~Winter~

Verdauga's day began, as they all seemed to as of late, with a stab of pain in his hip strong enough to jolt him out of a sound sleep. Today the pain was far sharper than it had been in a long time, but the wildcat supposed it was only natural: they were a week past the winter solstice, after all.

That also means that it's only going to get worse. When the winter really began to bite, Verdauga knew, every day was going to be a torture just as they had been last winter, and like as not within a few weeks it would get to the point that he wouldn't even be able to walk anymore.

Wincing as he forced himself to sit up, Verdauga turned and looked out his window. A light covering of snow had fallen over the night, just enough to bury the very top of the castle's masonry in a thin, white blanket. The view from his window was pleasant enough, almost to the point that it distracted him from that blasted hip of his.

I wonder what's going on down in the yard. Normally, early snowfalls like these meant that several of the young and newly enlisted creatures in the army would set up snow forts and wage war on each other, often with Martin and Gingivere taking one side or the other. Perhaps that was what was going on now?

Moved by his curiosity Verdauga decided to chance standing up, and he grabbed his cane before gingerly placing one paw on the floor. His bad hip twinged in protest, but besides that he was fine, so the old wildcat decided to test out his other paw. That went less well and the second his paw hit the ground Verdauga felt as though somebeast had smashed his hip with a hammer, but he forced himself to grit his teeth and bear it. I've sat in bed enough.

Determined not to let the pain stop him Verdauga hobbled over to the window and opened it, the exertion tiring him far more than he would like. Gazing out into the chilly morning he saw that a number of soldiers had indeed begun the traditional snow battle, although neither of his sons had joined them. Perhaps they're getting too old for it? That was always strange to think about, the fact that his sons were getting older, inevitable as it was. Come to think of it, I'm getting rather old myself, as this damned leg of mine can attest. Maybe if I lean against the windowsill it will stop shaking.

It did help, somewhat, but at the same time his paws on the window began to ache as well from the cold. I just can't win, can I? Either my leg nearly collapses, or my fingers grow stiff as sticks. Watching all the younger creatures below, Verdauga felt a stab of jealousy: they could still run around and hold the snow with ease, while he could barely move.

Suddenly he was sick of the view and of the cold. Sighing, Verdauga stiffly closed the window and began to limp over to his great chair. Collapsing into it he rubbed his hip, grumbling under his breath in irritation.

Soon, he heard a knock on the door. "Hello? It's Gonff. I've brought your breakfast."

Verdauga realized he was still wearing his bedsheet – not exactly fit attire to be greeted by the cook with. At the same time, he realized that he didn't really care. "Enter."

Gonff came in with a mixed plate of salted beef and fruits, and stopped upon noticing the wildcat's state of undress. "Should I, um, come back later?" He was blushing. "Once you're, well…"

"Dressed?" Verdauga shook his head. "If you wait until then you'll be waiting until lunch. I'll take my breakfast as I am now."

Gonff opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and instead delivered the food before immediately turning away. "Well, I suppose it could be worse."

"Hmm?"

"Could have caught you wearing even less, now couldn't I?" Gonff turned back to Verdauga. "You don't ever…"

"No." Verdauga glared back at the mouse. "And I would ask you to not be so impudent around me."

"Right, sorry about that, my lord. I keep forgetting you like us to – I mean, that I need to 'observe certain courtesies around you', as Martin says."

"Do you talk to him that way?"

Gonff smiled rather cheekily. "At times. When he's getting a bit high on himself." Gonff gave a little cough and straightened up. "But he's not you. I promise I'll remember that in the future. Is there, ah, anything else you need?"

"No. That is all."

"Alright, I'll, uh, see myself out then."

Verdauga watched the young mouse leave, feeling slightly guilty, and turned to the fireplace as though expecting to see a roaring fire. Unfortunately, it was completely dead, without even the slightest ember.

"Gonff?"

"Yeah? I mean, um, yes, my lord? What do you need?"

"Two things: the first, I need to say I'm sorry. I told you to hold your tongue, yet I wasn't exactly doing the same. It's this weather getting me all testy."

"I'm sorry about that. My lord." That Gonff was unsure where this was going was plain to hear. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Could you get me some firewood? Getting a blaze going would really help."

"That an order, I take it?"

"A request, as I imagine you've got other duties."

Gonff waved a paw. "Nothing too important. Detta's got the other cooks doing all the food for the army, so it's not really any trouble at all."

"I'm glad. Thank you in advance."

