Fret walked at a steady pace behind the mouse. His feetpaw seemed to weigh a tonne each, and moving was neither easy nor enjoyable. His stomach was not helping. All of a sudden it was both hungry and growling, and more energetic than a march hare. His mind was racing faster than ever.

What was he supposed to say when he came home? Aside from the fact that the other dibbuns would no doubt blame him for getting captured in the first place, there was also the issue of the others not being in the Northlands. Perhaps they had returned, if so he would most certainly not be welcome, or even worse they were dead, which would mean their ghosts would be the ones tormenting him for the rest of his days. And of course, Connington. If he was dead, then it would be his own thoughts that drove him mad. And if he was alive... and he returned...

"Behold the traitor!" The crowd cheered like the pack of vermin at the feast. He was standing on a stool, a rope tied round his neck.

Momchillo grinned and stuck his tongue out at him. Constance was staring at him with disgust. Connington looked dissapointed.

Then the stool was kicked out from under him and Fret was falling.

Ferret-face met marble pillar with a thud. Momchillo bit back a clever way of saying 'watch where you're going' and tried to act as if nothing had happened. "How exactly do we get out of here?"

"W-well." Fret swallowed and focused his thoughts. "There's a rope-bridge on the... Southern-most walltops... er then there's mount Bloodhelm and there's a lake over that and... yeah. South. Redwall. H-home." He did not like the way Momchillo was staring at him.

"How do you know that?"

It was bad enough that he was doomed either way, but if Momchillo ever found out that he was the son of a brutal warlord and a Pirate Captain loved him like a father and that he'd seen a weasel's fingers flayed for talking to him... If Momchillo found out he would tell everybeast, and then... hanging would be considered a mercy. "Er, I was the Prince's... er- assistant." He still looked suspicious. "Well, he stepped on me a couple of times and hung me off the side of the wall so..."

Momchillo paused for a moment longer before nodding slowly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then decided that that was not the time. "Alright then, lead the way."

So Fret did, heavy-legged he lead the way, his mind still racing wildly. The grinning skulls that stared at them from their perch on the walls... weren't helping. Then he stopped suddenly. He couldn't just leave! The yo-yo was under his bed and... a portrait of his parents would be nice... after all he had a book. Suddenly he started walking quicker, though not in the right direction.

Momchillo was gladdened by his companion's increased speed. He was only slightly disappointed when after a short while, the ferret barged open a door leading not to a rope bridge, but to a large, wide, and mostly empty room.

"Fret! We have to get out of here!" The ferret ignored him and dived under the bed. His paws clasped around the toy his nuncle had given him a lifetime ago. But the book... the book was not there... there was no book! He was panicking and then he remembered how he'd let it slide off the table and onto the floor. He growled, stuffing the yo-yo down his front.

"Fret!" Repeated Momchillo.

The ferret pulled himself out, looking slightly disgruntled. "I need to get something." He replied grumpily. Momchillo frowned and the desperate need to protect himself was squeezed forcefully at his chest. His mind scrambled for an excuse. "There's a gate and we need a key for it. So er, yes. I-er will get that. You. Wait... here."

Momchillo growled, but remained silent. He had to trust Fret... though there was always the possibility that Fret was betraying him. The mouse dived under the bed. Because the stakes were too high for trust to come into play.

Clogg's chambers were not locked, and the rat was nowhere in sight. He was probably still at the feast. That was good. The ferret made his way to the table, pawing the air in front of him in search of the book. A last he found it. Flipping open the book he found the portraits he'd first been acquainted with. The grinning, knife-weilding ferretmaid. And the silent, muscled brute that was apparently his father.

The door opened and to his horror, in walked Captain Trammun Clogg. It took every inch of self-control he possessed for him to not turn around and make a run for it. It was not easy. He'd seen the great, muscled, one-eyed rat flay off a weasel's fingers. He'd watched him fight his uncle tooth and claw. And yet... He'd felt the same rats' warmth and love. Strangely, it reminded him of Constance.

"Whimper! There ye are, kinda lost you after the whole flayin' thing. Sorry about that." The rat patted him on the shoulder. "But ye were perfect! Everybeast's with us now. See what I meant, love and fear. Fear me an' love you."

Fret made himself smile. "Yeah... heh-heh... glad I could help." He had helped unite a pile of murderous vermin to go pillaging south... another line on his long list of sins.

