Hello! I've edited the first and second chapters since I've posted them with the help of reviewers. So just letting that be known if anybeast wanted to go back and see the difference. Thanks for the reviews and support!
I'd also like to say a huge thank you to my beta, Kelaiah, whose help I am particularly grateful for. You rock, Kel!
"Hello darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again." -Simon & Garfunkel
"So then-" the haremaid lost her composure and snickered intensely. "Stop it! You all're messing me up, wot!"
At her insistence, the hares surrounding her gave her some more room as she recomposed herself and cleared her throat.
"Ahem- anyway, so then she hears the old sergeant call out to her as she tries to sneak away, and her heart flippin' stops! She turns around, afraid for her bloomin' life!
"But the sarge just claps her on the shoulder, exclaiming, 'I guess that's one way to get answers out of the blighter!'"
The haremaid grinned wickedly as her fellow Long Patrollers erupted in raucous laughter. Even Harry couldn't help but smile as he reprimanded her.
"Rosemary! You can't tell your jokes around here; y'might melt the modest ears right off some poor abbeybeast!"
"Sorry, sah!" Rosemary giggled, obviously not apologetic in the least. "Won't happen again!"
As Harry lifted his accusing gaze from the giggling haremaid, he suddenly realized that the seat in front of him was empty; Lilith had slipped away from right in front of him as Rosemary told that crass joke! The burly hare knew there was no particular reason he could give for why the mousemaid shouldn't be free to move about, but he was still just a bit uncomfortable with her being outside of his observation.
The other hares pestered Rosemary into telling another joke, and she agreed - only that it was a joke that she insisted was "squeaky clean" when Harry shot her a warning glance.
Lilith, on the other paw, had found herself another seat at a different table - one right behind the stoat. Sitting back-to-back with the vermin, the mousemaid listened intently to the conversation he was having with the Redwallers.
"So, you just grew up in northern Mossflower all alone?" the otter asked Micah incredulously .
"I wasn't alone," the stoat replied. "I always had Papa."
"But still, you never had any brothers or sisters, or friends?" the otter prodded, a tinge of pity creeping into his voice.
"Well, we've visited the nearby village a few times. When we're there I either talk or play with some of the youngbeasts, but I never really had a friend," Micah admitted, oblivious to the surprised pity written on the faces of Brother James and the otter. "But I never needed one," the stoat continued, "Everything is perfect with just Papa and me."
"But what do you do for fun?" the otter asked in disbelief.
"Papa brings back all kinds of books from here," Micah answered, smiling fondly. "I've read some of them so many times I could recite them from memory."
Brother James nodded, noting, "I was the librarian until a season ago. I always let him check out more books than I was supposed to, and I always had to browbeat him to eventually get them back. I knew he liked to read, but I never guessed he was getting those books for more than just himself."
Micah's smile faded. "You mean he never mentioned me to you?"
Brother James shook his head.
"Not even once?"
"Sorry, son. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you, is all." The old mouse's heart ached a bit at the solemn look on the stoat's face. Truth be told, Brother James didn't know why Lucas had concealed Micah's existence like he did. James also couldn't help but be hurt by this fact too, for he couldn't conceive of any reason why his friend would conceal such an important part of his life from him.
The otter sensed the mood change, and tried to steer the other two away from it, asking, "What else do you like to do but read?"
After a pause, Micah answered, "I love fishing."
"Me too! What do you like about it?" the otter asked, grinning.
"Well, it's nice and quiet. And peaceful. It's easy to think about stuff... well, until something needs to be reeled in," noted the stoat pensively. As an afterthought, he added, "And if I catch something, it means I can eat it!"
Lilith bored of eavesdropping on the stoat; there wasn't anything to hear. As the two youngbeasts continued on about fishing, with the stoat being more interested in the fish and the otter in the water, the mouse decided it was a good time to head back to the hares. She might not have gotten any information strictly pertaining to increased vermin activity yet, but she would. She'd show Harry.
"What's your name?" Micah asked the otter suddenly. They'd been conversing for a while, and the stoat only just realized he didn't know the name of the beast he'd been conversing with.
