A/N: Slightly truncated chapter this time around. It's still rather long of course but I had to split it in half. Not because of word length but because it's already been a bit over two weeks and I don't know when I'll get the chance to update again. I am going on a brief business trip so I shall be occupied. So yeah there should be one more Salamandastron chapter in Book II after this instead of this being the final one.

Geez guys... So many reviews to respond to here... XD You may skip to the end of the bold if you prefer .

AlexFalTalon: Matiya and Threeclaw are one of my favourite duos both in concept and in writing (Threeclaw's accent is just fun to play around with). As for being a dueling teacher... We shall see how things are in Redwall soon. But not until I start Book III.

Abrahem: Correction fifteen, Klis is fifteen. My mistake. Notes got mixed up. But he mentions he was a babe in Marik's horde. Although I never really settled on ages. Bork for example can be both older and younger and it wouldn't make much of a difference. I even lampshaded this back when Fret and Momchillo both shout that they're the older one.

I'm gonna tip-paw past the lack of sunshine and rainbows, we shall see how Threeclaw in Redwall plays out. Later on...

Yeah, I love writing dream sequences. Honestly this one is probably one of my personal favourites. His guilt is speaking to him through the 'fat Fret' why he's fat is because that scene was originally taken from one idea I had of Fret ending up a kind of spoiled warlord (a bit like Bork when we first meet him but without the massiveness).

I'm technically not an adult so military service is a ways off- furthermore I don't live in Switzerland which means that such legalities don't apply.

Sebias: Threeclaw and the Honest Bunch have kidnapped people before with no such blown-out reactions on the part of everynever involved. He doesn't see any wrong because from his point of view he didn't do anything wrong. Glad you found the trial funny it was kind of supposed to be.

Abrahem: Yeah I think now that that line applies to Roseheart although I do think Hawthorn was meant to have a younger sister... It's retconned now of course but I'm pretty sure before that I just plain forgot XD

Hmmm, Matiya's siblings. Well I don't think they're in Redwall at the moment (and I think I once said that Matiya was the youngest sibling... Oopsie? Well I've worked around a way that both can be true simultaneously. I'm not sure when it'll come to fruit though but it'll make sense.

Interspecies relations are very much a thing- to the point that animals that can't breed in real life do so in the Redwall-verse. Yeah Catch the Bulrush off the top of my head is either the game where they're hugging and kissing instead of 'tagging' or it's where they have to grab each other's tails (in a way both less and more flirty...)

Fret was lying to get Sick-Eyes, Sharpfur and Greyclaw to leave so that he could do his rescuing... We all know how that went down though...

We are near the end but... Not yet. Very little plot to write but quite a bit more traveling and relationship stuff and the villain invasion and so on...

To my knowledge Chickenhound is an only child.

About villains coming and going- I kind of agree, but I also feel like that's a huge part of why I like Redwall. It's very likely your favourite vermin are going to die so you keep rooting for their survival until they are unexpectedly killed off- bit like Game of Thrones bit like the Walking Dead.

I have a Discord account- the info is on my profile. That's generally my main form of communication with 'internet folk'.

Mostly taught myself to draw. I mean I had a few art classes here and there- but they did very little for my 'skill' with anthropomorphic animals. That's the first one I drew funnily enough.

Not to get all conspiracy but NASA did fake some moon landings so I'm taking anything I hear with a grain of salt. Particularly in the case of space because that's really not going to change anything about me/things I care about (that sounds selfish, but realistically speaking I'll never go to space so nothing to worry about for me).

All deviantart drawings are 'concepts'. I'm still practicing with fabrics and stuff- doesn't help that most animated films (which I over-analyze and tgerefthe learn to draw from) don't feature habits.

RIP Quasimodo.

I'll try and put a 'group photo' if you will. Not sure which scene though (there are... Quite a lot of scenes, aren't they?"

Sebias: Hmmm... Wolverines Vs wolves...? Although that conflict might be better for a sequel...

