"Can we have a break?" Panted Fret at last. They had been walking for what felt like a day and a night. He was not too sure exactly, the world was still dark around him, but it was rarely sunny in the Northlands, and especially not for long periods of time.
The mouse, who walked several feet ahead of the ferret, spun round, a frown on his face, his paws crossed. Fret took this to mean 'yes' and promptly collapsed at his feetpaws.
"Just give me five minutes." He said, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
"Not much physical work?" Asked Momchillo, stiffly.
"I er- didn't have anything ter- to eat." He replied evasively, hastily dropping the accent.
"Me neither." The mouse admitted with a sigh.
Despite the cold, Fret did not shiver. The snow even felt warm around him. He could just close his eyes and slee-
"Five minutes over." Momchillo reminded sternly in what felt like five seconds.
Grumbling grumpily Fret got to his feet without argument. He envied Momchillo. Although the mouse looked the same as ever... there was something different. He looked stronger, and the fur on his back was uneven in length, probably due to a whip. Fret found himself pitying him. Pity clashed viciously with envy for a while, before exhaustion returned.
He wanted to sleep. To close his eyes and wake up in Constance's arms... Though Constance would probably never want to hold him again. Momchillo's mother would be overjoyed to see her precious darling. Fret doubted anyone really missed him. Envy was once more leading the way.
Momchillo was stronger than him. Smaller, yes, but stronger. He was tougher as well, not shivering or panting or wallowing in self-pity. Were all mice like that? Maybe not Abbot Martin, but-
Fret bumped into his smaller companion, who had stopped suddenly, a wild look of happiness in his eyes. Finally, they had reached the bottom of the mountain.
"Let's camp here!"
Fret did not need telling twice and collapsed into the soft snow. It was so soft... almost like a blanket.
Momchillo however, being more aware of their surroundings did not miss the large pile of wood! "Alright Fret, I reckon we should make a fire."
Fret groaned. "But I'm tired."
"I am too. But I need your help." The mouse explained with as much patience as he could muster. He dumped a small pile of wood next to the ferret. "We can sleep after." Picking up two sticks, the mouse held them at eye level. "So, how do you make a fire?"
Fret sat up grumpily. "How am I supposed to know? They never taught us at Redwall."
Momchillo chewed his lips. "I think we're supposed to rub these two together." He paused, then suddenly began rubbing the two together as fast as he could. He looked like... a really bad violin player and Fret could not resist giving a derisive snort.
"You think?"
Momchillo scowled. "You give it a try then, if you're so smart!"
Momentarily dumbstruck Fret did not know what to do with the branches in his paws. Then it hit him! Why hadn't he thought of it earlier? "You have to blow on the wood to make fire." He said this with as smug a smirk as he could muster. Crossing the twigs over the pile he sucked in the air. Then he huffed and he puffed and he blew with all the force in his lungs.
Momchillo looked momentarily incredulous. Well of course he would... Surprised I'm not an idiot are you?
Then the mouse started laughing, a sound Fret was all too familiar with. The ferret continued to hurl the air at the wood, until his lungs were completely empty. He panted, his face red. Momchillo's laughter increased ten-fold. Even when his air supply had been replenished, his face remained pink.
"I don't think that's how it's done." He held his paws out for the sticks, and Fret gave them, as viciously as he could. He was sick of being the laughing stock.
Momchillo soon found that each subsequent attempt to light a spark was met with both failure and was punctuated by a loud 'ha-ha' from his companion. At long last the mouse had had enough.
"Ha-ha-OW!" Fret rubbed his wounded noise, where he'd received a sharp smack from the stick.
"Haha." Momchillo snapped, ducking back to work with the fire. Shoving a branch into a crack on a small log, he then proceeded to rub viciously when 'thump' a snowball caught him clear in the face. The mouse shot to his feet, glaring angrily at his companion.
"Ha-ha." The calm, casual taunt coming out the sour face of his 'friend' made Momchillo snap.
"Do you want a fire, or not?"
Fret shrugged. "You can't make one anyways."
"And you can?" Momchillo challenged. "At least I tried!"
"I tried too!" Fret snapped back. "Then you started laughing!"
"Try again then." He pointed at a patch of empty snow several feet away. "Over there!"
"I will!" Fret shot back. He stood up and snatched a pile of wood for himself. "Over here!"
