Review Responses: They're inherently similar (martially driven) characters from the get-go, and while 'opposite's attract' is a general rule of thumb it leads to a lot more friction. Yeah, I made some edits for clarification. The previous chapter takes place a short-ish (two or three days) while after Hawthorn, Grollo and Sharpfur made their exit. So they're not on her island, she's left it at this point in time.

The Abbot knows them as Fang, Bow and Jewel because he conveniently 'dropped' a bow and a jewel (so presumably who's who can keep changing and the old mouse won't know the difference)). They don't really have given names (as I couldn't think of any).

I kind of have a similar view in terms of real-life morality, but it's a bit harder to define the type of 'seed' people are because humans aren't conveniently divided by species.

Fret at this point is less of a 'morally grey' character and more of a 'morally confused' guy, though… he can still get a whole lot worse… Though that is true. Black and white are easier colours to paint with.

I like the names you all came up with so far, though thankfully I don't have to make any kind of decisions yet (phew, am I right?)

I'm pretty sure you'll like the books. Rakkety Tam especially is quite good. It's 'the one with wolverines'.

Alas, I do not. Cows, cats, dogs, by the dozen. And there's the local weasel and whatnot- but ferret's aren't that common in this part of the world. Which is a shame. I like ferrets.

(And yeah, reviews inspire me)

Alright, bit abrupt change of pace, but we're back North now. Enjoy

Tall and sinewy, with the grizzled white fur of an old creature, the stoat stood before them. Clad in glimmering cloaks of shining scales, green, black, yellow and white. He stared at them through a piercing red eye, the other seemed to be in a perpetual loop- as if hypnotized. Strapped to his back was an enormous fang. Taller than Momchillo and wider than Fret, with all sorts of markings carved into it and a short handle of blackened wood. The stoat did a mocking sort of bow at the sight of their petrified faces.

"Greetin's. Snakeskin's the name, 'untin's the game."

Fret swallowed, his eyes glued to the newcomer's weapon. "H-hi." Too tired to run, let alone fight back, the two were entirely at his mercy.

"So, bait, what brin's the pair of ye to my 'umble lair?"

"We're traveling." Momchillo replied cordially, also eyeing the giant fang.

"No supplies, sixty feet un'erneath a frozen lake, an' yer travellin'. If I didn' know any better I'd say ye were lost."

"We are." Fret agreed.

"We are not!" The mouse snapped. "We just got a little sidetracked-"

The stoat jabbed a finger at the slime-covered ferret. "'E got swallowed. More than a lil' don' ye think? But ye clearly know where it is yer goin'. So I'll just drag off this 'ere carcass and ye can be on yer ways." He turned and removing a smaller tool- apparently carved out of a snake skull, began peeling at the pure white scales of the dead serpent. Wordlessly, the two got to their sore feet and began to walk (or rather, stumble) away from the scene. Just as they were clambering over the boulder, Snakeskin spoke. "Unless yer 'ungry. I've got some nice thin's te eat if that's the case. More than 'appy te share."

Momchillo frowned in thought, ignoring Fret's frantically shaking paws. Well… if Martin had a plan for them it was most likely with this stoat. Besides, he was too tired to travel very far anyways. "Well… I'm a bit peckish." The mouse declared, walking back towards the stoat, but also remaining a fair distance away from him.

Fret, despite his growling stomach, had to wrestle down the urge to shout 'no'. Every instinct told him that this was a bad idea. Another stupid idea that would put them in danger.

But of course Momchillo didn't listen. And being exhausted himself, the ferret shuffled closer.

Smiling, but not saying a word, Snakeskin turned and strolled over to a wall of ice. A light shove pushed aside a thinner part of the wall to reveal a tunnel. "Guests firs'. Only polite, see."

"Yeah." Momchillo agreed, already regretting his decision. But, unable to think of an excuse he made his way into the tunnel. Fret expected something horrible and bloody to happen right there and then. Another boulder to drop and squash the dumb mouse. For the stoat to morph into a snake all of a sudden. But neither happened and Snakeskin tapped his footpaw impatiently along the ground.

"I 'aven't got all day ye know."

And with that reminder, (and a gulp he was sure echoed throughout the cavern) the ferret proceeded forwards.

