A/N: Abrahem, that is kind of a Redwall thing- but it's also something I tend to do... Everywhere. I mean, I don't try and sidetrack the main character or anything, but I suppose the way I write is geared more towards ensembles. I don't really mind though. There's interesting times to be had when no one character is more important than the others.
The Sharpfur and Greyclaw reunion has replayed quite a lot in my mind. At one point I remember SharoSha was going to get arrested by the patrol (coz the boat capsized and Hawthorn and Grollo nearly drowned and everyone jumped to the wrong conclusion). Then he was going to escape them in Salamandastron and run into Greyclaw who stayed behind with Tibbers. That was one idea I was really attached to but... Plans changed. I may still write it in a drabble obviously, but not soon or anything (alternatively I like to think that this is how Sharpfur would remember the event).
I like the soap opera idea- obviously I have no idea what to do with it or where to put it or anything but I like it (although that feels more in-line with some of my other works...)
For the record Greyclaw hitting the dummy wasn't exactly anger- I kind of imagine he got nervous at the way they were all looking at him so he hit the dummy to satisfy them. For the record it'll be more of a one-sided argument than a full on mortal combat brawl but it should be fun regardless.
Haven't heard of copywork before but I'll look into it (although I must warn you- the premise sounds a little illegal- ever heard of copyright? XD)
In good time- I'll try and do it today but not sure if I can cram it in. (Same goes for goblin slayer Lord Demon- also you should be fine, Mathias looses all his fights- although that's probably why I like him)
I think the cover photo is a photo he got from the web- but Berserker88 is a man of many talents (who has a lot of surprises, sleeves must be very deep) so it's possible that he has artistic talents- he has a devianart I think, Berserker88 or Berserker88x- although I think most of the art there is of his characters rather than his work.
The reunion went nicely, that is very nice to hear. I was kind of going for a bit of a rollercoaster effect- Sharpfur's scared, then he's happy, then he's angry. When we return to Salamandastron we should pick up where we left off. Most of you kind of get why he's mad already but there's more to it and I don't want to spoil the surprise.
So, now we're back North with the titular (if not main) character.
It was painfully obvious to anybeast present that Snakeskin did not know how to cook. Fret had no idea what was even inside the so-called soup, but he was willing to bet his life that snake was involved in some way. The stoat was stirring viciously, humming something Fret had never heard before- Momchillo hadn't either and Snakeskin most likely didn't know what the words were to begin with.
The ferret wasn't sure how much he liked the stoat. On one paw, Snakeskin was providing food (seasons-old bread, half-frozen and peppered with ice), shelter (walls of ice that were either slick from melting, or cold enough to set your teeth chattering) and bedding (uncomfortable, itchy rugs made out of some kind of fur). On the other, he was, well, himself.
"'Ere ye go! Mouse gut an' ferret brains stew! It'll put some 'air on yer ches', eh? Pass me them bowls, will ye?"
Momchillo, who was nearest to the bowls, handed them to him. By now the pair knew not to take any of what he said seriously. The fact that they knew that the soup didn't contain either ingredients, however, did not make it any more appealing. It only raised the question- what was actually inside?
The 'soup' was spooned into three wooden bowls, and Fret felt himself growing slightly green. It was the colour of pale, white snow, with the sloppy, slimy texture of badly-made mash potatoe- with tiny little black things inside. It was unappetizing to say the least- and Fret could only imagine what Friar Gord would have had to say about it. The only good thing he could say about it was that it made his own, abysmal cooking look 'delectable'.
"Mos' delec'able meal in the 'ole wide world!" Snakeskin insisted, passing them a bowl each. The stoat threw back his own bowl and emptied it in what looked like one swallow. Licking his chops, the stoat helped himself to another bowl-ful, and emptied it just as quickly. It was only after he'd finished his fourth serving, that he noticed them.
Fret was raising a small bit of 'soup' with his claw, and watching the way it dribbled off. Momchillo was gently sniffing at it, as if to search for poison.
"I 'ope I don' have te tell ye te open wide." The stoat said, mildly offended.
"I-er it's just h-hot." Fret replied.
