"And with every breath Spring may take

Breaking forth with wond'rous song

May the rains present and make

Our tilled fields strong

Eat well and be filled

With fruit pie and 'cumber

May your lives be filled with peace, good will

For today is the Feast of Summer!"

-- Abbot Kereseth, Summer of the Fifth Year

The lawns of Redwall Abbey were teeming with lively beasts: Dibbuns playing here and there, some eating on the run, whilst elder doing so alike in their matured ways.

Jaden sat away from most everyone under the shade of an apple tree, tending to his own slice of apple pie. The orchards flowed with sweet scents of flowers and earth. The smell was beauty to his nose – he absolutely loved that smell. He didn't even mind that his clothes got dirty, nor his footpaws muddy from the earth. Even the mud at this place conveyed feelings of warmth and peace. Every speck of the land was ever mindful of the acceptance of , well, some, woodlanders. Nevertheless, it was a home to him, a home he had never been able to settle down to.

Jaden unconsciously equated this to these Abbey dwellers and beast of Mossflower, trumping through the open gates on the warm summer morn. Mossflower had removed itself of vermin hordes and rag-tag groups after many a hard seasons fighting. For the first time since – well, Jaden thought – never, the woodlanders of Mossflower could claim the land as their unique home. Unique, in the sense of no foul-breathed vermin. So much so, in fact, that the gates remain open – sunrise to sunset.

Jaden took a large bite of his pie as a few dibbuns ran past down rows of apple trees. He chuckled to himself as they rambled on in their undeveloped speech. One tripped, and fell laughing - but quickly suddenly stopped as he noticed the fox. The sole fox ever allowed back into the Abbey at will. Jaden. Jaden quickly stopped laughing to himself, as if the dibbun's eye of concern and mystery over the unknown sucked the life out of his own potential among even the young ones. An Elder soon passed by Jaden with a disapproving, threatening glance, ushering the dibbuns to go about their way.

Typical, Jaden thought cynically. Elders are damning the poor children. No wonder these fools here are so livid about exacting revenge on every vermin.

A fox in Redwall. Ever since Jaden had been allowed past the aged gates he has been looked upon with a mixed gesture - a smile and a disheartening frown. A smile from those of whom he has proven himself to, through hard labor in the gardens and kitchens, toiling in the same sweat and mud as they have; and a frown from those who know vermin, and have had friends and brothers and mothers and relatives killed from vermin. These types, Jaden concluded, think all vermin to be inherently evil.

"From the same breath of scummish life you shall first breath is the same that you shall crawl back to the grave with."

Yes. He took a bite of the pie. Here's to you, for all the more.

He had first gotten in for pity - or lack thereof - of the Redwallers on that cold, dark night, roughly a season ago. With barely more than a drop of water and a crumb of hardtack, he was let in for victuals. The Abbot was awoken by the commotion and himself let the fox in. He wasn't immediately called because he had stayed the night up the day before talking to some old friends, as told by the Abbey dwellers. Supposedly of course. Jaden could tell of their suspicious trickery the moment he stepped into Redwaller – because, fact had it, Redwall had been under the last of many a decade of fighting. And they had won their freedom. Why else wouldn't they be zealous for their ideals? Neurotic types, Jaden had concluded.

The Abbot, though, was different. When awoken he had come himself to the wall top and had a slight, casual conversation with him. Jaden suspected something was wrong from the beginning, and this leader's manner confirmed it.

Probably going to kill me, he had thought. But he was going to die either way. Thanks to the woodlanders surrounding the Abbey, they had sucked what could be scavenged well for the Summer Feast. Just like now – except he was comfortable, but not entirely so, behind the Abbey walls.

Abbot Karuseth was his name, and he was friendly. But firm. That's what Jaden remembers most about him. His voice was calm, almost friendly, but carried the underlining authority that an Abbot should carry; but at the same time said: "Cross us once vermin - even once - and you shall cease to exist." Jaden at the time then writ him off as just another ideal-ridden woodlander. But he grew to like the elder mouse.

Jaden sighed, and took another bite of his pie as he sat among the orchards. The sweet song of birds filled the air for a moment.

"Ahh… Brother Jaden."

Abbot Karuseth sat down a quarter of the way around the tree trunk. He sighed heavily and drew back his breath in, also taking in the bountiful, fragrant, warm summer air.

