A/N: Everything in this part happens kind of fast, so make sure to read every word, or else it won't make sense.
Disclaimer: Brian Jacques owns Redwall.
It is night. The sky is dark, the color of shadows. Stars shine weakly in the darkness, but they are cold, distant, and are unwilling to shed light. A crescent moon hangs in the sky, thin and pale, like fate's Cheshire smile. Faint light falls upon the forest below, no more than silver dust motes from the stars, illuminating the silhouette of a sleeping figure, sleeping alone under the stars.
The thick silence of my dream is shattered by a scream. A scream that pierces through the forest, through the silence, through my mind. A scream that speaks of blood dripping down a blade, throats slashed, and lives snuffed.
I bolt up, paranoid, looking for the threat, but there is none. The scream had come from far away, so far it might just be from my imagination. The forest noises are already repairing themselves from the suddenness of the scream. Soon, it is as if it had never happened.
Then I hear it, again.
Closer.
My mind freezes over, and all thoughts are instantly lost. My mind tells me one thing: Run. Now. It warns me of violence, of death and carnage, of hearts stilled forever, of eyes glazed over in death. In my mind's eye, I see corpses, severed limbs, mouths frozen in a scream of death. I see lifeblood pooling everywhere, bright red, burning away the calm of mind like liquid fire. Terror seizes me, and my legs respond automatically, and I run.
But then I stop.
My heart is beating, but not with fear. It's beating with the desire to protect someone, to save a life. I don't understand the sudden impulse. All my life, I had ran away, always ran away, even at the slightest hint at violence. But now, my heart tells me its time to change. The woodlanders who judged me, judged us, hadn't they said that we were all cowards who disrespected life? By running, wasn't I just proving their point?
Again, the images of violence and bloodshed run through my mind, but my heart tells me that it can all be prevented, be changed. So I turn around, and head towards the direction of the scream.
linelinelinelinelinelineline line
I burst into a clearing, where there are no trees. Instead, pale green grass grows, but it is stained opaque shades of gray by the shifting night sky. In fact, the whole clearing is gray, colorless. Bleached of life.
The clearing is empty, and I don't understand why. I'm sure that this is where the scream had come from, but the clearing is completely empty. It's all gray, like a painting bleached of color, like a dream bleached of hope, lost. I start to walk away, but then I smell the blood.
Blood.
I look closer, and I see it. Puddles of it, staining the silver grass dark. Its smell was everywhere, turning every innocent thing around it a gruesome sign of death. What I had mistaken for a mud patch is actually a puddle of blood. And in it is what I had mistaken for a log.
A body.
I scream so loudly that my eyes burn and my ears ring. I close my eyes, trying to block out the terrible scene from the outside, and the rushing terror from the inside. I had been too late, for there was no life to save. It was all too late. Whoever had screamed is dead, stone dead. He is just a corpse now, just a heart stilled, a pair of eyes unseeing, a mouth frozen, never to sing. Dead. I turn, about to flee from this tableau of death, but then I hear it.
It is so quiet I have to strain my ears to hear it. It could have been just a whisper in the wind, a rustle in the leaves. But then I hear it again, and there is no mistaking it.
"Help"
Whoever had screamed is alive.
I rush to the body and see a mouse, just a child, bleeding from a large gash in his side. He breathing is shallow and quick, and his face is twisted in pain. Blood pools all around him, and it expands quickly as his face grows paler and paler from the loss of blood. I tear off a strip of cloth from my gray tunic and try to stop the bleeding with it. I am no healer, but I manage to make a makeshift bandage for him. The bleeding is stemmed.
He sees my face and fear flashes through his eyes, but it is quickly replaced by gratitude. I smile for the first time in weeks, and for a moment it seems that the clouds covering my sky have shifted, and a tiny sunbeam peers through. The sunbeam falls lightly, a sign of hope. My life, the bleak and desolate world below, it is illuminated with sunlight, and I laugh joyously. The mouse smiles, and happiness reigns in my heart.
It is quickly snuffed out.
By the Long Patrol hare behind me, who stabs me in the stomach with a saber.