Gonff left, leaving Verdauga alone with nothing but his thoughts and his pains. If only this had healed properly…

But then, he supposed that he had nobeast to blame for that but himself. I pushed myself too hard that autumn, no mistake. I wasn't in near good enough a state to walk around as much as I tried to, particularly that big feast we held. It had seemed the best thing at the time, in order to restore a sense of normalcy to his life, but in hindsight the idea that he was able to resume anything close to regular activity had been pure arrogance. And now, it's too late for me to do anything about it. These aches and jolts will be with me until the end of my days. Although THAT'S like to come earlier than expected.

He hoped that, whenever the time came, Martin and Gingivere would be able to carry on. They'll still have each other, I suppose, and Sandingomm. And Gonff, mouthy as he gets sometimes. Say, where IS that mouse anyways? He's been gone a fair bit.

As though summoned by his thoughts, soon Verdauga heard somebeast knock on his door again. "Hell-my lord? It's…Gonff…again. I…brought a couple…of logs. Oh, and the…flint, too."

"Thank you."

Gonff opened the door, huffing and puffing. "If I…may speak…openly, it's a…lot harder…to come up with logs than with…food." He dropped the logs in the fireplace with a grunt, and soon enough a fire was blazing merrily.

Verdauga leaned forwards and held his paws to the fire, feeling the heat seep into his bones and push back the pain somewhat. "Ahhhh. Just what I needed." He looked at Gonff again, smiling at the mouse. "Go back to the kitchen and tell them you need a flagon of wine."

"For breakfast?"

"For a reward and an apology for taking my temper out on you. Take whatever kind you like best."

"Oh, I will, my lord. Gonff gave a deep bow and started off, practically skipping.

Verdauga watched him go and turned back to the fireplace, feeling strangely tired. Perhaps I'll rest my eyes for a bit.

Soon, the silence disturbed only by muffle shouts from below and the crackling fire, he fell asleep.

Verdauga stood on the highest tower of Kotir, gazing out at the land below, strong and young again. He looked out into the distance; all was peaceful, the land bearing none of the scars Tsarmina's fires had left, instead being covered in spiked grasses mixed with red and yellow flowers.

A drifting breeze drew his attention westwards towards the mountains, and Verdauga saw Salamandastron, standing strong and hearty. As he looked, though, Verdauga seemed to see darkness writhing and stirring from below, as though welling up from the very depths of the earth.

And then he looked north, and saw fire. He worried that it would spread down into the south and consume Mossflower, and while the flames themselves remained in the distance the smoke billowed closer and closer until it swept over the grassland before dissipating into nothingness.

No. Not entirely. Upon closer inspection some smoke lingered, clenched tight around one of the flowers like a great, dark paw. Verdauga looked harder, hoping to discern some meaning, but has he looked the ground became blurrier and blurrier until he could see nothing but a great streak.

So he gave up and looked eastward. There, too, something was gathering: a great, shivering mass, one second yellow and the next second darkest violet, sweeping over a great building of sand.

Verdauga awoke, wondering what it all meant. If it means anything at all.

Yet another knock on the door interrupted his musings. "Father? It's Gingivere. May I come in?"

"Certainly." The door opened and his son stepped in, looking nervous. "Is everything alright?"

Gingivere slid across the room and dropped into one of the chairs opposite Verdauga's. "Yes, I was just…just worried about you. I saw the snow this morning, and I know how much you start hurting when it gets like this. And it's been a while since you came to one of the Corim meetings, so I thought it was best to check on you." Gingivere motioned down at his father's leg. "Does the fire help?"

"Somewhat. It still hurts, though, but I'll manage."

The two of them lapsed into silence as Verdauga studied his elder son. Nearly a man grown, and he's still such a skinny thing. Perhaps I should have insisted harder that he pick up a sword every once in a while, instead of a book. Then again, the Lord of Mossflower would need to be well-read and educated in a variety of things, and it wasn't as though there seemed to be any present need for Gingivere to become a warrior.

Although…

"Gingivere? May I ask you something?"

"What is it, father?"

"Have you ever read anything about prophecies in your books?"

"A little. Why? I always assumed that prophecies were nothing but a bunch of speculation."

"Not all of them. The Badger Lords of Salamandastron occasionally enter into trances and carve images of the future into the mountain itself. They always come true, Bella once told me."

Gingivere frowned. "Did you enter into some sort of trance, then?"

"No. A dream." Verdauga told Gingivere about it all, from the flowers to the writhing mass, wondering if his son would have any idea what it meant.

When Verdauga was finished speaking Gingivere put a paw to his chin and thought. "Well, it's certainly…interesting. I'd wager that the smoke and that weird yellow-purple thing have to do with invasions of some sort. Have you been worrying about that lately?"

"I'm the Lord of Mossflower. I always worry about invasion from somewhere." Perhaps that's all it is. "But then, what of the flowers?"

"Those, I have no idea about. Maybe there's going to be a caravan of florists coming?"