"Good!"
The pair turned away from each other, each working furiously on building their own flame. Each desperate to give the other a smug grin. Each desperate to get the final 'ha-ha'.
Yet not a single spark would come. No matter how they twisted, or rubbed, or blew at the wood, no fire would greet them. Fret was the first to give up. Why had Momchillo not just let him sleep to begin with? He could have been mid-dream by now! Hot and angry, he curled in on himself as far as he could, becoming a little ball of black and white fur. Momchillo gave up soon after. Punching the snow into a semi-comfortable position, he too curled up to sleep.
It was the best rest Fret had had since leaving the abbey. And although he knew it was a dream, the dream was wonderful. Or at least... It ended up that way.
He was shivering slightly as he stomped up the path to Redwall Abbey. With every step he took the gates drew closer and closer, the massive walls seemed to grow and grow, until they were tall enough to cover the clouds.
He was not sure what he felt. It was not fear, though he was scared. It was not shame, although ashamed he felt. Nor was he joyful despite the overwhelming urge to give his dumbest, goofiest grin.
The smell of something warm and tasty wafted towards him, and seemed to hook him by the nose. His empty stomach dragged him forwards even if he could no longer feel his feetpaws. If he wasn't so worried he'd have drooled.
At last he reached the gates. Next to the abbey he was nothing, merely an ant. No, not even an ant... but what was smaller than an ant?
He raised a shaking paw to knock on the door, but before he could even stop his quivering, the gates swung open. A thousand sounds greeted him, the joyful and loud chatter of every Redwall feast. The clatter of knives and forks and spoons on plates. The wonderful scent of candied chestnuts and nutbread and greensap milk and the gallons of soup and- this time he did drool. The pull on his nose was stronger than ever, but Fret refused to obey.
He hated the feasts. No sooner would he walk in than the staring would begin. And Bella and Abbot Martin and everybeast else would scold him for being late and not knocking on the gate.
But there was an alternative. Constance and he lived in the gatehouse... If he could just sneak in without anybeast noticing... It would be like he had never left. Or at least he wouldn't have to deal with anything until when everybeast woke up.
His hopes were dashed almost immediately when he saw Constance coming towards him. He did not know what to do or what to say or- "Sorry." He snapped. He buried his face in his paws. No, he had to do this right. He swallowed. "I'm sorry." He was serious, he was sorry. This was probably more remoresful than he'd ever been. His eyes were swimming with tears. "F-for leaving, f-for not coming back, f-for being a-" He swallowed again. Being a what? A vermin? A ferret? A sorry excuse for a son? Why was his voice nasally?
But then she hugged him. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
Fret was not a huggy person. He tolerated such behavior from Constance, hated it from Connington and loathed it from everybeast else. Yet, he could not stop himself hugging her back. It was a soppy, softy, mushy-gushy thing to do that made him squirm uncomfortably- but he did it anyways. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when he felt Constance shaking him slightly.
"Fret." This was like when he'd been younger and smaller, and Constance had effortlessly rocked him to sleep, despite his every attempt to escape her grip. Because he was not a dibbun anymore and he did not need to be mothered into bed! The memory made him hug tighter. He did not want to let her go- would not let her go.
"Fret!" There was a note of insistence in her voice- perhaps she too was not a huggy person after all... though he found that unlikely after more than ten seasons of her molly-coddling.
"FRET!" Momchillo was shouting in his ear.
The ferret blinked back into the cold reality. He was no longer holding his beloved mother, but was wrapped up with the mouse he loathed.
"What?" He demanded. He noticed that the mouse had a rather firm grip on his nose. No wonder his voice had sounded so strange.
"You drooled on me." The mouse glowered angrily. "And you're hugging me. And you were murmuring in your sleep. And why am I holding your nose?"
The details of their dreams came back to them, followed by the full details of their current position. Momchillo did indeed have a patch of fresh saliva dripping off the top of his head. The mouse was tugging Fret by the nose. Their tails were wrapped round each other's and covered in a thick layer of ice and snow.
"I thought-" Began Momchillo, releasing Fret's nose.
"You were-" Fret swallowed, pulling his arms away from the mouse's form.
"MY MOTHER!"
