~Winter~

The mice had made themselves a nice enough winter feast: roasted apples spiced with nutmeg surrounded some of the last bread from the year's harvest, and to wash it down there was a fine cask of cider obtained from a passing caravan, the smell making everybeast's mouth water.

A pity that the smell carried outside of their hut and right to the nose of a wildcat hungry and unscrupulous enough to take it as an invitation.

Tsarmina crept towards the hut as slowly as she could bear, not wanting to raise any sort of alarm and ruin everything, and after the longest few minutes in her life she arrived just outside the door.

For the first time in a long time, Tsarmina allowed herself to smile. My first meal in days.

Still, best not be too hasty. Perhaps there were only a few creatures inside, easy pickings, but perhaps there were many. Perhaps they were well-armed, perhaps not at all. I must know before I strike. I won't make that mistake again.

It had been hard going, at first; cut off from Kotir and its bountiful larder and without any simpletons to gather her food for her, Tsarmina had been forced to lower herself to the level of a common bandit. It had made her fur crawl at first, but Tsarmina soon found it was necessary.

That had been two years ago. Now, she took all she desired that she could get her paws on. The trick was to be careful, not bite off more than she could chew, and, most importantly, to keep moving lest she end up on the end of a rope. So, to make sure that this didn't happen, Tsarmina slowly peered up through the window.

A family of…mice. Mice. Dirty little mice, arrogant little mice who steal what by rights belongs to their betters. Tsarmina's smile turned into a savage grin: not only would she get to eat, but she would also get the chance to speed a few mice straight to the hellgates.

Tsarmina bashed the door open.

The father turned suddenly, unsure of what to do. "Can we help you, miss?"

Tsarmina just stood in the doorway, a chill wind at her back, leering savagely. Oh, you can help me, alright. You can help me better than you know…

The father motioned for the rest of the family to get behind him. "If it's a bit of food you want, I'm sorry but we – we don't really have much extra to spare. There's plenty of room by the fire, though." He raised his paws. "I don't want any trouble, now, but you're welcome to stay a bit and get warm."

Rather than answering him, Tsarmina lunged and grabbed the father before anybeast could react. As the rest of his family screamed, she lifted him into the air, paws clenched tight around his throat. "You don't want any trouble now, you said? Well, unfortunately for you, I do want trouble."

Paws struggling feebly against the wildcat's grip, the father struggled to breath. "P…please…w-w-we don't h…have anything…no…val-valuables…"

"Oh, mousey, you'd be dead even if you did." Tsarmina twisted her paws hard enough to snap the mouse's neck before flinging him to the ground in front of his wife. She began to scream, a single, unending noise so loud that Tsarmina was sure her ears were about to bleed. "Shut the fuck up, woman. Nobeast cares."

Tsarmina growled at the mouse, but instead of holding her tongue like a good little fool she kept screaming, so Tsarmina decided to shut her up personally. A few slashes to the face, and she fell nice and silent.

All that was left were three little ones, each too stunned to make so much as a peep. Tsarmina grabbed the oldest and threw her against the wall so hard that her head tilted downwards a good ninety degrees before grabbing another mouselet and slamming them against the floor, and then turned towards the last survivor as she flicked little bits of mouse off her paw. Ugh. Disgusting creatures inside AND out.

The attack had happened so fast that it hadn't even sunk in yet that the little mouse was the last living member of his family. When it finally did, the little mouse began to scream just as loudly as his mother had.

The sound of it made Tsarmina regret leaving him alive for even a moment. "Did you not hear what I told your mother? Shut. Up." Unless, of course, you want to wind up like them.

The mouse looked over at his murdered family. A second later his screams ended, although tears continued to drip silently down his face. "W…w…why?" He sniffled. "We said we'd give you food, so why did you…"

"You want to know why? Truly?" Tsarmina stabbed a fork into the bread, irritated at having to use something made for paws so much smaller than her own. "I suppose you could say it's because out there in the wide world it's kill or be killed, or because I've got a lot of pent up anger I need to work out." Tsarmina gave the bread another stab. "But neither of those would be accurate: Truth is, I killed everybeast here because, when you get down to it, I really hate mice."

She'd debated letting the little furball live as a warning to others in the area, but his sniveling and crying reminded her far too much of how Martin had acted whenever she'd bullied him as a child, so in the end Tsarmina decided that he needed to die as well.

Least I'll make it quick for you, I suppose. Tsarmina glanced around, her eyes settling on a fairly large and sharp knife. That'll do nicely, I suppose. In one fluid movement she grabbed it before hurling it at the mouse, who was still standing there bawling his eye out.

The knife landed point-in, right in the middle of the head of its' target. The mouse gave a start, shuddered, and toppled to the floor.

Tsarmina took another slice of the bread, surveying her handiwork. If only Martin would die as easily. It would mean no more scraping around like a common bandit, no more having to sleep in caves or shacks far beneath her station. A warm bed, a full belly, and all the creatures to command I could desire. And all I have to do is kill my so-called family.