Verdauga snorted. "In the middle of the winter? I highly doubt it."

"Then you've got me. Of course, my guess is that your dream was only a dream, father."

"You're probably right."

Gingivere gave his father another look before getting up and excusing himself.

Verdauga leaned back in his chair. 'Only a dream?' Then why did it feel important?

~Spring~

Spring was always an interesting time to live in Mossflower – it was a time of planting the seeds for the harvest and of hoping for the rains that would nourish them, while at the same time hoping that the rains wouldn't be so fierce as to kill all the plants and hoping that you didn't overburden the soil or put the seeds in wrong. It was a delicate balance, particularly when you still had to pay the taxes to Kotir.

It was a balance that Gonff had typically tried to cheat one way or another, doing what he could to hide a bit here and there from what he'd always considered the thieving hordes out of the castle while still giving enough to throw them off the scent. This spring, though, the prospect of doing that felt wrong; probably because all the particularly horrible bastards that had previously tormented everybeast had long sense been hanged or beheaded, leaving the Thousand-Eye army made up mostly of those creatures that actually believed in fulfilling their duties as protectors of the region.

That, and he'd discovered (thanks to a law passed by Gingivere, if he recalled the explanation correctly) another, entirely legal way of keeping more of the food his family grew in the family stores: the wonderful world of tax deductions.

It was this new program that they'd started called 'levy by work', in which those with families could volunteer for a spot doing some form of labor in exchange for a reduction in the amount of food that their kin would have to yield up to the Thousand-Eye army. Mostly it was along the lines of construction or cleaning, but there was one highly-sought after position in the castle kitchens. For most creatures, getting that position would require a great deal of luck.

Of course, most creatures weren't exactly the best friend of one Martin Greeneyes, second in line to rule Mossflower. One quick invitation to dinner later, and Gonff managed to lure Martin and Gingivere down to the Stickle household. One serving of Crispy Cheese 'n' Onion Hogbake after that, and the position was a lock. Sure, he felt a little bad for cheating the system like that, but what could he do? The Stickles still had four little ones. And besides – he'd take pounding bread over building a road or being back in the fields any day.

That fact was one that he was reminded of one morning when, during breakfast preparation, the blue skies abruptly turned dark purple and began to dump buckets of rain on everybeast unfortunate enough to get caught outside. Gonff looked up from the seeds he was grinding up just long enough to notice that the view outside the window had turned into what he imagined the backside of a waterfall looked like, wincing.

"By the fur, I'd hate to be the poor sods out in town."

"Aye." A young squirrel named Peony shuddered. She'd been in Mossflower only a few weeks, having been plucked from the camp of some bandits that had wandered a bit too close to the border, but Gonff felt she was adjusting to the kitchens well enough. "It's not healthy, getting caught out in that rain. Think they'll let everybeast stay inside?" She turned to Gonff and noticed the disbelieving look on his face. "What? It's a perfectly reasonable question to ask."

"Oh, right, you're new. That's…not always how things work around here." Although it had been as of late, at least more frequently. "Honestly it really depends on what sort of work we're talking about. Some of the extra things like the square and that inn Billum wants to get set up maybe, but I think that the really important ones like the road are going to keep going on rain or no rain."

"I'd say so." Detta sat down next to them, skinning a fish while they talked. "Though considering how hard it's going out there the farmers are probably going to get off easy. Doubt you can even dig a hole and put the seeds in fast enough before the water'd fill it to the brim. What do you think, Gonff? Think they'll let the fieldpaws stay in?"

"How should I know? I haven't worked out there in, what, a year? A bit more? I have no idea how they're running it now."

"Have any of the Greeneyes said anything about that?" She gave him a searching look. "You'd know better than most creatures."

"Why? It's not like I'm on the Corim."

"But aren't you pretty close to them?" Peony asked. "That's what everybeast says, at least."

Gonff set down the bowl of seeds and shrugged. "Depends on the Greeneyes. Martin? Aye, absolutely. Gingivere? Kind of, but not as much. Lord Verdauga himself? No more'n you two. And besides, it's not like government policy comes up all that much when I'm talking with them."

"Oh." Peony's ears drooped for a moment before perking back up. "But could you maybe find out? It'd be really helpful to know things before anybeast down in Moss Town does."

Gonff smiled. "You don't need me for that, matey. For some things it's easy enough to tell on your own?" The only response was a tilted head, so Gonff decided it would be fun to show off. Just a tad.

"Take the breakfast we're making. It's simple enough, right? Just a few fish and bits of other meat for the lords and your standard fare of bread for the army."

"Right…"

"Did you happen to look at the stuff they just brought down from the larder this morning? The stuff that we'll be using for the dinner?"

