's shoulders slumped at the mention of his past. He didn't like re-living the memories, but he didn't want to be rude to his friend, either. He nodded solemnly. "More or less."

"But then you left, 'cuz you didn't like killin'."

"That's right."

"Why not?"

The question was so unexpected that Deyna's jaw fell open for a few long moments, and he stared at his companion with a mixture of confusion and horror. "What do you mean, 'why not'? It's a horrible thing. Don't you agree?"

"Well o'course Oy do," Tikky assured him with a quick wave of his paw. "But Oy'd wagah an acorn to an oak, those vermin didn't teach you to have pity. So who did?"

The hackles on the back of the Taggerung's neck rose dangerously at the Nevarr's probing tone. He struggled to keep the hint of a warning rumble out of his voice. "I'm an otter, Tik. They were vermin. Otters are peaceful beasts."

"Evil an' kindness ain't bred, Deyna: they're taught," Tikky growled back. "Who taught you, eh? There's more to the story, ain't it. Oy seen goodbeasts turned bad, an' evil creatures taught a bit o'good. You wasn't just born wiv' a good heart."

Deyna's paw was clamped so hard around the tiller that the leather binding groaned under his grip, and he released it in surprise when he realized that his knuckles had turned white. He slumped under Tikky's shrewd gaze, then turned and looked down on the sleeping forms of Tumbol and Grip: both figures were curled up and still in their cloaks, rocked by the waves like slumbering dibbuns. "It's not a story I'm proud of," he breathed, nearly too low to hear. "I'd almost prefer to forget it… I'm not sure if I'll ever tell it to anybeast back at Redwall. Not the recorders, maybe not even my family."

Tikky bowed his head in respect of his friend's rueful tale. "Iffin' Oy'm the only creature to ask, you needn't bothah anyone else wiv' it."

The abbey warrior sighed and let the air deflate from his lungs bit by bit. His mind roved through the long-buried memories that the Nevarr's questions had stirred up. Eventually, he spoke. "I suppose it happened just a few seasons after I had started to walk… a little older than the dibbuns back at Redwall. I had already learned plenty from Sawney and his followers. They treated me like a prince, and I liked it. I was probably a spoiled brat, though I can't remember for certain… it was so long ago.

"I'd been taught how to shoot an arrow almost before most creatures ever learn to so much as throw a stone. On my very first real hunt, I slew a starling and saw the life leave its eyes. Watching it die didn't sit right in my stomach, but everyone else acted like I'd just won a great battle, so I didn't tell them about how I felt. I assumed that my guilt was just something that everybeast felt when they killed… something that I had to ignore, or out-grow. Especially because I was supposed to be the tribe's greatest warrior. Sawney always told me that I was special, that I had to be stronger than anybeast because of what I was. And there weren't any other otters in the tribe, so being the Taggerung, being an riverdog…" Deyna shrugged. "To me, they were almost the same thing.

"Then one day some of the scouts came back from a raid. It hadn't been any planned sort of battle, or Sawney would have made sure to take me along to witness the 'glory' of combat… his hunters had caught a small family of otters on the shore. Juska didn't normally take prisoners — in fact we rarely ever ran into other creatures besides more vermin, most seasons — but apparently Sawney had ordered the clan to bring him an otter alive, if they ever found one. He wanted me to learn how to swim properly. I was already better than any of his vermin at it, but he wanted me to be the best of any creature alive, including my own kind.

"The scouts brought an old ottermum into the camp. She was the first real riverdog I'd truly ever seen before. I'd always assumed that they lived in other clans of thieves and rogues, just like me… and for a second, I thought Sawney was going to offer her a place amongst the Juska. But then I heard that the scouts had killed the rest of her family in the raid. I didn't understand that; Sawney never ordered families of foxes or rats to be massacred. We'd captured a few vermin before in the past, but they always fought back and snapped and glared at their guards. Sometimes Sawney would test them, and allow them to join his horde. But whenever he talked of defeating woodland creatures — voles, hedgehogs, and such — he always bragged about how easy they were to slaughter. When I heard that his beasts had killed a pack of otters like that…" His paws clenched into fists. "That was when I first realized that I was a truly different beast from the rest of the Juska. I started to wonder how much of their kindness to me was only due to the prophesy that made me the Taggerung."