It was even warmer in this tunnel and the ice seemed to be melting even- at the very least it was a good deal harder to keep balance. Halfway in and he slipped, and flopped pathetically onto his front. He debated for a short while whether there was any point in getting up again. He could barely move his feetpaws, they were lost and heading directly into certain danger. Wouldn't it be easier to just fall asleep now?

But before he had made up his mind, the stoat had placed him back upright.

"Watch yer step." He advised, unhelpfully.

They walked for a short while longer, until the tunnel opened up into a cavern carved into rock. For this Fret was glad, as he was sick of slipping on the ice. Alas, that was the only thing he was glad for. Lining the floors was an enormous rug, soft and warm and yet eerily made of fur. Here and there lay a collection of bone tools- snake skulls and ribs and teeth, and copious amounts of snakeskin cloaks.

Yet Momchillo, as usual ignoring all signs of danger, casually strolled over to a roaring fire and sat himself down besides it with a relieved sigh. Stretching his feetpaws precariously close to the flames in an attempt at thawing his toes, the mouse barely managed to surpress a yawn.

"Make yerselves at 'ome." The stoat commanded, shuffling over to a haphazardly made cupboard.

Fret did not exactly obey, at least not beyond sitting besides the fire- as far away from Momchillo as physically possible.

"'Ungry, are we travellers? Well don' worry, I've got pleny of vitl's. Ferret guts and rat brains, anybeas'?" He laughed at the sight of their suddenly-pale faces. "Is a joke. All I've got are snakes."

Palour did not immediately return to them upon this announcement. The appetites of both mouse and ferret seemed to vanish on the spot.

"C'mon, is not so bad." The stoat took a large bite out of a small slab of meat, and tore at the flesh. Snakeskin chewed for what seemed like a generation before finally swallowing. "Bit chewy, but I've bin eatin' it my 'ole entire life and I'm as righ' as rain."

"Well, er-um, yeah it's no- not really-" Came Momchillo's garbled response. He almost laughed when he realized how much he sounded like Fret. But a quick glance at the slimy-furred ferret told him that laughing was the last thing he ought to do.

Rolling his eyes, the white stoat muttered something about bread in a larder and stomped off in search of it. When he was out of earshot, Fret turned to Momchillo, his face a vicious scowl.

"Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't who he is, what he is, why he's being nice- all you do know is that there are bones everywhere-"

"And what was I supposed to do?" The mouse replied, trying to remain calm. Of course, frustration was beginning to nag at him. "If we hadn't gone with him we'd have gotten lost. Or met another snake and this time you'd get swallowed whole! This way we can ask for directions and maybe even get a free meal- so you're welcome!"

Fret, growing livid, was sorely tempted to hit him again. Unfortunately, Snakeskin chose this golden opportunity to return, two stale old loaves of barley in paw.

"Ought to be more to yer likin'." He said, passing them one each before sitting down between the pair. For a while there was no sound beyond the cracking of the flames and that of chewing. The bread was probably older than they were, yet both had not eaten in hours and the relief of finally having something in their bellies, was enough to convince them that it was safe to eat.

"So… gonna tell me yer names or do I 'ave to make 'em up for ye?"

Fret swallowed, and without waiting, answered with the first two names he could think of. "I'm Bork and he's Whimper."

Unfortunately Momchillo did the exact same thing at the exact same time. "We're Greyclaw and Sharpfur."

Snakeskin cackled wildly, clapping his paws together as he did so. "Talentlen'd lil' liars, are we? If it's so personal I won' bother askin'. But 'ere's somethin' I do wan' te know. What are two young vermin doin' in the middle of nowhere, gettin' chased aroun' by snakes?"

Now neither answered immediately, until Fret conceded... About half the truth. "We were going south, when this idiot decided that instead of crossing over a frozen lake we should go under it!"

"Because Mar- Martha Mad-Eye-" Momchillo corrected, eager to avoid the warrior mouse's name in present company, invented something that sounded somewhat vermin-ey. "Said that all we had to do was go left!"

"Martha." Fret spat. "Didn't think it through, did she? Especially considering I said this was a bad idea. But of course Martha doesn't care-"

"Martha does care! And Martha's sorry!" Momchillo exploded. "But Martha also wishes you'd stop whining about everything-"

"Okay. So ye two are 'eaded south. Where to?"

"Redwall." Fret snarled, his anger at Momchillo clouding his judgement.