Jaden immediately looked over from the bite he was about to take. " -What?"

Karuseth smiled. "Yes, you heard me my friend."

Jaden flushed. He had never been accepted enough to be called Brother. It was usually scum by the mothers; ignorant and useless by the fathers; and smelly-ish by the dibbuns. If he was lucky, he was called Jaden. But brother?

Karuseth looked over as he noticed Jaden's lack of reply. Jaden was obviously perplexed. The Abbot knew that. "Brother Jaden, you must realize you have visited us enough to establish a well reputation. I personally vouch for-"

Jaden laughed and remembered his pie. A slight laugh of disbelief. He took a bite of the pie. "Abbot Karuseth, you make me laugh sometimes. I know well that I'm not fit to be called that. But like you know, I could care less about what they think."

Karuseth looked off down the rows of trees. "Oh yes, Jaden - I know that. I know that full well…" He sighed. "But you must realize something, my friend. Everyone will never like you completely, nor the decisions you make. That's a bare fact of life that all must come to believe no matter to what one may be born into."

Jaden muttered rather darkly. "Not with those Redwaller types who-"

"-Hate vermin, and hate them because they are naturally evil, instinctively evil. Who can't bear a candle to good ideal." Karuseth smiled to him warmly. "…We've discussed this many times, Jaden. Let this pass once again. But before you do so for all time and forever," The Abbot chided, obviously sarcastic. "-Which of course I know you will do, let me tell you that your name has spread throughout Mossflower now. In a good tone. - You seem to pick the right times to appear, my friend."

Jaden flicked a crumb off his nose. He slurred, uninterested: "How so?"

"The Mossflower inhabitants, of course. You visit at times when they come."

"Mmmm. Well, yes, there's no other time when there isn't this much food - but there's not really this many Redwallers here? Like that time when I first got here?"

Abbot glanced out towards the open grounds in front of the steps leading up to the infirm. A few dibbuns were sword-fighting with sticks. "Yes."

Jaden nodded and leaned his head up against the tree. After a moment he asked: "What are they saying?"

Abbot Karuseth responded rather quickly. "Some fox is hard working, laborious, instilled with something of a different spirit than your empty-brained vermin. Very peaceable and friendly when the atmosphere is correct."

Jaden got quiet for another moment. He had run into his fair share of atmosphere. Stern, thick, tensious atmosphere. Where he would be excluded from things when the Abbot wasn't looking, and shoved out of conversations as if he were a dibbun. But hard working... He indeed had his ulterior motives. He just never said why. Jaden quietly hoped that the Abbot wouldn't intrude into his "ethics", question his systems - if the word would be anything near to what was the truth.

"The most sought-after curiosity is: Why. Why, Jaden, this fox from the Northlands, this black-furred fox is like this; and what keeps him ticking. What drives him on."

Jaden stared at his pie intently. He checked his senses as to not be so nervous. But was he? His heart was pounding, and he tried swallowing the knot of guilt in his throat. Oh - if only I could be that honest with the Abbot!

The Abbot looked over to him and frowned. "Why the glum look my friend?" He adjusted his position to face him, and gestured openly with his hands. "Tell me, Brother Jaden. Something has been troubling you - I have sensed it ever since I have gotten to know your true self… but I have never had the audacity to break your own sense of peace and ask you about it, in fear of provoking you to your common quietness. But it troubles me so! It troubles me that you are burdened - and I must, as an Abbot and Brother of Redwall, must ask you what troubles you. And if you do not answer Jaden… then I fear I will have failed as an Abbot of Redwall."

Jaden continued looking at his plate and pie. He shuffled the remains of it with the fork. He began mumbling and quickly picked up voice. "You are a fine Abbot, Father. You-"

"Karuseth." He smiled, the skin on his nose crinkling. "You have my permission to use my name this once, my friend."

"Abbot… Karuseth. You are more sensible than all the Abbey beasts combined. You have a heart of gold..." The mice. The faces of the dead mice, pinned to the wood side of their house, flashed through his head, the arrows sticking out of their chests. He grimaced at the thought and ceased talking altogether.

Abbot Karuseth sighed. "What is it? Tell me? Tell me, my friend, what bothers you so!" The Abbot let the question sink in for a second. "Have I not entrusted your secrets and never revealed them to anyone? Have I not? And have I not been such a friend as to let you in this Abbey, and Mossflower?"