"MY MO- Con-stance!" Constance was not his mother. Seasons of calling her 'momma' could not hide the fact that he was a ferret and she was a mouse. Mice did not give birth to ferrets. Mice couldn't give birth to ferrets. Mice couldn't... Love... Ferrets... Yet the hug had felt so real.
Both pulled away from each other. There was a few minutes of desperate, hasty grooming on both their parts. How long had they been like that? Why had they been like that?
It was a short while before either of them noticed the small, dying fire that lay before them. Fret's face fell... evidently Momchillo was better at making a fire than he was. He gazed at his own pile, covered not in smoke, but in a fresh layer of snow and his face fell even further. "So." He swallowed. "You made a fire." Envy was once more swimming inside him. The stupid, perfect mouse always did everything right! Even when he laughed at him, or picked on him... Or rather, especially so.
To his surprise, Momchillo looked surprised. "I thought... you did." The mouse turned his gaze towards his own, abandoned pile of wood. They noticed the pawprints in the snow, coming from one empty pile of wood to where they say now. "Did we move closer to each other... in our sleep?"
Wordlessly they both returned to desperately grooming themselves. Fret did not know what to say. He felt somehow... humiliated. It wasn't Momchillo's fault but at the same time this was entirely Momchillo's fault! If not for the mouse he'd be going... raiding... with Clogg... who helped murder his nuncle... and he'd have never seen Constance again. Something tugged at his tail.
Now he felt guilty! He'd have willingly abandoned Constance and Connington for a no-good, villainous pirate who... loved him like a son. All Clogg had ever shown him was affection. The tugging was stronger now.
Yet no matter how much Clogg had loved him, Clogg was vermin. Fret did not belong in his world. Then again he did not belong in Redwall Abbey. Hellgates, he didn't even belong amongst other ferrets! He had to stop saying 'Hellgates', that was what Whimper said. Fret never said Hellgates, Fret never said Hellgates, Fret never said- The tugging turned to pulling and Fret's face met the snow.
"Stop pulling my tail!" He snapped, turning to glare at the mouse. Both he and Momchillo spotted the problem immediately. Both yelled in one voice. Their tails, wrapped round each other, was frozen solid under a thick layer of ice.
Momchillo pulled sharply, trying to extricate his tail from the tangle.
"Ow! Ow! OW!" The ferret's eyes were filled with tears. "You're pulling my fur off." He whined.
"Sorry." The rodent sounded not at all apologetic. "But you're right. We shouldn't panic, we should use our heads. The fire will melt this off." The mouse turned back to the flames expectantly.
A sudden, strong gust of wind promptly dumped a small pile of snow onto it. Yelling in fruitless panic Momchillo wiped the snow away and blew desperately at the darkened embers. Fret's face darkened. So fire was made by blowing. Stupid mouse...
Yet no fire would come of the ashes and embers, now charred black. At last Momchillo gave up with a low moan. "What are we going to do?"
Fret, though he disliked the newfound proximity he and the mouse had to share, did not see much of a problem. "We could keep going. Redwall's just... south of here. Just across Blue Lake and... everything else..." His heart sank a little. They were ages away from Redwall. Ages he would have to spend alone... with Momchillo.
"You're forgetting we're stuck together." The mouse spoke through gritted teeth.
"So?"
"So! We won't go three feet without tripping over our tails!"
Fret snorted. "Not even you're that clumsy."
Momchillo gave him a wide fake smile and pointed ahead. "You lead the way then."
"With pleasure." He did not last three steps, he did not even last one before he tripped over a stray piece of wood buried under snow.
"Told you so."
Gritting his teeth, the ferret tugged hard on his own tail, so that Momchillo lost his footing and landed rump-first on the snow.
"Hahahahahahaha!" He made his laughter as cruel as possible. The mouse glowered at him.
"We'll melt the ice off, with the embers." He caught hold of Fret's tail and successfully began dragging the ferret towards the remains of the fire. The ferret in question was momentarily stunned by the mouse's display of strength... before he remembered that he didn't weigh that much to begin with. Digging his claws as deeply into the snow as possible, he tugged against the mouse's pull. For a short while they struggled before Momchillo let go.
"Do you want to be free or not?"
"Stop pulling! It hurts! And you'll burn my tail-fur."
"No I won't! We're just melting off the ice!"
"Easy for you to say. You don't have any fur to burn."