Peony looked over. "Let's see – there's a lot of greens, loads in fact, along with boxes of something I can't make out. I know the label's red, at least."

"That'd be the seasoning. Oregano and cumin, I'd bet. Right, Detta?"

"Right."

"Didn't know the castle had fancy seasoning like that."

"They don't drag it out much besides special occasions. So then here's the next question: what's the occasion?"

Peony thought about it. "Is it somebeast's birthday?" She began to pace. "Hmm…it wasn't Martin's, that was a couple weeks ago…and nobeast else was born around this time that I know of…so then, I guess I need to figure out who likes that sort of seasoning?" She looked back at Gonff and Detta. "Am I getting close?"

Gonff had to chuckle. "Kind of, but you're still missing the point; why would the Lord of Mossflower feel the need to bring out his most rarely-used things?"

"Because he wants to impress somebeast?"

"Righto. Any guess as to who, or how to figure that out?"

"Does it…does it have anything to do with where the food comes from?"

"Aye, although I'll admit I don't really know myself. Detta?"

"It's from far south of here. We get a caravan from Southsward every so often, and we buy the seasonings from them."

"So then are – are the guests from this Southsward place?"

Gonff snapped his fingers. "Exactly! Unless the rain stops 'em they'll be hear within a few hours."

Peony beamed at getting it right before bouncing off to continue working. After she was out of earshot Detta bent down next to Gonff.

"So, how much of that did you actually get from the food?"

"Nothing, to be honest. Martin's been going on about it for a good week." He shrugged. "Still, it's a useful skill to have, and giving new creatures like Peony over there a little confidence boost is never a bad thing. She's been here for how long, again? Two weeks?"

"Three."

"Really? It's been three weeks already? By the fur, time flies. No wonder the Thousand-Eyes finally shut up about it."

"Can you blame them for getting a bit excited? Most of them haven't had a proper battle in a long time. They've been stuck doing most of the construction around here."

"Better that than running off getting themselves killed." Especially now that Dinny's one of 'em. "That or sitting around here getting fat while the rest of us work."

"Shhh!" Peony had wandered back over just in time to hear the last bit, after which she gasped and immediately clamped a paw over Gonff's mouth. "What if they hear?"

"You think that's the worst thing I've said about the Thousand-Eyes?" Gonff had to snort. "That's not even in the top ten."

"But still! If somebeast hears you speaking like that they'll –"

"– huff and grumble and tell me to shut it. That's all." Gonff gave the squirrel his best reassuring smile. "Peony, I promise you that most of them aren't all that bad. Anybeast that was anything like those vermin you used to be with are long gone. Lord Verdauga gave them all the rope or the axe a while ago."

Peony didn't respond, instead looking to Detta for her opinion.

"He's right, Peony. Sure, some of the ones that come from elsewhere are a little rough around the edges, but they're basically good creatures. Certainly, they care a lot more about us smallfolk than they used to. Of course, if you were to go up to a Thousand-Eye and start swearing at them they'd probably give you a clout to the face, but you wouldn't exactly get thrown in the dungeon." Smirking, the stoat jerked a thumb back at Gonff. "Otherwise this one would over here would never see the light of day."

Gonff laughed. "I'll cop to that. Kid you not, I went after Martin with a sword once and all it got me was a night in the dungeon." They both gaped at him, which made Gonff laugh all the harder before continuing. "Granted there were other reasons for that, but still. Honestly, in my opinion giving a little cheek every now and then's a good thing. Stops the fancy clothing and weapons from getting to their heads."

Detta shook her head, amused. "You know, Gonff, I think you have way too much fun sometimes."

Gonff merely shrugged as a response before turning back to his work. She was right, he supposed; certainly Ben Stickle had taken him to task plenty of times as a child for his mouth and warned him of the consequences, but at the same time he just couldn't help himself. Whiskers were made to be pulled on, after all, and he liked to think that he knew where and when to draw the line. Sometimes. Occasionally.

And besides, considering that it was his mouth that had really gotten his friendship with Martin going, he was quite proud of it. After all, no friendship with Martin meant no being busted out of Kotir and probably no journey north, and had that not happened like as not Tsarmina would still be here along with all her flunkies. And if that were the case…

Now it was his turn to shudder. I'd probably be dead, to be honest. Dead, exiled, or rotting in a dungeon.

It was a strange thought, that: the fact that a chance run-in on an otherwise-unremarkable staircase had led to the complete upheaval of Mossflower. Had he decided to go on a different night, or taken a different route out of the castle, it was entirely possible that nothing would have ever changed.

"Gonff? Is something the matter?" Gonff blinked, noticing that Detta was staring at him with a confused look on her face.

"Nah, I'm fine. Just thinking about things from a couple years ago, is all. Nothing really important."

