"I am hers and she is mine." Said one tall mouse, thick and muscled.
"I am his and he is mine." Replied another, just as tall.
Then they spoke in unison. "From this day, till the end of my days."
Then as the two mice sealed their love with a kiss, the cheering and the music broke out. The drums were beaten, horns were sounded and everybeast was stomping their feet and clapping paws.
Connington smiled as hard as he could-ignoring the constant pang in his chest. He had to be happy for them. Rowland was his best friend and Constance... Was like a sister. The Skipper gave him a hard slap on the back.
"Cheer up Jon! Your day will come soon." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Agatha's been eyeing you the whole time."
"I'm fine Skip... Just worried is all... Mad-Eye Marik still had half his horde-"
"Aye and a javelin through the rear- I should know, I put it there meself." He roared with laughter, patted his friend on the back again and went to join some otter girls.
But Connington was not relieved. All the Skipper had done was infuriate the ferret. Constance was tripping around as she danced with Rowland... She had never been a good dancer... And Rowland, he looked drunk with love, and was constantly stepping on somebeast's tail. If only he could be happy too...
"He was my friend too Skip! Or are you forgetting that?" Thoughts of Rowland hurt him more than any blade ever could.
"You know what they did to him! To Constance's babes! Your neices! Your nephews! How could you?"
"Fret had nothing to do with that!"
"His kind did! All of his ilk! They butchered them all! Do you remember?!"
Abbot Martin was beginning to feel threatened in the warriorbeasts' presence. He was no fighter himself, and the emotions were running so high it was a wonder the two weren't going for the kill already.
"I remember everything! And I don't remember Fret having anything to do with it!"
"I only recognized him for his tail. Bent a long time ago when he was a dibbun. And I saw that ferret poke so many holes in little Chesters..." The otter took a deep breath. "They smashed Fleece into a tree and threw his wailing body into the river. They'd have killed Constance too if they could!"
"That was gruesome Skipper-gruesome and unforgivable. But Connington was correct when he said that Fret was not one of them. He might have not been born even."
He had been a babe back then... A little thing, alone and helpless. Of course Constance had taken him in and raised her as her own, her family did the same with me.
The air was tense from the silence as the Skipper thought this over.
"Tell your varmint I'm sorry Jon." The otter growled. "He shouldn't have been born one of them. But he could hardly decide that. I overreacted is all... But you know our history Connington. Don't go bringing him here again!"
Jon nodded, eager to return to the abbey. "No worries old friend."
"But you be watchful of 'Im. Maybe he ain't a varmint yet-but if you ain't careful he'll be one within the season. He's got bad blood in his veins."
"I'm aware of your thoughts Skipper." Connington said frowning. "And yours Abbot. But I stand by what I said- Fret is a good lad."
The otter then shook his head, forcing a chuckle. "It's been a while since we disagreed on anything, eh?"
Connington too managed a grin. "Too long."
Constance was pacing her cottage.
She had found Fret mewling like a newborn. He had been alone and helpless, and she had found her heart rushing out to him. Alone and cold and hungry and helpless. Blood ran down the wall, and a corpse lay on the ground. She had killed a dozen fighters to get this far, but she could not bring herself to bring her axe down on the child-ferret or not. Instead, she had pressed him against her cold armour, and rocked him backwards and forwards, until the wailing and whimpering stopped and he was fast asleep. Then when they had found her in the morning, still clutching the frightened babe she had announced that he was hers. The large mouse had to endure cries of outrage and gasps filled with shock. But no amount of sense would make her let go of the babe. She had been reminded, half-a-hundred times, of Veil Sixclaw, who's own mother had called him 'evil' after all was said and done. Constance had replied with a 'bugger Byrony, and his name is Fret- not Veil!' For nine seasons she had watched him crawl and waddle and walk. She had seen him cry, made him laugh and recieved more of his snapping than anybeast.
She had lost three babes... Three beautiful babes, before fate had handed her Fret. She had lost three and couldn't bear to loose a fourth. That was the root cause of her pacing.
What if things didn't go well? The Skipper had loved her like a sister, yet had hated vermin of any kind with a passion. And vermin or not-Fret was a ferret. Would the Skipper mistreat him? Would he jump to conclusions? Surely if Jon explained everything properly... Yet Mossflower Woods were huge, and certainly large enough to get lost in. Then the door opened and Fret walked in, looking as worried to see her as she was relieved to see him.
Fret almost cursed his luck. He had wanted to sneak into his room quietly, so as not to alert her of his arrival. Naturally she was there already.
"H-hi momma."
"Oh Fret, you're back already!" She wrapped him in a hug before he knew what was happening. He recoiled from the movement inwardly, but was also glad to be safely home again. "How was the trip?"
The question pressed into him like a hot iron rod, and out of instinct Fret responded. "It was great!"
Constance didn't fully believe his words, but in all honesty she was glad for the reassurance-forced or otherwise.
Footnote: Thus ends this really long prologue XD I've introduced all the main characters and can now get on with the plot proper :)