A/N: Thanks to Shi Ern for her lovely review.

All mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

With each passing minute, Synno was growing more anxious. He had failed to locate any signs of life in the past hour, and he knew returning to Lady Mortaza empty-pawed was practically inviting death. The afternoon was fading fast, which meant the sun would soon follow. Fear drove the burly stoat onward. He leapt over fallen branches and sloshed his way through various streams, always on the lookout for any movement or noises. But the anxiety would not vanish, and the fox tracker alongside him only worsened his mood.

"Lady Mortaza will 'ave yore 'ead when we gets back t'camp."

Synno glared at him in annoyance. "Who says we're goin' back t'camp? Maybe I'll jus' stay out 'ere an' never return."

The fox laughed at this foolish notion. "Ha! Ye think that'll stop the Lord an' Lady from findin' ye?"

"I thought ye were supposed t'be a tracker. Huh, wot kind o' tracker gits us lost in the forest? Methinks Mortaza will have yore head."

His companion shrugged off the blatant insult. "I'm not the one who 'as t'find some rotten woodlander. I was merely sent t'make sure ye don't try anythin' stupid. Oh, an' it's Lady Mortaza to ye. If'n ye don't call 'er that, well...it ain't pretty."

"Really now?" Synno's voice was thick with sarcasm. "An' pray tell me wot happens if'n I calls her Mortaza."

The fox snickered gleefully and ran a filthy claw along the edge of his axe, which he had kept hidden underneath his green robe. "I gets to watch ye die!"

Synno gave no reply, choosing to focus on his mission rather than listen to some bumbling fox. The two wandered further into Mossflower but still could not find anybeast. Synno felt as if they were traveling in circles, but he held his tongue. He did not like or trust foxes, and this one seemed to be extra sneaky. He was a mangy creature, with matted reddish-rusty fur that had a slight yellow tinge to it. His chin, throat, and chest were white - although it was incredibly difficult to tell since the fur was full of dirt and grime - and he had patches of black fur on the back of his ears. His tail was a long and bushy thing, with a brown-red hue on the top and pale grey on the underside. Nothing about him even remotely impressed Synno. The two vermin pressed onward, hoping to eventually see any signs of life. Theirs depended on it.

Mortaza was suffering through yet another terrifying nightmare. This time she was standing inside a gigantic and ancient hall, its walls covered with a magnificent tapestry. She instantly recognized the cloth as the same one Clawing had attempted to steal some nights back. The armoured mouse pictured on the tapestry seemed to glare at her, mocking her silently. She studied him for a brief moment. He certainly looked like a fierce warrior, leaning on his sword with vermin fleeing behind him. She moved her gaze up slightly and spotted the real weapon resting on two spikes above the picture. Mortaza's eyes lit up with greed, and she reached out for the sword.

A sudden flash of lightning frightened her, and her paw retreated as she was very briefly blinded. When she regained her sight, she noticed the sword was gone. Mortaza cursed under her breath at the missed opportunity, but the air caught in her throat when the mouse's picture began to move. She blinked once, thinking it was merely an illusion.

It was far from that. Like something out of a book, the mouse came to life. Mortaza knew he was long-dead, but that did not stop him from looking every inch the magnificent warrior that he was. He advanced upon her with large steps, the gleaming two-pawed sword pointed menacingly at her chest and a snarl stamped on his lips.

No matter how hard she tried, Mortaza could not tear her eyes away from his as she was forced backwards. Her heart thundered against her chest so loud she feared he could hear it. She suddenly tripped over her own footpaws and crashed to the ancient stone floor, eyes widened in terror at the mouse warrior who was now practically standing over her.

A single word that sounded more like a choked sob escaped her quivering throat. "Mercy!"

The warrior merely sneered at this feeble attempt. "There is no mercy for those who slaughter innocent creatures."

He raised the sword high above his head, and Mortaza let loose a blood-curdling scream as the blade came crashing down.

