Chapter 1

She saw her breath come out in great clouds as she steadily made her way down to the kitchen to stoke up the ovens. Yawning and shivering simultaneously the young mouse hugged herself all the more tightly then bent down to carefully light everything. When she had pulled herself out she turned to find the cooking staff filing sleepily into the kitchen—and some not so sleepily.

"Ah, good morning, Ash. I hope you slept well last night," an older female squirrel greeted, looking down at her from over her pince-nez glasses. She stretched once more and then shivered herself and continued, "Brrr! It's certainly a cold morning, wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, yes, sister. I had trouble dragging myself out of bed because of it," the young mousemaid replied with a grin before she ducked into the pantry. The old squirrel followed her and between them they began hauling out several Barlow sacks of flour for the pastries that morning. "Thank you, Darma. That ought to do it. Flurry! Oh, there you are. I need you to start making the loaves of bread, and be sure to put them in late today. I have no doubt everybeast will want them extra hot."

"Urr boi okey oi will. Hurrhurr," the velvety furred mole replied with a respectful tug of his snout. And from there the scramble to get breakfast, as delicious as ever and onto the table in time for the hungry occupants, began.

"Starlen, be sure to spread the meadowcream on extra thick. That's how most creatures like it."

"Yes, ma'am. 'twill do so."

"Balle, how are those oatcakes coming along?"

"Right as rain, Ash. I just need to spread the honey and they'll be done."

"Ah, good! Hmm…Belgara, that oatmeal looks a little much for you. Let me lend a paw," the mousemaid said when she spotted the otter standing on a footstool slowly pushing a large wooden spoon through the thick soup. Grabbing another spoon hanging from the hook Ash pushed her own stool up, and then, with a powerful stroke of her arm, got the oatmeal moving around in the giant pot. After a few minutes of joint stirring Ash sampled it. "Yeeowch! Yes, it's very hot. This will be good. Help me ladle out bowls before it turns to rock again."

Ten minutes later found a trolley loaded down with several levels of bowls and even another on the topmost tier with merely a metal cooking sheet to separate the two. The ottermaid exhaled as though she'd been greatly exerted and brushed her paws off of each other. Then she turned to the young mouse with a grin and said, "Thanks a ton fur the 'elp, Ash. 'twas greatly appreciated. Now, I better git this out to those starvin' Redwallers and dibbuns."

"Ah, thank you, Belgara. Hopefully the scones won't be following too far behind today. I better go and help with those," Ash said then both turned to fulfill their current jobs. Weaving her way through the wide aisle where beasts were beginning to stack their various courses on other trolleys to wheel out she was surprised to see three creatures were making scones instead of two.

The extra turned her way to yawn widely with his paw trying to hide it then opened his eyes to notice her watching from a distance. "Oh, hello, Ash," the mouse her age spoke up then turned back to continue kneading the dough of the scone before he began stacking preserved blueberries and strawberries. He folded it back over and crimped the sides as he learned from Ash so long ago then placed it on the metal sheet that would be placed in the oven.

Feeling a blush creeping across her skin the mousemaid stepped cautiously towards him, but said in a voice no less brisk, "Good day, Gareth. I did not expect you to come down here and help." For what most creatures dubbed an aspiring warrior he had trouble getting out of his bed for the day. Everyday. Many creatures, with good-natured humor, pinned it on exhaustion from his pupils who apparently ran him ragged everyday.

Ash knew better.

It was in the middle of winter just the night before a feast when she woke up late in the night after the fleeting excitement of a dream left her. So, unable to get more rest, she'd put on a warm robe and decided to walk the halls until she became tired again. Shivering from the abrupt change of her warm thick covers to the knife-edged air of winter the mouse found herself quickly wishing she'd stayed in bed as she shuffled up the corridor, then abruptly stop as another sound reached her alert ears.

Clump, clump, clump

The sound of heavy boots on the stone caused her to freeze and she turned to stare back down the corridor she had come, her breath coming up short. This late in the night she hadn't suspected any creature of being awake, and to be up herself caused a sharp guilt to settle in her stomach. Ash half believed an elder would suddenly pop out of nowhere and chastise her for being out of bed. But no image greeted her eyes, and it only brought on fears of an ill ghost—or more hopefully Martin wandering the halls to make sure all was as it should be.

The figure finally came to view when it turned a corridor, and walked with a slow steadiness in her direction. For some time Ash stood there, watching it approach her with a dreadful fascination, wondering who it was when it stopped three long strides away. Whoever it was somehow seemed to evade the bright light shining through the windows as she never saw more than a shadow of his face.

