Fading Rose Petals
Crossing

A feeling of unease erased the sense of comfort brought on by the smell of rain after a rainstorm at the sight of the three strangers, something Brome had not been expecting.

One was of the mole folk, and mole folk was always trustworthy, down to earth, and wise, though some good creatures might snub them for the way they spoke, so Brome didn't take another look at that particular companion. Of the two mice, there was a chubby one with a glint of mischievousness in his eyes that Brome felt he should, for some reason, be wary of. But the other—

He was a warrior, not like Feldoh, but one like Martin.

And he was the leader. "My name is Brome."

"I'm Gonff the Mousetheif, and this is Dinny of Mossflower."

"A thief?" Brome asked.

"Pies and supplies from Greeneyes,"

"That would be the tyrant who ruled over Mossflower long ago."

"And Mossflower is to the south?" Brome asked. He then paused in his trail, thinking carefully. "I thought you came here through a seers poem?"

"Oh. Yes." The still-unnamed mouse said, reaching into his pack and pulling out the parchment. "You can see it as well as the list of herbs."

"Martin wouldn't break his promise. He isn't that kind of mouse." Brome took the poem, frowning, seeing it was written as one would expect a seers poem to be written. "And how did you come by this?"

"Our resident warrior and seer," Gonff chirped, only to be elbowed by the still-unnamed mouse.

"He's a warrior and a seer."

"Predicted the illness coming and that it was to the north, we would need to go."

"This warrior," Brome rolled up the parchment. "Why is he not with you? Surely…"

"Martin is still recovering from his injuries from fighting Greeneyes, the wildcat, so Abbess said no, he couldn't come," Gonff said, while—

Brome was sure that warrior mouse was overseeing him as if he suspected something, yet Brome—he couldn't possibly think about how his father would react if he thought Martin broke his promise. "I see."

"He may never fully recover," the warrior mouse said, looking away.

"Perhaps I could be of help?" Brome asked. "I…"

"Abbess Germaine is a healer," the mouse said. "But even a healer can't heal injuries of the mind."

"What do you mean by that?" Brome asked. Then he drew in his breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Oh. Don't mind, T.B! It's just hard on him because Martin can't remember anything from between when he left their tribe all those seasons ago to when he first came to Mossflower from the north," Gonff said.

"Which, T.B. is Gonff is shorting Timballisto to that. Cheeky thing. But we promise, we mean no harm. We just need help, if you can, in finding those herbs."

"The two of you are from the same tribe?" Brome asked.

"Luke's tribe. Martin's father," Timballisto said. "Your questions are a bit personal, you know."

"Oh! I'm sorry."

"Come on, T.B., and lighten up! What young mouse wouldn't want to hear stories of our Martin, how he left the caves and came south to Mossflower and saved us from Greeneyes."

Brome watched the way Timballisto turned his head away. " That 's what Martin said? But that's a lie. " His eyes widened, still watching Timballisto. " Wait! That mouse knows it 's a lie! That Martin lied to… " Brome looked at the ground. " He lied to protect us, keep his promise, never once thinking it would come back to bite him. Because he never expected to see a member of his tribe again. I 've heard that he felt ashamed of losing his father's sword. The sword of—oh, he did say Martin's father was the leader of the tribe. "

"So, can we speak to your father and apologize for intruding?" Timballisto said as they continued along.

"Yes," Brome said, stepping into the house, knowing a messenger had gone off to fetch his father if he wasn't there, but it wasn't Uranvoh who greeted him when he entered.

"Rose?"

"We've visitors," Rose said while their mother—

Brome stared at their mother, who stared, surprised, only to realize that the lunchtime table was set up so six could lunch. She took a deep sigh. "Rose insisted."

To which the three startled, looking at her. Rose simply smiled, still in her chair. "You were expected. You'll want to hang your blade up at the door. It would make father pleased to see it done before he got here."

"Yes," the warrior agreed, hanging it up. "We weren't planning on a meal. Particularly since we're really in dire need of setting out for the herbs we need."

"What do you need the herbs for?"

"An illness," he said as Uranvoh came through the door, nearly bumping into the mouse.

"Oh. I see you hung up the blade. We are peaceful creatures here," Uranvoh said. "How did you find this place?"

"A riddle, sending us north to find the herbs we need," the warrior said. "And thankfully, the journey's been peaceful on our way here."

The wisdom and skill at leading—Brome understood why this mouse reminded him more of Martin than Feldoh, but he suddenly found himself blurting out. "I've seen the riddle, and it is a seers riddle."

His father looked at him as if wondering why Broom would say that. "I see. You can help them with that, can't you? Finding the herbs they need?"

"Well, yes. They've given me a list of what they're looking for."

"Yes. And this is Dinny and Gonff of Mossflower. Apologies ahead of time if he steals any pies. He is quite fond of food," Timballisto said. "And I am Timballisto, from Luke's tribe to the west of here."

Which, of course, made his father tense up; his mother looked on in surprise while Rose simply went about her business smiling as if nothing had happened. "Luke's tribe to the west of here?"

It was his mother who asked, but Timballisto perked up. "So, you've heard of us?"

"No. That's why my wife was surprised," Uranvoh said, lying.

And Brome didn't know what to think.

"It was a seers riddle?"

"He doesn't like the gift."

To which Brome flinched. "Wait. Who doesn't like the gift?"

"Our Martin," Gonff said, making Brome flinch, overseeing his father.

"This martin."

"Our warrior seer. Ouch!" Goff said as Timballisto thumped him on the head.

"Again. Apologies for the mouse thief here."

"Why isn't he here?"

"That's the second time I've been asked that."

Brome took a deep breath. "He's still recovering."

"Seer ability?" His father was skeptical.

"Completely crept everyone else when he predicted the illness, though it might have been even more creepy that he didn't remember saying…"

"Gonff."

"I see," Uranvoh said, narrowing his eyes. "Brome will help you find the herbs you need. On the condition that you, warrior, stay here in Noonvale while he goes with your companions."