Bang.

Fabian awoke, grabbing for his sword, only to find it wasn't there. He had dropped it somewhere. He had left it behind. But he had a knife. He grabbed that instead, with his left paw. His right arm ached in his makeshift cast. Scrambling out from under the hollow tree, he waved the knife, ears perked.

Bang.

He scrambled back under the tree, breathing hard. Blood was pounding in his. A steady rhythm, just under his ears. Thump, thump, like his head was about to implode. Like that poor sergeant Fabian had stationed on the beach. A steel ball sent by incomprehensible powers, reducing his face to a bloody smear. How he wished it would happen already. He tried to still his breathing. What if they were around? What if they found him?

He waited for the next blast. Then he remembered it wouldn't come. It was just some kind of target practice. They did it yesterday morning, too. Two bangs. Then silence.

He took a deep breath. He could face this. He had to get his food for the day. He had found a fish trap on the north shore of the Big Island. No vermin around. Usually a fish or two in the net. He could do that. Steeling himself, he left the hiding.

There was a longboat on the shore, just leaving. Fabian also ran. Then he saw who was on it. Hares.

"Wait! Wait!" He took off in a run.

One looked back, but they didn't stop pushing off. Their faces all showed fear. The one who looked back raised a paw to his lips in a silencing potion.
"Wait!" His broken arm fell out of the cast, dangling uselessly.

The hares started rowing, leaving the coast. They were a dozen feet into the lake by the time Fabian reached the water.

Standing in the shallows, he whispered to himself, "Wait."

He shook his head, he readjusted his cast, and checked the fish trap. It was empty. It looked like those hares had already raided it. He shook his head again, ignoring the rumbling of his stomach, and walked back towards the forest. Standing at the edge of the trees, he saw a familiar face. Alfar Miggory.

Fabian's old comrade looked a lot worse for wear. His fur was singed, a fresh scar stretched from his ear to his neck, and his once-polished uniform was muddy and torn. Fabian supposed he wouldn't look any better. Probably worse.

"You," muttered Alfar.

"Alfar. You're alive."

"Am I?" Alfar looked at the dirt. "You saw the… weapons they used?"

"Yes. I… I don't understand anything. Anything of it."

Alfar nodded. Damn, the poor lad. He didn't deserve this.

"That was what remained of your regiment?" Fabian waved his paws at the longboat that was shrinking on the horizon. "They left you here?"

Alfar scowled. "No. I choose to stay. Lord Brawblade gave us… he gave us orders. We were to protect this island. And I'll follow my orders. I'll protect this island. I… they were cowards. Bastards. They're running away." His lip curled. "You wanted to join them. You cried for them to take you."

Fabian swallowed. He still wished they had taken them. "I did."

Fabian took a deep breath, then held it. His face softened, then he buried his face in his paws with a sob. He fell back against a tree, crumpling to the ground as tears streamed from his face.

Fabian opened his mouth, and no words came out. He kneeled down next to the sobbing Alfar.

"It's all wrong," sobbed Alfar quietly. "We're the Long Patrol. We're… we're heroes. But my men are deserting me. Tenac's dead. And Brenny's dead, and Waxpaw, and… and… it's all wrong. I looked… looked up to you. And you're a coward. And I'm a coward." He pulled a knife from his belt, and moved it towards his own throat.

Fabian reacted instinctively, knocking the knife from Alfar's paw and sending it scittering across the ground. Alfar stopped his crying, staring down at where the knife lay. "I'm a coward… I'm a coward…" he muttered, tears starting to come again.

Fabian just nodded as he picked up Alfar and the knife and tossed the sobbing hare over his shoulders. Fabian could save just one hare. He could do that.

As he was walking back to his hideout, he heard rustling in the trees. He instinctively plopped Alfar down next to a stump and dodged behind a tree, holding both his knife and Alfar's.

"I'm telling you, Captain Bloodtoe. I heard something." Vermin.

"I believe you."
"Just you wait, I'll show you."

"I'm sure you will."

"You'll see. Then I'll be a hero, like Crabtooth. They made him king, they did."

"Of course."

Two rats stepped out in front of Fabian, one young and excited, the other scarred and gaunt-faced. As the gaunt one was passing Fabian's tree, Fabian held his breath and gripped the knives. These were just a couple of rats. No magical powers. He could handle this. He handled this before. Just move in. Stab the older one, the bigger threat in the back. Then be faster than the younger one. He could do this.

But all he could think of was the vermin surging up the shore on their boats, cutting down Fabian's friends. It was pointless.

The two rats walked past Fabian. He and Alfar had escaped notice. Fabian didn't need to kill them. It would be alright. He could still be lucky.

He started breathing again, and picked up Alfar, who had gone completely silent. Again on the way to the hideout, this time taking care to cover their tracks.

He made it to the hideout, and rolled Alfar down into the hollow of the tree. He supposed he didn't have a place for himself now. He could do with that, for now. He could not be a coward for a little bit. It made him feel better.

Lost on ideas, he climbed up the tree and hid amidst the branches. Resting there and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his broken arm, he hummed songs they would sing about him when he was a hero. He could be like that again, he reasoned. He could move past the battle of the shore. If he tried.

But he remembered his frozen terror on the shore. He remembered running. He remembered waking up to the sound of the bangs, and panicking even though knowing the threat wasn't real.

He remembered, when campaigning in Mossflower, a young hare named Chews had deserted. When they caught him, Captain Nightfur had him hung. Fabian remembered admiring the Captain for having it done. The righteousness of punishing a beast who had abandoned his friends.

He hummed and cried. Songs of heroism, memories of betrayal. And a rumbling stomach. Damn thieving hares.

As the sun set, the two rats who had tracked him earlier passed under the tree, the young one complaining.

"I know I heard something."

"Maybe you didn't."

"I know I did. I don't like this island. I'll be happy to be off with Darkblood tomorrow."

"It's Lord Marshal Darkblood, now. I won't be too excited. We'll have a lot of walking to do."

"I'm telling you. They're saying they haven't found one of the leaders of the rats, someone named Mrokka. She's a witch, they say. King Crabtooth says his top priority is to defeat her. I figured if we could catch her or one of her friends right now, we'd be rewarded."

"Weird, how this Mrokka rat is fighting against us other rats."

"Like I said, I don't like this island. I'll be happy to be gone."

Fabian tapped a paw on the branch. Madame Mrokka was alive? And fighting the vermin? Perhaps he would have an opportunity to be a real hero after all.