A/N: Abrahem, I use another one of you reccomendations later in this chapter soooo... I don't have anything against the French. I speak French. Am legally Swiss, ie, a neighbour of France. RIP Quasimodo was just my knee-jerk reaction because I... thought the Notre Dame thing was a joke... (don't judge me okay, I live under a rock XD) I also think there was a slaver hedgehog- can't remember where but i think there was one... And I don't really care all that much for deep space. So no opinion on black holes- although I am a little miffed that the USA wins the space race by landing on the moon first... when the USSR did everything else first... Not a political opinion just a bit of 'really'?

Discord isn't too hard to use. Although I'm not exactly the er- most frequent users of it.

Fret the Spoilt Warlord was the product of Clogg spoiling him and his best friend (Bork) being a glutton.

Glad you found the drawing cute. It was meant to be.

Also Abrahem, if you were to join (DEWIT!) I would be happy to read anything you write.

Lord demon: I will get to it before the fic is done, never fear! (But gods the Redwall Forum takes so much time)

Also a shout-out to the Redwall Readership Restorers Forum on this website started by Waycaster.

Oh and this might be my submission to the Redwall Abbey Community Forum Fanfiction Competition :D I'm not sure how well the chapter works on it's own buuuuut *shrugs* So I may start black and White Drabbles a bit prematurely for it... Depends

Also big (public) thank you to keldor, he's helped quite a bit with my plottings and his very insightful reviews (we discussed moon landings... I really don't think your reviews are off-topic XD) are a joy to read.

I know a bunch of you reviewed as well, but it's been two weeks and must I say much else other than thank you for reviewing! We shall return to Salamandastron in due course of time. Yes Greyclaw is poor but when do I *not* make my characters suffer?

"Ye ge' one shot. That's it. I ain't cleanin' up after ye an' if ye loose a spear I'll spank ye. Makes sense?" Fret did not doubt that Snakeskin would indeed hit them. The stoat had, after all, been lovingly caressing his 'old beau'ies' only moments before.

The treck south had taken them from hard to differentiate tunnels to... more hard to differentiate tunnels. Ones that were further south... according to Snakeskin anyways. Fret had no doubt whatsoever that they were lost. No matter how much Snakeskin assured him that he 'knew these tunnels like the back of me paw' Fret would never forget that Snakeskin was the same stoat that had once engaged him in a very long and boring debate about 'which side of the paw actually is the back of i'?'

Presently the trio were in what resembled a nursery. A cot of bones lay abandoned in the corner. All around lay a few portraits- facing the ice. He had tried to peer at one and had received a smack for it. His ear was still sore.

Now the white-furred stoat sat in a corner, cutting at a long green line of snake scales. Momchillo was holding a pair of old, surprisingly wooden, toy javelins and facing a makeshift target (a pile of blankets on a stool) with a confident smirk. They had been sitting (or in Fret's case, lying) in comfortable silence after the day's long voyage. The tunnels had shifted upwards as if they were climbing a hill and more than once he'd slipped on the ice and ended up sliding down a path he'd traversed moments before, only to have to climb all the way up again. He had been enjoying the newfound silence of his very talkative companions when Momchillo had to open his big fat mouse mouth and ask about the targets.

"I only need one shot." Fret had seen the mouse throw things his whole life and remembered vividly every snowball that had ever struck him. Redwall Abbey had had no fancy targets, save for his nose. The ferret was rather less-than-pleased when Momchillo's projectile struck the target.

Snakeskin, on the other paw, was delighted. "Nice shot mouse!" He cheered, flourishing a newly-made cloak of glimmering green scales. "Ye'd make an excellen' snake 'unter if ye put yer min' te it."

Momchillo, ever the sickeningly polite, handed both javelins back to Snakeskin. "It wasn't that hard a shot." He said with a shrug. "And a real javelin would probably be heavier anyways."

