A/N: Dear Abrahem,
Yeah, Redwall proportions are confusing (the TV show makes this worst because it's a visual medium). I tend to imagine them as realistically as possible, while also accounting for the fact that Fret should technically tower over all his peers (and everyone that isn't an otter or badger). I mean he's tall- but not *that* tall. So yeah.
And yeah, those two names always trip me up. I'm pretty sure that Roseheart's the mole and Rosebrush is Momchillo's mommy, but that took forever to figure out.
I liked Mattimeo a lot because unlike most of the books it's a direct sequel. To the original book no less! I loved that Slagar was actually Chickenhound all grown up and the 'kids get kidnapped by slavers who the grownups promptly chase after' is a plot I liked so much I ended up stealing it (though also changing it up a bit). And I liked Vitch- plain and simple, yeah he was a bit annoying (but I based Sharpfur on him so not too much) but he didn't deserve what happened to him. And he was funny!
If I do choose to reintroduce Sharpfur's siblings then I have got some ideas for it. But I also don't want to overswell the final act. So we'll see about them appearing in person- BUT, we will see more of them through Sharpfur and Greyclaw. Flashbacks are going to be everywhere soon…
And I *like* the long reviews. Any and all reviews are good, but it's easier to respond to longer ones. Plus it shows that you're willing to spend time typing them out and that's dedication and… thanks a bunch!
That doesn't mean everyone has to leave long ones- reviews are your personal thoughts and feelings/hopes/predictions, it's as long as you need it to be to write everything you want to write.
Alright, thanks. If I ever do need help I'll say so.
That's a… pretty good idea… though a necessary question for that scenario would be who killed her and *why*? The idea was that nobeast save the Honest Bunch know who she really is- so Clogg (implied but never shown to be the one who attacked them) would ironically be putting to death the one beast he wanted (Marik's heir). I don't feel bad about saying this since some things have changed so I'm not really spoiling anything.
Sebias of Redwall, not sure if he wears shoes. I think I left character clothing rather vague. Are they even wearing anything? Do animals have to? (In Kung Fu Panda yes, but Redwall has different rules…) I don't know.
I think interspaced arcs will ultimately be more beneficial (since I can use the great escape as a semi-climax for Book II)
Personal opinion but characters are my fortee (best part of my writing)
I say nothing about the last thing. It's a possibility… but I know not for when.
And now we head back to everyone's favourite weasel (I think).
Sharpfur had changed, Hawthorn realized one morning with a jolt. The weasel's consistent meanness had hidden this for a while, but it was hard to miss now.
The spectacles he had resented so much were now his constant companions. He did not wear them per se, but they always seemed close to paw. Dangling from his claws or being twirled around. He could read now, fluently, and in fact seemed to enjoy doing so. He never volunteered for it, but no longer complained when he was inevitably chosen. He helped in the kitchens, without protest. He brushed his teeth every morning and evening. He occasionally said 'please' and 'thank ye'.
Sharpfur was still rough around the edges, but on the whole he was a brand new weasel. Had she not seen him before and heard that once upon a time he'd been an underaged thug she wouldn't have believed it.
The vole herself was in an excellent mood. The snow had at last melted and Spring had come in full. Birds tweeted from invisible treetops. Flowers bloomed and blossomed and shook their rainbow-coloured petals in light, gentle breezes. Everything was perfect and wonderful. And best of all, now that the snow was gone, the journey home loomed on the horizon. Redwall and all within it would soon hear of her and Grollo's exploits.
Her mood dropped slightly upon entering the dining room, where her companions were looking particularly sullen.
Grollo had been so for a while now. Ever since the trip to the strawberries the young hedgehog had somehow convinced himself that they wouldn't get home. That some great calamity stood in their paths.
"You're being ridiculous." She had said, sounding exactly like the Badgermum did. "Of course we'll get home."
"Not if that witch has a say in it." Said Sharpfur darkly, returning to his vermin roots. "I've heard stories ye know. Seers and hags that fattened up children so they could eat them alive. Hantel and Gretsel or somethin' like that."