"Ye got a speech impedimen' or somethin'? I ain' angry- jus' though' after all the work an' effor' I put inter cookin' lunch fur ye both-"
Momchillo stirred guiltily, unaware that pulling on the guilt strings was exactly what Snakeskin had been going for. Without another sniff he raised the bowl and swallowed a mouthful."I-It's not so bad."
"Course it ain'! It's perfec'ly good! Sure beats ole bread an' barley, eh? 'Ere Fret, le' me show ye 'ow it's done." The serving spoon- too large for the bowls, but not Fret's mouth, plunged forwards and made Fret's cheeks puff with Snakeskin's idea of cooking.
The ferret had to disagree with the bread and barley statement. The 'soup' was an odd combination of too sweet and too bitter. How that was even possible was beyond him. But he was hungry, and squashing down any thoughts of what might be inside, and because Snakeskin was likely to forcefeed him some more, swallowed all but the spoon.
"I call it 'Ellgates soup." Snakeskin said proudly, re-filling their bowls to the brim (they hadn't asked him to, of course, but he did it nonetheless). "Ye see there's this myth what says these caverns are 'Ellgates. Ice never melts coz it's jus' frozen souls, see. Now eat that up- plen'y more fur when yer done. Then we can continue our lil' trip."
After three bowls of the nauseating substance, both mouse and ferret refused to hand him their bowls. Snakeskin finished up the rest of the soup and then stood up.
The trip so far had been rather uneventful. Snakeskin did pretty much all of the talking- half of it to himself. His companions only spoke when spoken to and rarely initiated conversation. Fret rather liked it this way. The less they talked, the less he had to listen to Momchillo and the less likely it was that the secret of his book- pressed stiffly under his fur- was revealed. The only downside was that it left him alone to all his glum thoughts. Like the way everybeast would look at him when he returned... If he returned...
"What's abbeyfood like then?" Snakeskin asked abruptly. In truth, the stoat had gotten weary of his companion's silence.
"Er-" Started Fret, itching at the fur on his chest.
"Well." Momchillo began, just as awkwardly.
"Better?"
"Yes." Fret admitted. Abbot Martin would be happy. He'd finally have somebeast to scold and scowl at and bully and give all the hard questions to.
"A little bit." Momchillo agreed, the grin on his face rather sheepish. Momchillo would be happy too. Nothing would delight the mouse more than going on and on about how he'd seen Martin the Warrior. Nobeast would care about the snake, beyond, perhaps, regretting that it couldn't finish it's meal. And of course Momchillo would never leave out the part where Fret had scratched him and drawn blood.
Both found themselves reeled in closer to the stoat. An arm around Fret's shoulder, a paw on Momchillo's head- threatening to flick his ear as he often did. "'Ow so?"
"I-it's- just- it just is! I mean, not everything." Momchillo winced as Snakeskin flicked his ear. "I mean, everybeast has their preferences. I'm sure- er- others love your er- Hellgates soup. We're just not used to it."
"Yeah." Fret agreed half-heartedly, not really paying attention. Bella wouldn't even pretend to be happy to see him. She probably wouldn't let him past the gates, and if she did it would only be to throw him out again. Or do it publicly. Or worse...
"So what's yet favourite food?" Snakeskin insisted through gritted teeth. This was a conversation starter, not an interrogation. Yet both children seemed determined to stear clear of it.
"Well... I don't really have a favourite. I'd settle for anything from home at this point."
"Same." Agreed Fret, sounding even more spaced out and glum than before. Constance wouldn't look at him. All his life he'd heard her and seen her go on about how he was a goodbeast, even if he was a ferret. He'd parroted her beliefs for as long as he could but... With his Nuncle dead at his paws, not even Constance could turn a blind eye to what he'd become.
Snakeskin felt his eye twitching. "I 'appen te be partial te my soup. Don' like the bread much but 'ey, it's better than nothin'!"
"Mmmhmmm." Came the ferret's distant agreement. Or perhaps what he'd always been. Or what he'd been made into. None of this would have happened if the stupid hare hadn't started juggling. And he had never asked anybeast to follow him. And his Nuncle. Well... Connington was a tough mouse. He could swim. He'd only really done it to save Clogg. Murder had never been a motive. Somehow he doubted anybeast would believe that.
