A/N: Strum and Drang: Yeah, mostly getting back into the swing of things so nothing too dramatic should happen for a little while. At least in the Salamandastron front.
Waycaster: Grollo is more background comic relief than anything at this point, but I mean, is that a terrible thing? If every little side character had a complicated backstory or personal drama or anything... why! BaW would be too big!
Abrahem: I like turning characters on their heads. The Skipper in particular has recieved this treatment over the past few chapters, slowly but surely moving past his infamous first appearances...
Momui: Thanks for starting er- I fear it shall be a while till you get this far.
AlexFalTalon: Hmm... prophecies... will we see them. Yes. I have no idea when, but yes.
Sebias: Actually yes, because the title meaning lining up like that was sheer coincidence :P Yeah, as you have all noticed Umber is a really nice guy. Pretty fun to write too!
On that note the hare with one leg totally has a long and complicated backstory with lots of personal drama ;) Which we will find out... later on... We should see more of Philip in any case.
Greyclaw Grey Claw, both are acceptable as far as I am concerned. I embrace all my errors!
Believe it or not I missed them too, the last chapter was rather.. nostalgic.
Keldor: Such a pity Umber didn't get his paws on Bork, the promise of food is all he'd need to ensure the wolverine behaved! Though er... I would not want to be Vicky in this scenario... Hmmm... Perhaps Lord Umber is more knowledgeable about events to come than he lets on... all shall be revealed... (when I figure it out :)
Victoria rapped smartly at the dormitory door. She owed much to Umber and he wasn't Badgerlord for nothing. He was a good and fair leader… that did not make saying sorry any easier. What was she even apologizing for? The rat had lied to her for weeks! All she'd done was give him a black eye. Her anger now reawakened, she had half a mind to storm off and leave.
The door creaked open and Tibbers peered up at her. Furrowing his brow the shrew steeled himself, as if expecting another blow.
"What do yew want?" He asked curtly.
Victoria gritted her teeth but made no reply.
The shrew frowned at her, his footpaw tapping impatiently. "Well?"
After several more moments of silent tension the Log-a-log's son made to shut the door, but was interrupted by a sudden cry.
"Vicky!" Greyclaw now stood behind the shrew, his eyes wide with worry.
"I'm sorry about yesterday!" The mousemaid snapped all of a sudden, with the force of a crocodile's jaws… not that any of them knew what a crocodile was. "There. I said it." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. If the vermin dared to judge her now…
Tibbers made as if to respond the way shrews often did, but Greyclaw gently pushed him to the side and drew closer to the mouse.
The rat turned his gaze towards the floor and brought his paws together, the better to tweedle his thumbclaws. He swallowed nervously and began. "I'm sorry too. I-I should have told you… and Angus… and Andrew… b-but I was scared! I-I know vermin hurt you an-and you have you're- you're allowed to- you have reasons to hate them and I-I thought that well… I liked you. I-I still do! You're a great friend! An-and I know friends shouldn't l-lie to each other b-but I didn't want t-to I-I thought you'd hate me."
Victoria frowned up at him. Greyclaw was hugging his own tail, his eyes nervously darting from one wall to another. He was lying to her! He- he had to be! The mousemaid glared at the floor. Lies, deceit and treachery came easily to vermin. The same rat had fooled her for weeks! The sweet, innocent Berty was just an act. A disguise hiding the monstrous Greyclaw within.
Such thoughts were easier to conjure up in her mind's eye than in reality. The rat before her did not look particularly terrifying… and looked no more terrifying than he had when she'd thought him to be a mouse. He was slow and kind, fat and simple. Try as she might she could not look him in the eye and see a monster.
"I forgive you Berty." She said, as bluntly as she ever said anything. Which meant that she was genuine.
Greyclaw stepped forwards as if to hug her but Victoria raised a paw to stop him. "But if you lie to me again I will give you more than just a black eye."
The rat blinked stupidly, before showing off his buckteeth. "Of course you will." He sniffed and wiped his face dry. "An-and that's why I promise to never lie to you again."
Behind them Tibbers rubbed at his bruised eyelid. This could only end in tears.
