"A hill? We came all the way here for a hill?"

Momchillo scowled. Why was the ferret so damn hard to please? "It's not just a hill! We're obviously meant to go through the tunnels." He wasn't entirely sure about that either, but why else would the Warrior send them there? Fret didn't seem to agree...

"That's a horrible idea! You have no idea what's down there! W-what could be down there! And h-how, we'll get lost! No! This is a bad idea. A bad idea!"

"But Martin-"

"You were dreaming!" The ferret seemed to be having a small panic attack. His paws were flailing madly around him. "And you never said anything about a tunnel! Or that we had to go inside one! Or that-"

Momchillo grabbed him by the front and shook sense into him, physically as well as verbally. "You need to relax!" Momentarily the ferret stopped his gibbering, and Momchillo siezed his moment. Throwing his paw round the ferret's shoulder he held Fret close to. "Trust me, okay? I know we have to go this way, I just know it!"

"N-no you don't!" The ferret spluttered, trying to pull himself free of the mouse's grip. Momchillo held firm.

"And we won't get lost, it's simple really. We just have to go left. Every turn from this point onwards has to be to the left!"

Fret merely gawped at him, as if he was nothing short of barking mad. "It was a dream!" He whined, pulling himself free from the mouse and backing as far away from the hill as he could.

Momchillo dragged his paw across his face. Fret was being ridiculous, as always.

"It was a dream." He was repeating uselessly. "And you'd risk my li- our lives- for a dream?"

"And you'd do it for a book." Momchillo snapped before he could help it. The ferret winced, but refused to back down. His spluttering continued but it was entirely ineligible now. Merely the first part of a hundred different words he could not bring himself to finish. Momchillo silenced him with a glare and the ferret shrunk on impact. "Look, if we're going to make it back to Redwall we're going to have to settle a few things. First of all, I'm in charge."

Fret, predictably, did not take things well. "Yeah. Of course you would be. Momchillo the Magnificent. Momchillo the Majestic." He stretched his arms wide in mock glorification. "Momchillo, the Moron!"

"Better than Fret the Foolish, Fret the Frustration and Fret the Fuc-" Momchillo growled. He could not drag himself down to Fret's level. The pair needed one steady head of they would make it back. And for obvious reasons, it would have to be his. "Can we please just go this way?"

"No! Not today! Not tomorrow! Not ever!"

Momchillo felt his tail thrashing behind him in rage. The temptation to smack Fret silly had never been more pronounced. A cunning plan made itself visible to him, and the mouse acted upon it. His chest deflated and he sat down on the ice, arms crossed in stubborn resignation. "Fine then. We'll just sit here."

"Are you mad!?" Fret half-snapped half-whined, the panic visibly returning to him. "We can't stay here! It's cold and and we don't have anything to eat and I'm hungry and and- we knocked out the Prince! W-what if they come after us? B-Bork, I mean the Prince he-he'll-"

"Well Fret, you'll just have to think of something won't you?"

The ferret's lip quivered but Momchillo was unsure if it was out of sadness or rage. "B-but-"

"Don't you want to be in charge? To lead the way? Seemed like that a minute ago, Oh Great and Mighty Fret the Fearsome!"

"This isn't funny!" The mustelid snapped.

"I never said you were Fret the Funny-"

"Momchillo!"

"What is it?" The mouse put on his most infuriatingly sweet smile.

The ferret opened and closed his mouth, before his whole form quivered and clutched the sides of his downcast head. "Why do you always do that?" The question seemed genuine, as if it was the last of Fret's many shields, and came from the very depth of his soul.

"Do what?" Momchillo asked, temporarily dropping the act.

"Win! One-up me! Prove your superiority! I don't know." The ferret shook his head. "I know I'm not good enough you don't need to-" Once more it seemed like the ferret was physically forcing the words out rather than just saying them. "T-to -to all- to always- You're always right! And you're always better and you're always, you're always so, so so-"

"So so-so?" It was almost as if Fret were speaking a different language. Momchillo heard him all right, and the words glued themselves to the front of his mind. But nothing he did seemed to make sense of them. Until at last it clicked. "Are you jealous?" It was not a taunt, not a sneer, merely a question, and one Momchillo thought he already knew the answer to.