Upon awakening and realizing she was alive, Mortaza put her head in her paws and sighed in frustration. She knew these nightmares would continue to haunt her yet had no idea on how to stop them. First the ottermaid, and now the nameless mouse warrior, who was just as fearless. How much longer before sleep would totally elude her and she would become delusional? Would she be able to continue side-stepping death by mere inches? Was Kren suffering the same thing, and if not than why was she being targeted?

With these questions racing through her brain, the fisher decided to attend to other matters besides sleeping. She could go for a while without rest, but she knew that she would never win that particular battle. Rising from her bed, she cleaned herself up before heading outside to check up on her army's progress and to search for her husband, whom she had not seen in a while.

She eventually found Kren, who was supervising a group of archers at target practice. He was obviously not satisfied by how things were going, as he pulled an arrow that was embedded in the ground and snapped it cleanly in half before throwing it at the archers. "Blundering idiots! How can a task as easy as aiming at a stuffed target be so difficult? Try again, and this time I want to see perfect shots!"

Mortaza appeared beside her husband and smiled contently. "I was going to ask if you were having better luck than me, but I suppose I just received my answer."

Kren snorted irritably. "Morons can't even hit an inanimate object."

His wife placed a gentle paw on his shoulder. "Give it time, love. Have you seen the stoat? I thought he would have returned by now."

"Synno? That moronic lump of a vermin? Idiot probably went off and got himself killed. Good riddance I say."

"Well I say we need him, no matter how much you're right." She ventured off then, leaving Kren to his archers.

In addition to the already heightened anxiety, Synno was becoming more impatient with his fox companion. Ignoring him hadn't worked, and the so-called tracker seemingly refused to be quiet. Synno worried his constant yammering would scare away any potential captives. He had to physically restrain himself from reaching out and smacking the fox on his head, and it didn't help that he hated him.

Synno's nostrils flared as he picked up an unknown scent. He stopped in his tracks, not bothering to tell his companion who ended up crashing into him.

The fox shook his head and glared at him. "Idiot. Wot do ye think yore doin'?"

"Shut up," Synno hissed venomously. "I smell somethin'."

"Pity, I was lookin' forward to watchin' ye die."

Synno sneered at him in contempt. "Sorry I spoiled it fer ye. Now make yoreself useful an' help me search."

Clearly not amused, the fox crossed his paws defiantly and stayed put. "Who says yore the boss o' me, stoat? I kin do wot I wants, when I wants. An' I don't want to 'elp a snot-nosed fool such as yoreself!"

Synno's rising temper boiled over. He struck the fox hard with his entire body, sending him flying. The fox had no time to recover as Synno grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against a tree trunk, chest heaving with rage.

The impudent fox's face was showered with spittle as Synno snarled viciously, "An' I have no time for yellow-bellied scumbags, especially one who thinks 'e's better than me."

His victim attempted to respond, but the air was quickly vanishing from his lungs. Synno continued to apply more pressure to his throat, eyes blazing cruelly as he watched in amusement at the fox suffocating in his grasp.

Within seconds it was over. Synno released his hold on the dead fox, whose body slid to the ground. A pained grimace was now frozen on his lips. Spitting on the carcass, Synno turned heel and followed the scent, hopeful that it would lead him to a woodlander.

Inside Redwall Abbey, things were growing more and more tense. Mortaza had not been heard of since the first attack, and the inhabitants were beginning to wonder if she was up to something. While others were going about their daily business as a means of distraction from their current predicament, Abbot Torlay was holding a meeting with some creatures down in Cavern Hole.

A frustrated Semser slammed his clenched paw on the table. "Why can't the scum just show her face?"

Alddon sniffed as he popped a strawberry into his mouth. "Because she's a vermin, mate. Vermin are cowards. But this one is smart. There's jus' one problem: what species is she?"

Everybeast immediately looked at Dasmaros, the Abbey Recorder. He shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "Sorry mates, but I've searched through all the books in the library an' can't find anything. Nothing fits her description."