SJW, I'd just like to point out that the plot is driven by the actions and emotions of animals- not men ;) Thank you Abrahem (and One-eye I think) for leaping so swiftly in my defense. I didn't delete any comments and until recently never had cause to. But please be respectful to my readers and friends. If you have genuine greivances please provide them in a respectful, polite and orderly way.

If you continue to insult my readership (and me, but mostly my readership) I will simply stop your reviews from seeing the light of day. Thank you for your points, I did not realize I was doing such an awful job. I honestly didn't think I was doing anything wrong (like geez, this is a fanfic for a kids book series... Give me a break XD) As a disclaimer Abrahem is a separate identity to me. Oh and none of this chapter was altered by your reviews. I have a plot and I'm sticking to it. The suggestions I receive are welcome and if they fit nicely into what I have planned, I add them. If not then what can I do? If I edit any chapters I will let you all know, although I don't see myself doing that.

Phew, now for the chapter.

It did not take him long to find Sharpfur, all he had to do was follow the trail of startled hares and slammed doors. He came out into a small garden on the mountain, where Sharpfur sat, glaring at the ocean. All around the little weasel there seemed to be an air of rage and anger, barely hidden below a turmoil of emotion.

"Sharpfur?" The hedgehog began carefully. True to his name, the weasel was a prickly fellow. And of course, under the circumstances… more likely to lash out.

"Humph?"

This Grollo took to mean 'what do ye want?' and so, permission for conversation having been granted, sat down besides the weasel. "I'm sorry we came here." He started, rubbing at his wrists.

"Sure ye are."

"You were right, it was a bad idea."

"Course I was, course it was. I said so, didn't I?"

"We might have even reached Redwall by now if we'd listened to you." That was unlikely; they had arrived barely an hour ago.

"Yer gonna say 'but' aren't ye?"

"Bu- er- although… under the circumstances…"

"Save yer breath hedgepig. Ye got no reason not te be happy here." Sharpfur turned to him. "And even if ye do, ye've got home te look forwards to. I don't have that opp-opp- operation? No! Uni- uni- unity-"

"Opportunity?" Grollo offered.

Sharpfur growled. "I was about te say that." The weasel stood up and began pacing. "Anyhow nothin' ye say now changes the fact that ye manipulated me into comin' here. Don't deny it! I may wear spectacles but I ain't blind." He kicked an innocent pebble with enough ferocity to kill a badger. "Stop for directions ye said. Only a minute ye said. An' now… now… but it's not yer fault. No, not yer fault at all. I can't even blame ye thinkin' about yerself. I do it all the time, don't I? No. No. This, this is Greyclaw's fault."

"Right…" Grollo coughed awkwardly. It was nice to know he was in the clear, but shifting Sharpfur's rage onto the rat hardly seemed fair. He hadn't wanted to say it in front of everybeast but said so-called rat did look like Constance. "How?"

"It just is!" Sharpfur snapped, then he took a deep seathing breath. "Everythin' I ever knew about him is a lie! He's a mouse! A damned mouse! That would have been nice te know growin' up! I did everything with him! We shared a room, an arm chair- I even let him use my dirk! Hellgates we shared a cot!"

Grollo did not get the opportunity to speak, both because Sharpfur was not intent on sharing the dialogue and because he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"But apparently, the rat I used te go swimmin' with- even though I hate water!- isn't a rat!"

"But what difference does it make?"

"STOP ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS, IT MAKES A HUGE DIFFERENCE!" Sharpfur was red in the face from shouting, and then, just when it looked like his inner rage would boil over, he shrunk. "He was my brother and he's not the same anymore. Nothing's the same anymore! Ma and Pa are dead and I'm yer prisoner and Greyclaw isn't Greyclaw! The rest are skeletons and I'm wearing spectacles and… and… and- gah!" The fury returned and he paced around faster than before, almost feverishly. "Not a mouse. Not a mouse. Not a mouse. He. Is. Not. A. Mouse!" Then again he stopped and shrunk. "He can't be."

