Redfang stormed out of the conference room and down the stairs to the first floor, walking past the cafeteria and heading for the exit. He needed to get some air, he felt sick to his stomach, he felt betrayed.

"Colonel Redfang!" Colonel Cutter's voice bellowed from behind him. The fox stopped, turning around and giving the ferret Colonel the lamest salute he could have mustered.

Cutter walked over to him, giving a return salute. The ferret pulled out a rolled-up map and sprawled it across one of the cafeteria tables. "There's been some trouble in the village of Molestown. It seems the garrison we've established there's having some trouble with the locals. I'm busy with organizing the march south, would you mind putting together a relief force?" There were two towns about 20 to 30 minutes away from Ashburn if going by foot. They were the first and only towns to be officially brought under the Stafgard banner and had up until now been rather docile. Redfang nodded, "I'll see to it." Putting a relief force together wouldn't be hard, he had a couple of lads in mind.

Turning away from the other Colonel, Redfang once more made for the exit.

"Oh also, Fang!" Cutter shouted at his back. Redfang came to a halt and turned around slowly. "Yew know that attrition report that I had yew draft up? I seem t' 'ave misplaced it, yew wouldn't 'appen t' know where it went would ya?"

Redfang sighed, "Lemme guess, yew want me t' draft up another one?"

Cutter strode over to the fox, "No doubt one of the junior officers used it t' wipe their own ass or somethin'" Cutter said with a chuckle, "Nah, I'll do the draftin' fer this one." The ferret gave Redfang a pat on the shoulder. "Yew know, I had nothing to do with that decision right?"

Redfang kept a neutral face, "Didn't do anything t' stop it either."

"Listen Redfang... You're a fine officer, yew'll do well out there." With that Colonel Cutter left, leaving the fox standing there in the middle of the empty cafeteria.

More than ten years as a soldier, easily twenty years as an officer and it would likely all be coming to an end. Loyalty had gained him nothing, at least that's how he felt. Deep down, he knew the Empire had given him plenty, at least compared to the life he would have led. Loyalty had gotten him this far, maybe his best course of action was to maintain said loyalty. Right now Redfang felt betrayed, but it wasn't the first time. Many times throughout his career in the army, he'd felt abandoned, and yet he was still here, still breathing. He'd outlived so many others despite their backstabbing, scheming, and disloyalty.

He suddenly had the craving to eat something, be it to distract himself or because he'd missed first meal. Turning swiftly, he started walking towards the kitchens. Second meal was hours away and he was certain that the kitchens would be empty. He dismissed the guards from their posts at the entrance of the kitchen and made his way inside. Looking through the cabinets, he found a loaf of bread and bit into it, ripping off a sizeable chunk.

Baaang! Clank claank clink! The sound of a pot crashing onto the smooth stone floor of the kitchen broke the peaceful silence of the seemingly empty kitchen. Redfang spun around quickly and drew his sword. A squirrel slave dashed across the room towards the exit. In a flash, he was at the doorway, blocking it just as the squirrelmaid reached it. He raised his sword and pressed it against her neck, "An' what would a pretty little bushy tail maid be doin' lurkin' 'bout these kitchens?" He asked it in a snide and condescending manner, but he was legitimately curious. He recognized her. Was this the squirrel from earlier? Yes, yes it was. He twisted the blade from under her chin, "Ya gonna answer the question addlebrain?" The squirrel seemed paralyzed with fear.

Redfang was growing impatient and raised his blade, intent on smacking her across the snout with the flat of his sword. It was the least he could do considering her sneaking around. That's when a mousemaid came out from behind the counter and confronted him, "It was my fault yur honors... I-I was hungry."

"Ahhh, stealin' extra rations I see," Redfang teased. It was somewhat hypocritical and he knew it, as he'd been doing the same thing, but he didn't really care. Finally, he had control over someone else. Finally, he wasn't being forced to follow someone else's orders or punished for something he did or didn't do. Finally, he was in charge.

Redfang aimed a punch at the squirrel's stomach and felt satisfaction at watching her double over, coughing, and clutching her core. What the hell is that? Cocking his head to the side, he saw her clutching what looked like letters. Redfang sucked in a gulp of air as it hit him. She had taken a letter from the war room… It was treason, the sentence for which was death.

"And what have yew got there?" He asked redundantly. He knew what she'd done. Her fate was sealed, just as his was.

"I-Its nothing yur honors, just a simple list of cooking ratio-"

"I was not speaking to yew mouse!" Redfang shouted, pointing his sword at the mouse. It was the first time he'd raised his voice since encountering them. "I... was speaking… t' yew…" Redfang knelt down and tipped the squirrel maid's chin up with his blade, coming face to face with her.