"She's not a witch." Hawthorn said coldly. "That's not a very nice thing to say. You slept under her roof. Ate the food from her table-"
"'Coz she wants te eat me!" The weasel snapped.
"That's a little much." Grollo conceded. "But he's right about some things, and that old lady isn't going to let us leave."
"That old lady is a sensible creature who knows that travelling through snow is hazardous! What if we got caught in a storm, eh? You two are both being ridiculous. And when we get back to Redwall you can both fess up and apologize!"
"Te who?"
"To her stupid!" Hawthorn got up from the soft chair, no longer satisfied with her company. "I expected better from you Grollo." And with that she stormed off to bed.
"Humph, expectin' better from the woodlander. Typical." Grollo was unsure as to whether Sharpfur was angry, hurt or unaffected. Nicer though he was the weasel was still an enigma.
"If only we could prove it to her." The hedgehog sighed longingly. "Then we could get home sooner."
"Proof…" Sharpfur seemed to be mulling something over. "If only we could get some of that." He had said at last.
"Good morning." Said Hawthorn, taking her seat opposite them. Neither responded.
Sharpfur was tearing apart a loaf of bread he had no intention of eating, and Grollo was aimlessly stirring his porridge. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes." The weasel said flatly, shoving aside the neat slices of bread. "We're stuck here for good."
"Not this again…" The vole rolled her eyes. These two were probably doing this on purpose.
"Oh it's this again alright." Grollo sat up. "No more snow. No more excuses- but what do we get but another excuse? 'It's still chilly'. So what if it's chilly? I want to go home."
"So do I Grollo but-"
"But nothing. Every time it's the same thing. She's not taking us anywhere because of the weather or the pies or because she's feeling ill. This can't be a coincidence."
"Prove it! Okay? I am sick and tired of your theories. She has been nothing but nice to you, for no good reason I might add. How many creatures let strangers into their homes for as long as she has?"
"Any decent folk-"
"Well if she's decent she's not-"
"A liar?" Interjected Sharpfur.
"And what, pray tell, did she lie about?" Hawthorn frowned at him.
The weasel tapped his glasses. "One of my good friends has just the thing ye need', it's what she said, right? Well fun fact, we're the only four beasts on this here island."
"Island?"
"Piece of land in the middle of wat-"
"I know what it is!" The vole snapped. "But who says we're on an island?"
"I do."
"Proof?" She asked cooly. Sharpfur gave no reply. "I thought not."
"Hawthorn-" Grollo protested, but Hawthorn gave him no leeway. She was tired of this rubbish.
"Save it! I've heard it all. But the truth is you're both jumping to conclusions. Now pass the jam."
"What if I gave ye proof?" Sharpfur had a strange smile on his face. Hawthorn did not like it.
"I'd like to see you try." She snapped, siezing the jam herself.
To her and Grollo's surprise the weasel stood up and scuttled over to the halfway, where he began to sniff at the coat rack. "Nope. Not this one. Not that one. No. Nah. Aha!" He practically dove into an overly large one Hawthorn remembered he had worn once. To her surprise he came out, holding two books and a piece of paper against his chest. His eyes darted around, as if to make sure nobeast else was looking. And then he slammed his evidence onto the table.
A claw was jabbed at the parchment- which landed facing upwards- and revealed itself to be a map.
"We're on an island." Sharpfur announced, unable to contain a smug grin. "Go on, say I'm bein' ree-dick-you-less."
"So we're on an island." The vole conceded.
"Told ye so!"
"That doesn't prove anything though! Just because we're on an island doesn't mean we're not going to leave eventually."
"What about the books?" Demanded Grollo- surely Sharpfur's evidence was worth something.
The weasel himself put down that theory. "They're both diarrheas. Nothin' te help our case hedgepig."
"You mean diarrys." Hawthorn corrected, spreading jam over a slice of a nutbread.
"It's what I said, wasn't it?"
"But…" Grollo was at a loss for words. He'd been hoping that Sharpfur had something substantial, but the old parchments seemed worthless now.
"But nothing." And Hawthorn chewed away at her breakfast, happy in the knowledge that both her companions were witless buffoons who would one day most certainly apologize for all their back-chatting. Well… Grollo would for sure. She wasn't sure whether or not Sharpfur had progressed to that level yet.