"He's not." Grollo said, seizing his moment. Manipulation had gotten him this far, perhaps a bit more wouldn't hurt. Besides, it was what Sharpfur wanted to hear. "I didn't want to say it in front of the Badgerlord, but he looks nothing like Constance. Very different. Different teeth, different face, different eyes even." He shook his head dramatically. "He doesn't look a thing like her."

Sharpfur was frowning at him. "I can't tell if yer serious or not?"

"Why would I joke about something like this? Constance is Fret's mother." He looked around and leaned in conspiratorially, so that the weasel's ear inclined towards him. "But this is between me and you. Don't tell anybeast, okay?"

Sharpfur remained skeptical. "Won't everybeast find out when we get te yer abbey and they see two very different lookin' mice next te each other?"

Grollo waved away the worry. "We'll deal with the fallout at Redwall." That wasn't even a lie. He'd have quite a lot on his paws when Sharpfur saw two very similar looking mice next to each other. Even moreso if Constance treated the supposed rat the way she treated Fret… somehow he doubted Sharpfur would take a squeeze-the-life-out-of-you hug with a plethora of kisses lightly… but that was a problem for another time.

"So… Greyclaw is a rat?"

"Absolutely. No doubt about it."

"But I can't tell him. So… I should act like he's a mouse…"

"Yeah. Just pretend."

Sharpfur grinned. "Easy peasy lemon squeezy! Ha! The look on everybeast's face when they realise he's a rat! Ha! The look on his face when common sense gets handed te him. An' then I'll say 'I told ye so!' Hehehe! Perfect! This is perfect! And best of all I get Greyclaw back!" With a newfound spring in his step, Sharpfur turned away, leaving Grollo to worry about the look on his face when they got to Redwall.

Barely a moment later, the weasel poked his head round the door, scowling. "Nice try hedgepig but I ain't buyin' it. Pity I'm not as stupid as ye think I am, eh?" Then without another word the weasel slunk away.

Or not...

"Sharpfur wait! Sharpfur!"

The weasel had not gone far and was wrestling with a door. Try as he might he could not push it open.

"Save yer breath! I've had it with ye an' the mousemaid! Actin' like we're all friends but ye don't respect me an' all ye do is trick me anyways and-"

"For the last time." Hawthorn said, pushing open the door from the other side and thus, joining the two. "I. Am. A. Vole. We are not the same as mice."

"Well ye look like a mouse, sorry te break it te ye princess. Now if ye'll excuse me I'll go pace in rage somewhere alone!"

Hawthorn did not let him and the two glared at each other, nose to nose.

"I'm sorry you have to stay here." The vole began calmly. "But that can't be the only reason you're angry. You were fine with us, even if we're not rats, but for some reason you're angry at Greyclaw for being a mouse."

Sharpfur smiled patronisingly. "Yer such a clever little snowflake. Now let me go."

He made to dart past her, but once more she stepped between him and the door. "You are clearly avoiding the problem. It's not Salamandastron and it can't be Greyclaw. So tell us, what's wrong?"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"This!"

"Yes- wait, pardon?"

The weasel waved his paws in the air. "This! All of this is wrong! Me! I am wrong! I am-" His paws went from flailing frantically to pulling at his ears. To their surprise, he whimpered. "I don't know what I am anymore."

Sharpfur paced around the small patch of space between Grollo and Hawthorn. "Greyclaw's me brother. Mouse or not. But what is me? My parents are dead. My crew are dead. An-and- I'm not the same! I'm wearing spectacles! I'm polite! I-I-I- Greyclaw hasn't changed one bit. He looks exactly the same but- I-I can't even recognize myself!" He growled and shook his head. "Ye won't understand."

