Sharpfur soon learned that he hated education.
"No! Nononononononono! I know moles who can spell better than that! That's awful! Why that's not even a letter!"
The worst thing was the constant snickering of his companions in the background.
"See this." The hogmaid drew a large 's' onto the sheet of paper. "This is the letter 's', you see how it looks like a snake-"
Sharpfur's paws twitched under the table. He was sorely tempted to punch one of the hedgehog's teeth out. As he let her prattle on about whatever 'a' was, he couldn't help thinking about how thick woodlanders actually were. 'S' did not look like a snake, not at all, it was just a pointless squiggle. All of it was just pointless squiggles!
"Can you see how this looks like a-"
"No. No I can't see. Because 'F' don't look like a flippin' snake, and 'a' ain't an 'e' upside down, and an 'o' ain't a 'd' or a 'b' with a tail! I can't see any of it and it don't make sense te me! And what in Hellgates do yer mean when ye say 'Kapitol?'"
Grollo and Hawthorn didn't even try to hold back their laughter. Sharpfur felt tears welling up behind his eyes. One day... one day those daft, dumb, dull woodlanders would pay... How had he gone from Greyclaw's boss and best friend to this... victim.
"Oh no it's alright! You don't need to cry! You'll learn, I promise!"
Grollo and Hawthorn laughed all the harder.
"Here... mayhaps it's your eyesight. Let's see if I can fix it for you." The hogmaid stood up and walked out another door. The second she was out of earshot Sharpfur stood up and began searching the room.
"I'm so proud of you weasel." Hawthorn said, beaming widely.
"Aye. You had better come to the Abbey with us. Abbot Martin would be delighted to meet you." The two laughed ever harder.
Sharpfur spun on his heels. "Laugh! Go on laugh! Laugh while ye still can! Coz when we get back and all yer friends are dead I'll be the only one left laughing! Ha!"
Hawthorn's face went very pale. "They're alive," she said determinedly.
"Unlike your rat." Grollo shot back, all good mood stolen away.
Sharpfur felt something punch through his chest, and for a moment his face flashed with worry, then he replaced it again with anger. "Greyclaw's worth more than all of yer pals put together! And smarter too! He'll be alright! But ye... ye won't! Just wait and see abbeydwellers! Just ye wait!"
"Are you going to cry?" Grollo mocked, his face hardened by hatred.
Sharpfur felt his claws tearing into his paws as they curled into fists. He could feel the tears coming. Greyclaw was nothing without him... He had to change the subject. So he sat down again, breathing deeply. He turned back around, so that he did not have to look at his 'friends'. When the old hedgehog returned she was surprised at the quiet, sombre mood, and especially by how much more focused Sharpfur was on the papers in front of him. She couldn't stop herself smiling.
"I've asked a good friend of mine to give me something for your eyes. I'm sure they'll help a great deal with your studies! Now, where were we?"
Hating edjuctation... thought Sharpfur grimly. Then cunning thoughts of escape filled his mind. "Yer friend sounds like a wonderful person, marm. I'd be delighted to make his acquaintance."
Hawthorn raised an eyebrow. Where did he learn the word 'acquaintance'?
"You would? I'm not sure... it's cold outside and he lives quite far away. And your back is still healing."
"Ye came back quickly enough, marm. I'm sure if ye told me which way ter take I'd be back afore nightfall." He said, giving his most winning smile. The second he was out of earshot he was running out of this posh-hole, out of edjucation and out of baths. Ha, wouldn't that be a big joke, eh woodlanders?
"Back afore nightfall... back afore nightfall..." It was as if the words had triggered a memory. Then she shook herself out of the trance. "No, no, no. I don't think so. No too cold, and almost night already. Rest! Now that's what you need! A good long rest! You've been a very good little boy today!" She said this while tugging at his cheek. He restrained himself from clawing at her paw. "I promise you, before you leave mine humble home, that you will know the entire alphabet!"
Alphabet? He had to learn something else as well?!
"Now come along you three. To the bedroom."