"Not if it's made of bones me boy!" The stoat stood up and as quick as lightning was behind the young rodent, draping the newly-made cloak over his shoulders and pinning it securely around the mouse's neck. "Surpriiiiise! Said I'd make ye cloaks, didn' I? Like it?"

"Y-you mean, this is mine?" Momchillo balked and passed a paw through the smooth, cold scales. "I-I- I can keep it?" It was excellently made. Scales on the outside, fur on the inside, with a hood to throw over his ears if it ever got too cold. Best of all it fitted him like a glove.

Snakeskin grinned. "Every snake 'unter 'as one of 'em. An' ye killed a snake-"

"He ran from one." Fret snapped. Snakeskin was annoying. Momchillo was annoying. It shouldn't have surprised the ferret that the two took to one another like tea and tea pot. But it did and that annoyed him more.

"Beats gettin' eaten by one." The stoat replied with a smirk and a wink.

Fret could not think of any reply beyond sticking his tongue out. Quick as a flash however, Snakeskin had it between two claws.

"An' fur the recor' I made ye a cloak as well. What's the matter? Somethin' got yer tongue?" The stoat chuckled, let go and lifted the ferret onto his feetpaws. "Black seems te be yer colour."

Fret would never have admitted it, but he liked the cloak almost instantly. It was soft and warm, akin to the blankets Constance had never ceased tucking him into. No matter how tall he had grown she would always tuck him into bed, and no matter how disastrous his misadventures had been that day he would always sleep soundly. Knowing that she loved him no matter what...

Fret stared at his reflection in the ice, equal parts missing his mother and being ashamed of doing so. He'd probably never see her again... he had to get used to living without her. And tucking himself in. And ranting to himself.

His self-pity ended abruptly when Snakeskin slammed a skull over his head.

"Ta-da! It's an 'elmet!" Batting away the ferret's paws, Snakeskin adjusted it himself so that Fret's ears stuck out from the top of the helm and he could look at his own reflection from a pair of carved eye-holes.

"I look ridiculous." Fret half-complained, half-moaned as he deflated. It had been a small snake, with a head no larger than his. A pair of fangs sandwiched his muzzle and swivelling his ears was made difficult by the relative smallness of the holes.

"Ye look like bait. An' that's what ye are. The mos' fillin' meal in the 'ole North." Snakeskin chuckled and flicked the ferret's nose.

"It looks good on you." Momchillo said with a wry smile.

Fret only harrumphed in reply as his head came free of the helmet with a small pop. The last thing he needed right now was Momchillo's brand of sarcastic wit. The mouse hadn't sounded sarcastic, but Fret knew that he was. They hadn't complimented each other in seasons and they certainly weren't going to start now.

"It was me sons. Really ye should be 'onored I gave it te ye." Snakeskin patted his head before strolling casually away. The stoat sat down heavily on a folded fur blanket and yawned. "Now 'o's up fur some shut-eye?"

Fret did not reply to that question. He was busy burying himself under as many of the fur-rugs as he could. Never mind that they stunk and made him itch all over. It was cold at night and he wanted to sleep. Plus it was, along with the paws determinedly pressing his ears against the top of his head, very good at blocking out the sound of his companions.

"Or shall we sing our song, mouse?"

Growing up with Momchillo, Fret knew just how horrible the mouse's singing voice was. Snakeskin, too used to dull silence, had ceaselessly encouraged the mouse's musical 'talents' and unfortunately the white furred stoat only knew one song. And even more unfortunately he'd taught it to Momchillo. And worst of all was that they sung it. Every. Single. Day. Together they started, like a pair of lonely, dying, toads.

"Waaaaaake uuuuup Maggiiiiiie IIIIIIII think I goooooot something to saaaaaaay to yoooouuu,"

Underneath the heaps of fur, Fret growled. Now he wouldn't get any sleep until all eighty seven verses were done... three times each... with all the extended vowels... Some things were worse than bathing.

Momchillo did not remember how the argument had started, only that he and Fret were arguing. There was nothing unusual about this. Snakeskin had left to skin some snakes and had left Fret and Momchillo to their own devices. One thing lead to another and now they did what they did best.