She laughed over her food. Aye. Them and the entire army. Like there's any way I can do that.

Tsarmina's ears twitched as she heard something faint off in the distance. It was the sound of paws crunching up through the snow, getting closer and closer. Fuck. Was there some other mouse in the family I didn't know about. Tsarmina's grip on her knife tightened. Well, if there was, I'll deal with them one way or another.

It was not a mouse who came through the doorway, but a rat. He took one look at her before raising his spear. "I wouldn't get any funny ideas with that knife, cat. So drop it, before I decide to give you a poke."

There would have been a time when Tsarmina would have attacked any creature that dared speak to her like that, but that time was long past. So, swallowing her pride, she dropped the knife. "Satisfied?"

"For the moment." The rat studied the scene. "This all your doing?"

"Yes."

The rat nodded before turning his head a fraction. "OI, AGGAL! COME OVER HERE! FOUND SOMETHING INTERESTING!"

Soon a massive stoat appeared, who also brandished a spear at her. "Well, well, well? What have we here?"

"A mighty fine fighter, by the looks of it. Killed an entire family without getting so much as a scratch."

Aggal snorted. "Killing three children and their parents doesn't make a 'mighty fine fighter', idiot. Look at her – completely unarmed."

"Still, I think Swartt'll want to see her."

Swartt? Tsarmina thought that name sounded familiar for some reason. Some name I overheard in the dungeon, maybe.

Paws bound Tsarmina was soon being paraded through a medium-sized horde of bandits, choking on the indignity all the while, until her captors came to a stop in front of another ferret. This one was leaner but just as muscled as Aggal, and possessed some of the hardest, cruelest eyes Tsarmina had ever seen on another creature.

One of his paws also had six claws, she noticed. Now that's even MORE familiar…

Swartt looked her over. "You're a long way from home, aren't you, wench?"

Does…does he know who I am? "Never seen a wildcat before? We roam where we please."

"As a matter of fact, I have seen one or two. Swartt raised his six-clawed paw and pointed at Tsarmina's face. "And know what I find interesting? They both had the same sort of eyes as you: bright green. Unless, of course, you wish to tell me that most wildcats have eyes like that?"

Ah. THAT'S who this is. "No, just me and my kin. I suppose I ought to be impressed that you figured that out, but I'd expect nothing else from the ferret that killed Boar the Fighter."

Swartt smiled. "You speak as though I was the one to put the lance through his throat."

Tsarmina shrugged. "You came up with the plan, didn't you? Close enough, in my book."

"Um, boss?" Aggal piped up, confused. "Who is this?"

Swartt gave his captain a look before sighing. "You really haven't figured it out yet, idiot? We stand in the presence of the mighty Tsarmina Greeneyes, daughter of Lord Verdauga and heir to Kotir."

A dozen spears immediately lowered towards the prisoner. Tsarmina fought back a sudden jolt of fear. "Allow me to amend that. Tsarmina Greeneyes, exiled daughter of Lord Verdauga. I haven't been to Kotir in two years."

Swartt raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? I suppose that would explain why we caught you killing farmers. We'd heard a few rumors that you'd been cast out, but I must say I didn't know what to think about them."

"What did you hear, exactly?"

"That you enslaved all of Mossflower after burning it down, taking hedgehogs and skinning them alive to make a cloak." He chuckled. "Not that I believe the last one; far too pointy material, in my opinion."

"That part is false, at least. As for the slaving and burning, that's true, mostly. Although I wouldn't call it slavery."

"Oh? What would you call it?"

"A Queen enforcing her rule on the lesser. And what of you?" Tsarmina looked around at all the spears. "I'm assuming that you have some issue with Mossflower?"

Swartt's paws clenched. "Oh, more than that. Your damned father stole my best slave."

Hmmm… I can use this… "And now you have me. May I ask what your plans were?"

"Well, I'd normally consider ransoming you, but it seems that ol' Verdauga wouldn't care too much. Perhaps I should make you a slave in Scumstripe's place."

Tsarmina decided she quite liked this Swartt character. "You could, but I have a better idea."

"Being…" Swartt reclined in his chair, curious.

"My father stole your slave, and my birthright. Why not work together and reclaim what was stolen?"

"Risk my entire horde for that? A bit much, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. But what if I told you that by attacking Kotir you could also get your wife back?" That had been a bit of juicy gossip to learn while she was still a prisoner.

"Bluefen? You'd better not be lying to me, Tsarmina."

Tsarmina could see the lust in Swartt's eyes. I have him. "It's the truth. Seems your missing wife has settled down with an otter. Help restore me to my rightful place as ruler of Mossflower, and you'll have her back."

Swartt closed his eyes, trying to disguise the mad desire that had taken hold. "Aggal, untie our guest. We have much to discuss."