A sharp pain on his ear reeled Fret back into reality. Snakeskin, who had caused the pain with a flick of his claws, was smirking.
"What was that for?" Fret snapped hotly.
"Ye were daydreamin'. I fel' obliged te wake ye up. Now that yer 'ere, tell us. If ye could 'ave one thin' te eat- anythin'- what would it be?"
"Anything that's not yours." Was Fret's bitter reply. His ear was still sore from the flick. His smart mouth earned him another. "Stop it!" The ferret growled.
"He liked nutfarl a lot." Momchillo butted in.
"What's tha'?"
"It's like a roll but filled with crushed nuts instead of fruit." The mouse explained, wishing he had had nutfarl for breakfast.
"And everybeast liked it." Fret snapped defensively. "Not just me."
"And there's nothing wrong with liking it." Momchillo raised his paws in a gesture of innocence. Fret only growled.
"I know that!" The ferret snapped again.
Momchillo felt burning indignation roaring from his chest like dragon's breath. He'd only spoken up to help Fret out, but the ferret was stupid and silly and- nearly died a few days ago. Containing the inner anger was not easy, but Momchillo managed to do it. If only because an angry Fret was easier to deal with than a sad Fret.
"What about ye? Anythin' te eat."
"You're making me hungry." Said Momchillo, shaking his head. "I'd say strawberry."
"What's that?"
Momchillo opened and closed his mouth, and barely suppressed a laugh. "You? You-" Then again, the lands of ice and snow did not seem like the best place for strawberries to grow. "It's a fruit. A big, red, heart-shaped-"
"It's not heart-shaped." Fret added scathingly. "It's normally like a-a-" His paws flailed about trying to make the outline of a strawberry.
Momchillo nodded. "And it's covered in little seeds."
"Sweet too."
Snakeskin shook his head. "The only frui' I remember likin' is pineapple."
"Pineapple?" The two woodlanders asked in unison. Fret narrowed his eyes in doubt and suspicion. "Is that even a real thing?"
"Course it's a real thin'!" Snakeskin sounded thunderstruck. "It's all scale-y an' sharp on the outside, an' hard on the inside. Brigh' yeller an' acid an'- an'- 'Ellgates, I wanna pineapple now!" Now that he'd started, there was no stopping the stoat.
"I used te travel a lo', see. Been all over the 'ole wide worl'." He sighed wistfully. "Ye migh' not think much of pirates- I imagine abbeyfolk ain't too acquain'ed with vermin- but I used te sail an' I used te plunder." He shrugged- now fully enthralled in his own story and unaware that both his companions were only half paying attention. "Good ole days those were. Now ye probably don' know wha' pineapple is coz ye 'aven't ever been te the tropics. An' I wager ye 'aven't 'eard of mangoes neither. Kiwis and coconu'. Leeche an' banana-"
"We know bananas!" Momchillo said suddenly. "There was this one hamster from Southwards that came to the abbey and he brought loads! You remember, right Fret?"
All Fret remembered was slipping over a peel somebeast else had carelessly discarded, knocking Blind Agatha off her feetpaws (and nearly out the window) and then being told not to be so 'careless'. He also remembered not liking the golden-furred hamster. Not because he'd ever spoken to him, but because of that one time he'd brought casks of olive oil...
"I remember." He said bitterly.
Snakeskin chuckled. "Ye don' sound pleased by that." He shrugged grandly. "Bu' I suppose bananas are an acquired taste. Some like 'em, some don'. Personally I think the peels make fer a great trap. Ye eat the fruit, leave the skin on the floor an' watch somebeast else fall on their arse! Hahahaha! This one time- hehehe- this one- Whimper." Laughter exploded from out the stoat. A great hurricane of 'hahas' that echoed down the icy cave and never seemed to end. By the time he was done, he was seated on the floor and clutching at shaking ribs. A few deep breaths later and- still snickering between every sentence- he managed to tell the story. Which was somehow, not as funny as he'd made it out to be.