Grollo didn't. That much was obvious from his o-shaped mouth. And made clearer by his answer. "Well my dad talked to me about this thing called puberty once and-" One look at Hawthorn's 'you are such an idiot sometimes' and Sharpfur's 'ye're the dumbest hedgepig in existence' faces made him shut up.

"I get it." Said Hawthorn turning to Sharpfur.

The weasel gave a skeptical smirk despite himself and crossed his paws over his chest. Nobeast could possibly guess the complexities of his mind. "Sure ye do. Go on, oh wise and perfect princess."

"Your concept of identity has been shaken."

"Me what of what?"

"I didn't understand that either." Grollo said, scratching at his chin. Hawthorn gave him a look and the hedgehog was silent. The vole went on.

"Creatures are built out of the things around them. Before we… crossed paths… you had an excellent idea of who you were. You were Sharpfur. You had a family and home to call yours and you were a wannabe thug."

"Actually I still am a thug."

Hawthorn ignored him and continued. "But then you had nothing. It's like… like… like a kite! As long as somebeast is holding the rope the kite can drift and flutter all it likes but it stays in place. When there's no rope the kite is lost and blows away in the wind until it snags onto a-"

"Yer point?" Sharpfur asked, giving a wide fake yawn.

"You are so frustrating! The reason you're angry is because you don't want to change! You want to go back to the way things ware but you know you can't because it doesn't exist anymore. You were fine before because you could live with that, but then you met Greyclaw and now you're reminded of why is it you wanted to go home, thus causing emotional turmoil within yourself!"

Sharpfur frowned. "Not the words I'd have used to be honest."

Hawthorn smacked her paw against her face and took a deep breath. "Alright. I'm done trying to explain your own issues to you."

Sharpfur 'harrumphed' loudly. "Good. Now if ye'll excuse me I've got stuff te do."

Victoria gave the dummies no mercy. Her sword was a blur of wood that beat at the bags of sand so viciously, that everybeast in sight had given her at least three feet of space.

Angus and Andrew sat upon the rocks, hard-faced and angry, a mockery of the Skipper's cold rage.

Jack and the other hares were doing drills a few feet away, lead by the fat Junior Corporal who seemed determined to avoid any and all conflict… by ignoring it.

Unfortunately, conflict was hard to avoid…

Greyclaw, despite the insurmountable fear holding him, waddled over to Victoria, awkward smile and wooden sword at the ready. She had offered to train him after all, and for once he was eager for the distraction.

He stopped dead in his tracks after she beheaded one of the sandbags.

But it was too late to back away, she had spotted and was glaring at him.

"H-hey." He began, swallowing heavily.

"Hello." Came her calm, clipped, terrifying voice.

"So er- what am I supposed to do today?" He swung the sword around to give him something to do and alleviate some of the awkwardness… only for the wooden weapon to go flying out of his paw. He made to catch it, tripped and fell on his face.

Victoria caught it with her tail and turned back to the rat, who tried his best to grin up at her from around a mouthful of sand.

"You can start by putting this useful training equipment back in the armoury. We wouldn't want you breaking somebeast's hard work and effort."

"Right." He agreed, pushing himself to his feetpaws and accepting the wooden blade rammed into his stomach. "And then do we try slings?"

"I'm not giving you a weapon rat."

"Jogging?" He asked hopefully.

"No!" His face fell. "No! No! No! You got that Berty? Or should I say Grey Claw?"

The rat found nothing better to stare at then his footpaws. "You can call me whatever you like… I don't mind…" Of course he didn't mind. How could he mind? He didn't know.

"How about liar? Or would you prefer vermin? Rat? Seascum? Cannibal?"

"I'm not a cannibal." The rat muttered, hurt and aghast, twisting the wooden sword in his grip.

"I don't care!" She snapped, jabbing him hard in the stomach. It still hurt, despite his layers of flabby padding. "You're not my friend either."

"B-b-but-" He was crying, of course he was crying, he was oversensitive and her words hurt.