~Spring~

The weather was annoyingly nice out; it was just the perfect temperature to laze out on the beach and get tickled by a gentle wind, gazing up at the nearly-cloudless sky while listening to the soothing crash of the waves. In short it was the perfect spring day, but where was Lupin? Sitting in her ruddy office doing paperwork. While most days she was still proud that Sunflash and the rest of the Long Patrol had seen fit to bestow command of the military on her, on days like this Lupin really, really wished she could go back in time and turn the promotion down.

Even if it required her to run screaming into the forest or something.

Still, no sense crying over spilled milk, her mother had always said. Wishing that she'd never been made Captain wouldn't change the fact that she was, and so there was nothing to do but buckle down at fill out the blasted ledgers.

Lupin picked up a receipt from the recent metal purchase, and began to try and figure out how many spears they could make. Let's see here… it says we bought eight hundredweights of iron, and it takes the smiths about a pound to make a single spearhead, so that means we have enough metal to make…

Uh…

A hundredweight's a little more'n a hundred pounds, right? It's a hundred and ten? Hundred and twenty? Maybe?

Lupin leaned back in her chair and groaned. I really hate doing bloody sums. She'd never been all that good at it, and normally she just fobbed off all the hard calculations to Bella, but with the badger off in Mossflower to visit the Greeneyes that wasn't an option at the moment. Wonder if Lord Sunflash's any good at this.

Lupin shook her head. No. You're the commander. YOU need to do them. Figure it out: how many pounds are in the blooming hundredweight? THINK!

For some reason, 112 seemed to be the right number. If that was true, and she divided that by 16…

Right. Seven spears per hundredweight. We bought eight, so that means we can make four-and-fifty? Thereabouts?

Before she could double-check the math somebeast knocked on the door. "Enter." Lupin called out, relieved to have the distraction.

The door swung open with a crash and in strode a young hare by the name of Honeydew, a recent addition to the Long Patrol. She walked over to Lupin's desk before saluting and standing at attention, her eyes drifting downwards to the receipt. "Good afternoon, ma'am!"

"At ease, Honeydew." Lupin pushed her paper off to the side and pulled an empty sheet out. "I presume you're here for the daily report?"

"Aye, ma'am, but…" the young hare's eyes flicked over to the receipt again. "First, I think I need to ask something; y'know the math's wrong, don't you? You've enough metal for fifty-six spears, not fifty-eight."

Lupin looked back at the paper, did the math again, and groaned. "Oh, dash it all." Grabbing her quill the older hare grabbed the paper and began to furiously scratch out her mistake. "Ah well, least we caught it before I sent this down to the forge. Would've Balley embarrassing if Sunflash'd caught me making that goof." Her corrections finished Lupin placed the receipt off to the side once more and got ready to make some notes. "But anyways: any news I should hear?"

"Nothing's going on nearby, thankfully. Skarlath n' his friends just came back from their morning rounds, and the kestrel says he saw absolutely no sign of anybeast sailing the waters for a good bit out, be they merchant or corsair."

Lupin nodded. "Good, though I suppose it's a bad sign that there aren't even any merchant ships nearby."

"There was that blasted storm three nights ago, remember? Traders are probably too scared after that gale to hoist anchor, I'd wager."

"Maybe. Make sure to keep me informed as to whether or not any show up over the next few days. If not, we might be in for a spot of trouble."

"Will do, ma'am. Things are also quiet on shore and in town. Even the tavern didn't have any brawls to report." Honeydew smiled. "Least, nothing worse than the normal for taverns, anyhoo. Mossflower's been pretty quiet as well, from what we're gathering. There was a scuffle with some rogues out of the south a little of the way through the winter, but Amber's lot turned them back all quicklike."

"So quiet all around, then?" Lupin allowed herself to smile. "By jove, I'm glad we're still peaceful. Still don't think we've recovered from the Swartt debacle, in all honesty."

At the mention of the name Swartt Honeydew's smile immediately died. A sudden sinking feeling settled in Lupin's stomach, and she stopped writing. "You said 'nothing's going on nearby', didn't you? Please don't tell me…"

Honeydew shifted her paws, biting her lip. "Well, it's nothing confirmed, ma'am, and even if it's true he's nowhere around here, but…" Honeydew took a deep breath and calmed herself before speaking. "A couple of whispers are floating around town, and a few more came back from Skarlath's patrol. Supposedly the bastard was sighted this past winter to the far north of here, by the Broadstream. There was a little village there, and when a stoat went to check on a family of mice living a little ways outside, he found 'em all dead." The hare was as white as a snowdrift. "Five mice, parents and three little ones. All butchered by some madbeast. He was about to run back for help when he heard a bunch of vermin just outside, and leading them was a ferret with a six-clawed paw."

"Think this is just a rumor?" Sunflash would want to know immediately, but Lupin wanted to be absolutely sure before the badger ran off chasing shadows.

