Disclaimer: The world of Redwall and its characters belong to Brian Jacques. I own NOTHING- except for my OCs. This is NOT canon, and I don't claim it to be. This is just my take of what could have happened after the events of The Legend of Luke and an exploration of lands outside of Mossflower.

The average Redwall novel has the usual graphic violence and other elements. This story will have that as well but will be a little more adult as the books were obviously written for a younger audience and many of us that read the series growing up are now adults.

It will be Rated T for some brief language, graphic violence, frightening themes and some suggestive elements.

Prologue I

Southeastern cliffs

Many seasons earlier

Soft autumn sunlight filtered through the multi-colored boughs above Martin the Warrior's head. The crisp brown carpet of fallen leaves that covered the forest floor was dappled in patches of light and shadow.

A chilly breeze whipped through the old cloak that Polleekin had given the young mouse. He shivered, wrapping the well-worn cloth tighter about his thin, battle-scarred frame. He stepped into a pool of weak sunlight to seek its warmth and looked around, his pale gray eyes dull- their usual spark of light non-existent.

The wind had shaken the dying leaves loose from their branches, drifting lazily to the pile at his feet. Fiery reds and oranges, along with vibrant yellows and dark russet colors rained down around him, landing on his head and shoulders. It was a beautiful morning, but Martin refused to notice.

His troubled mind was elsewhere.

Behind him, above his head in Polleekin's tiny home in the tree branches, his three friends were preparing for the return journey to Noonvale; one that he would not be joining. Unable to stand the awkward silence that reigned inside the small, homely space, the young mouse had retreated outside into the morning chill, leaving them to their work. He knew it was because they were disappointed about his decision to go his own way. He also knew they were aware of the main reason why he refused to go back to Noonvale with them.

He clenched his fists tightly as that simple name entered his mind once more like a ringing bell.

Noonvale.

When he had first heard it spoken, it had filled him with feelings of hope and happiness. But now it felt more like a stab to the gut. A constant reminder of what could have been had they not returned to Fort Marshank. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing left for him there in Noonvale. Nothing but painful memories and heartbreak.

And he had caused that heartbreak to happen.

Eyes burning with unshed tears, he rubbed at them with the back of his paws and kicked the leaves in frustration, sending them whirling about on the breeze. He began to pace, fighting for control of his raw emotions.

He didn't want his friends to see him like this when they came down to say goodbye.

Ever since Martin had announced his departure earlier that morning at breakfast, Pallum had been trying to think of ways to change the young warrior's plans, but he was running out of ideas.

"We have to do something." The hedgehog was handed a plate of pastries to split up, wrap and pack away into four separate haversacks for each traveler. He set it down on the kitchen table in front of Grumm. "We can't just let him go off on his own! What's out there," he gestured with a paw. "that he doesn't have here?"

Rowanoak and Polleekin shared a knowing glance but did not say what they were thinking out loud. The female badger shrugged her big shoulders.

"Martin's mind is made up, my friend. Nothing you can do or say will change it. Its best that we leave him be now."

Pallum frowned, wondering how she could be so dismissive. He turned to the old molewife who was pouring the last of the mint tea from breakfast into a canteen.

"Can't you at least talk some sense into him? He'd listen to you!" He pleaded. Despite the somber mood, Polleekin chuckled at Pallum's words and handed the canteen to Rowanoak, wiping her sticky paws on her flower-printed apron.

"T'would bee loike forcin' a woildcat ter enjoy waturr!" She replied in her rustic molespeech. He would listen, but he wouldn't change his mind.

Finally giving up, Pallum heaved a sigh and looked out the window at the bright autumn colors. He could see the clearing below and Martin pacing about in the leaves. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked away and sat down next to Grumm.

Grumm had stayed silent through their conversation, trying to keep his tears in check. His grief for Rose had intensified along with his disappointment at Martin's decision to leave and never come back. But he couldn't bring himself to share his opinions with his friends without bursting into tears.

With the last of the food packed, Rowanoak looked down at them. "It's time to go now." She said gently, meeting their tear-filled eyes.

Martin had stopped his aggravated pacing, tired of listening to the loud crunching as the dead leaves were smashed underfoot. He turned himself about slowly when he heard his friends' footpaws descend the fallen tree. He watched quietly, noting that Rowanoak was carrying all four packs while Pallum and Grumm carried two canteens each. Once her feet touched the ground, Rowanoak set down her burden and straightened, giving Martin a wistful smile.