"The name's Rugger," the otter supplied, stretching a strong-looking paw across the table towards the stoat.
After a brief hesitation, Micah accepted Rugger's paw, only to regret it once his own paw was nearly crushed. "OW!"
"Ooh, sorry, mate," Rugger apologized with an sympathetic grimace. He laughed, "Don't know my own strength sometimes!"
"You certainly don't," Micah muttered, shaking out his sore paw and tenderly rubbing it. He might have normally held a bit of a grudge at that, but with a look at the friendly otter's penitent face, the stoat couldn't help but laugh. "But it's alright, I suppose."
Brother James was happy to see that the two youngbeasts were getting along; he was quickly fulfilling Lucas' wish that his son feel welcome.
Lucas!
Suddenly feeling discontented, Brother James decided he would like to go back up to the infirmary and see how his friend was holding up. Noticing Micah hadn't touched his food since he started conversing with Rugger, the old mouse figured it wouldn't hurt to pull him away to see Lucas as well. Besides, it looked like everybeast else was finishing up their dinners too; it would save the young stoat the trouble of being asked to help with the dishes.
"Micah, would you like to check on your father?"
The stoat's good mood was dashed instantly as worry came rushing back to him. He nodded and stoop up, anxiety now apparent in his movements. Rugger stood up as well, asking, "Hey, um, would it be alright if I came with you?"
Micah was silent for a moment, but nodded his consent, and the three went off to the infirmary.
Micah stared up at the ceiling of the dark guestroom, unable to sleep despite the numbness in his limbs and fog in his head from exhaustion. The visit to the infirmary had left him with an even greater state of anxiety that manifested physically as a persistent ache in his stomach. He couldn't clear his head of the twisted sight of his papa unconscious, fevered, and weak; it was so different from the healthy squirrel he'd always known.
The healer's assurances that he could return the next morning to visit his father did little to quell the strangling premonition of doom that bore down on him. He felt so powerless. All he could do was just lie there and wait till morning, when he'd be allowed to be by his father's side again. If only he could just fall asleep so the morning would come sooner...
A snore startled the young stoat, but he quickly remembered that he was sharing the room with Rugger.
Earlier, just as they were being hustled back out of the infirmary, Brother James had suggested that they all better get to bed, and that Rugger share a guestroom with Micah. The otter happily agreed, and Brother James led the way to the nearest available room. The stoat had almost awkwardly mentioned that there was only one bed when he saw the room, but was glad that he didn't when Rugger introduced him to what was called a "truckle bed", which turned out to be slightly smaller bed on wheels neatly tucked away under the first bed. Had it been any other time, Micah might have been more impressed with the invention.
After telling the stoat to pick which bed he'd like to sleep in, Rugger had left to gather some extra blankets and a couple of nightshirts for them. Micah decided it would be better if he took the smaller bed, being obviously lighter than the muscular young otter. The stoat waited uncomfortably in the oppressively silent room for his new-found friend to come back, but pridefully concealed his relief when Rugger finally returned.
The otter had helped unfold some of the blankets onto the truckle bed before carelessly heaping the rest on his own bed, and then casually undressed himself without warning to slip on his nightshirt. Micah's blushed and looked away when Rugger did that - this otter was the least shy beast the stoat had ever met.
After bidding Micah a good night and blowing out the candles that illuminated the room, Rugger had tucked himself into his own bed and, enviably, was out like a light within a few minutes.
Now, the only sound to be heard in the room was Rugger's slow, deep breathing, and his occasional snore. Truthfully, Micah was very grateful for the otter's company. The truckle bed Micah laid in was by no means comfortable, but the presence of a friend made the room seem less alien, and more welcoming.
Eventually the stoat finally succumbed to sleep, but not before what felt like hours of rumination. Reliving the attack that had left his father grievously wounded in his memory, Micah felt seeds of seething hatred form in his psyche for the vermin: one for the two foxes, who had inflicted Papa's wounds... and one for himself, who in his cowardice had let it happen.