The ferret paused, and for one glorious moment it seemed like he was about to say yes, and that finally they would get somewhere. Then the moment was over.

"Of course not! It's just- Everybeast always said- Abbot Martin always picked- Fine! We'll go your way."

This was Fret's way out of the conversation, yet Momchillo did not care and snatched at his opportunity before the ferret could back out of it. "Excellent! Alright, I think it's only fair you get to choose the tunnel."

The mustelid's eyes widened. For a while all he could do was splutter, as per usual, and then he spoke. "W-wh-what do you mean pick one?"

"I mean I'm being nice and letting you choose where to stick your head in."

"B-but- Martin didn't mention-"

Momchillo's lie was swift and to the point. As bad as it was to not speak the truth, the rules of Redwall could not always be applied, especially not out here. "He said that my companion would know the way."

"B-bu-but I don't. And you just said you were being n-nice-"

"And you just said you'd go! Well we haven't got all day and the longer we stay out here, the more likely we are to freeze to death. So grow a backbone and get going!" He hadn't intended to snap, the last thing he needed was for Fret to start crying, but he was getting really fed up of all this!

Fret cowered, and his lip quivered, but sure enough (and to Momchillo's immense relief) he crawled towards a large tunnel near the bottom of the hill. He peered into it cautiously, and sniffed at it worriedly. He swallowed. "I-I still think this is a bad idea."

Momchillo gave no response beyond an inpatient cough and Fret, at last, gave in and began to crawl forwards. The mouse turned away so that his tail did not impede his companion, and walked slowly backwards.

Getting his lower half into the tunnel was not so difficult, and he was up to his elbows inside the tunnel when Fret stopped moving suddenly. He could tell from the gentle, albeit frantic, tugging at his tail, that the ferret was shaking like a leaf.

"W-what if we get stuck?" The ferret gulped. "An-and if this is a dead end and we can't get back out again and-" Fret's voice was quaking and muffled, and right now the last thing Momchillo wanted to hear. The mouse gritted his teeth, and through them spoke.

"We can't get stuck because you're going in first. If you can't fit than I can't. We won't get stuck. Come on Fret, don't be scared." The mouse continued pushing himself inside. "This is all." The ferret was now trying to back out, but Momchillo was not going toet that happen. Not after his dream, not after getting so close to following through with Martin's advice. It was like walking all the way to Redwall and then being too scared to enter the abbey. "One. Big. Adventure."

"This is torture!" Came Fret's indigant reply. The ferret stopped resisting and slumped against the floor of the tunnel. "I don't care, I'm not going!"

Momchillo lost his temper, and tried his hardest to kick him, but alas the ferret was out of reach. Till at last he gave up, and growling, slumped against the floor of the small tunnel.

There was a pause.

"...So can you let me out now?"

Momchillo gritted his teeth with enough force to crack a walnut. "No! You're not coming out, and I'm not coming out. We're just going to lie here and wait for who-knows-what to happen! Go to sleep Fret, and maybe Martin the Warrior can smack some sense into you. Maybe you'll start being more like him, eh? Imagine that Fret, being brave!"

"I can't be brave! And Martin the Warrior was a mouuuuuuuuuuuuse!"

Suddenly they were sliding forwards at tremendous speeds- Fret must have slipped on something- and try as he might to slow them down, it was out of Momchillo's paws. After the first shock it was not entirely unpleasant, it was like sliding down a tree-branch. He used to do that all the time... With Matiya...

Just as his thoughts drifted to the squirrel there came a sudden, painful, lurch and he and Fret were sent rolling over one another in a tangle of screaming, writhing fur. They hurtled head-over-heels, until they came to a halt with a sound like corking a bottle.

There were a few moments of dizziness, followed by the horrible realization that Fret had been right to be scared. His arms were pinned to his side, and legs sandwhiched between his stomach, and some indiscernible part of Fret's back.