"I doubt it, ma'am. A six-clawed paw's a balley distinctive thing to add."

"I understand." Lupin finished recording the report and stood up. "Come with me – we need to tell Sunflash immediately."

Lupin was halfway out the door before she realized that Honeydew had remained glued to her spot. "Don't tell me there's something else?"

"There was a wildcat too, apparently." Honeydew spit the words out, as though unable to hold them in. "Can't say for certain, but I think it might have been…her."

Lupin took the words in and considered both the ramifications and the likelihood of Swartt and Tsarmina joining forces, fighting to keep the emotions from showing. "Well, then we'd best get to Sunflash as fast as we can."

While Honeydew gave Sunflash the report, Lupin studied the badger, curious about how he'd react. Throughout the entirety he sat with his eyes closed, listening, the only sign he was even awake being the paws gripping his throne so hard that Lupin half thought the stone would shatter. Honeydew finished, and the two hares waited for their lord's response.

The phrase 'kill every last one of them' echoed back through Lupin's head. Must Bella talk her son down again?

When Sunflash's eyes finally opened, Lupin was thankful to see little of the rage and bloodlust that had lurked there in the past. "This is…grievous news. Most grievous. I had begun to hope that perhaps Swartt had perished, but it seems that was a fools' hope." He sighed. "And if Tsarmina's joined forces with him, then the two vilest creatures in the world have joined together." Another sigh, followed by a snort. "I imagine it's too much to hope that they kill each other?"

The two hares exchanged looks, unsure of how to react. "Probably. The world's rarely so kind."

"I know, Lupin. It was a joke. A poorly-timed one, I suppose." Sunflash looked down at Honeydew. "You mentioned the Broadstream. Have there been any sightings of them in other places?"

"No, m'lord."

"Then they're not like to have marched south. Not too far south of that's where that Whitear fellow and his band live, and had Swartt passed by we or Mossflower would've gotten a messenger by now." Sunflash closed his eyes again, thinking. "The Broadstream empties out into the Eastern coast, correct?"

"I believe so? Can't be completely sure – it's hard as all get-out to get concrete information from that far north, donchaknow."

"Then they marched northwest. I'm sure of it." Sunflash opened his eyes. "With Tsarmina joined to him, there's no chance that Swartt will have crossed straight north, and there's nothing downriver for him. They went up, following upstream towards the Northlands."

"Do you want us to prepare a regiment? Send a messenger to Mossflower?"

To Lupin's amazement, Sunflash shook his head no.

"Too risky. This news is too old and too far traveled. To chase a shadow halfway across the world is folly." Sunflash rose and walked down to Honeydew. "Still, best take some precautions. Honeydew, tell the rest of the border patrol that they are to step up their watch on the north, and tell the stewards to set aside more food to trade. We may have need of more weapons."

"Aye, lord Sunflash." Honeydew saluted and left, walking as quickly as she could.

Only then did Sunflash turn his attention back to Lupin. "You're surprised, aren't you?"

Lupin nodded, not sure how else to respond. "Well, my lord, if we're being truthful, I am. I full expected you'd order us to set out after the rotters before we'd even have supper tonight."

"Well, as I said, I'm not about to send the army up to the Northlands without something more concrete to go on. That's too much of a gamble."

"All due respect, but that never stopped you in the past."

Sunflash looked at her. "You're referring to Clogg?"

"I am. You were all for going after him, and Swartt's your blooming archenemy, so I assumed you'd be a tad more…belligerent."

"Come now, Lupin. You should know I'm at least a little more mature than I was back then. I'd barely even settled in as Badger Lord, you know." Paws clenched, Sunflash looked at the ground. "Don't get me wrong – the sight of Swartt's head on a spike would still be a delight to see. I just have more important things to worry about. If Swartt and Tsarmina dare come anywhere near Salamandastron or Mossflower I'll order the Long Patrol after them, make no mistake, but only then."

"I see." Lupin counted herself impressed: the Sunflash that had first come to Salamandastron had been nowhere near as patient and pragmatic, and Lupin realized that her Lord had changed without her noticing. It was a nice sight to see. "Although, if it's fine with you, I still think we ought to let old Verdauga know. He's probably just as likely to be under threat as we are."

"Oh, no doubt. Tsarmina's his daughter, after all, and I'm sure she'll want revenge against him for exiling her." Sunflash laughed, an unexpected noise that made Lupin do a double-take.

"Um…did I miss something? I don't see how this is funny…"

Shaking his head, Sunflash waved a paw. "It's not, you're right. Sorry about that. I was just thinking – here we are, talking about war against a creature I once hoped I could woo."

That completely threw Lupin for a loop. "What. What? WHAT? We – we are still talking about Tsarmina and Swartt?"