Jaden took heart to the Abbot's kind and fatherly tone. In all their conversations he had never revealed what his job was nor what he has done. No specifics. Only, that he was a ranger and advisor to the King of the Northlands. To that the Abbot had replied that this was a perfect job and so much so because he, Jaden, was discerning. Discerning, yes, but not to simply advise with wisdom. Wisdom had little to do with his position. He advised the King to which subjects or hordesmen would best be eliminated for the political causes of the King among His own. Had, is the better word, though. He had begun to seek assignments that were far reaching and kept him the longest and farthest away from the clutches of the Northern Hellsman. Check up on the deep regions of Mossflower; keep tabs with those reptilian-folk in the southerlands. The Northern Hellsman are, in their words, the bane of Mossflower itself, and, as Jaden kindly suggested to the King, felt much obliged to keep the King's arm intact even while blindly underneath the Mossflower beasts. To which he somehow, for some reason, backed off when the Mossflower beasts beat them back – possibly supposedly, though, Jaden suspected. The King wasn't stupid enough to blindly rush into things and not wait. With the King's selective hand, the King has played his legions of hordes to taking over all of the Northlands (of course) and at the same time balanced out the favor of his men to his loyalty. Jaden has risked himself more and more as he stayed longer away from the King's throne. One of these days he may catch his presence to the woodlanders. Unlikely, but there is the possibility.

Jaden sighed bitterly and replied to the Abbot after an awkward moment of silence. Firm, and resolved: "I'm leaving tonight. At midnight. East gate."

The Abbot did not respond immediately. His gaze remained unfocused and off-handish. After the longest moment he sighed, and spoke; his tone marked defeat. "The guards will be changing shift at the fourth watch." He commented off handedly, "You know that.."

Jaden fussed with the remains of the pie for a moment, and then got up and left. The Abbot remained looking at the ground, a forlorn look on his face.

He sighed and shook his head. "Jaden… Jaden… What troubles you my friend? Why this guilt?"

Jaden paused suddenly – the Abbot knew! He knew that he was guilty, that he felt guilty… but how?

The Abbot is too wise for his own good.

The least, though, he didn't know why he felt guilty – and Jaden rested with that fact. Pushing the matter out of his mind, continued on.

With Midnight approaching Jaden had packed his few belongings that he dared take into the Abbey, and made his way to the east wallgate. Despite the creature comforts of the Abbot's word he still felt paranoid. Having to watch one's own back for so many seasons grow on you. Yes, a good story to tell, Jaden had agreed with the few friends he made – but it is lonely. Very lonely. Boring, at times.

The gate opened so smoothly as it had so many times before, and with one last look at the beloved Abbey, he departed.

"Helwwodvmminnnny!"

Jaden turned around, bug-eyed to see a dibbun right behind his steps. It was the badger child, spawn of the Badger Lord of Sala. His father had left him in the care of the Abbey Elders, while he chose to stay at Sala for whatever reason beyond Jaden. Jaden could care less, though. Better a big, stupid badger far away than here.

There could only be one reason why this badger babe followed Jaden. The Abbey keepers. Must've escaped their watchful eyes.

Hah. Figures!

But the child - the badger child had taken a slight interest in the vermin Jaden over the different times he had visited. Why is the vermin in Mossflower? Arn't all the verminys gone from Mossflower? Why daddy? Jaden figured that that was what he asked his father. Who wouldn't? Here he was, a vermin in Mossflower. Curiosity probably is what made the badger child follow Jaden around, to Jaden's horror - he could only imagine the horrific bloodwrath bellowing in the badger lord's eyes when he sees his son playing with Jaden. Or, better said, Jaden with his son. He had gotten a stern warning from the badger Lord the day he tried visiting the hares and such.

Jaden sighed and reopened the gate. The gate didn't close properly. "Here little 'un. Go back inside to your home."

The badger child looked up with sparkling eyes. He just looked. He didn't speak much because of his age. He was very, very young.

But the look was unnerving. Beady-eyed badger babe staring up at a foxxyveriminy.

Jaden frowned. He was about to pick up the babe when a scurrying mousemaid rambled over.

"Come 'ere ya little rascal! 'Tis dark 'n lonely out 'ere in these parts!"