"You're a greasy-furred, crow-tailed, polecat! And that was a joke!" The mouse said with righteous indignation, but all of a sudden he did not know what Fret had said to make him say that. Something rude most likely.

"I am not a polecat!" The ferret hissed, but could not come up with any insults of his own.

"I should have guessed by the smell." Momchillo taunted, a wide grin on his face. "When was the last time you washed again? Last season was it? Before?"

"You just threw soup on me!"

"Seems you need a bath more than ever then, doesn't it?" As a child he'd loved reading and wit was his forte. Fret's comparative slow-mindedness could not compete with him.

The ferret, now covered in soup that had apparently always been there, growled. "You stink too!"

"Oh, do I? And how would you know, with soup up your nose?"

Fret garbled and garbled and spat out the first half of a dozen words before resigning himself to growling. But only now did Momchillo notice a wetness in his eyes that the mouse was becoming now all-too-familiar with.

The grin faltered and vanished as the image returned to him. The horrible sight of Fret halfway down a serpent, manifested itself before him clear as day and as tangible as clay. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

But Fret did not hear his apology. The ferret stomped ever closer, his fangs bared and his claws outstretched.

"I'm sorry Fret." I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

"Well I'm not!" The ferret growled, slashing open his cheek. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for!"

It did not hurt nearly as much as it should have, considering how much blood was spilling. Life as a slave must have toughened him up. There had been a time where Fret lightly pushing him to the ground had set him to tears. Now though he accepted the blow with a bowed head.

"I'm sorry."

But Fret did not stop and kicked him to the ground. The ferret coiled back on all fours, like an exceptionally dangerous spring. Without warning the ferret sprung and Momchillo only just managed to roll out of the way in time.

Fret bit deep into the furry blankets, his cheeks filling with the black flesh. Inexplicably he began sobbing and spat out mouthfuls of fur. "Why do you always win? Just once, I just want to succeed one time! One bloody time."

Suddenly there was a shifting in the blankets, like a creature rolling over in it's sleep. To the mouse and ferret it was like a miniature earthquake. The sudden, soft, rising and falling of the, suddenly warm and flabby ground, told him that they were sitting atop somebeast. A few seconds later a pair of black eyes opened wide and cast their dim light over the terrified two.

Much like with the snake, their arguments were forgotten and the two clung to each other tightly. Momchillo was no longer even bleeding and his cheek had healed completely. The two shivered and shook and Fret whimpered as the furry mountain of a bear came to motion. The two were shaken off it's stomach and landed on the ice, still bound to each other in mutual terror of the massive creature before them.

"Never too early fur Breakfis'". The bear said in Snakeskin's accent but with a much deeper voice that shook the whole mountain with it's echoes. A paw bigger than the duo enveloped Fret and lifted him into the air.

"N-no." Momchillo stammered. Was he pleading?

"Sweet dreams." As easily as tossing a grape, the bear tossed Fret, who had since curled up in terror, high into the air. The ferret vanished down the tremendous creature's open jaws with a tiny gulp, making barely a bulge in it's already massive throat.

Momchillo was frozen in horror. It all felt surreal, far too surreal for him to be sad. It was almost akin to dreaming...

The bear licked it's massive chops with a tongue bigger than some carpets. "Your turn mousie." It leaned down in front of the young, frightened rodent and belched up a few piece of black and white fur in what was a small hurricane of released air. The whole place reeked of acid and somewhere in the distance Snakeskin was laughing.

Momchillo whimpered.

And woke up, covered in cold sweat but thankfully nowhere near a mammal bigger than a mountain. Sitting up, he made sure that Fret's tail and feetpaws still stuck out from the blankets he'd buried himself in and that those blankets were indeed not the belly of a bear.

A quick glance at Snakeskin confirmed the source of the belch, laughter and the bear's words.