"Oh, we are. Believe it or not, I, ah, used to be rather smitten with Tsarmina. It's actually the entire reason I was captured. I wanted to get her a bouquet of flowers and wandered a smidgeon too far from Brockhall." He grinned, sheepishly. "I don't know what's worse – that I got myself enslaved over something so mundane, or that I wanted to romance a creature like Tsarmina Greeneyes."

Her mind completely shot, all Lupin could say was "you were young. Everybeast makes mistakes."

"Fair enough. Now, tell me: how many spears can we make? I feel we may need a great many soon."

~Summer~

Four ranks of archers stood out in the sweltering summer sun, bows at the ready, arrows in the ground. Amber walked from the first rank over to the target, made a few minute adjustments, and stepped off to the side. Turning to address the archers she cleared her throat and began to speak.

"Archery is a skill that is at once easy to get the basics of, but hard to reach any real mastery of. Oftentimes, in battle the basics are more than enough; when we have the numbers, so long as we're orderly and efficient in our firing it doesn't matter if a shot's picture-perfect or not. Never forget the Agin massacre, where an elite squad of Long Patrol hares were defeated by a horde of drunken bandits because of the sheer number of arrows flying through the air.

"All of you have the basics down, be you recent recruits or veterans, so you may be asking yourselves: 'but Captain-General, why do we still need to practice this hard?' Well, the answer is a simple one – we won't always have the overwhelming advantage. It could be that sometime there's only, say, ten of us versus ten opponents, and in that case the normal 'bury them in a hail of arrows' strategy won't exactly work. So then what? How do archers keep themselves alive?"

Amber walked in front of the first rank before dropping an arrow from her own quiver into the ground and unslinging her bow. "Simple: speed and accuracy."

Amber notched her arrow. One, two.

Taking aim, she drew the string back. Three, four.

She fired, sending the arrow flying into the center of the target with a heavy thunk. Five, six.

Grabbing another arrow she repeated the action, landing a few hair lengths to the right after another six seconds.

From somewhere behind her, Amber heard a whistle. "By the fur." Somebeast whispered.

Allowing herself a smile of satisfaction, Amber stepped back to her position next to the target. "Obviously, I'm not expecting you all to leave here today shooting ten arrows per minute and hitting dead-center, but the principle will be the same: you will need to shoot quickly, but also shoot accurately. When caught without the numbers to overwhelm the opponent, both are essential." Amber stepped away from the target and over to a large sack she had brought out with her, and opened it with a flourish to reveal a large spread of spiced trout and baked apples. "At the end of today, the rank with the best speed-to-accuracy rate will win this as their dinner." She smirked. "The rest of you will have to content yourselves with the regular fare – leftover stew, if I'm remembering Detta correctly." Amber tied up the sack and slung it over her shoulder before climbing to her perch on a tree. "One more thing: anybeast who cheats will spend dinner cleaning the kitchen pots, regardless of which rank they were in. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Captain General!" A number of voices answered from below.

"Good. We'll start with a few practice rounds, to help everybeast limber up and get a feel for the bow. First rank, FORWARD!"

As each rank stepped forwards and shot Amber took note of where improvement was needed, shouting instructions and occasionally stopping them all wholesale for a demonstration. By the time midday rolled around the heat was almost unbearable and the smell of sweat was beginning to get so bad that Amber could smell it a good ten feet up the tree, so she called a half-hour break and sent a few onlookers in to grab some water from the kitchens. The appearance of several tubs full of it was met with cheers so loud that it was almost as though the archers had one an actual battle, after which everybeast out in the yard all but dove in with their cups and began drinking.

Amber stood off to the side, leaning against a tree as she studied the others over the rim of her own cup. This has got to be some of the coolest water I've ever tasted.

"You know, I was beginning to wonder if you'd actually let us stop, or if you wanted us to work through the heat as some type of evil lesson."

Amber paused drinking long enough to smirk at the rat walking towards her. "Perhaps I was, Whegg. An army needs to know how to fight in the heat, do they not?" She shook her head. "You don't honestly think I'd be that cruel to fight you all stand out in the heat without refreshment, would you? That'd just make you all keel over from overheating." Amber took another sip of water before taking another look around to confirm that everybeast had gotten at least a little to drink. "I'm not Tsarmina."

Whegg made a derisve noise upon hearing the wildcat's name. "Thank the stars above for that. Say, has there been any news about said walking ball of depravity?"

Amber shook her head. "No, not since spring, After that report from Salamandastron Skarlath got another message saying that the hares in the northern mountains had fought a wildcat, but since then we've heard nothing." Sighing, Amber sat down on the grass. "I suppose we should be thankful for that, no news is good news and all."

"That why you've been having us go all in on getting us faster like this?"

"Aye. We need to be prepared for whenever she and Swartt strike."