When the mousemaid opened the gate, Jaden was gone. The badgerbabe was sitting alone on the forest floor. "Silly Mace – gerrova 'ere!."

The night air was thick and cool with humidity as he trudged on through the woodlands. He stayed off the main path as he went northward in habit. He quickly verred off to the right to find his buried gear.

A bow, a quiver; daggers, darts, and herbs – simply, the weapons of an assassin. They felt rather heavy tonight, strangely so more heavy than usual. Oddly enough more heavy than the inquiries of the Abbot. But these weapons were in fact the ones that had killed, and most respectfully that family of mice he had killed. The, innocent field mice – the children. All of them, dead.

That was then, though. That was my job. This is now.

The reply came stagnant, cynical, a voice he recognized clearly: Now is the past put into play in the future. Besides – need I remind you you are still under the shadow of the King?

Yes. True, father.

Father… Jaden had many of these conversations with memory of his father. Guessing what he would say – if he was still alive, perchance; and had a decent head on his shoulders.

The moonlight shown through the heavy foliage of the trees, casting shadows over the various forest-wastes of the floor. A wet earthy smell wafted to his nose continually as result of the humidity lifting unearthed scents through the air from the warmth of the day. These both added to the stark, natural, beauty of the moonlight night, and to that deep surging feeling of loneliness that always surfaced when he didn't have to mask face. Northwards he was bound to the Northern Mossflower Camp of the Northern Hellsman. Their name should actually be Southern Camp of the Northern Hellsman, because it was the most south that any vermin clan or horde dared to go. But it was close to the Northlands, and the name thus sufficed.

Jaden sighed. As much as he loved to be free to his granted assignments fed straight from the King, he hated it. He hated every moment of it. Every waking, breathing, walking, roaming moment of it. He had traveled probably farther than any vermin horde or individual has gone within the past ten years - ten years of the Mossflower Peace, where no vermin has bothered the insolent woodlanders. To this, his pride in sense of exploration and shame of his roots hung overhead like the forest canopy. Though he could move freely about for the most part, he was still vermin.

Jaden cleared his head by breathing in deeply. He threw his hood up over his head. He wouldn't normally do this if it was the daytime, for fear of depriving his instincts - he had a sharp peripheral as it had so often come in handy many a time, and thus trained himself keep an awareness out for it.

My life is a periphrial of those woodlanders. If it wasn' for me…

His thoughts eventually drifted back to Mossflower. He smirked. Woodlanders. If only they would write their ideals and visions on parchment and shove it down their clammy throats. They are so quick to act on emotion and are easily persuaded by word - it's a wonder I survive here. And it's a wonder they don't wander northwards in lieu of it all for want of obliterating all of vermin-kind.

Fancy that happening. That would be the day…

But they won't, Jaden reminded himself. They don't want to risk the disturbance of their peace. That they had fought for. That you have helped them fight for, Jaden reminded himself. He had fed the Redwall Elders priceless information about the Hellsman and their positions. Battle tactics; points of interest; what they look for as weaknesses and their own as result. If it wasn't for Jaden they would still be combing the woods for vermin and wasting their time as they had done for the longest.

Jaden stopped suddenly. He noticed the large, burly oak tree - very unique and a perfect road-marker. He then remembered why it had washed everything out of his mind - he had deemed it halfway to Redwall. Halfway from the River Moss. Jaden frowned, but continued. He hadn't realized he had gone that far.

Jaden chuckled to himself. Time flies when you go solo.

Ahh, yes. Too bad there aren't any defunt cohorts of mine to keep me company.

A traveling companion - that's what he needed. Someone to train. And talk to. He hadn't traveled with anyone for the past five seasons. He got so accustomed to it from the Northern Mossflower Camp that he felt deprived of some deep, inner need for sustenance of his existence. He didn't realize that he involuntarily had timed the length of conversations when rambling with the hordesmembers.

Neh, useless anyway.

He smirked. He felt alone enough not to be heard – but bit his tounge on whim of speaking aloud. He huffed and flipped down his hood for added sense of security. Though he didn't really need it, since Mossflower was vermin-free (except for his hide of course, at the least he hoped). Mebbe he'll run into some crazy fox-hating squirrel that had a friend killed... Again. And thus take out its nutty revenge - in an illogical way - just to sooth its troubled soul.