Linelinelinelinelinelineline line
Pain spreads throughout my body, reaching its burning tendrils into my flesh. It stabs me with ice shards, each deadly sharp. It tears me apart, and I crumple to the ground, gasping. It feels as if it is killing me. It is killing me. But it does not compare to the pain in my heart. Physical pain dulls, and something else spreads through me.
Cold.
The cold of the blade, spreading from the saber into my skin, into my soul. The cold of knowing you are going to die, but not really feeling it, instead feeling detached from reality, not believing. The cold of betrayal, knowing that no matter how much good you do, how much kindness you spread, people will still judge you, still categorize you as evil. I feel pain, but it cannot compare to the cold within me.
Through my fading eyes, I see the Long Patrol hare kneel down beside the young mouse. She says something, probably something to comfort the mouse, but he cries out angrily. I cannot hear his words, but I am sure that his anger is directed at me. The cold in my soul intensifies, and I suddenly feel so alone, trapped alone in the cold blizzard, the one that blows snow into my crying eyes, the one that is inside my soul. I feel the bittersweet snowflakes of loneliness pile up in me, sad to be so forsaken, happy to finally be able to leave this cruel world. Cold north winds blow into my soul, bringing raindrops of sorrow, and my sky is now gray, the sunbeam long gone, stained gray by the soft sprinkle of cold rain droplets. I see the hare's mouth moving again, I see the mouse's face twist in anger, but I only hear the silence, the silence of snowflakes falling.
But then I see the mouse push the hare away. The hare is confused, and she says something, something I care not to hear. The mouse screams something angrily at her, and she leaves, confusion written all over her face. I see her lips form the words he is mistaken. I am confused. Hadn't the mouse's anger been directed at me?
But then the mouse turns to me. His eyes are large and sorrowful, reflecting the words I'm sorry. His lips form words, as silent to me as the snow falling in me, and they are lost. But he speaks again, and this time his words are clear.
Thank you.
I feel the cold in me begin to melt, thawed by the warmth of his kind words. The sky in me is gray, all gray, but now a sunbeam looks through, and for a moment there is light. Then it flickers out, and I believe that I had heard wrong. But once again the sunbeam comes, this time bringing hope with it, spreading it throughout my soul, my life. The clouds in my sky part, and more light falls, gently at first, then brighter and brighter, brighter. My sky is now no longer dark and hopeless, but bright and full of light, hope. There is hope.
And just like that, the sun rises.
Through my dying vision, I see the horizon. At first it is dark, gray, but then a sliver of light appears. Just a sliver, but it grows and expands, and soon the sky is a pale pink, like the blossoms of spring promising new life to make up for the ones lost in winter. Then the pink grows stronger, a weak heart gaining strength and love, and my own realizes that this world is not made up soley of shadows, but of light as well. The pink is now a orange, blazing orange, like fire across the skies, fire promising to protect the weak, protect them from judgment. I see it reflected in the mouse's eyes, and I know that he will fight to end the prejudice in this world. Next, the sky turns yellow, bright, happy yellow, and I see the happiness, the joy, the bliss that was meant for this world, for all of us. And finally, the yellow explodes, explodes in a bright flash of color, into the brilliant light of day!
The last of the cold thaws and leaves me through the silver tears of joy pouring from my eyes, and my soul is free. My soul dances among the light in the dawning sky, the light in the new day, the new world. The sun had risen, proving that there was hope, and now the chains holding my soul down had broken as well, and I was free to fly away, into the light of the new day. Finally, someone had seen my soul within, not just the judgments plastered on my face, and my happiness was reflected in the heavens above.
Below, my body, once a vessel for my soul, it lies there, empty. The mouse stares quietly. But then he looks up, and he sees me, flying among the clouds, and the sadness in his eyes vanishes. He knows that I am free, that I am happy that I died as who I was, not as what everyone thought I was. He knew that I was happy. And so, I departed, the lights of the new day shining behind me, and I was finally myself, no longer judged, no longer a victim of prejudice, just me. Below, my body wears a smile, one of sunshine and light.
And then all goes black.