Emroon gritted her teeth angrily. "It's just like Dakmus all over again."

Patting her mother's paw reassuringly, Culy looked at the Abbot with hopeful eyes. "There has to be a way to stop her, right? She can't continue to attack the Abbey forever."

Torlay sighed and, reaching out, gently touched the young ottermaid's cheek with an ancient paw. "My dear child, you have much to learn about the world. Vermin such as Mortaza will stop at nothing until they get what they want."

Culy felt her cheeks flush red with embarrassment, and she lowered her head. Semser squeezed her paw gently and spoke in a soothing tone. "No need to be ashamed, daughter. You're a young maid an' not accustomed to witnessing such tyranny."

After ensuring she was alright, the Warrior turned his sterling eyes to Torlay. "Father Abbot, I suggest that we take a search party into Mossflower. It's dangerous, but necessary if we want to find out just what Mortaza is up to."

Log-a-Log nodded in agreement. He was the leader of the Guosim - which stood for Guerilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower - tribe, a large group of argumentative but fierce shrews who had been allies of Redwall since its construction. "'Tis a wunnerful thing, the element o' surprise. My band an' I are eager to get back into action, an' wot better way than to ambush the enemy. We strike in the dead o' night, that scumbag Mortaza an' her evil horde won't know wot hit 'em!"

The old hare gazed firmly at the shrew leader. "Unless it's an emergency, I want everybeast to remain within these four walls. We cannot afford to take chances, especially when there is evil in Mossflower. For now, we stay here. Make sure all fighters are ready and weapons sharpened. We must be ready to do battle at a moments notice."

Taffa was lost. The very young Guosim shrew had been blundering through Mossflower for what had seemed like an eternity after being accidentally separated from his parents and infant sister. Normally anybeast, especially one so young, would have been terrified. But Taffa was not concerned. He was a feisty creature and not one to bow down from adventure.

"Us shrews don't get lost," he said to himself as he walked through thick brush. "No siree, we know these 'ere woods like the back o' our paws. Would be nice if'n I found a logboat though."

His stomach rumbled, and Taffa realized that he had not eaten for a few hours. This didn't worry him though, as shrews - especially Taffa - were resourceful creatures. Besides, Mossflower was full of delicious food. No doubt he'd find something to munch on.

A scent suddenly assaulted his nostrils, and he immediately began to salivate upon spotting a pawful of berries on the ground. Somebeast must 'ave dropped 'em from their pouch whilst they were walkin', he thought to himself. Licking his lips, he skipped over to where the scrumptious-looking fruit lay and reached out to snatch one up.

Without warning a paw shot out and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and he was easily lifted into the air. Although he was unable to see his captor's eyes thanks to a hood covering their face, Taffa instinctively knew they were a vermin.

"Lookit 'ere, a liddle watermouse!" Synno, for it was he, laughed aloud.

Although terrified, Taffa put up a brave front and bared his little but sharp teeth. "I'm a shrew, not a watermouse!"

Synno squeezed his flesh a bit harder, causing Taffa to cry out in pain. "Careful now, young 'un. If'n ye don't be quiet I may make a quick meal out o' ye."

Taffa, however, refused to give up. "When my dad finds out what ye've done, he'll 'ave yore 'ead!"

The stoat suddenly revealed a dagger from his new robe, pressing it up against his prisoner's nose. His tone of voice revealed his none-too-amused demeanour. "Impudence will be the death o' ye, watermouse. Ye need to learn 'ow to respect yore elders an' betters."

Without another word he tossed the young shrew into a bag and tied the top just enough so that a bit of air could get through, and Taffa found himself surrounded by near total darkness.

Evening fell over Mossflower, and the amount of birdsongs slowly began to decrease. Taffa's mother and father, together with his infant sister, came out from the forest fringe, their weary eyes falling upon the majestic Redwall Abbey. Snuggled into her mother's arms, the little shrewbabe gave a squeal of joy.