She shivered suddenly when it spoke to her, and was vaguely surprised when she identified the voice as Gareth's. "Friar Ash," he intoned emotionlessly as he stood in darkness with his paws clasped behind his back. "You should be getting your rest, Friar."

"I could not sleep," she responded shakily then grew in strength as she continued. "I was merely wandering to exhaust myself."

"Hmm," Gareth grunted at her before he said, "I wish I could do the same. Alas, I cannot."

Ash blinked at this and stepped forward cautiously and cocked her head curiously at him. "Why not?" As she did so she tried to piece together what she knew of this mouse. He was the same age as her and, as a dibbun and youngster, was prone to sleeping through class and being rather mischievous. He was also known as the Abbey dreamer as well as aspiring warrior; it was not rare to catch him staring at the clouds. But now, as she recalled her recent memories of him as subdued, or so she thought.

He had apparently been staring at the floor for suddenly she saw his head move up, and truly felt his eyes on her. Though the image she conjured of his face longed her to cringe, she suppressed the motion and stared at him. Gareth's whiskers twitched in the moonlight before he said, "I feel burdened of late and I'm not sure why."

That sentence suddenly seemed to enliven her for she was sure he was not telling the truth. He knew why, but he was not willing to share. Taking the hint she replied, "I'm sorry to hear that. I will leave you to your thoughts then. Good night, Gareth." She then stepped around him, not quite looking him in the face, and started back toward her room.

"Good night, Ash. May you rest well," she heard him say, and after the steps of his heavy boots began again in a steady rhythm. And then he was gone.

That night, as she climbed into bed, her last thoughts were on him as she silently wondered what had kept him up so late in the night. From thereon she banished it from her mind, certain that he'd rather not speak of it.

It had been awhile since she'd sincerely held a conversation with him, and now that Gareth had stepped into her path during the regular routine meant he had something to say. She was sure of that in spite of the fact that he loved making scones—because that was the only thing he could make decently.

He grinned at her cheerily—during the day he was an entirely different person altogether—then said, "Lo and behold! I woke up rested in the early morning since Berkle managed to land his quarter staff 'twixt my ears. I felt so lightheaded the rest of the day that I turned in very early. Imagine that, hmm?"

Ash had joined the work force and was already through two hastily, yet well made scones while Gareth was still on his second, and she gave him a skeptical glance read wrong by the other workmate, a widely grinning hedgehog. He leaned over the table to peer below Gareths' focused form and said, "Hehehe. He really swung his lathe so hard to one side that it jerked him around and his head hit the wall. Hehehehe."

Gareth turned to this with a mock pout already habiting his lips and said, "You're cruel, Herb. Why don't you just twist the knife in my ribs a little more, hmm?"

"That's an idea," Ash teased poking him hard in the ribs so that he writhed from the sensitive area.

"Here's the perfect reason not to work in the kitchens. The kitchen staff degrades your self-esteem until you're emotionless and ugly like they are. Ouch," Gareth exclaimed in protest when Ash gave him a heft slap on the shoulder with her flour covered paw.

When breakfast had been served and had by all Ash considered asking Gareth what he wanted, but thought better of it for the attention they might draw. So, stifling her curiosity, she sat down and dug into the food she had made with little restraint.

"My, my, Ash," Darma began as the mousemaid threw her head back to guzzle her water in great gulps before turning to launch herself at a scone—and seeing how carefully it was made she suspected it was Gareth's—and began wolfing it down. "It's a wonder you're so thin with everything you eat in all three meals of the day."

The mouse merely shrugged. "What can I say? I'm really hungry," she replied after swallowing her large bite of the scone.

Herb who'd helped her tease Gareth sat on her other side and giggle without restraint, "Hehehehehe. Careful, Friar, ye might end up as large as your predecessors. Hehehehehe. To be a Friar ye need a wide girth, aye?"

She turned ever so slowly from Darma to Herb and stared at him with an expression that was a mixture of challenge and amusement. Finally she declared, "Absolutely not, Herb. My call is to be different from my predecessors, not the same!"

"Hear, hear," a clear voice farther down the table joined in. Ash whipped her head around to verify the voice then smirked triumphantly when it was whom she presumed. The Mother Abbess caught Ash's eye and waved her paw mightily, "I most certainly agree, Ash. Be as different as you please. It'll be good for every creature around here."

Ash beamed. "Thank you, Mother. Now, I think I'll take a page out of the Long Patrol book. Attenshun! Wot a lackadaisical lot! Get your paws on the floor, sharp-like. Quit gapin' like a couple o' flippin' frogs an' get into position! Sharp's the action and quick's the word! Move it, move it! Pile those dishes high! I want to see me beautiful face shining in them by the time you're done, wot wot!"