Fool squirrel. So you want to be dead, too?

The question felt bitterly cynical, so much so that he caught himself up short.

Dare I even think that way?

Jaden shook his head. Woodlanders. Glad I'm not one of them.

Something in the back of his mind answered back. Glad your not the mice you killed? How would you like it if you were slayed helplessly?

Jaden narrowed his eyes despite the moonlighted forest. He shoved the thought out of his mind again - but to no avail.

Go away! I killed. I did what I was trained to do. A vermin. ...Guilt. It flooded through him. He shuddered and shrugged his shoulders.

That was past, you old fool of a father!

The voice replied. You could have run off. You could have joined the Redwallers permenently that second time you visited them.

Jaden acknowledged that point. Yes, but I can't leave. I have my priorities.

Yes, you do. Saving your own skin?

Jaden sighed bitterly. The Abbot doesn't need to know. He knows enough already.

One can never know enough. His time is soon - he even has told you that!

Jaden shook his head to himself. No. Let him die in peace.

Peace? What do you know about peace

The mice. The arrows protruding. Jaden recalled the night in a flurry of memory.

The feel of the bowstring was tight that night. Newly waxed, and the feathers of the arrow new – exactly how he liked it. Weather, perfect; no crossbreeze, no humidity to mess with the wood or string of the bow. Perfect for killing conditions.

Yes – you killed and you will kill again!

Jaden stopped walking suddenly and grabbed the tufts of his hair violently. Get out of my head!

A moment passed as he stood there shutting his eyes tight. The thoughts slipped from his mind; he sighed in relief and bit his lip. He quickly stopped the act and looked around.

Wouldn't that be embarrasing if -

A twig snapped suddenly down the road. He ducked and pressed himself up against the nearest tree with little sound. A rustling of leaves under foosteps came closer and stopped. Jaden dared to venture a look around the side of the tree trunk, but was met with a voice – not his father's, thankfully. But vaguely touching upon distant chords of his memory:

"No use hidin' there. I heard ya speakin' to someone, aye."

Husky voice. Probably an otter.

"-But there ain't no one around 'ere. Whatchya doin', goin' insane?"

Jaden thought the same thing, but pushed it out of his mind. Insane. Hah. He placed himself in the creamy moonlight, streaming through the oak – casually brushing off his cloak, as if nothing had happened. He looked up at the source of the voice. A little high, though: A squirrel.

A squirrel?

Jaden tensed as he noticed those eyes - he recalled those sharp, emerald eyes, sharp and sparkling with an inner strength that looked to so often betray benevolence.

That can be broken, a voice chimed. Jaden couldn't discern if it was his father's, or instinct.. Merely a woodlander.

- No. These eyes are familiar.

"Speak fox - are ye mute?"

Commanding tone. Jaden frowned and said, "No sir. I am not." He always tried to keep his temper down in all situations as to not conclude anybeasts' doubts about him. "I was just going for a stroll in the-"

"I know that. Ye've slipped out of Redwall 'bout two hours ago. Ye've been keepin' off trail... probably to dissuade beasts like me."

Then why did the idiot decide to stop stalking and show himself?

Jaden blinked. "Well... I can never be too trusting of my woodlander counterparts, you know."

"Why?"

Direct. No half-perplex, cocked headed-expression.

"Well..." A brief pause. Jaden articulated carefully, with control. "I don't like to offend any-"

"Beasts... yes. Yes. I know, " the squirrel replied casually. "I know full well. I know that you work with a horde and you come down here. And ye play little games around here - Spy."

Those eyes! Jaden remembered them now. "I am no spy. What do you want with me?"

The squirrel grinned rather quickly. Noticed change in tone, that squirrel – perceptive fool. "I want your carcass as my new coat." The squirrel extended his footpaw and flexed his toes. "Fancy foxskin boots on these things 'ere, aye? Better'n wot I gots?"

Jaden narrowed his eyes. He slipped a poison dagger from its wrist-sleeve into his hand. Poisoned to sleep, though - he didn't want to deal with disposing of the corpse. But this squirrel provoked his temper and tempted him to use something more.

Wolfsbane. He thought.

Then he stopped midthought. - Did I just think that?

The squirrel glared at Jaden. He barked impatiently. "Speak fox. Ye can't be that dumb. Ye're quick on yore paws there." He drew a dirk from its sheath and growled. "But mebbe if I cut another earhole for ye ye'll hear me good an' well!"