Clogg ruffled the fur between his ears. "Also... ye got yer wish. Yer comin' south with us Whimper. I'll pick ye up on the morrow. First light, be ready!"

The ferret blinked. "Heh-heh... You know I was thinking about that actually and-" He could not bring himself to wipe away the rat's broad smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sleep well!" The rat called after him. The pit of his stomach dropped. Guilt, most likely. "Oh an' Whimper. I kinda figured ye were puttin' on an accent, but best keep doin' that round the others."

"Er-right. Yeah. Yeah. Definitely." The rat beamed and relaxed on a chair. Fret turned and left, feeling his stomach sink even further, as if weighed down by bricks. It's not bricks... just my old friend, guilt.

Momchillo was glad he'd chosen to hide under the bed. Not because Fret betrayed him. That would have been horrible. But the gargantuan footfalls of the drunk prince was so much worse.

"Whimper!" He hollered at the top of his voice. "Where are ye, ye lazy f'rret? C'mon! Wake up!" Bork tore the blanket off the bed and hurled it to the floor. It took him a full minute before he realized that there was nobeast there. "Whimper! We're goin' south! The both o' us! Hahahahaha! Bet ye'll get sea-sick! Ha! And if ye don't, I'll teach ye how to swim!"

Momchillo scrambled out from under the bed as the wolverine lifted the whole thing off the ground.

"Whimper! Don't be such a woodlander!"

Fret's heart skipped a beat as he rounded the corner into his room. The large, slopping form of Bork, lifting a bed clear off the ground was something right out of a nightmare. Worse still was that there was no sign of Momchillo. He's abandoned me.

"There ye are!" The wolverine dropped the bed abruptly, and stumbled forwards, a grin growing over his face. "What's wrong? Cat got yer tongue? Hahahahahaha." The much larger mustelid advanced towards him. Fret did not have the self control necessary to stop himself from backing away. "Ye look scared? What's scary Whimper? Do I scare ye?" The wolverine snatched him by the scruff. In hindsight escaping would have been much easier if he hadn't been frozen in fear. A single claw jabbed at his stomach. Bork opened his mouth to say something, when a chandelier fell on him.

Fret landed on his feet, the wolverine teetered backwards and collapsed on the floor, snoring loudly. Momchillo came into view.

"What took you so long?" The mouse poked his head out of the door and searched left and right.

"T-t-took-" Fret stared in horror at the knocked-out form of the wolverine. "What did you do?"

"I saved your life." The mouse shot back. "He could have torn you in half!"

"I-I h-he's the Prince of this place!"

"We're leaving this place." There was a hint of an order in the mouse's voice.

Fret seemed to shrink. He was truly pathetic. He would miss Clogg, but he had no choice but to leave before Bork woke up. "L-let's g-go quickly then."

The mouse rolled his eyes but gave no further commentary. "Lead the way."

Fret did not hesitate further. The tome was warm against his chest, the yo-yo cold, his heart pattered wildly, his eyes darted frantically and his stomach squirmed like a rat in a trap. Yet the only way forwards was South. There were no guards anywhere in the castle, just the skulls staring down at them both as they walked. They seemed to grin constantly, their hollow eyes blacker than ever, their teeth glinting in the white light of the moon. Then at long last they left the corridors of the castle and were greeted by the howling winds of winter. It roared and screamed like a child's nightmare. Fret shivered violently, but did not stop. His ears were flat against the back of his head and his paws were shaking. He lamented he had a book but not a darn coat!

It was only at the Bridge of Skulls that he hesitated. It did not look inviting, and he was half-certain the wood wouldn't take his weight. The wind rocked the whole thing.

"Scared?" There was no sting hidden in the voice. There was very little emotion either. The mouse's eyes were wide with fear, and his paws were shaking too.

Fret swallowed. "The er-only way out is through here." And thanks to you I don't have a choice in leaving. The ferret gently pushed open the red gate. He tested the wood briefly. It seemed safe... Clutching the rope as hard as he could he placed both feetpaws on the first wood. The bridge rocked lightly... but it would take him. "You ready?"

Momchillo was stolen from his thoughts and brought back to reality by the ferret's question. "Yeah... Yeah I'm ready." He shuffled forwards, not meeting the ferret's eyes.

Fret let the mouse take the lead once more. He gave one last glance at the frozen castle before turning his back to it. He tried not to imagine Clogg's face when Whimper was nowhere to be found the next morning.

Distantly, he could still hear cheering.