"But what? You came here saying you were somebeast else-"

"Actually." Jack-is-Lucky said, scowling. "I said he was somebeast else."

"Oh I'm angry with you too." She said fiercely. "And Tibbers the little runt. But at least you two don't expect everything to go back to normal after lying to everybeast here for several weeks."

"And if I had told you the bally truth it wouldn't have made a difference." Jack snapped, paws crossed resolutely over his chest. "Because what I said was the truth. You heard the Badgerlord. He's a mouse. End of story. Wot."

"So what?" Angus came over too now, and joined the argument. "He still lied through his buckteeth. And even if-"

"Big if." Added his twin.

"He is a mouse. He was raised by vermin- and therefore is vermin."

Jack opened and closed his mouth, unable to counter this point. "The Junior Corporal agrees with me." He said suddenly, then turned and shouted at the Corporal. "You agree with me right, wot?

The fat young hare turned and shrunk under the combined strength of their glares. "Errrmm… I don't have an opinion."

"Yes you do!" The four angry beasts said in unison.

The Junior Corporal went red, opened and closed his mouth, then let his gaze harden. "When I say I don't have a bally opinion it means I don't have a bally opinion!"

"So you're not mad at me?" Greyclaw asked with a hopeful smile- one that was almost painfully forced.

"W-well I'm not very mad."

The rat's face fell and turned back to his feetpaws.

"I'm not not mad. And I'm not especially, particularly, obstinately o-or I mean, I'm not that mad, wot. I mean, really. A corporal of the Long Patrol does not under any and all circumstances, ever j-judge beasts. That's the sergeant's job wot. F-furthermore, Berty has-"

"Save your breath." Tibbers interrupted, then he went on, calmer. "We get it, we lied. Sorry, but if we'd told the truth… well… how were we supposed to know the Badgerlord was going to be merciful?"

"Mercy? This is about mercy now, is it?" The fact that Tibbers was not cowed as she marched up to him was a great show of bravery indeed. Victoria was not exactly big, but even she overtopped him. And she was holding a sword. "And when have vermin ever been merciful?"

"B-but I never did anything bad!" Greyclaw garbled, sounding rather like a dying frog. "I lied, I stole, b-but I never killed anybeast. I didn't kill your parents!"

The wooden sword spun round and caught the fat rat hard on the stomach. Greyclaw, winded, fell over and the sword came down again, this time over an eye.

"Leave him be!" Shouted Tibbers, barging the mouse and getting his own black eye in turn. Jack growled and kicked the mouse full in the face. He, in turn, was restrained by the Junior Corporal.

"Order Jack! Order! Peace! Tranquility!"

"I AM BEING TRANQUIL!" The hare replied, thrashing wildly around to get at Victoria. The mouse was getting up now, her face filled with rage, and in her eyes Jack could see a faint hint of red.

Angus and Andrew must have noticed too, for they stepped between the mouse and Greyclaw's softly sobbing form. "Easy Vicky."

"We're angry too."

"But punching isn't gonna h-oof!"

The twin who had been speaking bent over after Victoria punched him.

Tibbers was on his feetpaws and picking up the wooden sword, some of the other hares were sprinting over now, but Victoria did not seem to care and-

"OI!" The Skipper's voice boomed as the large otter came striding in amidst the chaos. That seemed to bring Victoria back to her senses. The mouse spat upon the sand and stomped away, ignoring the Skipper entirely. "What was that?" Asked the otter chief, and all at once everybeast tried to explain.

"She punched me chief! Right in my windbag!" Andrew was saying.

"Nothing short of bally chaos sah." Added the Junior Corporal.

"Got my eye as well." Tibbers provided, dabbing at it.

"The rat started it really. Well. The mouserat-" Angus chimed in.

"Here we go again." Jack pulled up his sleeves, but before he could unleash justice upon the otter's face, the Skipper spoke.