Whegg sat down next to her. "You know, that's what I really don't get about all this; why haven't they attacked us yet? It's been at least half a year since they joined up, hasn't it? We both know that Tsarmina's got the patience of a gnat and enough bloodlust to make badgers in the middle of Bloodwrath pause, so why hasn't she shown herself yet? I'd've figured that she'd come banging on Kotir's doors with Swartt's army at the first opportunity."

Amber had been wondering about that as well and had no more of an answer. Normally I'd think that maybe Swartt's restraining her ambition somehow but considering that attack of his after Mask stole Sunflash I'm not convinced that he wouldn't be all for coming down here as well. It really is a puzzle.

Amber looked around as if the knowledge could be gleaned from a passing cloud or looking at the right stone, but instead of finding a solution to their Tsarmina puzzle all she noticed was another onlooker. "Well, I can't say I have any idea, but perhaps Martin will." Standing up, Amber waved over at the mouse watching them from the battlements, beckoning him to come down. Martin noticed her and waved back before descending down a nearby flight of stairs.

When Martin had reached them Amber gave a little bow. "Come to watch us train?"

"More like pick the next victim of a sparring session, I'd wager." Whegg's salute was, as always, a bit too sarcastic for Amber's tastes, although she knew that Martin didn't mind in the slightest. "Please don't make it me, my lord – Amber here's got us shooting so many arrows that I've got a round dozen blisters on my paws."

Martin laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not here to interrupt your fun or anything. I just needed to get some air and happened to hear all the shouting a few minutes ago, so I came to see what it was." His eyes drifted over to the practice field. "Although, if it's alright with you I'd like to watch for a bit whenever you all start up again."

Amber smiled. "Fine by me, as long as –"

"As long as you do us a favor, first." Whegg cut in. "Namely, telling us whether or not there's any news of your sister that your father hasn't bothered to – oof!"

Amber elbowed the rat right in the stomach, sending him to the ground. "Oh, shut it, will you? Sorry about that, Martin. Of course you're free to stay, news or no news about your sister." She looked at him. "But have you heard anything new, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind at all, but I promise you that there isn't anything we're keeping secret. Everything we know about Tsarmina's movements comes from those two reports, unfortunately." Martin sighed. "If only we did know more."

Whegg stumbled onto his paws again, but before he could speak Amber laid a paw of her own over his mouth. "Right, instead of running your mouth again, why don't you go make yourself useful and go reset all the practice targets?"

Knowing better than to protest, Whegg nodded and turned to jog away.

"Honestly, you'd think that that rat would've learned a bit more decorum by now." Amber playfully shook a finger at Martin. "I suppose it's your fault for letting him always run his mouth. Still, he really should know better than to give you that much lip all the time."

Martin shrugged. "We've talked it over. He knows to rein himself in when we're around other creatures, don't worry about that. And besides, I find him a bit refreshing sometimes. It's nice to know somebeast that doesn't even pretend to worship the ground you walk on."

"Is that why you and Gonff get along so well?"

That earned a chuckle. "Probably, much as it drives my father up the wall."

Upon mentioning Lord Verdauga a sort of melancholy seemed to settle in Martin's eyes, Amber noticed immediately. "Oh, does it now? Anything do that lately?"

"Thankfully not. At least, no incidents involving Gonff. Mostly it's just been the fact that his hip's getting to the point he can't even walk anymore." Martin shook his head. "The way things are going, we might have to move his bed to the audience chamber or have him start calling on guests in his bedroom, and if we're being honest, I'm not sure either of those are good ideas. Especially with…" He trailed off.

Amber decided to probe a bit more, curious despite herself. "Especially with?"

Martin looked at her, obviously trying to decide as to whether or not he wanted to speak, and in the end a few moments passed before he decided to. "You remember how last autumn my father began to forget little things here and there a lot more? Like me and Gingivere's plans for the day and things like that? Well, it's…it's starting to get more and more frequent. And worse, too – a few days ago, he – he – he actually asked where Tsarmina was."

"Are you sure he wasn't just wondering the same things we've all been?"

"It wasn't that. It was more like he thought she was still in Kotir, like he expected her to just walk in the door."

Oh. Well, THAT's certainly not good. "I'm…sorry, Martin. Really sorry. I – I didn't know." Amber looked at the mouse standing across from her, who suddenly looked like a scared little kid. "Is there anything I can do?"

Martin laughed, a short, bitter laugh devoid of mirth. "Can you fix his memory and help him walk again?"

"If only I could. How are you and your brother coping with it?"

"I'm doing well enough, I suppose. I try to spend as many good days with him as I can. Gingivere's taking a bit harder, though, and I think it's why he spends as much time down in Moss Town and with Sandingomm as he does. I don't think he's really ready to face the fact that our father…that he's…that he might…"

Before Martin could finish, Amber grabbed his paw and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I understand. I won't make you finish that sentence."

"Thanks, Amber. I appreciate it."

Amber nodded before looking up at the window denoting Verdauga's chamber, wondering how much longer the occupant would be with them.