It was far too early to go to sleep, but they let themselves get tucked into the warm beds nonetheless. Sharpfur was annoyed that he had to share a room with them, and was reminded bitterly about how much he missed Grey.
As soon as the old hedgehog had closed the door, Sharpfur waited a while. Then he shot out of bed, checked the keyhole, and made sure she was not in the sitting room. Then he started pacing up and down.
"Crumpet for your thoughts?" Hawthorn offered, trying to ward away the vague awkwardness that surrounded the silence in the air. She felt ever so slightly guilty that they had almost brought him to tears, but then again he had started it.
"That hedgepig... she's hidin' something." Sharpfur said.
Grollo looked at him. "Are you mental? Just coz your kind can't be trusted with anything don't mean she's hiding anything."
"Yeah, yeah. Go on and side with the goodbeast... she's hidin' somethin'... I know she is. She came back quick enough didn't she? But then I ask to go and she says her mate lives far away, eh?"
"Oh please. She just knew you were going to run away the second you put your footpaw out that door." Hawthorn said calmly.
"How do ye know that?" Sharpfur snapped.
"I didn't. You just confirmed it." She sighed. "You'd think after escaping cannibals together you'd at least try and trust us a little. I mean we did save your life."
Sharpfur gritted his teeth and sat on his bed. "Well... that was yer fault..."
"Next time we won't do it." Grollo promised.
The room fell into silence.
"Sorry we insulted your friend." Hawthorn started.
Sharpfur looked at her oddly. What was this mouse playing at now? "Yeah... whatever." He said non-comitally. Then he went back to pacing as thoughts of escape filled his mind.
The silence returned once again.
"Does this snowbeast look like me?" Greyclaw asked neither companion in particular. It did in fact, look a bit like him. It didn't have the legs or the paws, but it had a nicely round belly and a grinning face, adorned with mismatched teeth.
Jack looked up and frowned. "Misses a tail. Haven't got a worm or anything, have you old chap? Shame. It would look pretty bally good if it had a tail."
"And was grey instead of white. But it's not bad." Added Tibbers.
Greyclaw waited patiently.
"What is it Grey?" Tibbers asked with a frown. The shrew's shoulder was much better, the wound having died down to a tiny scar. Communicating with Grey Claw was not an easy task. One had to be very, very careful to not poke something where it was not welcome, for the rat was as soft as melted butter.
The rat shook his head. "Nothin'. I'll go see if I can find something to use as a tail." Grey Claw fell to all fours and began sniffing the snow.
The trio had done very little travelling. Jack-is-Lucky was certain that they were headed the right way, but Tibbers was not so sure. He had seen two winters, and both times had been from within Redwall. If it was spring, summer or autumn then he'd have managed to find a way back-of this he was certain. But when everything was carpeted in snow it was hard to keep track of anything. The trees were mostly naked and so were almost indistinguishable. But something was telling him that they should have stayed by the river... Well it's my own fault, isn't it? I'm the one that suggested we leave it.
The trio had found a den, filled with acorns and hazels of some forgetful squirrel. They ate nuts and set fire to the shells to keep warm. The shelter was dry, but provided no comfort from the heat. Or rather the lack of heat. They slept uncomfortably close for warmth, and had developed something of an awkward friendship.
Whimper felt his jaw go slack as they came in view of their destination. Besides him Clogg chuckled.
It was a dark pile of stone facing the sea, with holes carved into it's side to serve as windows. An especially long spire stood out from the center, with several other, sharp and claw-shaped towers reaching upwards till they seemed to touch the heavens. Between the towers and several lumps of snow too large to be called hills but not quite large enough to be deemed mountains, seemed to be a large, open ground of thinner snow. Walls of dark stone were decorated with spears, and skulls of long-dead, long-frozen beasts. Guards stood in their stations, holding spears, upright and rigid. The whole place foreshadowed doom and gloom and death and decay. Whimper felt the temperature drop around him.
"Home sweet home, eh?" The rat said, nudging him lightly.
"Yes." He lied automatically. "Home..."