"Somebeast take the shrew up to the infirmary. Make sure the eye's fine. Skip-Gre- Berty- gah, him as well. And if I catch you fighting again I just might thrash the lot of you. Any problems you have, bring to your elders, is that understood?"

There was a rather quiet chorus of 'yes sirs' followed by Jack lifting Tibbers and dragging Greyclaw away in the direction of the infirmary.

"Not right in the brainbox, that one, wot. Positively filled with violence. Why I bet there's a whole tree up her tail! Don't worry mates, she'll get what she deserves. I'll tattle my tail off to the Badgerlord himself if I have to!"

"Don't." Greyclaw said, shaking his head, and beginning to walk besides the hare. "Just don't. She's right. I lied." The rat sneezed violently into his wrist fur. "I should have just told the whole truth from the start."

"We didn't know the whole truth from the start." Tibbers reminded, him as Jack put him down. The shrew reached up on tip-paw to put a comforting paw on Greyclaw's shoulder.. "And if you had she'd have just been like this all along. She doesn't hate you. She hates vermin."

"Imagine if she had gone to Redwall and gotten kidnapped instead of me." All three shuddered at Jack's words.

"Angus and Andrew are angry too." Greyclaw pointed out. "And Sharpfur wasn't pleased either."

"The twins are a pair of dunderheads." Jack-is-Lucky said with a roll of his eyes. He too placed a paw on Greyclaw's shoulder. "And I'm sure you and your weasel will sort things out."

"Yeah." Tibbers nodded his head in agreement. "If he's half as attached to you as you are to him than you'll be best mates by morning!"

"Isn't best mate kind of a step down from brother?"

Neither hare nor shrew knew how to respond to that.

To say that dinner that evening was an awkward affair was the understatement of the Spring. No questions were raised about the black eyes in Tibbers' and Greyclaw's possession, mostly because nobeast did any talking. Hawthorn kept searching for Sharpfur amongst the crowd but could find no trace of the little weasel. Victoria sat brooding coldly over her tea and biscuits. The Badgerlord had given her a stern talking to but even Angus and Andrew gave her a wide berth of space. Grollo was the only beast who seemed to be eating, and had no less than four biscuits crammed into his mouth. Either to stop himself from saying something stupid or because he was, as always, hungry.

It was made even more awkward by the fact that all the other hares and otters were enjoying their usual eccentricities.

This all came to an end when from the crowd of hares, many of whom were drawn to the strange sight, came Sharpfur.

Sharpfur looked… well... Grollo nearly choked. And probably would have had Jack not thumped him hard on the back.

Bespectacled and wearing the uniform of a hare, complete with several cadet badges he looked rather like a bug-eyed beast in a blanket. The comparative largeness of the jacket and glasses only seemed to emphasize how small he really was.

"Greetings and salutations woodlanders of Salamanderastron!" He declared, over the sounds of Jack yelling in pain, hopping onto the bench between a wide-eyed Greyclaw and an equally wide-eyed Tibbers.

The weasel nearly fell over from the weight of the jacket dragging him down, but managed to maintain balance. The ends of his borrowed uniform hung over the bench like a pair of folded wings. "We got off on the wrong footpaw. In part that was my fault. I wish to make amends and therefore offer my sincerest apologies. So, clean slate and all that. Who wants to be friends?" Sharpfur had spent the majority of the afternoon rehearsing his grand entrance, by which he would integrate himself into the Salamandastron community. Frankly he did not want to be friends with anybeast present, save and except for Greyclaw. In truth he was only doing this for the rat that was his brother and in part for Grollo and Hawthorn… not that he would ever admit to it.

"What are you wearing?" Greyclaw asked, staring up and down at the much-too-large uniform.

"This is called a jacket, I heard, my fine rodent friend. Standard Long Patrol stuff ye know. Some cadet lent it te me."

"You mean you stole it." Victoria muttered, loud enough to be heard.