But that was a worry for later. For now, archery practice beckoned.

~Autumn~

The bell tolled, signaling the start of the day, and Sister Ethnella got prepared as fast as she could. Today was the day of balance as they called it at Loamhedge, the day in which light and dark held sway over roughly equal amounts of time, and Ethnella had no intention of being late for morning prayer. Abbess Germaine'll have my hide if I wander in a quarter of the way through First Hour devotions again, no matter how peace-loving she is. Ethnella could just see it now: if she was late she would be forced to stand in the courtyard of the abbey for an entire day bearing a wooden plaque saying 'truant' the way Sister Linfa had last spring. That would just be embarrassing.

Thankfully, Ethnella managed to make it into the great hall just as the Abbess was taking her place at the pulpit, and so was able to make her way to one of the great wooden benches without Germain so much as noticing her. It was strange, though: by Ethnella's estimate, only about half the postulants of the Abbey had beaten her to the room. Germaine's about to start, though. Where IS everybeast? Perhaps they were running even later than she was.

In the end, however, only a scant eight more mice trickled in by the time Abbess Germain was ready to begin. The old mouse cleared her throat, studied the room and sighed, and then closed her eyes to initiate the prayer.

"Creators, bringers of our life,

We thank thee for thy work;

Whe land we stride,

We tend with pride,

Until the Dark Forest calls.

Give us our daily bread,

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive those who trespass against us;

And lead us not to temptation,

But deliver us from evil;

For this world is all thine's,

And its riches, and its bounties,

Forever and ever."

Next came the hymns, a mixture of hymns speaking of the joys of life and the peace of the Dark Forest, followed by a minute's silent contemplation.

Afterwards, Abbess Germain put away her hymn book and looked out at the audience.

"I am thankful to all those who are gathered in this room, yet hold our absent Brothers and Sisters not in contempt, but in understanding. In times such as these we have naught to gain from petty arguments over who is the most devout or the ideal postulant. Such ideals are little more than dangerous hubris at the best of times, and now we are far from the 'best of times'. The sickness at our gates is in truth a great trial, the likes of which Loamhedge has not seen in years, and if we are to survive this tribulation we must do it together."

The Abbess smiled. "That we will survive, though, I have no doubt. After all, I did not say that our fair abbey has never endured a trial of this scope before, and just as we survived the trials of our past will we emerge from this one stronger and closer. It will be a long road, dark and twisting, but our faith and our bonds will see us through."

Calming words, Ethnella thought to herself, although to me they seem a bit…meaningless.

As if to echo that thought, the mouse to Ethnella's left huffed. "Might as well speak in an ancient tongue, for all the worth those words had."

"Hush, Columbine! Didn't you hear what the Abbess said? We need to be united if we're going to make it through this!" Ethnella whispered.

Columbine turned and studied Ethnella with a look that was both sad and curious. "I wish I could believe that." She muttered as she turned back to face the front.

Once the morning prayers had concluded all those in attendance began to scatter to their morning chores, and Ethnella was heading to join the group in charge of tending the gardens when she felt a paw tap her shoulder.

It was Abbess Germaine. "Come with me, sister. I would like to talk with you."

The older mouse started down the hallway in the opposite direction, and as they were passing the cloisters Ethnella realized that they were heading towards the infirmary. Oh, no. Has the Abbess fallen ill, too? The thought chilled her to the bone.

As they came to a large, white column just outside the infirmary doors, Germaine stopped and stood against it. "I noticed you were arguing with Sister Columbine during prayer. Care to tell me what that was about?"

Ethnella blushed. "Forgive me, Abbess, I meant no disrespect. Quite the opposite, in fact – Sister Columbine was complaining about your speech and calling it meaningless, and I reprimanded her for it." Germaine looked more saddened than anything, but it made her feel chastised all the same. "Oh, I hope I didn't do a grievous wrong."

Germaine shook her head. "I forgive you, sister. Although perhaps you should have stayed silent, you only spoke up out of devotion. But, truth be told, I cannot say that Columbine was wrong." Without elaborating the Abbess turned and beckoned. "Come with me. I must show you something." Coming to the infirmary door, she hesitated the briefest of moments before pushing it open.

What she saw inside stole the breath from Ethnella's mouth.

By the fur, there…there's so many of them.

Tables, flooring, cabinets; it seemed as though every single surface in the room was taken up by a creature in various stages of sickness. The creatures towards the front were sweating as though it was still the height of summer, even those with towels of cold water on their head, while other creatures directly behind them shivered under the thickest blankets in the abbey. Others struggled to even draw a single breath, while still others did nothing but moan. Amongst them all, a few healers wandered up and down the endless rows, expressions uniformly grim.

A few creatures in the back, Ethnella realized in horror, were entirely still, even their chests. She turned to the Abbess, expecting answers, but instead the old mouse walked forwards to the lead healer.