"Well," her voice trembled with emotion. "this is it." She approached him slowly and enveloped him in her large arms in an awkward embrace. As she pulled away, she bent her head to his ear and whispered. "I hope you find what you're looking for out there, Warrior." She stepped away from him, arms at her sides.

Martin gave her a nod. "You as well, Rowanoak. And thank you... for everything." He gave her a small smile.

The badger returned it before stepping back for the others to say their own goodbyes.

Pallum's was a silent one. He met Martin's eyes sorrowfully before giving him a hug, careful not to prick him with his quills. He backed away and stood next to Rowanoak.

Martin was completely unprepared for the strength in Grumm's arms when the sobbing mole grabbed ahold of him, stiffening in pain and shock as Grumm wrapped his arms tight around the warriormouse and buried his face into Martin's shoulder.

Lost for words, Martin could only pat the unhappy mole's back and concentrate on trying to breathe. "It will be alright, Grumm." He said hoarsely.

Grumm let go of him and leaned away, shaking his head as fresh tears streamed down his velvet cheeks. He sniffed loudly, wiping his snout on the back of his paw. "Hurr... no it woan't, Marthen. Oi woan't nevurr see you'm agin." He went to stand next to Pallum, leaving Martin standing alone.

With their goodbyes now said, Polleekin set about giving them their rations for their journeys and planting a kiss on their cheeks, giving Martin his last. When this was done, she stood alongside the young mouse, entwining her wrinkled, age-spotted claws in her apron, as she did when she was anxious about something.

Rowanoak squared her broad shoulders, cleared her throat and forced a smile. "We will never forget you, Martin the Warrior." She met each of their eyes. "Come on! Let's see if we can make this place ring one last time with the old warcry!" She encouraged them, emphasizing with a clenched fist in the air.

Birds flapped their startled wings as four voices yelled aloud, shattering the morning stillness. "Fur and Freedoooooom!"

Martin wasn't really surprised when the three Noonvale-bound travelers didn't look back. He didn't blame them. Looking back was harder than looking forward. He listened to them pushing through the undergrowth until he couldn't hear anything but the breeze rustling the dead leaves. He and the old mole stood in silence, still watching the bushes where their companions had vanished.

After a while, Polleekin sighed and turned to look up at him. "You'm will 'ead south, oi rekkin?"

Martin's eyes had a guarded expression in them when he responded, throwing the pack over his shoulder and resting it next to his father's sword that had already been strapped to his back. "As far as I can get before winter comes." He replied softly.

Polleekin nodded understandingly. "No intenshunns of returnin'?"

Finding it odd of her to ask, Martin eyed her suspiciously. "No." He took a breath and exhaled. "No, I don't think so." Ever since they had met earlier that summer, the young warrior had sensed Polleekin wasn't an ordinary beast. She had a strange way of knowing things about others that sent chills up his spine when she spoke about them. And judging by the look in her dark eyes at that moment, she knew something about him that she was trying to keep hidden from him. It was like she wanted to tell him, but something held her back from doing so.

The old molewife reached out and grabbed his paws, squeezing them comfortingly. "You'm can't keep blamin' yurrself for wot 'appened."

Martin's vision blurred and he blinked back tears as the memories came rushing into his head. He jerked his paws out of her grasp and shook his head. "How can I not blame myself?" He pointed at his chest, trembling with fury, his tone angry. "I should have made Rose stay out of the fighting. In fact, I should have made her stay in Noonvale." His voice faltered a little and he looked away. "I promised the Chieftain I would protect her... and I failed."

Polleekin sighed and looked down at her footpaws, buried in the dead leaves. "Loife has a funnee way of doin' things." She mused and looked up at him. "Tis not yurr fault wot 'appened at Marshank, young'un."

He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd been told time and again that it wasn't. But it didn't make him feel any better.

The mole continued. "Hurr. More loives wurr saved that day then lost. Them that wurr lost did not doie in vain."

The young mouse scoffed. "It was a mistake going back."

"We'm all make mistakes, Wurrier." She replied softly. "We'm can't hoide frumm em but we c'n learn frumm 'em."

He turned his head back to her, his eyes meeting hers again. "I'm not hiding from anything." Realizing how harsh he may have sounded, he softened and shrugged apologetically. "I just... don't want to remember."