Grollo however, was not satisfied and snatched up the diaries. He flicked through the first one and was disappointed when he found nothing of interest.
The second one he went through more slowly. Sharpfur had found the map within this particular piece of literature… however he hadn't actually been bothered to look through it himself.
Slower now, but still rapidly, the hedgehog flicked through it, going ever slower the further on he went, until he finished it, his face pale.
Sharpfur was watching with keen interest and trying to read over his shoulder (the quills and the fact that Grollo read quicker than he did made this especially challenging). Hawthorn though, was gradually making her way through slice after slice of jammed bread. She was on her fifth when the diary fell from Grollo's paws.
"Hey! I was tryin' te read that!"
Ignoring Sharpfur's protests the hedgehog handed the diary to Hawthorn.
"Read this!"
"But I wanted te read it!"
Harrumphing, the vole stuffed the sandwich into her mouth and began to flick through the pages.
Hissing in frustration Sharpfur tried to read over her shoulder- to less success as she was faster than even Grollo.
'Dear Diarry,
Something terrible happened today. I was playing by the river with Spike when I fell into the water. I nearly drowned but a froggy saved me. He seemed very nice at first but he scared Spike. And then he did something that hurt a lot and Spike told me to run. So I went to get dad and he went and he took an axe with him. Mum says he'll be back but if he isn't we're going to go looking for him. And Spike. I need your help diarry. I want Spike and dad to come home.'
The story shook Hawthorn to the very core, it did not take somebeast as bright as her to fill in all the gaps.
"This still doesn't prove anything!" She snapped, shoving the book away. Sharpfur growled and promptly snatched it up- his spectacles at the ready.
"It proves she's hiding something!" Grollo snapped.
"Creatures see what they want to see." Hawthorn shot back. "You don't even know if it's hers!"
"Dear Die-Ari." Began Sharpfur out loud- mostly because he could read quicker if he said the words. "Something terrible happened two-day. I was playin'- playing by the river with Spike-"
Something shattered behind them and all turned to see the kindly hedgepig, her paws shaking. A shattered jug of greensap milk lay forgotten at her feet.
Sharpfur stirred guiltily. "I- er- it's just somethin' I- er found-"
"I know you're frustrated." She said, struggling to put words together. Her eyes seemed to be staring at something far away- something that was not really there. "B-but-"
"We're sorry." Said Hawthorn nervously. She snatched up both books and the map. "It was wrong to go snooping around. I tried to tell them-"
"No, don't be silly. It's only natural. You want to go home." Here she hesitated and silence held the room still for what felt like forever. "B-but- it's not safe!"
"It's not." Hawthorn agreed. "But we have to go back."
The older creature shook her head mournfully. "N-no. Nobeast ever comes back. D-dad never came back. Neither did Spike. And mum didn't either. An-and-" She burst into tears. "The frogs took them." After a good few minutes of sobbing she managed to pull herself together. "I-i-it's safe here. Nobeast'll hurt you. And you'll always have a roof and f-food and- and you'll be safe."
"Will you or will you not take us to Redwall?" Grollo demanded, so viciously that even Sharpfur scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
There was another long pause.
"It's not safe." Was her stiff reply.
Grollo- all manners and good behaviour forgotten, slammed his paw against the table in frustration. "Then you're no better than the frogs!"
"Grollo!" Hawthorn snapped- aghast. "How can you say something like that?"
"I've got a father! I've got friends! I've already got a home! And is going home too much to ask? Is it?"
"Grollo!" Hissed the young vole, just as the old hedgepig dissolved into tears.
"What!?" He roared. "Can't you see?" He too had tears in his eyes, but he still sounded more angry than sad. "We'd have been back by now if she wasn't such a-"
"Grollo!"
Ignoring all present, the young hedgehog stormed away from the breakfast table.
Hawthorn followed him, her mind set upon beating some sense into him.
That left Sharpfur with the crying hedgehog. Still, he had some experience with crying beasts. Greyclaw had always been soft- if he had half a hair for every time Blizzard or Heartrip had reduced their little brother to tears he'd have been a pillow. 'He don't really mean it.' He had always said. And that was what he said now.