Salamandastron was a fortress first and foremost, but in no way devoid of comforts. The pillows and blankets were just as soft as the ones at Redwall and the food almost as good (admittedly Grollo was biased in this regard, his father being the Friar and all, but he had to admit the hares of the fire mountain knew a thing or three about gourmet cooking!). Breakfast had been delivered to the pair of young abbeybeasts at the crack of dawn by an over-excitable hare they had never spoken to before. Bleary-eyed and yawning, they had eaten heartily. Once the plate of vittles had been emptied (which had mostly been Grollo's doing) they had found all sorts of entertainments hidden in the room. Board games, a collection of various kinds of flowers, and even a list of riddles! For a while this had been a pleasant distraction, but there was no avoiding the badger of the room.
"I hope they found him." Grollo said, anxiously pacing the small room.
"Me too." Hawthorn agreed, chewing her lip. Umber had promised to search the mountain for Sharpfur, but had explained to them in no uncertain terms that the weasel was a free beast, and that if he had decided to part ways with them he was in his rights to do so.
"I personally doubt this to be the case." The Badgerlord had assured them. "He has many reasons to stay and very little to leave. I would not be surprised if he turned up at the gates on the morrow, with some grand tale of being carried off by a hawk."
This little fantasy had been a great comfort to the two, and most of the night had been spent giggling over increasingly-ridiculous scenarios.
But there were only so many possibilities they dared thinking up. Gradually the various games grew awkward and worried. Games were not as much fun without Sharpfur anyways…
"He wouldn't really run off, would he?" Hawthorn tugged a stray whisker into line. "He wouldn't just leave us after… After everything!"
"Of course he wouldn't." Grollo agreed vehemently. The hedgehog hesitated a moment, seemed to lose his confidence and scratched at his headspikes. "Or at least... He'd say goodbye first."
A soft knocking instantly caught their attention. Hawthorn launched herself off her bed, Grollo spun like a guardsbeast. Both tore the door open and to their joy and relief, Sharpfur was there.
The weasel scowled at them determinedly, his paws crossed over his chest and his frown as deep as a trench.
Grollo did not seem to notice and threw his arms around the young vermin. Hedgehogs were normally quite careful with their spines, but after an hour or two of worried pacing Grollo had taken leave of his senses. "We were so worried!" He cried. Hawthorn turned away to hide a sudden smile as Sharpfur, taken by surprise, was caught in the embrace. He did not take it well, both because embracing one another was not a common vermin sport and because being hugged by a spikey hedgepig was a little bit painful.
"Ye -have- three- seck-onds!" He gasped, his face reddening from the strain of communicating with a pair of crushed lungs. "Te- let- go- of- me- before- I- claw- ye- te- shreds!"
The hedgehog let go immediately, his own face as red as a rose from embarrassment. "I- I don't know what came over me."
"Vulpuz himself." Sharpfur spat, rubbing at his ribs and tearing a tiny spike free of his nose.
Hawthorn, unable to hold back her laughter anymore giggled into her paw. The weasel seemed to swell with rage, before suddenly deflating. Squeezing past them with practiced ease, he slunk over to the far side of the room and once there, glared resolutely at the wall facing him.
The vole and the hedgehog shared a look and carefully shut the door.
"I'm sorry." Said Sharpfur, before they had fully turned around. "For leavin' ye in such a state of dis-tress last night. I did not mean te hurt ye by me ab-sense." He spoke every word through gritted teeth and each seemed to force their way out of his mouth.
Grollo, ever the oblivious, did not seem to notice and waved the apology away with a bat of his paw. "Oh don't worry about that."
"Its fine." Hawthorn added, more cautiously. "We… forgive you."
"Really we should be thanking you." Grollo said, a grin spreading across his face as he drew closer to the vermin. "Finally got one night of rest without you stinking up-" He stopped talking abruptly, his mouth hung open as Sharpfur spun round. The little weasel was livid with rage.
"Now it's yer turn te apologize!" He snarled, his narrowed eyes bulging behind his spectacles. A clawed finger vigorously poked the hedgehog's chest. "For bringin' me here! For lyin' te me! For m-m-mman-eep-you-laite-ing me! Ye knew I didn't want te come, ye knew I wouldn't like it but that didn't matter te ye! Then ye go an' try an' trick me with the whole Greyclaw rubbish! Some friends ye are!" He swelled up with rage, his pearly white fangs bared for all to see, then shrunk again and brought his paws up to his face. "Do ye have any idea what ye put me through!?"