"Did I wake ye?" The stoat asked from around a mouthful of dried snakeflesh. "'Ungry?" He pointed the snakeflesh at another piece of carved meat but Momchillo's attention had since drifted to the book in his other paw.

"That's Fret's!" Momchillo rubbed his eyelids to confirm that his vision was true. Indeed, the tome they had fought over upon first escaping the Northlands was there. And this time Fret was not going to stop him! The mouse squashed a small bubble of guilt as it came. It was Fret's book that much was true but the ferret himself had stolen it. How private could the contents really be?

"It is, isn' it?" Snakeskin smirked and held out the closed book.

Momchillo glanced back at the blanket pile to confirm that Fret was still buried under it, and when it became clear that the ferret was not going to wake up anytime soon the mouse stretched an eager paw towards the book.

Only for Snakeskin to smack it and tuck the tome into his cloak. "Nothin' personal mouse. I wouldn' give 'im yer secrets either."

Momchillo sucked his wounded paw. Then continued. "He told you about it? B-but he barely knows you! We grew up together-"

"An' ye nearly fed 'im te a snake." The white stoat shook his head. "I forced it outta 'im but if ye do the same I'll eat ye meself. Trust." He said, raising a claw towards the heavens. "'As got te be earned. Ye 'aven' earned 'is yet so I ain't tellin' no tales."

Momchillo scowled. "What's so important anyways? Fret can keep his secrets all he wants but if this is important then he's just being selfish!"

Snakeskin chuckled. "Ye really wan' te know don' ye?"

Momchillo nodded vigorously.

The stoat tore another piece of meat from the bone, chewed for an eternity, swallowed and belched. Momchillo was reminded horribly of the bear... Standing up Snakeskin tossed aside his breakfast and motioned for Momchillo to follow.

"I'll talk on the way. Jus' keep up."

Another glance in Fret's direction later and the mouse was besides him. "Okay tell me."

Snakeskin smirked and flicked his ear. "Ye ever stop an' think about yer pal? More than ye 'ave te?"

"Well... No... Actually yes." Momchillo admitted. "I mean I do sometimes. A lot recently. I- he, look." The mouse took a deep breath. "Fret and I weren't always this bitter. I mean, he was always a little bitter and I only started being bitter because we got kidnapped but we used to play together all the time. Every game you can think of too, everyday for most of our lives but all of a sudden-"

"I mean' about 'im not yer relationship drama." Snakeskin rolled his eyes dramatically. "Not everythin's about ye mousie."

"I know that." Momchillo said, a little crossly.

"So ye do think of 'im?"

"Not really. I wonder why he did a few things, sure but-"

"Ye ever wonder where 'e came from?" Snakeskin asked more bluntly.

This only confused the brown-ish yellow mouse further. "What do you mean 'came from'? He's been at Redwall his whole life!"

Snakeskin flicked his ear again. "Fur somebeast so clever ye got an awfully thick skull. 'E's vermin. I take it the only vermin in yer abbey?"

Momchillo nodded, simultaneously rubbing his wounded ear.

"Ye ever wonder 'ow 'e got there?"

This gave the mouse pause. Then Momchillo shrugged. "Constance must have found him somewhere. She was his mother after all."

The stoat harrumphed skeptically. "That'd be a sigh' wouldn' it? The mouse that whelped ferrets! 'O'd ye think 'is real parents are?"

And then it dawned on Momchillo. "Is that what this is about?"

Snakeskin flicked his ear again. "Yep."

Then the mouse's face became one of confusion. "But why's it such a big deal then? Everybeast knows Fret was adopted."

Snakeskin shook his head. "Ah, if only ye knew. Trust me mouse- nothin's ever that simple."

They walked on in silence for a while. Momchillo's brain was hard at work processing all the information. There wasn't much of it but his brain was doing a lot of processing. Fret's parents... But Constance had always been Fret's mother! In hindsight it was silly of him not to realize that Fret's parents were likely ferrets but... why was that important? And why had Fret, who had fought tooth and claw for the book back when their tails had been tied together, told Snakeskin!?