Momentarily Sharpfur glared, but once more he regained his composure and patted down his chest fur. He had to do this for Greyclaw. Grey Claw the mouse. He'd been living with a woodlander his whole life apparently, surely he could tolerate a few more. And unless by some miracle everybeast present was struck by lightning his whole future was destined to be filled with woodlanders. So the weasel cleared his throat and pretended not to have heard.

"Ye might have also noticed that upon my entrance I was followed swiftly by the soft fragrance of cherry blossoms. This is because I washed." He forced himself to grin, the better to show off his gleaming white fangs. "I also brush me teeth and own me own fangbrush." From one jacket pocket Sharpfur extracted a toothbrush which he waved around the table for emphasis.

"That's…" Started Tibbers. "Good to know…"

"It is, isn't it?" Sharpfur sat down and pulled the shrew in closer. "Say little guy, I never did catch yer name."

Of course it was hypocritical of Sharpfur to call anybeast 'little' but he didn't have many beasts to pick on in matters of height. Naturally he took the opportunities given to him. "I-er go by Tibbers."

"Pleased te make yer acquaintance!"

They shook paws, or rather, Sharpfur snatched the shrew's and shook it vigorously. He let go abruptly and went back to facing the rest of them. "I may still be Sharpfur to ye, but in light of my new identity as a woodlander I would prefer to go by Softfur. Sounds less sharp."

"Right." Said Hawthorn, blinking.

"Confounded quills!" Jack-is-Lucky winced as Grollo pulled out one of said quills.

"So... You're a woodlander too?" Greyclaw was all sorts of confused. And momentarily worried. It must have taken a great deal of damage to the head to turn Sharpfur into… Softfur. "Did the Junior Corporal sit on you?"

"Who's she?" Sharpfur asked in reply. Then he shrugged. "Yer my only family left Grey. An' if yer a woodlander then I have to be too. Besides, ye really think Redwall Abbey'll let us stay if we go around actin' like thugs?" The weasel wrinkled his nose in disgust, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to be a thug again.

"B-b-but Redwall's haunted!" Greyclaw stammered. He had not considered leaving for the abbey. The rat had gotten used to life at Salamandastron. The Badgerlord was very nice, the Skipper too and Victoria as well… although that had been before the truth 'set him free'.

"So? What's a ghost gonna do? Don't act like vermin and it can't kill ye." Which was a shame because he had loved being a vermin. But vermin were not welcome anywhere. He had to become a woodlander…

"And how are you going to manage that? Aren't you all addicted to stealing?" Victoria asked, her voice filled with sarcastic interest.

Once more Sharpfur glared but flattened his chest fur. "I haven't stolen anything in seasons." This was not strictly true and he had loved the rush of getting away with somebeast else's property… but that had been a different time, the memory of which made his heart ache.

"You kidnapped Jack." Victoria yawned. "You stabbed Tibbers-"

"Here we go again." Tibbers growled. He slammed his little paws onto the table in a show of aggression that scared nobeast.

"Oh we've never stopped going." Victoria snapped. "But of course you'd side with them."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Tibbers demanded.

"Just that shrews have a history of acting like vermin." She frowned in Hawthorn's direction. "Voles too."

Grollo tore a quill free of Jack's paw with unnecessary brutality and pointed it at the fierce mouse. "You leave her out of this."

"Wasn't there a hedgehog that went around enslaving children?"

Before Grollo could reply, Sharpfur had slammed a cookie into his open mouth.

"Now, now. Let's keep things… civilized. Violence ain't gonna help anybeast."

"Nobeast ask your opinion, weasel." Angus muttered.

This time Sharpfur did not feign deafness. "Well I gave it anyways so there. Now shut yet pie hole an' let me eat."

The weasel sat down heavily, the hare clothing flapping around him like a magician's cloak. Greyclaw was worth it. Greyclaw's friendship was worth all the misery and pain trying to fit in would bring.

The biscuits were too hard for his painfully-polished teeth, the tea too hot and too bitter and everything else not to his liking.