Momchillo seethed and for a second it looked like he was about to jump up and down in rage. "Gah you... coward!"
"Better a coward than a bully!" Fret snapped back immediately. "Worm-tail!"
"Mask-face!" The mouse retorted, successfully managing to drag Fret through the snow despite the ferret's efforts to thwart him.
This was a battle Fret knew he could not win. Momchillo, despite his size, was stronger than him. He was smarter and stronger and... alone. Grollo was not here to hold him back. Matiya was not here to drag him off the mouse. Bella was not here to send him to dish duty. It was just him and Momchillo.
"Dibbun! Grow up why don't you?"
The mouse stopped suddenly and fell to his knees, releasing a dry sob. For a second Fret was frightened he'd overdone it... until he heard what the mouse was saying.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Fret went red and began stammering, though even he wasn't too sure what he was trying to say. Probably an excuse or denial that he'd ever said that. Momchillo walked forwards and patted him jovially on the top of his head. "Leave it to the professionals." Fret glared, but he was still pink and stammering, so the effect was not quite what he wanted it to be. Momchillo spotted something further ahead in the snow and made is way over to it, whilst Fret continued to stutter half-formed insults.
He could not let Momchillo get the better of him. Not here, not again, not like always! Suddenly he saw Momchillo stoop to pick up a book. His book! He must have dropped it at some point and if Momchillo saw what was inside it he would... he would... he... he had to do something!
The book was not much older than the mouse himself. How it had gotten there was beyond him, yet if a pile of firewood could be found, apparently waiting for them, who knew what the book was for? Perhaps it had been placed there for him to find it... Excitement made his paws shake, and drove him to open the tome.
Of course, Fret had to ruin it. With nothing short of a giant snowball. While the mouse was blinded, he felt the book wrenched free of his grasp. The ferret now stood before him, a wide, nervous grin on his muzzle. His paws hidden behind his back.
Momchillo was thoroughly tempted to hit him. It was only through immeasurable self-control that he did not. "Give it back!"
"Give w-what back?" Fret said with a gulp.
"The book! The one I just found before you stole it."
"I don't have a book." The ferret lied.
Momchillo's face darkened. "What do you have then?"
"Nothing." Once more Fret swallowed. He flinched at the new intensity of Momchillo's glare.
The mouse went on tip-paw to try and peer round the ferret's long, thin form. But Fret was ready for this and turned along with him, so that no matter which way the mouse looked he was faced with a nervous smile.
At last the mouse had had enough and jabbed him roughly in the belly. The ferret doubled over suddenly, the book forgotten. Momchillo dove onto his back, trying to reach out for the tome. But the ferret could not take his weight and came crashing down into the snow. Momchillo wrenched the book from his grasp and sat down resolutely on top of him, to prevent him getting interrupted this time. It was not enough prevention. Fret pulled hard on his own tail, so that the mouse lost his balance and fell over. The book slipped from his grip and landed on the snow a few feet away. Both dove for it, missed, and became entangled in one another's writhing limbs.
Fret bit down hard on the fur near his mouth- only to be painfully made aware he was biting his own tail. Momchillo had somehow extricated himself and was stooping over to pick up the book. Fret shot to his feet in panic, as Momchillo was on the cusp of opening the book. His claws slammed into both sides of the tome and squeezed it shut. They locked eyes, Momchillo was the picture of annoyance, Fret on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
"Let go!"
"No!"
"What's it to you!" The mouse seethed.
"None of your business!"
"Oh so it's your business?! I found it!"
"And I stole it!" The words were out his mouth before Fret even knew what he was saying. He regretted them immediately.
The mouse stopped pulling abruptly, so that the ferret fell hard on his rump.
"Really? Your book?" The mouse sounded skeptical. Then realization hit him. "Your book? Y-you-" The mouse clutched his head in his paws. His whole body was quivering in rage. "You stole the book? When?" Yet no sooner had he asked than he knew the answer. "When you went to get the key?"
Fret shrunk under the accusation. He opened his mouth to say something, a lie, an excuse, anything- but no words would come. The shrinking only confirmed the mouse's theory.
"The key which we didn't need! And which didn't exist! The one you ran off to get without telling me. You didn't have a book crying in the corner with you, did you?"
Fret flinched again. "I-I-I-"
"What are you hiding?" He snapped, cutting through the stammering.