Shaking her head, Detta smiled. "Just don't think too hard, or we won't get everything we need done for today finished."

"Yes, ma'am!" Gonff threw her a mock salute and bent back over his task. Huh. Less than two years ago, Detta or somebeast like her would've actually meant it when they said 'don't think'. I guess things really HAVE changed.

Gonff turned back to his seeds, listening to the patter of the rainfall.

~Summer~

The forge is hot today, Bella thought, almost like father's just finished making something. But that was merely wishful thinking – the great billows were still and covered with a thin layer of dust, and nothing in the room had been used for anything save the occasional repair for roughly two years at this point. Almost exactly two years, considering that today was (at least she thought it was, if she was figuring correctly) the anniversary of her father's death. The day Boar the Fighter fought no more.

It was because of what day it was that Bella had come alone to the forge, enduring the heat that came not from a badger hard at work but from the summer sun beating down against the great mountain, because she wanted – no, needed – to be alone. Just her and her memories of her father.

The same father I killed with my own two paws. My greatest regret save maybe letting Sunflash wander off on his own.

But that was an old pain, and one that she would have plenty of time to think about later. Now was for memories of their time together, not how it had ended.

Bella looked up at the ceiling. It was dark and high, much as the ones in some of the larger rooms back at Brockhall. Particularly like the main hall, now that she thought about it.

As the old badger stood, thinking of the main hall of her former home and of all the meals she had eaten there, a memory from her childhood surfaced.

She had been little then, even younger than Sunflash had been when Swartt captured him, and small enough to still fit under the great table her family ate at. I used to pretend that the tablecloth was a giant tent, Bella remembered.

One day, on the particular day she was thinking of, she had retreated to her tent early on in the morning after spending the entire night awake for…some reason. Why was I up, again?

Bella shook her head. No matter. I guess it's not important. Regardless of the why of it, her sleeplessness had caused her to fall asleep under the table long enough for everybeast else to wake up, and she awoke to the sound of clinking plates as Boar ate his breakfast. Bella had tried to stretch the tiredness away, but somehow the movement had caused her paw to slam against her father's leg.

That had gotten quite the reaction out of the mighty badger. Boar had all but leapt a mile into the air, shouting as he went, and in the process somehow managed to upend the entire table with a massive crash. Too stunned by the rapid turn of events to respond, Bella had found herself caught red-pawed and unable to do anything more but blush up at her father.

Thankfully, Boar had taken the whole mishap with good humor. 'Well now,' he'd said as he smiled down at Bella, 'I thought maybe there was a spider, but it seems that there's only a little badger cub.' At that he'd picked her up and playfully ruffled her fur; Bella swore she could almost feel his mighty paw doing it now. 'But what's a badger cub doing under the table this early in the morning? Surely it's too early to be out on an adventure.'

Bella had grinned right back. 'It's never too early, father! Dragons and monsters don't wait until the afternoon, do they?'

Boar had laughed heartily. 'Is that what I am now? Was that tap I felt the blow of a club, meant to slay the great dragon Boar the Fighter?'

'No, I, uh, fell asleep.'

'Under the table? Did you not sleep well last night, my little one?'

'No, father. I dreamed of –'

"Mother?"

Now it was Bella's turn to jump in shock, although her reaction wasn't quite as impressive as her fathers, and when she turned it was only Sunflash.

Like she had all that time ago, Sunflash blushed. "Did I scare you, mother? I'm sorry if I did. I didn't mean to."

"Don't worry about it. I was remembering times long gone."

"Was it about grandfather?" Sunflash's features softened, making him look as gentle as Bella had ever seen him. "Today…today's the anniversary, isn't it?"

"It is."

"It's hard to think that it's been two years already." Her son let out a heavy sigh. "If only he were still here…"

Bella could see the sadness in Sunflash's eyes, the regret that he'd only been able to get to know his grandfather for perhaps a day before the old badger was snatched away from him. And it's all my fault. All my fault…

Still, that regret was hers and hers alone; she wouldn't burden her son with it, so instead Bella only replied "if only. But as I have said before, my father isn't, and all we can do is try and forge our own ways forward."

"I know, I know. It just would be nice to know if I'm doing everything right." Sunflash shook his head. "Sometimes I still worry I'm making a huge botch of everything, you know? Like that whole affair with Clogg a few years ago."

No, part of Bella's mind screamed, this is my father's day, don't make it all about you, but Bella took that part and squashed it. It was nothing more than the grief talking, and so it deserved nothing but to be ignored. "He would be very proud of you. One misstep, and one that was quickly corrected at that, doesn't wash away all the good you've done."

"I suppose…" Unable to look into his mother's eyes, Sunflash's gaze searched around the room until it landed on the great carvings of the Badger Lords past. "You know, I've still yet to carve something of my own on this wall."