"Can ye pass the sweet-stuff?" Sharpfur said suddenly, pointing at a small platter of sugar cubes. He was addressing the otter twins, who sat directly behind it. The pair shared a look and the glimmer of mischief was evident in their eyes. Sharpfur noticed of course, he'd had three older siblings after all…

"You don't want that in your tea!" Angus said, shaking his head.

"This!" Andrew passed him a wooden bottle of pepper. "Now this'll sweeten up anything."

The weasel raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Thank ye." Sharpfur said politely- yet the first thing he did upon recieving the bottle, was turn it over to find the carved letters. For a long while he stared at the carvings, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally he slammed it onto the table with a growl. "Pepper! Pepper for my tea, eh? Yer a funny otter! Very funny!"

"I-it's not pepper." Angus tried to say.

"I can read ye nitwit!" Sharpfur growled again and hurled the bottle of pepper at the offending otter. "Betcha didn't see that coming!"

Andrew hadn't seen the pepper coming either.

"Yes well… most vermin are uncivilised creatures of evil."

Sharpfur glared at her, and this time did not bother flattening his raised and enraged fur. "Well at least I'm tryin' te get along!"

"You may dress like us." Victoria spat. "But you know it's only an act."

The truth of her words angered Sharpfur more than the words themselves.

The mouse went on, not at all scared of his gnashing fangs. "The last weasel in Salamandastron poisoned the food supply and tried to open the gates for his warlord father."

"And how long ago was that?" Jack-is-Lucky demanded. "None of us were born then. My grandparents weren't even born then! Wot!"

"Vermin don't change." The mouse replied coolly, her hard gaze fixed on Sharpfur. "Even if they wear magnifying glasses."

"They're for readin' addlebrain!" Sharpfur snapped.

"I didn't know you could read." Greyclaw said, intending it as a sort of compliment. A way to get Sharpfur to calm down.

"And I didn't know ye were a mouse." Sharpfur snapped again, then stabbed his tea with a fork and began stirring vigorously.

"I didn't know either!" Grey Claw protested, wincing from the force of Victoria's 'humph'.

If he hadn't just humiliated himself by trying to fit in with the woodlanders, Sharpfur could have contained his anger. But he'd had bad day afrer bad day and all his anger was free now and Grey Claw just happened to be directly in line of fire.

"And neither did I! Neither did Ma! Neither did Pa! Or Threeclaw! Neither did anybeast, but that's what ye are! Apparently!"

There was a long pause, in which Greyclaw bit his lip and the fur along Sharpfur's back rose and fell in time to the weasel's infuriated breathing.

"D-does it matter? I-I'm still the same beast, aren't I?"

"No." Said Sharpfur coldly, pushing himself off the bench. "Ye ain't. And neither am I! So stop expectin' everythin' te go back the way it was! Coz Ma and Pa are dead, our crew is dead and ye and I ain't brothers anymore because everything's different!"

It was impossible to say whether or not the rat's heart shattered or not, but it certainly looked like it had.

Sharpfur regretted his words of course, almost instantly, he bit his tongue and flattened his ears but it was too late. Greyclaw waddled away rather swiftly and left the weasel guilty.

"Grey! Come back I… I…" 'Need you' was what he wanted to say, but too many beasts were looking for him to say it. His guilt turned to anger and hissing like a snake, he hurled an innocent tea cup at Andrew. "Now look what ye made me do! Ye son of a-"

"Sharpfur stop." Hawthorn swallowed. "You're not helping."

And to her surprise the weasel did stop. She had expected anger. Arguments. Rage.

But he did not throw another thing, and in silence, turned and went the other way.

Tibbers was momentarily torn between going to comfort the rat and berating Victoria for her harshness. Jack stood up and carried the shrew out before he could make his mind up.

Wordlessly, Hawthorn grabbed Grollo by the arm and dragged him in the wake of Sharpfur.