When posed this question by the now-indigant rodent (hadn't Fret been the one mistrustful of the stoat in the first place?) the stoat in question smirked. "I didn' give 'im much of a choice really. It was either tell the truth or I'd feed 'im te a snake so ye can see why 'e blabbed. What? Don' look a' me like tha'! I wasn' really gonna feed 'im te anythin'. Maybe roast 'is tail a little bit, hehehe... I was jokin'!"

"Fair enough." Momchillo grunted, a familiar annoyance creeping up on him and could not bite back a growl. "When we get back-"

"Yer not gonna say anythin' coz I told 'im I wasn' gonna tell ye." Snakeskin interrupted at once. "I mean ye could tell 'im but then I'd be forced te add mouse te my soup bowl now wouldn' I?"

The mouse blinked and forced himself to squash down his anger lest it put him in (literal) hot water. Through gritted teeth he spoke. "Fine. I don't know anything. Let's keep it that way. But the fact that he told you-"

Snakeskin flicked his ear. "Ye gotta earn 'is trust mouse. As fun as it is te 'it 'im where it 'urts, 'e's under a lot of pressure- an' I'm not talkin' about the itchy blankets."

There was always a plot twist with Fret. Always something he hadn't seen or hadn't considered and frankly it was beginning to worry him. Every time he thought he had Fret figured out the rug was pulled out from under him and a new image presented itself. One of a bad-tempered ferret slowly cracking away to reveal nothing more than a broken being barely held together by the thinnest of bandages. "Pressure from what?"

Snakeskin shrugged. "Loads of things. I bet 'e spends most of 'is day worryin' about what'll 'appen when ye get back te yer abbey. Ye both talk in yer sleep see. 'E keeps whimperin'. If it didn' break me heart te look at 'im I'd wake 'im up an' tell 'im te grow a spine an' deal with it."

Momchillo felt any remaining anger melt away as swiftly as it had come and resolved to do something nice for the ferret. Perhaps bite down on the witty retorts... and definitely not tell him about the nightmare he'd had... Perhaps a good meal might turn his frown upside down for a change...

"We're 'ere." The stoat announced, before Momchillo could decide what would make the ferret happy.

The 'here' the stoat was referring to was a tunnel indistinguishable from all the rest. At present, Snakeskin was smiling infuriatingly, as if waiting for the inevitable question to come up. When it did, his smile widened.

"'Ere is the entrance te the Upper Tunnels."

"Upper tunnels?" Momchillo repeated skeptically. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Snakeskin lifted Momchillo off the ground the way one would lift a baby. He even rocked him slightly. "Well I deba'ed leadin' ye 'ere te kill ye off nice an' quiet-like but that's no fun. I do lurve the soun' of screamin'!"

"Right." Momchillo said, swallowing slightly despite himself.

"'Ere, I'll show ye." Momchillo scowled and tried to regain some form of control over the situation. He briefly attempted to pull himself out of the stoat's arm-cradle, only for Snakeskin's infuriating rocking to undo any and all progress.

"I can walk fine thaaaaaAAAAAAAA!" He was not sure how the stoat had done it but soon the two were hurtling through the air. Snakeskin laughing at the top of his lungs and Momchillo screaming at the same pitch. Despite his earlier protests on the stoat's chosen method of transportation, Momchillo was glad to have the stoat's chestfur so near at paw to cling to. He was also glad for the babying- it would have been cruelly painful to fall to his death now.

Then, as suddenly as the flying had started, it stopped, and he was flung out of the stoat's arms, bounced off a wall and hit the floor with a groan. Snakeskin was still laughing.

"'A'A'A'A'A'A'A'A'A'A! Ye should've seen yer face!"

"Not... funny..." Momchillo groaned, pushing himself off the ground. Snakeskin, still chuckling, lifted him by the armpits and placed him gently back on his feetpaws.