"Be grateful for that, son – these carvings only come to a badger in the throes of Bloodwrath. That you've yet to carve one means that you've yet to fall victim to it."

Sunflash merely grunted before studying the carvings more closely. "These carvings – they all tell the future, no?"

"That's what the conventional wisdom is, at least. Why?"

"Because there's something strange." Sunflash pointed at one of the last carvings with his paw. "This one right here shows grandfather in a giant battle, see?"

"What of it? Boar fought a great many battles."

"I know, but how many of those had a six-clawed ferret in them?"

"Just the one." Bella thought she knew what her son was getting at, and it wasn't a surprise; from what she'd gleaned from talking with the Long Patrol officers, her father had almost seemed to be expecting his death when they marched out against Swartt. "Do you find it strange that he predicted his own passing?"

"No, not really. But what I do find strange is the carving directly after it."

"Why? Which one's that?"

"This one here. See what it shows?"

Bella looked over. "A wildcat and a mouse dueling? Father always assumed that it was the battle between Verdauga and Martin's father."

"But that doesn't make any sense It's too late."

"Oh?"

"Count how many carvings are after it."

Bella did. "There's one, two… only two." She blinked. What? But their duel was nearly twenty years ago. "That's odd." Why would there be so many carvings made over the course of such a short span of time, but only two in the years following it?

She posed the question to Sunflash, who closed his eyes and thought about it. "Perhaps grandfather was able to tame his Bloodwrath? That might explain why he was able to go so long without writing anything."

"Perhaps…" Bella studied the carvings more closely. "But that doesn't explain why a carving of an event that happened almost twenty years ago would succeed one that happened two years ago."

Bella heard a rush of air and some shuffling, and turned to see that Sunflash had stood up. "Is something the matter?" She asked him.

"I – I think I may have just realized something."

"What?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow. I don't want to darken this day even further." Sunflash knelt and gave his mother a hug. "I'm sorry that I hijacked your mourning, mother. It was selfish of me." And then he stood up before turning and leaving without another word.

Bella turned back to the strange carving, confused. What was THAT all about? Was I missing something? She began to think about it, pacing the room and looking at the other carvings and prophecies, trying to glean some clue.

It was the history of the mountain, its battles and feasts, good days and bad, and on any day but today Bella would have loved to just sit and study the stories of her forebearers and the other great Badger Lords.

I see the history, but all I'm finding is a bunch of old stories. Her gaze dropped to the last carving of Stonepaw, which showed his drowning during the fight against the wildcat Ungatt Trunn and the subsequent ascension of Lord Brocktree. I wonder if that's something all the Badger Lords do, record their own deaths. It was a disturbing thought, and the image of Sunflash one day recording his own demise made Bella shiver. To take her mind off it she turned to Brocktree's first carving, which showed the way in which he created the orchards and terraces that were still keeping the mountain fed in her time, and to the carving after it, which showed a battle against some searats. After that was another battle, and then another, and then after that was one showing Boar's arrival. There was something there, that was for sure, but what exactly it was Bella was unable to put her paw on it…

Oh. The realization came to her suddenly. They're all in order – each carving happened after the one before it, without exception. A tendril of ice snuck into her chest and clamped around it. And if we run with this assumption and look back at my father's carvings, then that means…

The meaning was as clear as day. Is this my fault, too? It was ridiculous to even consider to be sure, yet at the same time Bella couldn't help it – she'd tired to play a mother of sorts to all three of the Greeneyes children, after all, and if they came to blows what did that reflect but her own failings?

Was there something she could have done? Some words she could have said that could have stopped Tsarmina from turning into the monster she had? There must have been something, some way Bella could have gotten through to her. But what would that have been? What could I have done?

Looking back at the carving and thinking both of what it showed and of the creature that carved it was too much for Bella to stand. She got to her paws and stepped out of the forge, leaning against the wall before beginning to make the long journey back down the great staircase.

Carved at intervals on the staircase were a number of wide windows that looked out at the ocean, and on warm days like this it was customary to just let the wind from the sea blow in and cool the mountain. Normally Bella found the quiet whistle to be rather comforting, but today it seemed nothing but a rebuke.

Failure…failure…failure…

"SHUT UP!" Bella slammed a paw against the rocky mountainside, the action sending painful jolts up her right arm. This is the same arm that thrust that spear into my father's neck. A little pain was, truthfully, far less than she deserved.

Bella sobbed, not knowing whether it was for her father or any of her other failures, and then suddenly Sunflash stood above her.

The son hugged the mother tightly. "It's not your fault, mother." He whispered. "It's not your fault. Not at all."