Snatching the papers from the trembling paws of the squirrelmaid, Redfang looked over them. "These supposed t' be your list of cooking rations?" Redfang teased, standing up and waving the papers over at the mouse. Now I know where the attrition report went, Redfang thought, but this one, what was this one about. Wolves?... 'OOF!' He was suddenly struck in the stomach. Staggering, he swung his sword out in a wide arc, missing the squirrel by mere inches. The squirrel maid tried to push past him, but he snatched her by the neck and shoved her to the ground. Now they would truly suffer. Just as Redfang was beginning to lay on some heavy blows he was smacked across the snout with what could only have been a frying pan, 'Baaang!' For a second the fox saw stars, and his whole world went spinning. He collapsed to the ground, holding his snout, and yelling unintelligible obscenities.

Redfang pushed himself to his paws and knees, his world still spinning. Something smacked against his back, and he fell to the ground again, groaning. Looking back, he saw that they were now gone and the letters with them.

A group of soldiers ran into the kitchen, swords drawn. "Sur! Colonel Redfang, we heard the shouting! Are yew Aight!?" A ferret sergeant ran up to him and helped him to his feet. Redfang brushed him off, "I'm fine! Get the squirrelmaid, she's escapin'! Quickly!"

"Yes sur, right away sur," The ferret sergeant turned to his men, "Find her!"

Redfang pulled the sergeant in close, "What's yur name sergeant!"

"Hammerhide sur."

"Sound the alarm Hammerhide, lock this fortress down, no one leaves!" Redfang ordered, leaning against the counter, and spitting a mouthful of blood and a chipped fang onto the floor.

"Yes sur, I-I'll see it done." Hammerhide saluted quickly before running outside. A horn sounded in the distance and a clamor of weapons and shouting emulated around the fortress. Redfang shook his snout, getting the last of the dizziness out of his head. His world began to come into focus, but the rage was still coursing through his veins. Those letters could not get into the hands of the enemy. If they knew how many soldiers they had, the diversion would most certainly fail. He turned towards the exit to the kitchen, those woodlanders would pay.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Aukalid and Amber ran out into the courtyard, the sun beaming down upon them. The fortress was alive with activity, beasts marching two and fro in drill, slaves hauling stone and wood, soldiers lounging about in merriment, some still licking the last of their soup rations from earlier. It was common for soldiers to savor every meal by making it last as long as possible. Slaves didn't get such luxury as they were rushed back to work after every meal. "There she is!" A shout from behind them. Looking behind her, Amber saw several vermin protrude from the entrance of the keep and out into the courtyard. They'd spotted her and were now dashing towards them. "Stop those two, stop them! They're escaping!"

The two woodlanders dashed up the stairs and onto the ramparts, pushing past a couple of guards who were still enjoying their soup. One of them, a weasel, cursed out as his bowl of soup went cartwheeling off the ramparts. The other one, a rat, bellowed out in merriment at his friend's calamity, completely unaware of the situation at hand. Aukalid, grabbed a rope and tied it to a wood post before tossing it over the ramparts leading to the other side. "Quick, climb down!" Aukalid yelled.

Amber climbed over the crenellations, wrapping her hands in cloth and preparing to slide down. "Are you not coming with me?!" Amber asked, but it was more of a plea, a beg. Her friend only smiled, "I'll be alright. I'll come find you once you're safe. Head south towards Redwall, and make haste. I'll be with you the entire way." Aukalid took off her necklace and gave it to the squirrel. "Go now, before they catch you."

With one last look to her friend, Amber slid down the rope, crashing to the bottom and tangling herself in some bushes. A second later, the rope came tumbling down in a pile next to her. Above her, she could hear yelling and shouting and worst of all a horn bellowing from the top of the wall. Untangling herself, Amber ran towards the edge of the fortress. She'd gotten past the center, but the fortress was much larger. A second perimeter wall was well on its way to being completed, but there was a section that had not yet been finished. Running past slave crews and confused soldiers who were still unaware of her escape, she fled into the forest beyond.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ashburn is under complete lockdown. I have patrols searching every crevice of this fortress. If she's 'ere, we'll find her," Redfang paused, "But I believe she may have already escaped, and escaped with information regarding the size of our army. She stole the week 3 attrition report from the briefing this morning."

Roguefur scowled, "Look at yew, one fang an' no brains. I should 'ave ya killed fer yur incompetence!"

I'm not the one that letta squirrel listen in on a military conference. Redfang thought, but he knew better than to say.

Cutter shook his head, "Instead of trying to place blame, let's try t' figure out a solution. Okay, so the squirrel escaped alone, is that correct?"

Redfang nodded, "We captured her accomplice. She's being held fer questioning."

Cutter nodded with content, "Well then we're good. It's easily a 3 days march from 'ere t' Redwall and for a malnourished slave who isn't driven forwards by the whip, she'll be dead before sunrise."

Commander Scourgemire entered the room and flipped the table onto its side with a raged scream of anger. "What's the situation!" He demanded.

"We've yet to find the escaped slave… But we're certain that she'll be dead by the morn." Cutter finished quickly before giving the Commander a chance to react.

Scourgemire glared at Redfang, "I'd have yew killed if I didn't already know yew was going t' die in a few days."

"Speaking of which…" Cutter began, "It might be best t' speed things along, preparations and whatnot. In the slim chance that the squirrel does make it as far as Redwall, we should be prepared. If we march earlier, then we ensure the woodlanders will not have enough time t' act on the intelligence."