The ferret's face was squished between Momchillo's lower half and the icy floor that held them in place. His speech was barely audible, and more muffled than ever. But one did not need to be a genius to guess what he was saying.

"GEROOOFF! I'm notta bear!"

"I know you're not a chair!" Momchillo for his part, was struggling to get his paws free. If he could just move them out a little bit...

"Den ssstopsssitting on me!"

"I'm stuck Fret!" The mouse snapped.

"Brilliant! You're brilliant Momshillo! Areal geniuth! I thaid this would happen! But of course, I was jusssst being thtupid! And here I am getting crushed by-"

"Ferret's can bend their ribs right?" Abbot Martin had told them that once... long ago.

"Well ssnot like I gan do much bending under your fat-"

Momchillo pressed down on the ferret's back with his feetpaws, doing his best to build some distance between himself and Fret. It also had the added bonus of shutting up his companion. With the new-found space the mouse just managed to get his arms under him. Momchillo pulled himself forwards, releasing Fret's head from the tremendous pressure of the mouse's weight. And also letting him whine to his heart's content.

"I told you it was a bad idea! I told you! But I'm the one who had to grow a backbone! I'm the one being ridiculous and unreasonable. I'm the one who has to get kicked in the back for-"

"Just! Shut! Up!" Snapped Momchillo, popping free of the tunnel like a cork from a bottle. The mouse slid to the ground, panting softly.

Fret did not give him the chance to relax. "You'd be just as 'ridiculous' and 'cowardly', if you were in my paws! Imagine somebeast getting angry at you for being right and not wanting to follow a stupid dream!" Fret pushed himself to his feetpaws and bent backwards slightly. His spine gave a delightful 'click' and the ferret winced. "I think I broke something."

"I'm sorry okay! Is that what you want to hear? Now will you quit whining already?"

"No! I won't! And you wouldn't either if you were squished under my butt! Or if you had to listen to a stubborn little mouse, who's always right about everything, even though he's always wrong and who's so sure we won't get stuck! And we won't get lost! Well guess what, now we're both!"

Momchillo climbed to his feet and tuned out his complaining companion. The mouse now proceeded to analyze his surroundings with keen interest.

The first thing he realized was that it was a lot warmer down here than above ground. Odd considering they were surrounded by ice. The whole place gave off an otherworldly glow of dark but shiny blue. He stared at his reflection, and tensed the muscles along his arm. His reflection looked enormous and strong. He deeply wished that he looked more like it. Then he'd have never been enslaved...

Fret shuffled over to him. The ferret's own reflection looked taller and thinner than in reality. It was disturbing and strangely pitiful. Momchillo noticed one paw was nursing the other and turned to his companion.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing." The ferret replied distractedly, eyeing the surrounding walls with worry.

"What's with your paw?"

"It's fine." Fret snapped and tried to pull away. Momchillo was quicker and grabbed the ferret by the wrist. There was nothing wrong with the ferret's paw, save for his thumbclaw, bent in a painful, unnatural, angle.

"Don't worry. I think I can fix this."

"N-no! It's fine. I can fix it mysel-owowowowowow!"

Momchillo twisted, and with a 'pop' the thumbclaw slid back into it's rightful place.

Fret pulled away sharply, and waved his paw haphazardly through the air, in what the mouse knew to be exaggerated pain.

"You're welcome." The mouse said curtly, turning away from Fret.

The whimpering ended instantly and was replaced with the usual; stuttering and snapping."W-welcome? Welcome! What do you mean welcome!? I AM A HUNDRED FEET UNDER A FROZEN LAKE!"

"And so am I!"

"B-but this was your stupid idea. Y-you wanted to come here, not me! I said I wanted out, but you didn't let me, I said this was a bad idea, but you're smarter and because I'm scared my opinion doesn't matter. And you have a dream about Martin the Warrior and I'm supposed to do whatever you say because of that. And now we're lost and we have no way out of here."

Momchillo had long since decided it was easier to ignore him, and let Fret rant away to his heart's content.

"And now you're ignoring me and-"

"Alright, we should go left here." The mouse said, paws on his hips, oblivious to all that had been said.