"He doesn't really mean it." Stepping over the spilled greensap, the weasel carefully put his paw round her shoulder. "Yer a lot better than frogs. I've never met a frog. But Gulash said they tried to eat him once. So he crushed their skulls in."
The hedgehog shivered and Sharpfur was made aware that this method of comforting was not effective on the soft-hearted woodlanders.
"But would a frog teach vermin like me the elf-a-bet? Thought not." He eased her gently into a chair. "Just rest easy. An' don't worry. Nobeast'll make ye leave if ye don't want to."
"It's not safe." She sniffled and Sharpfur handed her a tissue.
"I know it ain't." But we can look after ourselves.
"You will go in there and you will apologize!" Hawthorn demanded.
"No I will not! She's been holding us captive all winter! And don't deny it. You know I'm right."
"We're not her captives." Hawthorn hissed, her paws clenching into fists.
"We're her guests?" He paused to let the words sink in properly. "Isn't that what the vermin said?"
"Did she tie us to a mast?"
"She might as well have!"
"Easy woodlanders." Sharpfur entered, looking smug. "We'll get te yer Abbey. No need te panic now an' lose yer heads."
"We're not panicking." Hawthorn snapped.
"When are we leaving?" Grollo demanded, ignoring the glare the vole shot at him.
"Leave the last part te me. But first, we gotta let this die down a little. She wants the bests fer us. But we ain't ever gonna leave this place with her."
"So we just abandon her?" Hawthorn raised her paws in frustration. "Didn't you hear what happened? You want to just vanish on her? She's already lost her whole family!"
"So have I!" He snapped and the air seemed to chill. "An' we don't vanish, ghosts vanish an' we ain't ghosts yet. We leave a note. We explain. We say thank ye, and yeah, we go. An' we say that if she ever grows a backbone she's always welcome at Redhall-"
"Redwall."
"Same thing. But we say we liked her cookin' an' that she was nice an' that I'll always keep her spectacles."
Grollo stared at him with a kind of wonder Sharpfur did not like.
"Or somethin', ahem, soppy like that. So when she reads it she's both happy an' sad. But not now. We leave when I'm ready. Deal?"
"Deal." Said Grollo instantly.
"No." The vole hissed. "If we're on an island then we need a boat. And seeing as we don't have that we can't disappear into thin air. So we'll stay and convince her to take us to Redwall. And she can stay too. Living alone all these seasons, it's unhealthy."
"Alright." Grollo agreed before Sharpfur could cut her off. "You can try and convince her. And when you fail we'll be here."
Hawthorn growled and stormed off. She would prove them wrong if it was the last thing she did.
Yet this was soon proven to be easier said than done. The vole waited until the awkwardness of the next few days subsided. But it seemed her target was avoiding her. She was always there, yet at the same time conveniently never there. A week passed, and each day Sharpfur grew more and more smug whilst Grollo grew grumpier and grumpier. Then, borrowing an idea from Sharpfur, she woke up early one morning and made her way to the kitchen.
The old hedgepig smiled at her as she entered. "It's a little early for breakfast darling."
"Oh no." Hawthorn barely managed to stiffle a yawn. "I'm here to help. Can't sleep so I might as well put my paws to good use." The vole picked up a ladle and watched with drooping eyelids as it slipped through her fingers.
"It's alright dear. You don't have to." A gentle paw lead her to a chair. "Here, just sit still."
"Can we go to Redwall?" Hawthorn asked suddenly. Perhaps it was because she was tired. Or because she had grown frustrated by her lack of progress.
"D-dear. I- you know it's not safe."
Hawthorn nodded. "But if you were with us… well, Redwall can't be too far. We're still in Mossflower aren't we?"
"Well, I've never been to Redwall. So it may be a little longer than usual. An- and it's not safe."
"But we're being looked for. The Log-a-log and the Skipper and the Long Patrol and Bella-"
"And when they come they can take you to Redwall." The hedgehog explained gently. "But I'm an old creature and it's not safe outside. You saw Sharpfur's back when I first found you. And cannibals too. It's simply not safe."