"Not far now, young 'un," her father said gently. "In a few minutes we'll be safe inside Redwall."

His wife, however, was not as optimistic. "Wot about Taffa? He's probably lost an' wanderin' through Mossflower."

He squeezed her paw lightly and winked. "Try not to worry, m'love. Taffa is a resourceful beast. If'n 'e's lost, 'e'll find 'is way to Redwall. I jus' know it."

After letting the guests in, Abbot Torlay brought them down to Cavern Hole for something to eat. As they ate, the shrews spoke of their lost son.

The old hare sighed sadly. "I am sorry, but we've heard nothing about your son."

"Wot if 'e's captured by those rotten vermin?"

Torlay offered the upset mother a comforting smile. "I'm sure that's not the case. Now, you three look like you need some sleep. Go to the dormitories; you can rest there."

Huddled in a corner of the cell, Gala tried to surround herself with positive thoughts. It was proving to be a difficult task though, as not much in her environment was worth noting. Her prison was medium-sized and looked out on the camp, close to various tents so she would be well guarded. The female stoat had gone some time without food, and her stomach rumbled in protest. She looked down in disgust at the small jug of water and piece of stale bread crust that lay at her footpaws, and her blood boiled. She had done nothing wrong and now she was rotting in a cell. She knew she was different from other vermin, willing to stand up for what was right instead of following orders and mercilessly slaughtering innocent beasts. Gala was a kind creature; she wanted to live a life of peace and happiness, not be held in some cell like a wrongfully accused prisoner.

She imagined what it would be like to live at Redwall Abbey. Mortaza was determined to conquer the ancient place, but Gala knew she did not stand a chance. The stories of past warlords failing to capture the Abbey were countless, and Mortaza would be no different. Gala was fully aware of the sheer size and numbers Redwall had, and she knew better than to challenge them. Of course there was also the opportunity to help them against this new evil, if she was ever able to escape. She hated Mortaza - and Synno for that matter, despite him being her brother - with a fiery passion. Both were cruel beasts who enjoyed torturing others, and Gala was not like that. If she could escape from this prison she could possibly aid the Redwallers, especially since she knew what Mortaza was planning.

Hoarse shouts brought her back to reality, and she moved closer to the bars to see what was going on. Although his hood concealed his face, she instantly recognized her brother Synno. He was carrying some sort of bag, and there was obviously a creature inside for the material was moving. Mortaza then appeared, and a low snarl emitted from Gala's throat at the sight of her hated enemy.

Grinning proudly, Synno untied the bag and turned it upside down. Taffa plummeted to the ground, small tail between his legs. He was clearly terrified at being surrounded by such evil-looking creatures.

Bending down, Mortaza gave the frightened young shrew a wicked smile. "Do not be afraid, little one. If you cooperate with me, I won't hurt you. Now, what's a poor little babe like yourself doing out in these woods alone? Surely you must have a very worried mother and father looking for you."

Taffa remained silent, though his entire body trembled with fear.

Mortaza shrugged and stood back up. "No matter. We've got ourselves a hostage. Synno, throw this woodlander into the same cell as your foolish sister. Perhaps being in the same vicinity as a vermin for some time will help his change his mind about not speaking."

Gala shuffled back into the corner as Synno approached, but she made sure he knew she was alive. "I see you've become one of them, brother."

Synno spat on the ground near the holding cell. "Aye, too bad you weren't smart enough to make the same decision. Pity you've got to rot in there now; ye would 'ave made a good soldier."

Gala bared her gleaming teeth. "I'd rather die than join that murderin' army."

"Yore choice. Ye look like ye could use a good meal. Jus' try not to eat this 'ere shrew; we need 'im fer hostage negotiations. Huh, those stupid Redwallers will do anythin' to ensure their beloved friends are safe."

A light went off in Gala's mind, but she stayed silent as Synno carelessly tossed the young shrew into the cell. Without a single word to his sister, he locked the door and turned heel.