Grollo, his jaw still hanging open turned to Hawthorn for guidance, but before the vole could think of or give any, Sharpfur went on.
"An' now I've gone an' snapped at Greyclaw an' that dumb badger wants me to apple-a-guise an' not fight with that stupid, grumpy mouse!" He tore his paws off his face and at once began bringing a fist into his waiting palm. His eyes, no longer hidden, were wet with badly-hidden tears. "But I don't know Greyclaw anymore! What if he's mad at me? What if he thinks I was serious? What if he pretends to accept me apple-a-gee only te stab me in the back later? What if he prefers that stupid mousemaid!"
Grollo and Hawthorn shared another look, but there was really nothing more that could be said. Sharpfur dominated every conversation he was in.
"What if he really is a mouse? An' what do I do if he wants te stay at Redwall? What if he wants te stay here? What do I tell Ma an' Pa when I get te Hellgates? They'd never believe Greyclaw was a mouse!"
"He was a pretty convincing one." Came a voice, drifting from the hallway.
"That he was. Fooled everybeast he came across." Came a second one.
"I mean… he probably really is one."
"He still thought he was a rat. Can't deny the cunning there."
"Sly little thing, whatever he is."
"Whatever he is, he isn't little."
Sharpfur had been so busy tugging at his ears in worry and Grollo and Hawthorn had been so busy trying to keep up with his dramatics that none of them noticed Angus and Andrew's entrance.
The weasel composed himself at once and glared hatefully at the identical pair. "Yew!" He snarled.
"I don't think now is a good time." Hawthorn said cooly.
"Get out." Said Grollo, bluntly.
The twins raised their paws in surrender. "Easy now abbeybabes."
"We're not here to fight anybeast."
"We wanted to apple-guise."
"It's ap-o-logize paddletail! Now scram!" Barked Sharpfur, desperately searching for something to throw.
"We're sorry about yesterday."
"And we mean that."
"Cross our hearts and hope to die." They said in unison, drawing an 'x' over their chests.
"We got off on the wrong footpaw."
"Twice." Sharpfur noted bitterly. Unable to locate a suitable projectile he settled for crossing his paws over his chest and maintaining a composure of simmering anger.
Hawthorn and Grollo's eyes darted from one party to the other but neither intervened.
"Twice." The twins agreed.
"And that was our fault."
"Mostly."
"And we're sorry."
"Which is why we want to make things up to you."
"Yer a funny otter." Sharpfur said scowling. "Only last night ye were tryin' te put pepper in me tea."
"We do that to everybeast!" They protested in unison.
"Greyclaw even thanked us for it."
Sharpfur glared at them. "An' did he know ye were pullin' his tail?"
The otter twins looked at their feet. "We would have told him it was a joke, but he looked so happy that we were introducing ourselves to him."
"Yeah, we didn't want to spoil it."
The little rat-mouse grinned nervously up at the pair of identical otters. He had already forgotten which one was Angus and which one was Andrew. In his defense they were nearly identical and very hard to tell apart! They had a reputation for being troublemakers but Greyclaw was fairly at ease with them now.
"Morning Berty!"
"Sleep well?"
"Still a bit sleepy?"
"Well no worries there, mate!"
"Peppered tea te put a paddle on your tail!" One said with a wink, while the other sprinkled a generous amount of pepper into a steaming tea cup.
"There! Should wake you right up!" The otter with the tea gently passed it to him. Both grinned widely and stared at him expectantly.
The rat frowned at it, sniffed curiously and abruptly sneezed. Tears filled his eyes and the rat hastily wiped them away. The twins shared a look and a pair of raised eyebrows.
The tea smelled like molten lava… Still it was rude to refuse his hosts and the twins had been nice to him. And drinking tea with pepper in it was probably a popular woodlander thing. So Greyclaw beamed up at them, thanked them politely and took several deep swigs of it. The beverage burnt his tongue and every fiber of his throat. Greyclaw erupted into a coughing spree halfway through, his eyes beginning to sting from the heat of the beverage. Angus and Andrew chortled for a moment, before noticing the rat's plight. They shared a guilty look and swiftly got to work.
"Yeah we otters really like our tea fiery hot." Said one. Pouring an unhealthy amount of the substance into his teacup.