"So we was on a boat. An' there wasn' anythin' te eat 'cept fur these bananas we got off some islan'. So, peels all over the deck- slip goes Whimper an' splash goes the sea. So 'e's treadin' water, rats are good a' that, an' out comes Marik. 'E tosses another beast overboard an' then starts shoutin' at everybeas' te stop the boat an' turn i' around. 'E slips an' falls in the water an' I'm just laughin'. Marik starts shoutin' an' nearly drownin' the other two, didn' like water much see. An' then out comes Slit an' she starts bossin' everybeast presen'. Guess what 'appens?"
Fret did not want to guess, and was barely holding back a panic attack. Marik, Whimper, Slit- Momchillo did not need to know all those names. Or who and what they were. A paw made sure that the book was still safely hidden. Luckily, it was... For now...
Much to Fret's horror, the mouse was enjoying the story. "Slip goes Slit and splash goes the sea?"
"Bingo!" Cried Snakeskin, who then went back to laughing. "An' then, then I said 'shark! Shark! Sha-ahahahahaha! Ye should've seen their faces! Poor Marik, nearly drowned 'imself on the spot! Hahahaha!" The laughter went on for a while longer, but soon Snakeskin was on his feetpaws and guiding them out another tunnel. "Ah! Those were the days." He said, sighing wistfully.
"Yeah." Fret agreed dumbly, hoping the subject would be dropped. As the silence stretched on his heart rate began to slow back down again. But it was not to last, and furious, frightened, beating shot through him like a bolt of lightning upon hearing Momchillo's question.
"If you don't mind me asking." The mouse started slowly. "Who exactly are all these beasts? Marik and Whimper and-"
"Th-they're not important." Fret said suddenly. Momchillo raised an eyebrow and the ferret hastily averted his gaze. A paw scratched determinedly at the back of his neck. "I-I- mean- i-if they were he- he'd have said so, wouldn't he?" The mouse was staring at him skeptically. Perhaps it was his obvious nervousness, or maybe he knew more than he was letting on.
"Yer righ', they ain' importan'." Snakeskin grinned at him, and Fret felt his ears pin themselves to the back of his head. "They just used te be mates of mine. Marik and Slit were ferret's like 'im." The stoat unhelpfully jabbed a thumbclaw in Fret's direction. "An' Whimper was a rat. Don' ask me 'o the other rat was I've forgo'en 'is name see."
"Right." Momchillo was still staring at Fret.
The ferret in question wasn't sure if he could breathe anymore. The pressure on his chest was mounting by the second. It was like when the snake had swallowed him- his heart was beating fast but he could do nothing and every inch of his form was being crushed by walls of muscle.
"Are you okay?" Came the mouse's voice, filled with genuine concern. "You look pale."
Fret nearly sighed with relief. Momchillo suspected nothing. He was saved! At least for the time being... "I'm fine." He replied, and meant it. The danger had passed.
"Wan' te 'ear about 'ow my eye got all 'ypnotized?"
Momchillo nodded. "Yes please!"
Snakeskin smirked. "I wan' a story firs' then. Only fair see. Tail fer a tail, tale fer a tale."
Fret was more than happy to remain in silence- tails and tales be damned. But Momchillo, like Snakeskin, loved talking. So of course he shrugged, ignorant and oblivious to Fret's inner-facepaw. "What do you want to hear about?"
"Hmmm... Let me 'ear about- 'ow abou'- I dunno anythin' really. So long as the path south ain' silent I'm 'appy."
Footnote: This chapter was short- and ever-so-slightly filler-y. The rest of Fret and Momchillo's next few chapters should be fun. This is really when all the flashbacks come in. I know it may seem a bit abrupt to go from Sharpfur to Fret so suddenly, but the pacing of this story is do uneven. So the next few chapters should be Fret and Momchillo, then we'll get some of Connington and company. Then oneoor two more chapters for everyone and then everyone should finish their Book II arcs at roughly the same time (I say roughly because really, it is *very* roughly). So yeah, we're nearing the end of Book II although we're still quite a ways off.