"That Cursed Abbey!?" Snakeskin gasped.

The young ferret realized his mistake too late, but Momchillo had always been the clever one and came up with a rather convincing lie on the spot.

"We're gonna raid it." The mouse said, false excitement spreading to his face. He forced his tail to wag behind him.

"Raid it?" The stoat frowned, eyeing the small rodent.

"Y-yeah." Fret agreed, trying his hardest to seem happy at the prospect. "T-tear the walls down and b-burn the tapestry! M-melt the stupid sword and b-break all their dishes an-and-" Bella and Abbot Martin would banish him for life if they could hear him now.

"Rip the habits and smash the gates and whatnot you know. Just… vermin things…"

The particular wording made Fret glare, but Momchillo silenced him with a look.

The stoat continued to frown at them, until an amused smirk began to spread across his face. "Two undersized, underfed, scrawny lil' pups are goin' to destroy the woodlander's pride an' joy, eh? An' live on forever in the son's of our people, eh? Unarmed, unarmoured an' without vil's te boot."

"It's the truth." Fret managed to squeak from around the tremendous weight squashing at his chest.

"'Ow stupid are ye!?" Snakeskin exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the cavern. He raised his paws high into the air. "'Undreds of grown rats an' ferrets 'ave bashed their skulls against them walls. Older, bigger, tougher, stronger, smarter vermin all armed te the teeth. That Abbey's magic, I swear. Vulpuz 'imself uses it to bring souls te 'ellgates. Even if- gigan'ic if- ye take it, then the damn 'ares'll get ye. Or them badgers- ye think snakes are bad son? Badgers'll chew afore 'ey swallow! Or ye'll get 'it by lightnin'."

Momchillo blinked, this particular course of action having backfired spectacularly. "Well, we could sneak in-" He muttered softly, only to be cuffed across the ear none-too-lightly.

Fret almost laughed at that, but found his own ears were no safer. "Ow! What was that for!?"

"I'm knockin' some sense inte ye. Mark my words neither of ye are goin' anywhere near that place."

"B-bu-"

"Firs' light tomorrow I'm takin' the pair of ye back te whoever the 'ell Martha is."

"No!" Momchillo now, was desperately trying to backtrack. "We're lying! We-we're lying! Course we don't want to conquer Redwall-"

His ear was once more the victim of his own tongue.

"Don' try it! I saw yer tail rat an' I know excitement when I see it! Don' try an' fool me now. I'll take ye 'ome if it's the last thin' I do."

"But-"

"What kin' of beas' would I be if I let two infents stomp off te their deaths?"

"But we're not infants-"

"No buts!"

"But we live there!" Fret snapped. The stoat gave him a queer look but the ferret went on to explain. "He's a mouse, not a rat an-and- I was raised by m-mice- and- yeah."

"Yer from that-that place?" Asked Snakeskin, his voice barely a whisper.

Already regretting ever opening his mouth, Fret nodded.

"We are." Momchillo admitted, awkwardly shuffling away from the stoat- who proceeded to grab him by the shoulder.

"Never met a mouse before." He admitted, pulling him in uncomfortably close. "But if ye are a mouse, what are ye doin' 'ere?"

Fret, who had also been trying to back off, was similarly dragged back next to him.

"It sounds like ye've got an interestin' story te tell. An' I very much wan' te 'ear it." Squeezing them tightly against his larger form, so that any attempts at escape were doomed to fail, he proceeded in a lower tone. "But I wan' the truth too. And if ye lie well… mayhaps I'll catch a few more 'ungry snakes tonigh'".

Momchillo swallowed, and unable to fight the stoat's monstrous grip, began. "Well, it all started, I suppose at th-the winter feast. So um, there was this hare and he was juggling onions I think. O-or radishes-"

"And then he dumped soup on me." Fret finished with a growl, remembering that embarrassment. That last embarrassment, that had started this entire mess. The final nail in his coffin…

"And then Fret went off to the walls. And he-" Here Momchillo paused, waiting for the ferret to fill in the gaps.

"Fell off."

"And he fell off and-"

"And then I got dragged off by Sharpfur and Greyclaw." The ferret snapped. "Who only knew I existed because the Skipper tried to murder me."

"Why'd 'e do that?" The stoat interrupted.

"'Coz I'm vermin."

The stoat raised an eyebrow, but Fret did not give further reply.

