A/N: I should like to thank my reviewers, Brocktree, Joanna, Sabrepaw,and finally, me, whoever that is. But, you four, thanks! Read on!
Part Two: Terror
Whack! Whack! Whack! C-c-crack!
The young mouse, barely out of Dibbunhood, stared in disbelief at the stick that had broken under the blows of his strikes against his practice tree.
"Pa!" he called out. "Please help me make another sword. Mine broke!" Kent sighed. His son had broken five stick-swords now-five!
"Matthias! We need the work on the farm done, and soon there won't be enough time to play or practice, due to the harvest."
"But-"
"Matthias!"
"Yes, Pa." the young mouse reluctantly laid his stick down, but hesitated. He then hurried off into the unknown, despite his father calling after him.
"Matthias! Come back here right now! Matthiiiiiiiaaas!" Kent called. But with no avail. Grumbling about how his son was far better off when he was younger, the father trundled off.
()o()o()o()
Matthias felt as if he was free, no worries, no annoying fathers, no work to be done-well, maybe not. He had to bury his gleaming sword, as he imagined it, called Thunder. Passing through groves of thick forest trees, he made his way to the Graveyard of Swords.
The Graveyard of Swords was just a small clearing, with four small mounds of dirt with stone-pictures in the soft heaps of soil.
Matthias knew all of his sword's names by heart. There was Thunder, Lightning, Flame, Thyme, and most important of all, his first sword- Creation.
He liked the name Creation. So much growing around him, trees, birds, plants, so much. Creation was the beginning of all things. He had named the sword this by himself, though his father, so kind seeming then, had though up names like Basher and Slice. But the Dibbun had seen a nest of small swallows, a young sapling, and thought of the word 'Ceathon', or, in other words, Creation.
Matthias found his little wooden shovel, and dug a deep hole in the ground next to the last one- Lightning. Soon, though, the deed was done.
Following a daily ritual, the one that he had made up ever since Creator had been broken-by a kitchen knife, as Creator had been taken away from Matthias for awhile after he did something wrong and placed near the blades- and he had found this clearing and dug Creator's grave with his paws. The young mouse knelt by the mound and talked to his first sword.
"Hello, Creator. I have somehow broken another sword. I don't know, do you think that they don't like their names? Should I name them to be a bit more peace-like? Thyme did well for a while, three seasons, but I guess like all living things that she had to die. Flame went a few hours after he was born- killed by fire. Lightning was destroyed in two seconds flat, and Thunder lasted a while, two seasons, but- you lasted the most- four seasons. Creator-do you think that I should give up fighting and pick up the skills of farming? Because I really, really want to be a warriormouse like Martin the Warrior. Why shouldn't I? Father seems bent on having me be a farmer though, as he puts it 'My father's father's father was a farmer, my father's father, my father, me, we were all farmers. Son, you need to continue this tradition-lay down the life of a warrior, it's all misery.' But that's not true. Martin stood for kindness peace, and all of that. I wonder, though, if he did have a type of tragedy in his life. Before being a warrior, anyhow. Wel-" Matthias stopped as a low hum filled the forest, coming from where Creator lay.
"What is it? Creator?"
His first sword didn't answer, and just continued to hum some sort of message.
()o()o()o()
A/N: It's going to be three, very short chapters. Believe me, I DID work hard on this. Really. Like the cliffie? You know that blue button down there? Just place the arrow on the screen on that, and with your mouse, push the forward-left side of that. There! Now, type in some letters that form words, and using pretty much the same technique, click that long button that says 'send…..'. There! You've just sent me a review! Wasn't that easy?