5


Barabell sat back in her seat, her belly full. She sighed happily.

"That was delicious," she purred.

"Yes, it was," Agatha agreed.

"I couldn't eat another bite," the vixen declared. Suddenly, she leaned forward, and plucked a small roll of nut and berry bread from the table. "Well…maybe one more…"

Agatha chuckled, and took a long swig of some Raslemon Swirl. Barabell nibbled the roll, but paused when she felt a tug at her tail. She looked down, and saw Caleb.

"Hey there, cousin," he greeted.

Barabell waved politely.

"Hi, there, Caleb," said the vixen softly. "Er…I'm pretty sure we're not cousins…"

"Oh, I know," the squirrel said. "I just like calling you cousin. You'd be a much better one than Rachelle, that's for sure."

"Rachelle's pretty mean," Barabell admitted. "I guess you can keep calling me that if you want. I don't mind."

"Thanks," said Caleb happily. "Hey, wanna see something nice?'

"Uh…sure?"

"Follow me."

Caleb rushed off excitedly. Barabell glanced at Agatha, who smiled and nodded to her approvingly.

"Stay out of trouble, my dear," Agatha warned.

"Yes, Mum," replied Barabell as she got up from the chair and rushed off into Great Hall. Little did she know that a nearby Rachelle had heard them, and slowly got up to tag along.

Barabell looked around, and saw a flash of red. She followed it. She found herself outside. She spotted Caleb standing near the gatehouse. She slowly approached him. When she got close enough, the young squirrel smiled eagerly at her.

"You ready?" he asked? When Barabell nodded, Caleb grabbed the gatehouse's door's handle. "Here we go."

The gatehouse's door opened with a long, high-pitched whine, revealing a dim room of clutter. Books lined the shelves and papers rested on tables. Barabell looked around in interest.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"This is the gatehouse," Caleb explained. "The recorder works here, writing down all the things that happen as the years go by. Oh, hold on a second."

Caleb stepped inside, and found some matches. He lit one of the candles set up in the gatehouse, and filled the room with light.

"Come in," he invited.

Barabell stepped inside, wondering just what was written in all the books. Caleb went to the gatehouse's fireplace, and stood on tiptoe. He pulled down a sword belt, and a shield baring the letter, "M". They were quite big for him, and he had to drag them over to Barabell.

"What's that?" asked the vixen.

"The sword and shield of Martin the Warrior," replied the squirrel. "Isn't it neat?"

Barabell's ears fell back, and she wrinkled her nose.

"Why should I care about those things?" she asked bitterly. "Martin the Warrior wouldn't want me near them. He doesn't like vermin like me."

Caleb tilted his head.

"Vermin?" he repeated. "Why would you call yourself that?"

"Because that's what she is," Rachelle's voice suddenly snapped as the squirrelmaid in question entered the gatehouse. She put her hands on her hips. "Why'd you bring her here anyway? She doesn't need to know about this stuff. She might just swipe something behind your back."

Barabell felt anger and pain forming inside her. She lowered her head, clinching her forepaws into fists. Caleb noticed this, and sharply reprimanded his cousin.

"Leave her alone, you bully," he snapped, his paws resting on his hips. "I can't wait until your mother's well. The sooner my parents take you back home, the better."

Rachelle flicked her tail irritably, giving Barabell a cold, dark glare.

"How can you defend a thief? Unlike you, I've actually read some of the records. Redwall mice have suffered because of many vermin, foxes included. She's going to be just like them. The Abbot should have her kicked out now."

While Rachelle spoke, Barabell grew more and more angry. Suddenly, she turned to the squirrelmaid, and charged at her with an angry yell. She knocked her down and began to scratch at her face with her claws.

"You bully!" Barabell roared. "Why won't you stop picking on me? I've never done anything to you!"

Rachelle fought back, slapping and kicking Barabell repeatedly.

"You brute," she spat. "I'm trying to keep the Abbey safe!"