~Autumn~

"So like I was saying, my lord, it's not right that Crich's property extends that close to the creek. My family's fished out of that bit for generations, and so if he were to build so closely we would be able to anymore."

Gingivere suppressed a yawn and resisted the urge to start fidgeting. Listening to the problems of the creatures that lived in Mossflower was important, after all, and by traveling out to the settlements and meeting them there he could show that the Greeneyes family truly did care about what went on beyond the walls of Kotir.

If only it didn't require passing judgement from atop a stump as impossibly uncomfortable as this one was. The blasted thing seemed to have little spikes in all the places to cause the most pain imaginable, to the point that Gingivere had nearly sworn a most unlordly string of curses upon sitting down on top of it.

As he surveyed the mixed assortment of Woodlanders gathered around him, Gingivere wondered which one of them had taken this particular tree for their fireplace. I hope you get PLENTY of warmth from it. That, or it's so wet that you can't use it until you all freeze.

Gingivere forced himself back to the matter at hand; it was a relatively simply property dispute, all things considered, and as such he hoped that he would be able to reach a judgement soon enough.

"How close, if I may ask?"

"So close that his fence would stop me fishing completely."

Gingivere turned away from the mouse and looked at the offending neighbor, a young weasel. "Is this the truth?"

"Aye, my lord. I need it that close, see, for the vegetable patches."

"Well, couldn't you just go without the fence?"

"Are you insane, mouse? Don't you know how many little ones would run in and out and steal everything? I'd be ruined!"

"Oh, come now – we're not a bunch of thieving vermin like most of you lot!"

"Most of my lot?! What do you mean by that?"

Gingivere cleared his throat as loudly as he could, trying to stop the argument before it got out of paw. "Both of you, hold your tongues. I agree that a fence is necessary –"

"So you're on my side, then? This mouse's got his tail in a twist over nothing?"

"I wasn't finished." Gingivere glared the weasel into silence before continuing. "However, I also agree that it is unfair that a mouse should be cut off from a creek his family has fished for some years. The mouse started to speak, but Gingivere cut him off with a raised paw. "Assuming, of course, that your family truly has."

Scanning the crowd, Gingivere noticed an older mole. "You there. Ma'am."

"Υοu'm talking to oi, m'lord?"

"I am indeed. May I trouble you with a few questions?"

"Burr aye, m'lord. What'm yon be arsken?"

"First off, how long have you lived around here?"

"Oi whole life."

"Excellent. Have you been acquainted with this mouse's family for any of that time?"

"Burr aye. Oi've known 'em for years 'n years. Oi used ter 'ave Nick's nuncle 'round for tea."

"And have they fished in this creek all the time you've known them?" The mole nodded. "Alright, then. Thank you for your cooperation, ma'am."

Gingivere closed his eyes and considered everything. What to do, what to do… He tried to picture the little fishing structures that the otters had made up and down the River Moss, and in his head tried to adjust the picture a bit to account for the differing needs of a mouse. So then maybe if I set it there…no, the boundary of Crich's yard will be too small for HIS needs…unless…

"Crich, are you too far along in the process to move your land claim forwards a tad?"

"No, my lord, not at all." The weasel seemed confused. "Haven't even placed all the boundary stones.

Good, good. So then with that in mind, considering where the dirt path was…

Gingivere rose to his paws. "I have made my decision." He looked first at the mouse. "Goodman Nick, I recognize the claim that your family has to that stretch of the creek and confirm it – at least, I confirm a portion of it." Next, he turned to the weasel. "Specifically, I confirm ten paces by the stride of a weasel inwards. Crich, you are not to extend your property past that line. In exchange, you are free to extend the boundary of your property forwards towards the road. In this direction you can go no farther than eight paces by the stride of a weasel. Please set your boundary stones accordingly by dawn tomorrow, at which time they will be confirmed by a member of the Thousand-Eye Army." Finally, he turned back to the mouse. "In addition, keep in mind that now any damages to Crich's fence or property – that can be conclusively tied back to your fishing – will require compensation of some sort from you or your kin. Is this acceptable to the both of you?"

"Yes, my lord." They mouse and weasel answered in unison, carrying identical looks of mixed satisfaction and disappointment.

"Excellent. I hereby pronounce my judgement in the name of Lord Verdauga." He looked around. "Is there abybeast else that wishes to take a matter before me?"

Gingivere waited about half a minute before nodding. "Very well, then. I declare that this session is at an end."

At that the assorted creatures gathered began to gradually peel away, until there was nobeast left around the stump save Gingivere.

And one other, who somehow he'd failed to notice during the proceedings.

"Where you here the entire time?"