Fret growled. "My left or your left?"

"We're facing the same way. So our lefts are all the same."

The ferret's mouth hung open slightly, and then he went back to complaining. Thankfully this time it was under his breath.

Damn woodlanders. You took my freedom... My dignity... And my clothing... The last one really hurt...

Deathglare was still alive and, thankfully, un-eaten. He'd escaped slavery, only to be captured by a drunk mouse and a mad hare. The pine marten was unpleasantly crammed into a barrel far too small for him to sit comfortably. They had also shoved him in head-first. Or rather, the hare had. His rags had been unceremoniously ripped off and used to tie his muzzle shut, leaving him an even more tattered tunic than before. His legs were pressed hard against the wood and his own form, as were his paws. His face was pressed against his chest and his shoulders sore.

The pine marten was becoming painfully familiar with his own stench. Most vermin, particularly the weasel family he'd lived with back in the Honest Bunch, had prided themselves on bathing once a season... at most. Deathglare was not the same. He could not stand breathing in the foul smell of his own fur. Occasionally he could even drag Threeclaw with him and have a companion that did not remind him of a latrine pit... for a few days at least.

"Keep washing yourself Death and maybe you can have fur as white as mine!" The albino would say if he ever caught the marten scrubbing at his form. Deathglare would usually glare at him at this point.

Alas, he had had much difficulty introducing a 'Bath Day'. None of his ilk wanted any involvement with the nasty things he got from woodlanders called soap. In truth he hadn't liked it either, but there was no denying the scent of roses was far more appealing than musk and sweat. Of course the only other beast that had agreed to 'Bath Day' was Grey Claw, and at times the rat behaved more like a mouse.

The lid was wrenched free and the barrel kicked forwards, so that it's sole occupant came spilling out.

One-Eye frowned. "So vermin, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to ungag you nice and easy now, an' you can answer some questions honest-like. Think you can manage that?"

Deathglare nodded slightly. The hare tugged the muzzle off and dragged the pine marten to where he could prop him against a wall.

"Alright. Name first me laddo. And quick-like, wot. I haven't got all day."

Deathglare licked his teeth. "Deathglare." The hare was familiar, and he was almost entirely sure he'd seen him before.

"Profession?"

"I was a member of the Honest Bunch before we were attacked by the beasts currently in possession of this castle. Most of us died. I was taken captive and made to work in the mines." He failed to mention that the Honest Bunch had lived a very dishonest life, and that his latest 'profession' had been the abduction of several children.

"Hmm, come to think of it I think I've seen you a couple of times before. Where's your little rat?"

It took Deathglare a moment to realize who he was talking about. "I know very few rats." If he gave the woodlanders too much too quickly then there was nothing stopping them from killing him. His life, as usual, hung in the balance. He had to play his cards right. Unfortunately he had not much room to play.

The hare nodded at the information and paused. The Captain seemed on the verge of asking him another question, but decided against it. "Well alright then. Thank you for the help." The hare promptly threw him into a headlock and squeezed. For a second Deathglare was worried he'd lose consciousness again, but then he was freed and his muzzle once again bound by ripped cloth. "It's nothin' personal ole chap. Just can't tell if you're telling the truth or not, wot, wot. Don't worry, I'll figure it out. But for now, it's the barrel for you mate!"

The pine marten began writhing in the hare's grip, but it was too late. A moment later his head hit the floor of his prison. The lid was slammed shut over him, and Deathglare was left in darkness. His nose was pressed against his stomach, and there was no escaping his own horrible smell. It was a smaller barrel... wider, but shorter. And more crammed, he could not move a muscle and his position was anything but comfortable.

"No hard feelings, eh? Wot, wot." He heard the hare patting his cage before walking off. "Connington! Stay off the ale! No! Stop drinking, wot!"

Stupid dumb woodlanders... Still, he was alive, wasn't he?

Footnote: No need to brag, but I feel so good right now. Only took me a couple of days and I've already finished up one fic, edited two others to perfection (or as close to it as someone like me can get) and even managed to update the many misadventure of Fret and his friends.