Polleekin nodded sagely.

A thought suddenly occurred to him and Martin couldn't help but say it out loud. "You think I'm running away."

"I didn' say that."

Martin raised an eyebrow. "But you were thinking it."

She shook her graying head. "Marthen, I can't make yurr choices furr ee. On'y you'm know wot is roight and wots wrong. No beast c'n force ye t'stay." Looking up briefly at the pale blue autumn sky above their heads, showing through the foliage, she stepped closer to him, reaching up and adjusting the straps on his shoulders, like a mother would do for her son. Dropping her paws, she nodded her head towards the south. "Hurr, if'n you'm doan't leave naow... you'm won't make the cliff egges 'til noightfall. Tis a trech'rous cloimb t'the valley floor in thee dark."

Polleekin's words still echoed in Martin's head as he paused within the shady tree line and looked back. Polleekin was still right where he had left her, still fussing with her flower-printed apron with a worried look on her homely face as she watched him go.

Knowing this would be the last time he would ever see her, he smiled, giving the old mole a small wave before taking a breath and pushing his way into the autumnal woodlands, ready to start his solitary journey... and face whatever adventures awaited him in the Southlands.

As Polleekin watched him go, her eyes clouded over as the destiny of the lone traveler filled her mind's eye, the images swirling vividly before her in a myriad of colors. Faces appeared, familiar and new to her. Faces that Martin had already met and would soon meet. "Hurr, oi told you'm t'woud be bad fate iffen you'm returned t' Marshank wit' thoi mousemaiden." She mumbled softly to herself. "Naow thurr be on'y you'm left, young un. Bo urr, you'm got some 'ard days to go yet awhoil, tho' 'appiness will be thoine in toime yet t'come. But furr all seasons, everybeast shall amember thoi name, Marthen 'ee Wurrier!"

Some of the images she witnessed troubled her greatly, but she knew she couldn't change their course. She had to let Martin go and let the young warrior's future unfold on its own without her interference. Even though she had attempted to steer him away from going back to Marshank earlier that summer, she knew deep down that it had to happen the way it did to put him on the correct path of life, no matter how difficult it would be. That was the way of seers, as unfair and lonely as it was to know things about others.

Polleekin was so intent on these troubling thoughts, she didn't hear the beating of wings above her head or the sound of something much larger than herself rattle the leafy boughs until a heavy shower of leaves fell upon her. Jerked out of her reverie, she looked up and watched as Boldred, the short-eared owl descended slowly from the treetops, landing in the dead leaves next to the molewife, taking care not to push her over with a gust of air from her enormous wingspan. She folded them against her sides, her gentle yellow eyes catching a last glimpse of Martin, barely visible among the trees, until at last, she couldn't see him anymore.

She nodded her large head. "I see our young warrior is going his own way." She knew this already, as she had stopped to converse briefly with Rowanoak, Pallum and Grumm before coming here to visit with Polleekin, as she did some mornings if she was in the area.

Polleekin sighed heavily, exhausted after the morning's events and the feelings of worry that weighed upon her mind. "Burr aye! Young an' 'lone." Forcing herself to look away from where Martin had vanished, she pushed her concern for him away and turned towards her home in the tree, beckoning with a claw for Boldred to follow her up. "But... he'll bee back sure nuff. Prob'ly long afturr you'm an' oi are dead an' gone." She climbed up onto the fallen oak that made a stairway to her house. "Evil ain't done wit' Noonvale."

Boldred stopped dead at the base of it, looking up at Polleekin in puzzlement. She was well aware that her old friend could see future events but this particular one sent a chill up her spine. Especially the thought of Noonvale being threatened, as well hidden as it was. "What makes you say that my friend?"

The mole turned her head and answered, her face uncharacteristically grave.

"Oi saw it 'appen." She replied matter-of-factly before disappearing inside her home to ready another pot of mint tea for her guest.

Boldred blinked and turned her head in the direction that Martin had gone, dozens of questions jumbling about in her mind. Surely with Badrang dead, the Eastern Coast wouldn't experience trouble like the Tyrant again? Surely Noonvale would remain hidden and untouched?

A small cloud blocked out the sun momentarily, sending another shiver up Boldred's spine as the forest darkened due to the cloud cover. An ominous feeling stole into her heart.

Polleekin's visions always came true. There was no reason to think otherwise. Martin would return.

And so would trouble.