The Skipper who was passing by raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Sweet tea is for vermin!" Exclaimed the other, smacking the rat none-too-gently across the back.
Greyclaw swallowed audibly. "I-in that case I-I definetly hate sweet tea." He nodded vigorously, his eyes wide with worry. "B-because I'm not vermin. M-more pepper?"
The twins shared a look and smiled nervously. "Pepper's good of course but… maybe… not for mice."
"It's more of an otter thing really."
"Probably not healthy for you."
"Yeah. Unhealthy."
The rat's face fell and he looked so miserable that Angus and Andrew felt compelled to declare loudly, in unison, that honey was an acceptable substitute.
"And then we put pepper in our own tea so he wouldn't have to know."
"It was actually kinda tasty."
"But we're not here to talk about tea flavours."
"No."
"Not at all."
"Like we said, we came here to apologize."
"And to make it up to you we'll help you out."
"I don't need yer help." Sharpfur snapped. "With anythin'!"
The twins snorted in unison.
"Yes."
"You do."
"You have the right idea mate."
"You just need the right vision."
"We can help you there
"I can see purr-feck-ly well thanks!" The weasel growled. "An' I have no idea what yer goin' on about!"
Grollo raised a paw. "I'm lost as well."
A pair of identical grins spread across the twin's faces. "Didn't you say you wanted to be a woodlander?"
Sharpfur stiffened. "No! I- I don't want ter be a woodlander! Ye lot are- yer- yer…." He trailed off searching for the correct word. A word that perfectly described how arrogant, selfish, cruel, swine-headed, sank-tie-mon-ee-us and puffed-up with self-rightousness woodlanders were... "Filthy!" He finally snapped. Hawthorn facepawed, Grollo flared up with indignation.
"Filthy? You think we are filthy?"
"An' a lot of other things hedgepig!" Sharpfur shot back. "Like over-sense-initiative!"
"Oversensitive…" Hawthorn mumbled.
One of the otter twins gave a loud, hacking cough to draw their attention back. The other, still grinning, crossed his paws over his chest.
"Well, you said it yourself. Redwall won't let you stay if you act like a thug."
Sharpfur, surprised that the otter had memorized the weasel's words, had no reply at the ready. Angus or Andrew went on. "And you're going have to act less verminous if you want to co-exist with a ghost."
"Redwall isn't haunted." Hawthorn said matter-of-factly. "And Martin the Warrior's spirit has better things to do than pick on thugs."
The twins shrugged. "If you say so."
"If Sharpfur here's willing to take the risk then so be it."
"But we also thought acting more like a woodlander would help you integrate into the community better."
"Of course you don't want to be an abbeybeast."
"But you don't have many choices left here."
"Especially if you want to stay near Berty."
The two grinned all the wider and shared a look before continuing in unison. "Or should we say 'Grey Claw'?"
The vermin crossed his paws over his chest and frowned. Hawthorn was saying something but he tuned her out. Grollo, as usual, didn't know what to say. On the one paw the otters he was dealing with here had already proven themselves to be deceitful and thought themselves funny. On the other… they were right about everything. The badgerlord probably wouldn't stop him from leaving if he wanted to, but he doubted the woodlanders would let Greyclaw go. The rat himself, being a mouse and all, probably wouldn't want him to go either. Really the otters were just saying something he'd already figured out- that if he wanted to stay near Greyclaw he'd have to become a woodlander. The kindly old hedgepig had helped him in that regard but she was no longer here. Sharpfur needed a new teacher and Grollo and Hawthorn were too vermin-like to teach him anything he didn't know.
Besides, he had had three older siblings. He had ample experience turning the tables when it came to trickery.
To further seal the deal, the otters cast out their next, most tantalizing bait.
"Oh, and we can also get back at Victoria a little bit for you."
"Yeah, can't say we like her much either."
"Great friend."
"Horrible person."
"Very uptight."
"No sense of humour."
They grinned and spoke at once. "Maybe we could do the ol' waterbucket atop the door?"
The mental image of the hateful mousemaid, dripping wet and wearing a bucket on her head (preferably a heavy one) caught Sharpfur. Hook, line and sinker.
And so to Grollo's shock, and Hawthorn's horror, he accepted their offers.