Caleb, who was frozen in shock for a few seconds, quickly broke up the skirmish by stepping in and pushing the maiden creatures away from each other.

"Both of you stop!" he demanded. "What if the adults hear us? Whitney will be on us with that pallet faster than flies on old cheese." He shot a glare at Rachelle. "Go back inside."

Rachelle returned the glare, but nevertheless, obeyed her cousin's demand. Barabell slipped away during this, and went in deeper into the gatehouse. She softly cried underneath a table. Caleb followed her sobs and peered underneath the table at her.

"Cousin?' he began. "Cousin, don't cry…"

His words only made the vixen cry harder. Caleb crouched under the table, and gently patted her head.

"Who cares what Rachelle says?" he said, attempting to cheer her up. "She's just a brat. I tell you, back at my house, she's always bossing me around and calling me names just because she's the oldest. Can you believe that silliness?"

Barabell's crying quieted down to a few measly huffs.

"Why do they-huff, huff-hate me?"

"They're just afraid of the past, Barabell," explained Caleb.

"Huff, huff-I'm not-huff, huff-like other foxes…" said Barabell. "I'm a goodbeast."

"I know," agreed Caleb. "The others need to see that."

"Caleb! Vixen!"

An angry Whitney stuck her huge, striped head through the doorway of the gatehouse. Her blackish-brown eyes bore into the young pair. Caleb looked back with wide, fearful eyes. But then, he narrowed them.

"Rachelle…" he growled.

"Out here, now!" ordered the badger.

Returning the sword and shield to their proper place, Caleb led Barabell out of the gatehouse. Whitney towered over them, the large wooden pallet in her paws. Beside her was Agatha, who gazed at her young one in disbelief.

"Barabell," the hedgehog maiden whispered.

Barabell looked at the ground. Whitney snorted and folded her arms.

"Rachelle has informed me that you," here, she poked at Barabell's head with the pallet. "Attacked her. Is this true?"

Caleb, not wanting to see his friend in trouble, stepped forward.

"Ms. Whitney, ma'am," he began nervously. "You know how much Rachelle exaggerates things. What happened was-"

"I attacked her, ma'am," said Barabell suddenly, her head rising.

"Barabell?" Agatha said softly.

"Humph," grumbled Whitney. "I figured. I will not tolerate that behavior here." She glanced at Agatha. "Shall I, Ms. Prickle?'

Agatha nodded slightly, and looked away. Whitney roughly grabbed Barabell's arm, and sat down. Laying the vixen over her lap, she proceeded to whack her bottom with the pallet. With each blow, Barabell let out yelp after yelp after yelp. It all lasted for a minute or so, before Whiney released Barabell. The vixen shuffled off, rubbing her sore bottom. She hid behind Agatha, sniffling. Satisfied, Whitney lumbered back inside of the Abbey.

Barabell lied in bed, her tail exposed to the cool air inside of Agatha's tree stump. She cried, for the third time that night, into her pillow. Agatha sat by her bed, and stroked the dibbun's head.

"I know it hurts," the hedgehogmaid cooed. "But it was to teach you. We don't attack our fellow beasts, Barabell."

"Is it ok to insult others because of what they are?" asked a bitter Barabell.

"No, of course not. But…I see why you'd ask that. Look, my sweet. Foxes, rats, weasels, and the like have given good creatures hard times in the past. That's why they're called vermin. You're different. You were born and raised by a good creature instead of a bad one."

Barabell glanced up at her adopted mother.

"Would I have been bad if my real parents raised me?" she asked quietly.

"I…I don't know," the hedgehogmaid sighed. "I don't want to believe in a world where you grow up as a rotten child. You have potential to be good. All creatures do, really. I think some animals just like to be evil, and creatures like foxes and rats are the unlucky ones who are taken over by it. Barabell, no matter what happens, always try to do good. Understand?"

Barabell nodded.

"I'll try."