Jaden bent his knees and made ready to move. "I don't want to hurt you sir, but if I have to-"

"My name isn't sir you moron!" He yelled. "Its Algornian you fat oaf! Don't you remember me? The one ye horde killed my brother! Now I'm gonna wet me blade with yore blood!"

The name rang many bells. Raventail, brother of Sarklo. Then the full memory of the occasion those seasons ago ran through his mind: Raventail had fought his way out violently. Jaden had the change to peg him through the heart when he was perched up in a tree as sniper, but couldn't do it. He had let the beast go.

Now he wished he had done it. Silly idealistically illogical fool of a revengeful vigilante. Anger forced its way up Jaden's throat and out his mouth.

"It wasn't me who killed your brother! That was Ragpaw! That big ugly stoat who carried that gold-hilted scimitar!"

But the squirrel didn't listen, though it was truth. Squirrel must be – hate-all type. No true sense of justice.

Conclusion: Woodlander.

Raventail lunged forward to deliver a stab with surprisingly fierce speed. Jaden was ready though. He jumped to the side and dealt a harsh blow with his elbow as the squirrel whirred by. The squirrel was hit on the temple as Jaden aimed it, and crumbled promptly to the ground.

Jaden withdrew the dagger and held it bladeside down in his right paw. "You done yet?"

The squirrel pulled a horrible feint of knock-out and quickly scrambled to his footpaws and growled with a swipe. "No!"

Jaden thought he could back away in time but didn't, to his own annoyance. Should've noticed that move… The blade sliced across his stomach and across his arm - not going deep, though. His cloak and vest took some of the damage, but not all of it to array blade from flesh. Jaden retorted by grabbing the squirrel's arm as it passed by, and tightly forcing his claws down on his forarm, rendered him helpless for a moment. Jaden kicked the back of his knee forcefully with a footpaw and pulled the squirrel backwards by forcing his arm to the squirrel's chest. Jaden ran his foot in front of one of the squirrel's as to provide leverage. The squirrel then fell backwards with his footpaws tucked behind his buttocks. The squirrel shrieked in pain.

Jaden held the dagger to the squirrel's neck. "Get out of my sight, woodlander! It's because of your types I have to keep myself off these trails and watch my back all the time!"

The squirrel cringed and summoned courage: he spat in his face and yelled in defiance. "Beast! Vermin! I'm gonna kill you-"

The squirrel began to struggle. Jaden thrust the dagger deep into his leg and withdrew altogether promptly with his dagger in hand. He backed off a good length from the beast.

Jaden quickly felt and looked at his stomach. He was cut, but it wasn't deep. The edge of the squirrel's dirk grazed it but got his arm more. Nothing a handy poultice and dock leaf wouldn't fix, though. He looked up when the squirrel yelled and scrambled to his feet.

"Redwaaaaaallllllll!"

He was charged again by the injured squirrel. The squirrel made the mistake of charging headlong with his weight thrown forwards, and thus allowed Jaden to sidestep any deadly counter-maneuvers – to his perception in the moonlight, though. The squirrel swung prematurely and clipped his cloak.

Too close for comfort...!

Jaden gaved the squirrel a snap-kick to the back of his knee as he passed. The squirrel dropped to the ground promptly with a resounding crack! He yelled in pain.

"I'll kill you! I'm gonna kill you, you vermin!"

Jaden watched the squirrel as he struggled to get up. He collapsed instantly when he tried to use the broken knee. "Erg!"

Jaden sheathed his dagger, stealing a glance behind him. The woods thinned out along the grasslands and opened up to the path. He mentally planned this course of escape and turned back to the squirrel.

"Are you done yet?" Jaden yelled. "Are you done? Do you want me to kill you! Do you want me to finish what I've started?"

The squirrel continued to struggle at uprighting himself. Ignorant even in the face of death! He only made advances at a pitiful rate: upright on good knee, stumble foward, fall to ground; repeat. "I'll die before I'll let you escape!"

Jaden grunted. The moonlight shown on the squirrel's fearsome expression. His brows were ridged into his forehead deeply, and his face contorted with pain and anger, a wash of dark crevices on the wrinkly, angular face. His eyes were bright and alive with deep hatred. He stumbled forward again and fell forward. He didn't move. The poison had finally worked.