Standing with her fist up to indicate command she glared at her kitchen staff, but to her utter and complete dismay they remain seated. And to add insult to injury, some continued to even eat. Herb among them, "Ach, she's a spicy young Friar. That should be enough difference the other ones, don't ye think."

"Too right she is," Darma said as she looked up at the mousemaid still perched on her chair.

Slightly deflated, but smiling with good humor she finally got down and reseated herself, lamenting mockingly, "Alas, discipline will come with time I suppose. I'll be lenient today."

Leaving her elders to their chuckling, a thought suddenly crossed Ash's mind and she turned to look out among the crowd with a slow, sweeping gaze. It was just as she thought. Gareth was not among those eating. He'd been there for a moment, eating his fill and joking with his friends, and then he was gone just like that. He can just disappear into thin air. I've never seen anyone with such talent, she thought with an exasperated mental sigh.

Disposing of her last piece of scone she got up and left her plate where it was, but not before stacking her silverware atop it for the young Abbey dishwashers to gather them. That was one part of being friar Ash enjoyed more than anything. Usually after every meal she would think wistfully on all the dishes she had washed as a youngster before Friar Farley had decided to pass on his culinary skills. But now, she hardly gave it a thought as she wandered out onto the grounds with the rest of the adults of Redwall who were dispersing to do their chores. Ash would be back in the kitchen before too long putting morning tea together.

Standing alone on the threshold of the Abbey Ash peered at the surroundings trying to distinguish Gareth among the figures. While she was of average height with the Abbey beasts, he stood a few inches taller than everyone else, but by no means was he not of stocky build. This mouse just seemed a hair lankier than the others in his age group.

After several minutes of searching she finally found him leaning in the shadow of the apple tree near the edge of the pond, staring at the shimmering picture of the sky and the surrounding trees within the grounds. Ash noticed that no creature stood near him chatting gaily. In fact, it was as if he were forgotten. Or truly invisible to all but her.

Blinking her dark gray eyes with a light of puzzlement and sadness she started walking toward him with the air of duty she usually possessed in the kitchens, and finally caught up to him. He took no sign of noticing her approach, but acknowledged her all the same, "Good day, Ash. I hope you are very well this beautiful morn."

"I am fine, Gareth, thank you," she replied automatically, but then hesitated with what she should say next. It showed as she strode on, "I…hope you are well, too?"

The question in her tone managed to wrench his black-eyed gaze from the pond as he turned to stare at her. He did not answer, but merely patted the grass beside him and said, "Please sit. I'm glad you got the message."

"I'm not dumb, Gareth. Any visits you make to the kitchen—more specifically in the morning—are to be noted. You're so…rare everywhere. What's wrong?"

"Do you remember when I began to act this way? Distant, I mean," Gareth asked vaguely, still staring at her with nothing in his gaze.

"No, not really. I've been so busy these past few seasons that I haven't had time to take note on much of anyone else's whereabouts," Ash said guiltily, wondering how she could've so mindlessly overlooked her obviously flailing friend.

Gareth chuckled without humor and merely said, "Don't worry about it. I didn't want creatures to notice." His tenor voice trailed as he once again turned his gaze away from her and to the rippling surface of the pond. Sensing he had more to say she kept quiet, and, indeed, he filled the gap of silence. "I…was stepping away roughly the time after those jesters left. Somehow—after that experience—I felt uncomfortably different from everyone else. In a way that unsettled me, and I have remained unsettled since."

"The jesters…" Ash whispered quietly to herself, recalling the time a few seasons back when the famous pair had stepped into Redwall, told a story, and then stepped out. And as she thought about them she remembered seeing Gareth staring into the trees on top of the battlements not long after they'd disappeared down the winding, dirt path. She told him about this. When he'd confirmed with a single, strong nod she continued on with this thread, "I thought you were merely touched by their story as most everyone else was. I wish I could've heard it. Why didn't you tell anyone what you were feeling?"

"Because I wasn't sure what I wanted. And…I didn't want the elders of Redwall to be exasperated with me, so I tried to live as normal a life as I could here. But…every night brought nothing, but a longing and an emptiness I knew that could never be fulfilled."

"That's why you don't sleep very much," Ash whispered suddenly, now able to connect the dots together with the clues finally provided to her. She waited a moment then said with a certainty based only on intuition: "You know what you want now?"

"I do, Ash. I want to fly."