Deyna winced as the memories flooded back afresh. "Sawney had the old ottermum tied and hobbled… and all he did was shout at her, and tell her that she was a slave to the tribe now, and that she was going to teach me to swim or she would be punished. She cried the whole time. I'd never seen vermin do that before, male or female. In the Juskarath, crying was a sign of weakness. But she just stood there quietly and didn't bother trying to stop."

The abbey warrior drew a paw across his face, feeling where his old tattoos had been. "In the weeks that followed, I never saw her so much as glare at anybeast. She never got angry, and always did what the guards told her to. At first I thought that meant she was weak, or somehow slow-witted… but she worked hard, at all the tasks they piled on her besides tutoring me. In time, I realized that she was smart. Especially once she started teaching me how to swim. She wasn't usually allowed in the water, and she was always under heavy guard, but she taught me a lot — about river currents, ocean tides, catching fish… Sawney always kept an eye on our sessions. She was very reserved, but I remember a few times when she actually smiled at me."

Deyna shivered. "It felt wonderful when she did. It wasn't like the smile of a Juska beast, always wanting something in return. I knew it meant that she was just proud of me." He looked up at the stars, as if seeking a sign to guide him on with his story. "I only spoke with her privately one time. We were waist-deep out in the ocean… she was still hobbled, and Sawney had his best archer trained on her from a high rock. We were far enough out of earshot that I asked her why she never fought back. She told me that some otters were warriors like me, but that they never killed for fun. She said that killing other creatures hurts your heart… and that reminded me of the first starling that I had slain.

"After that, I realized there were plenty of ways to defeat my enemies or teach them a lesson without having to harm them or take their lives. If the old ottermum could live that way, I certainly could. In fact, she had practically shamed her guards so that they stopped beating her… because she was so obedient, and in time everyone knew that she didn't really deserve any of the blows. Injuring her only hindered her ability to work. So they just settled themselves with ordering her around. But for all that, they never really cared about her."

Deyna drew in a shuddering breath and shut his eyes tight, trying to banish the tears that were threatening to spill out from behind his eyelids. "She caught fever at the first winter frost of that year. Nobeast had bothered to give her a cloak or a blanket for the night. When the guards tried to rouse her for work the next dawn, she was already near-frozen to death. A healthy creature might have survived, with a bit of proper care… but she was probably old enough to be my grandmum, and she was half-starved already. I tried to convince Sawney that she had more to teach me, but he thought her usefulness had run its course."

The former Taggerung hung his head and almost didn't bother to watch the waters up ahead in order to steer the Lily along the broadstream. "Watching her die hurt even worse than watching the starling. Maybe I could have ignored the pain of it in my heart, if I hadn't been the only otter in the Juska. Maybe I wouldn't have cared at all, if I had been a stoat, or a weasel… or if she had been some other beast, like a squirrel… But I was an otter, and she was an otter. The closest thing I'd ever had to kin. I couldn't help but see myself in her, and when they didn't even bother with a proper burial…" Deyna sucked in a breath of the sharp night air and straightened up with a grim expression visible on his face, even in the dark. "I saw what they really thought of me. And I vowed that, Taggerung or not, I would rather die like a riverdog than live like a vermin murderer. It wasn't until ages later that I realized I wouldn't be able to stay with the Juska if I intended to keep my word."

The Redwall warrior ran his thumb along the leather-bound tiller and finally chanced a glance up at his listener, trying to read the glint in Tikky's bright sea otter eyes. "So that's my story, mate. Does it sound silly, do you think? Vowing to be a warrior that doesn't actually kill otherbeasts?"

"Not in the slightest, Deyna," the Nevarr replied without hesitation. He lifted himself up with a groan and crawled into the belly of the ketch beside his sister, then curled up on his cloak and yawned until moonlight glinted off of every white tooth in his gaping maw. "Not in the slightest."