"Anyways…" The mouse stirred the conversation as far away as possible from the apparently-touchy subject of verminhood. "Fret was missing. And his mother was ill and then his uncle went to look for him but didn't find anything. So me and the other kids decided we'd go looking for him. Instead we got kidnapped by his rescuers. A few days later and-"

"Don't forget the part where Matiya knocked my tooth loose." Fret snapped. "Or the way you all hated me-"

"How about the time you tried to stab me?" Momchillo shot back, ignoring the ferret's muttering, the mouse continued. "A few days later our kidnappers got kidnapped. Me and Fret were separated from the others and shipped up to this place along with a few other members of the Honest Bunch."

"Yer original kidnappers?"

"Yeah. I was mining sandstone all winter while Fret… he…" Come to think of it, what had he been doing? "He…"

"Served the Prince." The ferret finished hastily, his tail swishing behind him.

"There was a big feast yesterday night I think. And I escaped my cell through a hole another slave found. The-then I found Fret, we knocked out the Prince, escaped the castle, crossed the mountain, fell asleep, found the tunnels and then found the snake. You know the rest."

"An' all them ridges on yer back mouse, whip made 'em?"

Wordlessly, Momchillo nodded.

Snakeskin did not say anything for a while, but when he did, it was on a completely different subject, as if he hadn't even heard a word they'd said.

"Ye must be tired." The stoat summarized, releasing them and rising to his feet. "Ye'll find this fur is quite comfurtable, bit itchy but I daresay ye've 'ad worse beds."

"Haven't had a bed since we left Redwall." Momchillo said quietly, his eyes far away and gazing into distant memories somehow made evident by the fire.

"I can make ye a few cloaks too if ye like." He added, flourishing his own. "Keeps the col' out rather well. Got too many of these 'ere pelts anyways. As for yer journey…" He paused. "We'll talk in the mornin'." And on that note, he left, leaving both by the cackling flames.

The fire was dwindling by the time Fret slunk off to sleep in a corner- as far from the mouse as possible. Curling up into as tight a ball as possible, exhaustion soon claimed his form.

Momchillo was not as lucky, and although his eyelids threatened to collapse at any moment, some inexplicable force was keeping them from doing so.

The mouse had gone through the majority of his life without much thought. Yet now he was staring at scenes long past. Stranger still, he was thinking about Fret. Perhaps it was just because he was the only one left of his abbey friends, or because he had very nearly died earlier that day. Whatever the reason, Fret was now all he could think about.

Before they had been separated, Matiya had been trying to convince them of the ferret's… innocence? The squirrel had been convinced of… something… to the point that, twice, he'd delayed their escape for the ferret's sake. Yet he could not begin to comprehend what he'd been getting at.

That Fret had fallen off the walls instead of running off?

Well alright, but how the ferret had ended up with the Honest Bunch wasn't exactly important. It was what he'd done with them that mattered. He'd saved Hawthorn from the big rat once. That much was undeniable… yet only a short while later he'd picked up a knife, intent on using it… to cut the rope perhaps? The Honest Bunch hadn't seemed particularly impressed by the stunt, and knowing first-paw how valueless slaves were, that didn't seem to make much sense if Fret had tried to murder them. However, if the ferret had been intent on releasing them it would explain their relative coldness towards him. It also explained why Matiya had vouched so hard for the ferret. And it also meant that the sole reason they hadn't gotten back yet, was because he hadn't trusted Fret.

He had next to no proof of this beyond mere theorising, but it explained away a large portion of the ferret's behaviour. Of course, that did not mean much either.

The simplest solution would be to ask him, but for the life of him, Momchillo could not do so. He would be met, no doubt, with hostility, and if he pressed too hard for answers, the ferret would cry. And then he'd be in the wrong.

The mouse sorely regretted not asking Deathglare, or Sick-Eyes and the weasels. He also regretted that Matiya could not have made himself clearer, instead of spouting garbled garbage.

Watching the ferret toss and turn and mumble in his sleep the mouse felt a stirring akin to guilt begin to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm a pragmatist." He'd meant to say. But Fret hadn't let him finish.

"You're a bully!" The ferret had snapped.

And if all his theorising were true… then indeed he was.

Sleep came uneasily to the mouse, but eventually it did come. And when it did it came dreamless and calm. Almost peaceful.