And it was at that moment that Hawthorn realized that her companions were right.
Grollo took her surrender well. He smiled and patted her back. "I knew you'd come around."
Sharpfur was more annoying. "Took ye long enough. But it's good ye admit yer mistakes. Oh an' before I forget. I told ye so!"
Hawthorn frowned, but the weasel did not stop and pointed at Grollo.
"An' I told ye too! I was right from the very beginnin'. Told ye so! Told ye so! Told ye so!"
"Fine. You were right." The vole conceded. "Now when are we leaving?"
"Why don't ye shout that a little louder, eh? We go when I say we do."
Grollo opened his mouth to say something but the weasel cut him off.
"An' ye don't need te trust me te know that I want out more than the both of ye."
Everything seemed normal. As it had been all winter. They had a sumptuous lunch. Sharpfur had a few quick lessons and then the weasel read a story. It was about 'Klunky the Scrooge' and his ill-fated attempt at taking 'Redvall' from 'Massias the Warrior' and culminated with a violent death by bell. There was dinner and then Sharpfur asked for some paper and a crayon. The weasel spent much of the afternoon working on it, whatever it was he claimed it was a 'surprise' and took it with him to bed. The old hedgehog tucked them in and wished them goodnight.
Yet none slept. Sharpfur was working furiously on whatever he was writing and the other two stared into space, dreaming of escape and home and everything they missed about Redwall.
Then, a few minutes short of midnight, Sharpfur shoved a paper and the crayon at Grollo. "Yer turn hedgepig. Write somethin' nice."
"Huh?"
"The note. Remember, so she don't get a heart attack?"
"Oh." The hedgehog took the items handed to him. "What did you write?"
"None of yer business innit."
Hawthorn had already taken Sharpfur's note and, in a near perfect imitation of the weasel's voice, read it in a loud whisper.
"Dear hedgepig, Ye may have never taught me yer name, but ye taught me a lot of things. I didn't like learnin' the squiggles or brushin' me teeth or bathin'- but ye were kind te me so I thank ye. The spek-takles I'll keep till I'm a ghost in Hellgates. Yer weasel, Sharpfur. Aaaaaaw!" Hawthorn put the note down. The same weasel had gone a shade of red that would have put cherries to shame. "That's so sweet."
"It ain't sweet!" Sharpfur snapped, determined to hold onto what little verminicity he had left. "I said I didn't like half the hell she put me through!"
"But in a nice way." Hawthorn put the note gently down on Sharpfur's bed. The weasel was glaring at her- and seemed determined to tear it to shreds now, but the vole would not let him. "And that's a good thing. Now pass the crayon, I'll write mine on the back of yours."
Hawthorn's note was not much longer, though her paw-writing was neater. She thanked the old lady for everything she'd done and assured her that the three would be safe and always remember her.
"Ye woodlanders are all so soppy."
"You must be part woodlander then."
Sharpfur looked stricken. Then he glared. "I ain't soppy!"
"Shush before you wake her up." Grollo chided, passing them his own note. It was by far the longest but more of the same. Both sheets of paper were neatly placed upon the folded blankets.
"I hope she doesn't get sad." Hawthorn murmured.
"I hope she don't get angry."
"Let's go."
The door opened with a creak, but from then on there was only silence. The trio tip-pawed past the empty table and the bookshelves. Past all the coats and into the cold hallway.
Sharpfur's claw unlocked the front door with ease and a soft 'click'.
Here they hesitated. The hut was safe and warm. Nobeast knew what lay in the darkness outside, except for the promise of home. Home that was somewhere not far, yet also so far away.
Silently, the vole, hedgehog and weasel vanished into the darkness.
Footnote: I hope the leaving bit didn't feel too rushed or out of nowhere. I've been kind of building up to this in all the previous Sharpfur-in-education chapters but not sure how well it was pulled off. Regardless there was plenty-ish foreshadowing for the old hedgehog lady (who we shall see more of... And needs a name) and her backstory. Those amongst you with X-ray vision and photographic memory are probably jumping to all sorts of conclusions right now... but all that for later.
Next up Threeclaw and Matiya...