"None of your business." Fret snapped back, then he shrunk again. "It's- no, it's personal. I- sorry."
Momchillo facepalmed. "A stolen book is personal? You are such a bad liar. Next time you apologize, mean it. Maybe you can even convince me." Now he was getting angry again.
"I d-didn-"
"Save it! I don't care Fret! I really, really don't care! We left Redwall to save your ungrateful tail and what happened? You tried to kill me, we ended up enslaved! Matiya's probably dead and-" The mouse took a deep shuddering breath. "And we'd have gotten back if he hadn't gone back to get you!" The mouse grimaced. His eyes were swimming with tears, but his face was still contorted in anger.
"I'm sorry." Fret squeaked. Momchillo grabbed him by his front and glared down at him. The two were nose to nose and shaking.
"Tell that to him. He was the only one stupid enough to believe you anyways."
"Thi- not, I didn't want- not my faul-" The ferret wasn't even thinking now. It was his fault. Matiya, dead. His Nuncle, dead...
Momchillo shoved him into the snow, hard. "Say it all you want Fret, this is entirely your fault! We are leagues away from Redwall!"
Fret was rocking up and down in the snow, his mouth making noiseless protestations of innocence.
"Go on, cry. That's all you do Fret! You cry and you snap! Snap and cry and complain! And whine and whimper and bawl and-" He took another deep breath. He was stuck to Fret, he could not loose Fret, Fret was all he had left. But he was just so angry! It didn't help that he'd dreamed of Redwall. A home and mother he'd left behind for... "Bad-tempered little-"
"Go on say it! Just say it! I'm vermin!" Fret rose to his feetpaws. The words did not want to leave him but he forced them out anyways. "I'm either sad or angry because if I'm not angry I'm sad and I'd rather be angry than sad because-" He could barely see through the tears. He was not making any sense to himself anyways. "No matter who when, where, why-" He wiped his nose on his wrist-fur. "Or how! Everything is always my fault! I'm always guilty because I'm vermin and I'll always be guilty because I'll always be vermin!"
He did not want to continue, but could no longer surpress feelings he'd kept shut for ten seasons. After all, he'd been forced to re-live them a few hours before. "It's alright for you, because you're a mouse! When we- If we ever get back to Redwall you'll be welcomed home! I'm not welcome anywhere! And for what? Because of my temper? My 'bad-temper'? Or because I'm not an abbeybeast? Because I-I-I chose to be bad? Because I l-lie and s-snap and-"
He could go no further. His mind was boiling, his claws were out, his fangs bared, his eyes narrowed into his strongest glare. He was furious. With Connington for dying. With Constance, for ever picking him up in the first place, with Matiya for believing in him, with Momchillo and Grollo and the other kids for everything. With Abbot Martin for all his lessons. The Badgermum, for never being fair. With Clogg, for caring about him. With the dumb book and the dumb portraits for not knowing who he was and where he'd come from. With the yo-yo for...
And at the end of the day, it was all his fault. He could, and would, point and complain and put the blame anywhere but at his feetpaws... but at the end of the day... his existence was the sole cause of all his troubles. His dumb black and white fur, the dumb mask on the top of his snout and around his eyes, his dumb teeth and claws for being sharp! His dumb brain for not knowing where he belonged! Himself for being a lying, nuncle-murdering, rude, snapping, cowardly, blame-shifting ferret!
Fret turned his back resolutely away from the mouse.
Momchillo, though still angry, had been taken aback by the outburst. He was at a loss for words.
The pair succumbed into silence after that.
Footnote: Originally this and the last chapter were joined together, but this ended up getting heavier and heavier so... I decided that this chapter had enough emotional baggage to stand on it's own.
Gotta say that Momchillo and Fret's journey home was something I really looked forwards to writing. Now the drama here may seem like it went from nought to sixty really fast but... these two characters are literally the worst combination that could be made of the cast of characters I had- so obviously I had to use it. I toyed with the idea of swapping Momchillo and Matiya's places in this story- but that would have made things a bit too easy-going.
You should probably expect more chapters like this. Though this is also the most drama you'll get for a while.
Momchillo and Fret's journey home was also the original 'vision' of the fic. Only it was more vague back then (and Fret wasn't even a ferret or called Fret), but at the same time I'm glad I could finally un-veil all this.
Enjoy!