"How many did we lose during the night, Euphemia?"

"Six." Euphemia's face was taut with lines of grief. "Most of them were elderly, as normal, but Brother Caules passed away as well."

Ethnella raised a paw to her mouth. "But Brother Caules wasn't even twenty-five! If a mouse like him can fall to this, that means…" She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Euphemia finished it for her. "That means nobeast is safe. This hits the young, the old, the healthy, the infirm."

"Has anybeast found a cure yet?"

"No, Abbess. Amyl's searching all the records along with half a dozen others, but so far they've turned up nothing. All we can do is pray. Pray, and try to help the stricken however we can."

One of the mice near the door moaned. "Water. Please…water…"

Ethnella grabbed a bowl and filled it with water from a barrel in the corner of the room. Walking to the sick mouse, she gently tipped the bowl upwards until the water began to flow into the poor craeture's mouth. "Is this helping?"

"A little…it…it could be a bit warmer, though."

Frowning, Ethnella raised the bowl to her own lips and took a sip. That's strange. It seems lukewarm enough already. Perhaps that's just the fever talking.

Germaine and Ethnella remained in the infirmary for most of the morning, helping feed the hungry and replace the towels on the overheating, but when it was nearing noon Germain beckoned the younger mouse to follow her out of the room.

Ethnella was unable to keep the question she'd been thinking to herself any longer: "Why did you show me this?"

Germaine sighed and sat down on a stone bench. "Because I want your advice."

"Me?" That doesn't make any sense – I'm far from the smartest postulant around here, or the most devout, so why's she asking MY opinion? "Why not Brother Amyl or Sister Martha?"

Germaine looked down at the ground. "Because I need to make a hard choice, and, as strange as this may seem, I don't want to ask somebeast who's too devout."

"I don't understand. How could anybeast be too devout?"

"Normally they couldn't, but what we're dealing with is the farthest thing from normal. Loamhedge is under siege by an enemy we cannot fight and cannot even see, Ethnella, and so in order to find a solution I have needed to consider…desperate options. Ones that go against everything we stand for." Germaine took a deep breath, steeling herself to choose her next words carefully. "My first thought was to evacuate the abbey. Perhaps if we get far enough away from Loamhedge, we can escape the source of this plague."

"Evacuate? Well, I suppose there's no helping it, although I can't see why Amyl or Martha would object to that. A building's just a building, is it not?"

Germaine nodded. "It is, even as holy a place as this one. The main problem is what that would entail." The older mouse looked back at the ground, her paws balled up into tight fists; Ethnella realized the Abbess was quivering like a leaf.

"If we abandon Loamhedge, we will need to leave the sick behind. They will perish, that is certain, but once we leave them behind the healthy will have nobeast to get sick from."

"No." Ethnella spoke with a firmness that surprised even her. "Absolutely not. That's going to far. We can't abandon the sick and the weak to save our own skins."

"Even if doing so condemns us all?" Germaine's voice lost all of its normal gentleness, instead cracking like a whip. "Even if leaving them, hard as it is, might be the only way to survive?"

"Life bought at the cost of betraying all of our ideals. If we cast aside the sick the moment it becomes convenient, Abbess, what does that make us?"

"Do you honestly think I wanted it to come to this? Because I didn't, Ethnella. I hoped as hard as any creature here that we'd find some cure, but the chance of that happening becomes scarcer by the day."

Ethnella realized that, for the first time in her life, she wanted to hit somebeast. And Abbess Germaine, no less! "Well, it sounds to me as though you've already made up your mind. So why did you even bother asking my opinion?"

"Because I wanted to hear it. Because I thought maybe, just maybe, there was something I missed. I suppose I was a fool to hope so."

"Better a fool than a hypocrite." Ethnella turned and stormed away, not wanting to hear another word.

As she walked the world in front of her started to swim, and by the time Ethnella arrived back at the dormitories she was crying.

"Fur and whisker, tooth and claw,

All who enter by our door.

Nuts and herbs, leaves and fruits,

Berries, tubers, plants and roots,

Silver fish whose live we take, only for a meal to make.

We give thanks to you, for nourishing our bodies and spirits."

Abbess Germaine spoke the same prayer every lunch, and normally, if Ethnella paid it any mind at all, she found it comforting. Today, after their argument in the courtyard, she had to restrain herself from standing up and shouting 'how dare you sully those words, you filthy hypocrite!' So instead she dug into the food, scowling.

"Is something the matter, sister?" Columbine asked.

Ethnella took a large swallow of crushed berries – it was a bit more difficult than normal, for some reason – before turning to the other mouse. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Why?"

Columbine gestured at Ethnella's plate. "You've been stabbing your food like you're trying to kill it."

"Nothing's the matter, so don't mind me." Ethnella absentmindedly loosened her habit. "Say, is it just me, or is it rather hot in here all of a sudden?"