"'Ilarious." Snakeskin corrected. "Wish Frettie were 'ere too, the look on 'is face would've been worth all the whinin'."

"He probably wouldn't have liked the landing."

"An' woul' that 'ave stopped me?" Snakeskin grinned and tickled Momchillo's sides. The mouse cringed away only to find himself lifted into the air and dropped slightly. "Besides, what yer abou' te see is worth the ride." Effortlessly he caught the young rodent, and once more cradled him.

It had better be. The mouse scowled, but turned away and felt his jaw go slack.

The path they strolled along was a bridge of carved ice. Narrow but thankfully firm. Once more he was surprised to find himself grateful for the old stoat's babying. Momchillo could not see the end of the darkness around them , only that the bridge was very high up and a fall from this height was certain death. Momchillo doubted he would dare walk at this height- he'd have clung to the ice as tightly as possible until whatever business had to be done up here was finished. Then he'd drag himself down. Fret would have done the same... Or worse...

Snakeskin was whistling a tune Momchillo knew not the words too, and the sound sent strange vibrations through the air. It was eerily quiet, with nothing to hear but the strange contortions of Snakeskin's whistling, the stoat's footsteps and his own heartbeat.

There was even less he wanted to smell when in such close proximity to the stoat. And unfortunately stoat and mouse were the only scents he was familiar with. There was a third but it was distant and he didn't know it anyways. Yet Momchillo could not shake off the feeling that he was being watched.

At long last they came upon a drum and Snakeskin set him down on shaking feetpaws. All it would take was a small gust of wind to go teetering to his death. The stoat stopped whistling and picked up a large oaken drumstick. In utter silence, as if in prayer, the stoat approached it.

What followed was a horrendous cacophony of drumbeats punctuated by Snakeskin's singing voice.

"WAAAAAAKE UP MAAAAAGIE!" Momchillo winced. It was like having a fly down your ear- a very uncomfortable experience a hare of the Long Patrol had once described to him in vivid detail.

"IIIII'VE GOOOT SOMETHIN' TE SAAAY TE YEEEEEE!"

There was a high-pitched shriek and Momchillo's ear twitched at the definite sound of swooping. The mouse himself gave a high-pitched shriek when a flat-nosed, long-eared face burst out from the darkness and knocked him to the ground. The mouse continued screaming until he heard the familiar sound of Snakeskin's laughter, joined in by that of the newcomer and a thousand eyes glowing in the dark of the underground.

"Oh Snakie you old fraud, fraud, fraud! You should have said you were coming, coming, coming."

It was a bat, Momchillo realized, now that he was no longer panicking. Half of Snakeskin's height but with thrice the mass. His dark brown fur was a shaggy mane of first, dust and flecks of snow. His long, skeletal, wings, currently wrapped around the white-furred stoat, were as black as night. Exceptionally ugly by mouse standards, with a face that had either been born that way or had become as flat as it was from crashing into things. Yet, by bat standards he must have been rather handsome. He looked as strong as an ox, and wore a pair of glittering earrings on one ear.

The bat released Snakeskin, who looked glad to be alive after the lung-crushing bat's grip, and hopped over to where Momchillo was sitting up. "Who's the mouse, mouse, mouse?" With almost scary ease the bat lifted him to his feetpaws.

At least a dozen other bats had made their presence known. No longer cloaked in the shadows of the cavern they stood perched along the sides of the bridge, watching the newcomers with glee. Guests had been a rare sight in the last few... seasons...

"I'm M-momchillo sir." Said Momchillo, offering a paw. He too was subjected to a bone-crushing body grapple. In hindsight he should have realised that, lacking paws, bats were not too partial to pawshakes.

"Any pal of Snakeskin's a friend of mine, mine, mine."

The mouse would have replied, but was currently trying his hardest to keep his eyes from popping out.

"Careful! 'E's a frien' an' I don' wan' 'im squished." Snakeskin said, tapping the chief bat's shoulder.