"More or less?" Sandingomm removed herself from the fencepost she'd been sitting on and made her way towards the other wildcat. "I was walking by about the time that those two voles started insulting each other and couldn't bring myself to leave." Her eyebrows raised in amusement. "I have to say, I can't say I've ever heard the phrase 'may the worms, cancer, and maggots penetrate your arse' before."

Gingivere laughed. "That was a new one to me as well. Honestly, I sent them away after that mostly because I didn't trust myself to keep myself from laughing much longer. Wouldn't exactly have been very lordly of me to lose it like an immature child in front of everybeast, now would it?"

"Oh, but it's lordly to lose it in front of a demure maiden like me?" Sandingomm pursed her lips in a mock pout. "I'm offended."

"Well, then, allow me to make it up to you by offering a walk through Mossflower this fine autumn day."

"Sure, I'll bite."

"Wonderful."

They were some way down the creek when Sandingomm broke the silence. "Mind if I ask something?"

"Ask away."

"What was all that 'paces by the stride of a weasel' talk about?"

"I couldn't have just said 'paces' and left it at that, could I? That would've just started a whole argument about whether I meant paces of a mouse or paces of a weasel or paces of a wildcat. And that would have been a whole other mess, which would have taken more time…"

"Which would have meant more time with you on that stump." Sandingomm smiled, sending little flutters down Gingivere's stomach. "Do you have to do something like that every time you set a boundary?"

"More or less. It's rather annoying, trust me. Especially when somebeast can't keep their paces even. One time last spring Martin got himself embroiled in a dispute that required one poor squirrel to walk the same ten paces a good fifteen times just to get an accurate measurement." Martin had gone on about that particular occasion for a solid week, and truth be told Gingivere swore that he still got a bit twitchy when he saw so much as the tail of a squirrel.

(The fact that following that occasion Gingivere had asked his brother to run a good number of errands for Amber and the other archer squirrels as a pure coincidence, of course)

"Why not just get one length and call it good? I think making these boundaries would be a lot easier if you had a standard measurement or something."

"Sandingomm, we need a standard everything. Standard measurements, standard weights, and especially standard laws." He sighed. "Someday I'll get the time to do that. I'll sit down and compile a list of all the unwritten rules and customs we have across the land, along with as many judgements and rulings as I can, and try to get a decent set of laws drawn up. No more verdicts based on the mood of the creature giving them, and no more arbitrary punishments or pardons. Each action will have solid, codified consequences that any creature can look at and have access to. That way we can – what?" He noticed that the other wildcat had begun snickering. "Did I say something funny."

She shook her head. "No, I was just thinking about how most creatures your age only go on about girls, fighting or food, and here you are talking about making a law code."

"Well excuse me for caring about a just rule."

Sandingomm raised her paws. "Hey, did I say it was a bad thing? It's not, and honestly, I love hearing you talk about it. I like seeing you get all passionate."

Gingivere had absolutely no idea how to respond to that beyond a simple, stuttered 'thanks'. Come on, you idiot, say something! For the love of all that is good don't just leave it at that, you'll look like the dumbest cat in the world.

Before he could think of anything, he noticed Martin running towards them, a sight that he thought both a blessing and a bit of a curse.

"Afternoon, Martin!" Sandingomm gave the mouse a quick hug. "I thought Gingivere said that you'd be in training the entire day?"

"I thought so, too." Martin gave her a smile before turning to his brother. "Whegg came to get me a little bit ago – apparently father wants to know where you are."

Gingivere frowned. "But I told him that I was going to be out meeting with the Woodlanders, didn't I? I said it when we had breakfast, I think."

"You did, I was there. I had to remind him of it during lunch too, now that I think about it."

How could he forget the same thing twice in one day? That's not like father at all. "Well, I'm all done with the meetings. Do you want to tell him that I'm going for a walk?"

Martin shook his head. "Actually, I think it's best that you come back to Kotir." He looked up at Sandingomm. "If that's fine by you?"

"Don't worry about it. Gingivere, we can keep walking another time." She bent down and gave his paw a little kiss. "And maybe by then you'll think of a response."

After Gingivere finished waving goodbye he turned back to his brother, and noticed that Martin was shaking a bit. "It's just a bit of memory loss, Martin. Maybe father was thinking about something else?"

"About what? Nothing's happened around here that he'd be occupied with. And it's not like this is the first time he's forgotten something this simple, is it?"

"He's…he's just getting old, that's all. Sometimes when creatures get old, they get forgetful. Doesn't mean we need to worry about it."

"Yet. Worry about it yet. I really don't like it, Gingivere. I mean, now it's just little things here and there, but what if it starts to get worse? What if one day he starts to forget the important things?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, father just needs a few reminders every now and again."

Not wanting to think about it any further, Gingivere and Martin walked back through the autumn afternoon.