Redfang nearly let a chuckle escape his snout. The irony of it all was comedic even for him. The fact that the squirrel reaching Redwall may save his own life and yet he'd done everything in his power to stop her was an irony he only just realized.

Scourgemire grabbed Roguefur by the scruff of his neck, "I want her found NOW! Not tomorrow, not after breakfast, NOW!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mudnose walked down the length of the new recruit's barracks, admiring their new home. It was a long log house with bunk beds lining both sides of the wall. Wruddy and Gritter were sitting at the end of the barracks, "Did they catch 'er!" Wruddy shouted over at Mudnose.

"How should I know," Mudnose said with a shrug. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Mudnose made his way over to the two, passing a few other recruits. He'd been chopping wood for the good part of the day and had finally got out of it because of an emergency lockdown. Wruddy and Gritter had gotten some bullshit assignment that simply entailed stripping the bark off of the logs. Naturally, it was far easier than his task, so he was still physically exhausted from the work. Clay, who'd been helping him, had just finished up his batch of logs and was now walking up from behind Mudnose. Clay'd been pretty quiet the entire time, only speaking a few times.

Mudnose had his suspicions as to why. Clay'd been embarrassed in front of everyone during the sparring session and for some reason, he got the feeling that Clay blamed him. Stopping short of Wruddy and Gritter, Mudnose turned and faced his friend, "Whats going on?" He asked bluntly.

Clay was silent for a second… "Whats going on? I thought you'd have my back Mudnose, that's what's going on." Clay siad, pushing past the ferret and making his way over to his brother.

"I was takin' a leak!" Mudnose protested, chasing after the weasel. Clay plopped himself down, next to his brother with a sigh and a shake of his head.

"Ahh it wasn't so bad Clay," Mudnose said leaning on his arm against the side of one of the bunks. "Vray's got size an' hight on ya. She'd kick anyone of our asses."

Wruddy and Gritter shook their heads vigorously.

"I bet I coulda taken 'er," Frydraft said, peering over the rail of his top bunk with a cocky smile.

"No ones talkin' t' ya Frydraft!" Clay snapped up at the orange-colored ferret. The new barracks for the recruits was great and all, but it was also annoying as everyone was packed so close together, that one rarely got any privacy. Clay preferred having separate tents or simply finding his own corner in the fortress to fall asleep in.

Clay stood up and brushed Mudnose aside, "I'm fine, it doesn't matter." The weasel eyed the bed racks critically. "Not even a bit ah straw?" Clay asked grumpily, as he looked at the plain wood boards he'd now have to call his bed.

"Take it up with the bushtails, them the ones who burned all the hay." Skad, a rich brown colored weasel, said before throwing his wool coat over the wooden bed boards in a vain attempt at creating a mattress.

"Damn bushtails." Spiketrail, a stoat, cursed under his breath as he too tried to make a mattress of his tattered coat.

Wruddy smiled broadly, showing yellow teeth and his single gold tooth. "As a sea-rat they used t' have a sayin', that the best place t' rest yur 'ead was the softest plank."

"That meant t' be comforting?" Clay said, sarcastic as ever.

Wruddy laughed, "Ya willin' t' be my fart catcher?" he asked, waving him over enthusiastically.

"Well... now that ya put it that way..." Clay made his way over to the sea rat. As he was passing Mudnose he stopped and pulled his old friend in close, "Watch my brother for me will ya."

The dirt-colored ferret nodded and patted Clay on the shoulder. "Gritter, get yur sorry excuse fer a tail o'er 'ere. Yur bunkin' with ol' muddy nose," Mudnose said. Clay gave his friend a nod, before making his way over to Wruddy and settling down on the lower bunk.

"If ya actually fart, I'll cut off yur tail an' shove it down yur throat. I mean it Wruddy" Clay said unamused as he took off his red wool coat and rolled it up into a ball, making a pillow.

The sea rat's grin only grew wider, "I don't think I ever asked ya. Why'd ya join up?"

"Ya serious?" Clay said baffled, "I didn't really 'ave a choice mate."

Wruddy sighed, "Well, either way, I doubt we'll ever see battle. The veterans will be doin' the real fightin'. Free vikkles, a roof o'er me 'ead, an' a chance at glory, all fer a bunch ah sentry duty an' drillin'... not half baaad." Wruddy finished with a cheeky smile.

The sea rat gave Clay a hearty pat on the shoulder before climbing up to the top bunk and settling in as best one could. Clay envied the sea rats naivety, but he was very skeptical. If that were true, they wouldn't have sent Rafter and Mattfur outside the walls. Those two hadn't returned in nearly three days and if he had to guess, he'd say they were dead. Either that or rotting in some dungeon cell even hungrier than himself. He wasn't sure which was worse. Wruddy's mention of food made his stomach grumble. While Scourgemire's army might've been an upgrade for the sea rat, Clay's memories of 1-2 consistent meals a day made his current position nightmarish. The weasel tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity before sleep finally took him.