It was dark outside, and Begon was fast asleep. It had been some time after dawn when he drifted off while reading the book. That night was calm and cool. Crickets chirped, some nearby stream trickled.

Then, Begon felt a sharp poke to the side. "Ay, mousy! Wakey wakey."

"Go away, Abbot Nill." Begon rolled over. "I'll clean my hut later." A sharp stab met his back. "Owch!"

Begon leaped to his footpaws. "All right you! What's the big idea!"

Not seeing anything in front of him, Begon rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked around.

Maybe I was imagining things, He thought.

Then he looked down and into the eyes of a confused brushrat.

The brushrat giggled nervously. "Oh wow, hehe, you're a lot... bigger than I expected. Uh, you are a mouse, right?"

Begon smiled threateningly at the brushrat and squared his shoulders. "Yes, I am a mouse. A mountain mouse, the biggest and strongest of all mice. And you are a brushrat, the littlest and weakest of all rats."

"Oh, y-yes, quite right." The skinny little rat was now trembling under Begon's gaze.

Begon couldn't help but feel power like he never felt before. To have such ability to manipulate another's feelings, it was wonderful to be in control.

Is this how Gred feels?

"So," Begon said, turning his attention back on the rat. "What business do you have poking me with that stick?"

Anger passed over the brushrat's face. "It is a spear!" Begon bared his teeth and growled. The little rat jumped. "Uh uh, but I was just trying to get your attention!"

"For..?"

"Oh, yes yes for uh... I wanted to ask if I could borrow some supplies."

Begon crossed his arms and gave the rat a skeptical look. "Really? I think you mean you wanted to rob some supplies."

The rat sputtered. "N-n-no! No!" This was really becoming fun for Begon. "I swear on my own life that I wasn't about to rob you!"

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I swear it! And I- Oh, what's that?!" The rat pointed behind Begon and he looked back. The next moment Begon felt a sharp pain in his stomach. All those years of training took over. Begon whirled around and grabbed the rat's spear, yanking it from his claws, and pointed the spear at the rat.

The brushrat saw the look of pure rage in Begon's eyes and started to back away slowly, sputtering, "I- I- It was just a joke! A- a- simple, harmless prank! I swear! I swear o- o- on my life!" But every backwards step the rat took, Begon crept closer, his jaw set and fangs bared. It was clear he was not hearing what the rat was saying.

Finally, Begon lunged on the terrified rat. He skewered the rat's chest on the spear, and one horrible scream ripped through the night.


A soft grey dawn light filtered though the trees, dappling the ground in an ominous molted light. The small stream trickled calmly as Begon washed the blood from his handpaws.

Begon was relaying the incident. He killed a creature. He, Begon, killed someone. And it made him feel... good.

Yes, good. The power he felt. The power to manipulate another being to his will. The power to control like he never had.

The power to be a hero? he questioned. Like in all the Redwall stories.

Begon dryed off his handpaws on his habit and hit cold metal. He looked down at the badge. Martin seemed to be giving him a very disappointed and even disgusted look.

"What's wrong? The rat? Didn't I have to kill him, Martin?"

No answers came.