It was nightfall before either beast stirred again. The weasel and the ferret had drifted off to sleep some time after mid-day, though time seemed nearly irrelevant in the perpetual haze. The two guards sat in the dark. Insects were calling across the pond, thriving in the reeds. Sed's ankles were still buried by soft mud. Det could not bear the silence any more.
"You remember when you was a kit?" Det began.
"When was that? Couple days ago?" Sed grunted, not really paying attention.
"Oh. I thought it was about… a hundred seasons ago?"
"More like five."
"Somewhere in between the two, then."
"Aye."
"You remember much?"
"We played at bein' corsairs."
"Corsairs is a fun one."
"Aye. I made the others walk the plank."
"Haw haw. What else?"
"Nothin'. One walked into a bog and sunk. Weren't allowed to play corsairs again." There was a pause as Det contemplated the story.
"That's mighty tragic, Sed."
"It's the lot of vermin, Det."
"We're vermin?"
"We got promoted by Malcolm."
"Awfully nice mouse," Det smiled. Sed nodded sagely. Neither moved as the sound of footpaws reached their ears. Malcolm stumbled down the muddy slope with Quilter. Both were struggling to drag the limp body of a squirrel.
"Hey! You two! Help!" Malcolm called. Sed silently counted to three with his fingers, Det watching him closely. They both turned around at the same time.
"Oi. Found your tree-jumper?" Sed enquired politely.
"Rufjak's hurt!" Quilter squealed, frantically shaking the squirrel's shoulders as the three woodlanders halted by the water's edge. Det groaned, then heaved himself up. Sed did not even bother moving.
"Rufjak's gone to the Dark Forest, Quilter," Sed solemnly proclaimed.
"No he hasn't!" Malcolm blustered. Det leant over the squirrel and laid a mucky paw on Rufjak's chest. Malcolm moved to swat him away, but thought better of it.
"Gone, mate. What did you stick 'im for?' Det pulled an arrow from between Rufjak's ribs in curiosity. Malcolm slapped it away, tears forming on his face.
"I did not stick him! You foul vermin are responsible. You cold, bloodthirsty villains! Rufjak will be avenged! I'll have Thricebrand brought to justice once and for all! And just so you know…" Malcolm paused to catch his breath before bellowing at the top of his lungs, "Your stinking vermin chief is a ferret! Not a weasel! Not a stoat! Not obese, nor muscly, nor does he have rings, scars or a blue cloak! A ferret! You… You lying scum!"
Sed and Det both froze. They gave each other a long, mutually perplexed look.
"I think I was dreamin' about a stoat," Sed realised.
"I might 'ave been thinkin' about weasels." Det looked amazed as the revelation that Thricebrand was a ferret dawned on them.
"I will return to Redwall Abbey. When I come back, Thricebrand will regret the day he enslaved and murdered gentle goodbeasts such as us! I shall free the slaves that remain imprisoned!" Malcolm vowed, holding his engraved blade aloft, "I am Malcolm the Warrior. And the warrior helps those in need," Malcolm finished on a melancholy note, mudded tears staining his face as he looked down on the body of his friend. Slowly, he sheathed the blade and began to stride away, Quilter pattering behind him, sniffing.
"Shall we go?" Det pondered.
"What? With 'im?"
"Aye, come on. We can trust a warrior."
"You'd never 'eard that word in polite conversation till today!"
"I'm tired of the marsh. You are too."
"It's my 'ome." Sed folded his arms, staring at the ground. Det sloshed through the shallows to the ferret. He drew a deep breath.
"I'm goin' then. Without you," Det said. Sed looked up, baring his teeth in fear.
"You wouldn't."
"I am."
"Dreams! You're goin' chasin' stupid dreams again, Det. Like Marshank."
"It's not a dream this time. I can feel it. Can't you trust me, Sed?"
"I trust logic. I am rational, Det."
"Then I ain't your friend no more." Det turned and hurried to catch up to Malcolm.
"Det! No!" Sed shrieked. He wrenched his muddy paws from the mud and hissed in pain as he scrambled to his feet. He tore after Det, splashing through the scummy pond. Sed rushed at his friend and tackled him into the water. Det gurgled in surprise as he tried to wrestle with the ferret. In the dark, the two figures splashed and writhed in the foul marshes.
"Sed!" Det cried out as Sed plunged the weasel's head into the muddy water. He held him down, struggling to keep the floundering beast from rising again.
Slowly, Sed's face lost it's terrible, murderous look. He gasped and relinquished his grip. Det came to the surface coughing, eyes squinted shut. The vermin knelt in the pond in silence as neither moved.
"Sed… I… I don't think… that was very rational," Det spluttered, wiping his face with one filthy, wet paw.
"Logically… I should've let you go. What with us not bein' friends or nothin'," Sed muttered. Det paused for a moment, gazing at his companion.
"Why don't we both play at bein' illogical, Sed?' Det proposed. He stuck out his paw.
"Goin' South, Sed?" Sed stared at the paw, trembling. After a moment, he smiled.
"Redwall Abbey, Det." Sed grasped Det's paw in his own and the two heaved themselves from the marsh.
Malcolm was deep in his own thoughts when he heard the two beasts following him. He twitched and turned his head as he heard the footfalls of the vermin approach.
"What are you two doing?" He asked bluntly.
"Goin' to Redwall Abbey, myself," Sed replied just as bluntly.
"South it is, mate," Det reminded them.
"You two couldn't find your way back to your own home! What makes you think you can get to Redwall?" Malcolm argued aggressively. Sed merely scratched his head.
"The marsh was our 'ome."
"The fort! Look, the fog is clearing! See for yourselves!" Malcolm snapped. Sed and Det turned around to watch the fog swirl aside, blown by a strong Easterly wind. Sed chuckled to himself, Det just smiled contentedly. Malcolm shuddered, blinking.
"Well, ain't much left for us 'ere, my dear Malcolm. An' you did say you was goin' to 'elp those in need. I need to get to Redwall." Malcolm glared at Sed, sizing him up. The ferret's footpaws were covered in mud, as was his cloak and his sopping wet fur. Det was in no better condition. Both were underfed, their fur looking drab and unhealthy.
"Fine." Malcolm turned and stormed off. The hedgehog, weasel and ferret followed close behind.
"Oi, Malcolm. Lookin' forward to dippin' in Redwall's mud lake, I can tell you!" Sed called out.
"I don't… even know what that means," Malcolm hissed through gritted teeth. The two vermin sloshed through the wetlands, Det nearly losing himself in a particularly deep pool of water. Sed hauled his friend out by the arms and grinned.
"Come on, Det. Time to go." Det beamed in return, the two of them marching briskly after their leader.
It was a clear, starry night over the marshes to the North of Mossflower. Sed and Det were finally leaving.