Jaden unsheathed his blade while keeping an eye on the squirrel. He approached him carefully. He stopped suddenly as the squirrel produced a groan, but a movement did not accompany the noise. Jaden breached the rest of the distance after a tense moment and wiped his dagger on the squirrel's tunic. The simple-designed blade was then sheathed.

Jaden flipped the squirrel's body over to see what exactly he had done. From what he could tell with the moonlight, it had gone deeper than he had expected. It was caked with dirt and dust, and possibly had remanents of the poison from his blade. The squirrel's face was drained of color, and beneath the dark fur of the squirrel shown a lack of normal color to the skin. A grotesque sight indeed.

Pale. Jaden cursed loudly as he realized he put a lot of poison on the blade. He forgot to place the poison on the edge instead of half of the blade!

Well, fool deserves it – asking for it!

The squirrel's eyes remained closed. He checked them. The once stark, bright brown eyes were glossy and back in his head. While some dark recess of Jaden hoped that it had been too much, the rest hoped for the opposite. If he did die - he didn't know what he would do. Burying a carcass so near Redwall when who knows who could have seen him dart out of the courtyard? No, it wasn't a matter of doubting the trustful word of the Abbot – the Abbot was wrong sometimes in his speculations of that sort, and Jaden was paranoid anyway. He checked the pulse of the squirrel and was relieved that the squirrel's heart was still beating.

He was about to leave when something tugged at him - not physically, but conscientiously. He bit his lower lip, looking at the wounded squirrel. Blood shown out of the wound in his leg; his leg was twisted from the knee; and his whole body was slumped in an unusual position. He was quickly swept with pity for the beast, and as result went to work: he cleaned and dressed the wounds of the squirrel from his own haversack. A make-shift splint was made for his knee. After finishing his work, he leaned the squirrel neatly up against the nearest tree to the road, and tended to himself. He almost forgot his own wounds. Then he stole off into the cryptic night. Jaden wasn't sure what possessed him to act that way – it almost frightened himself.

Something inside of him provoked him to begin to run. And so he ran. He ran hard, as hard as his toned tod legs could pump out. The cool night air felt refreshing to his face and awakened his sharp senses. He ran until he could run no longer, and panting heavily, his pace slackened to a jog.

Why are you running, Jaden Rath d'Ajenhia?

The question repeated in his mind over and over as he continued jogging through the night. He indeed knew why, but didn't respond. It was obvious to himself. The guilt of the murder of the mice drove him on. And – a sort of home sickness for what he had never had. Acceptance, and with that, a home with real people. Not this Abbey.

He had asked himself the question for many months, trying to push away the guilt and remorse by enveloping himself in Abbey and horde life – of a deeper issue equally troublesome, on different levels, than slaying innocent mice. Neither horde nor Abbey brought permanent relief, so he chose his assignments to go solo - hunt alone as an assassin. Before he had been a sharpshooter with his bow, and worked partly as an assassin behind everyone's backs for the horde for the King himself - but he sought the wild. It only left him to silence with his own thoughts. Each death brought down by his own horde kept driving the empty hole wider, and deeper in him. It was until the mice that something just went snap! It was as if someone had smacked a two-by-four in him.

When I get back to the Abbey again... Gonna do something different. Not sure what but something.

He slackened his pace to walking He became exhausted as the last bits of adrenaline drained from his system and from the running. At least this way, he reasoned with himself, he'll get to River Moss quickly. He sighed bitterly, nonetheless.


I wonder if that tavern upriver is still open… Pretty time to feel drunk.

The River Moss indeed came rather quickly to his speculations due to his haste. All the while he kept to the woods, to the right of the path, even as the sun started to creep up over the eastern horizon. Golden shafts splayed through the rich, mature growth of the Mossflower Woods, accompanied by the glorious display of violet and red across the morning sky. The early song of birds began abruptly as the morning dews began lifting from their nightly rest. This gave Jaden a serene sense of peace; but it was short lived. He was exhausted and had to sit down to rest.

Leaning up against a tree trunk, he breathed deeply in the moist morning air. A slight breeze stirred from the sun's expanding warmth and gently stirred his black fur. His eyelids seemed to take a life of their own; and before he knew it, he was fast asleep.