"Hehe, Longclaw's been busy then." he said, looking up at the collection of skulls. "Traitors, all of 'em got a summon. They were too proud to show up. But they turn up in the end Whimper, they turn up in the end. Heeheeheehee."
"Summon?"
"Longclaw's coronation. See, between yous and me... the world could do with some changin'. Yer father started it before ye were born, aye. But he's dead now, and somebeast's got ter do it. Seems fitting it's Longclaw, isn't it?"
"I suppose." He didn't know who Longclaw was, or what his father had 'started'.
"I'll tell ye more when it's all ready, but fer now ye don't have to worry about anything. Just look forwards to the feast."
He did not know why the word 'feast' made his stomach sink of it's own accord.
Longclaw stretched his claws out to their fullest, sharpening them against a small whetstone. He found he liked the sound. It helped him think.
"Father, why are you sharpening your claws? You only do that when you're about to fight somebeast. Who are you fighting? Father? Father?" What did not help him think was the abomination in front of him. Plump and short, Bork's eyes twinkled as he looked up at the cold, quiet figure of his father. His voice was like a constant chipping of a hammer against an icy lake.
Casually, Longclaw put down the whetstone and looked his son in the eye. The older vermin's eyes did not twinkle. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He asked in annoyance.
"No, Father. Father, I have the rest of the day free. Spitteeth said that somebeast was coming today. Captain Clogg or something... He said... there might be a feast."
"Aren't you fat enough?" The words were like a smack to the face for the smaller wolverine, who stepped backwards.
"Father... I didn't mean-"
"Look at me son." He ordered, and his son obeyed. "I am now King of the Northlands, soon Emperor of Mossflower, soon Conqueror of Salamandastron. I am building a world, the world! I do not have time to be pestered by an overweight infant who's only good quality is eating and sleeping! Now get out of my sight."
"But father-"
His father's raised eyebrow silenced any further argument and so Bork turned away and left his father to his business.
Longclaw sighed deeply. He had had four sons before Bork. The first lay in the crypts after a 'tragic' accident. The second and third he had sent across the world to bring back something that did not exist. He was well and truly rid of them. The fourth had openly opposed him, and his skull now hung from the gates along with his followers'. He wondered when he would finally be rid of the fifth...
Bork wondered through the castle. He hated his father. Always angry with him, always thinking and planning and never doing anything! "So what if I'm fat! I've got a good appetite! It's healthy.l. anyhow I'm stronger than anybeast here!" He had never understood why his father was so sick of him. He wasn't dumb... he didn't get into trouble. But mostly Bork was angry with himself. Whenever he saw his father he kept on getting excited and happy, and hope filled up within him. Hope that maybe one day his father would appreciate him. But then he was dismissed and left angry with everything. One day that stupid old man is going to fall off a cliff...
Grey had walked some way away from their den when he found the perfect thing! Why it looked just like a tail! It stuck out from a pile of green bushes, and even seemed to move ever-so-slightly, just like how a tail ought to! He grabbed the pink thing and gave it a sharp tug.
The yelp of pain, and the giant, painted rat rising from the bushes was enough to tell him that what he had found was indeed a tail. "Lost are ye?" The rat growled, his eyes hungry and eyeing the rat's prominent stomach.
"Er..." What had Sharpfur always done when confronted my somebeast he would rather not talk to? "Er... behind you sir!" The young rat's insistence made the larger rat half turn.
"Do ye think I'm dumb enough to fall for that?"
"Well you almost did." Grey Claw said, backing away nervously as the cannibal walked forwards. It had always worked for Sharpfur...
The madbeast did not reply, and merely licked his chops. Then it dove.
With agility that surprised him more than anyone, Grey ducked and let the vermin fly over him. Before he had a moment to think, panic set in and, screaming, he turned and ran.
Footnote: I've always liked the dynamic between vermin parents and their children. I mean in the books there was a wide array of different emotions. Some were loving, non-different, or actively plotting against each other.
Also wolverines are also vermin in the Redwall-verse, but not quiiiiiiiiite. A bit like wildcats you get some good and some bad (though there are only two wolverines in Redwall and ones the bad guy and the other... alas we never knew him...)