"Sorry. Don't know my own strength, strength, strength. Besides I haven't had guests in ages, ages, ages. Not friendly ones anyway, anyway, anyway. How are the kids Snakie, Snakie, Snakie?"

The stoat stiffened slightly and glanced worriedly at Momchillo. ''They're fine."

"Good, good, good." The bat grinned and turned back to Momchillo, who had still not recovered from being crushed alive. "Apologies, I forgot my manners, manners, manners. I go by Snap, Snap, Snap."

The young mouse nodded, but was too busy staring at the suddenly-morose Snakeskin. "You okay?"

The stoat grinned, but Momchillo was becoming painfully familiar with false smiles and barely-surpressed tears. "Righ' as rain."

"You hungry, hungry, hungry? Of course you're hungry, hungry, hungry! How silly of me, me, me! Sap, Tree Fang, get over here, here, here."

"Yes father, father?"

"What is it dad, dad?"

"Oh looks it's Snakie, Snakie!"

"Hello uncle, uncle."

What their father lacked in height his daughters more than made up for. A pair of large, flying beasts as such Momchillo did not know. The otter twins had been tall, as were hares, but otters and hares were always tall. These two were freakish large by bat standards and a little terrifying for both had a single, long fang sticking out of the sides of their mouths.

"Take our guests to breakfast now, now, now! And be careful with the mouse, he's never flown before, before, before!"

"What?" Was all Momchillo could ask as a pair of talons clamped down on his arms, pinning them to the sides.

"Please tighten your belts, belts, belts." Tree Fang giggled.

Momchillo was not wearing a belt. "W-wai-WAIT!"

The bat did not listen (but must have heard with ears like that) and with a great flap of her wings was in the air and taking Momchillo with her.

The mouse was deathly silent as the bat flew him away from the bridge. In time perhaps, he'd appreciate the memory, but now it was nothing short of terrifying. She flew fast and the wind rushed past the young mouse, entirely unfamiliar with the feeling but not at all comfortable with nothing under his feetpaws.

It was not a long flight, but upon touching down Momchillo hugged the ice harder than he'd ever hugged anything before.

"Hehehehe, was the little mouse scared, scared, scared?"

"Yes. Very, very much." Momchillo said, swallowing and forcing himself to not look how far up he was.

"Don't worry, the way down is easier, easier, easier."

The mouse was beginning to sweat. What did Snakeskin want with these strange creatures?

Tree Fang must have noticed. "Don't worry, worry, worry. If you fall we'll catch you, you, you."

It's the falling part I'm scared of...

Snakeskin arrived a moment later, chatting animatedly with the Bat Chief while Sap carried him with effortless ease.

"Come on inside, inside, inside." The smallest bat said, half-helping, half-lifting Momchillo to his feetpaws and giving him a gentle, albiet rough, push through a door.

Inside he found a roaring fire surrounded by a swarm of moths, a platter of worms on a table and not a single seat in sight. But then again bats perched, chairs would have been redundant.

"Snakie, Snakie, Snakie!" The Chief Bat shook his head, his grin wide and showing a pair of flashing fangs. "What brings you here friend, friend, friend? After so many seasons, seasons, seasons. And with a mouse as well, well, well! How old are you boy, boy, boy?"

Before Momchillo could reply the bat smacked his forehead hard.

"Forgive me, me, me! I forgot all about you landbeasts perching, perching, perching! Sap, Tree Fang! Help me get the chairs, chairs, chairs!"

As soon as the three were out of ear-shot Snakeskin chuckled. "Likin' yer mornin'?"

"I wish I had stayed in bed." Momchillo admitted, eyeing the bowl of squirming worms with utter disgust. "The way they talk bugs me."

"Bugs me too, but they like bugs bats do." Snakeskin shrugged. "They can' 'elp it. Some beasts are jus' the way they are. Ye can either accep' tha' or 'ate 'em fur somethin' they can' control. Nobeast likes an 'edgepig's spikes, but everybeas' likes a good 'edgepig."

Momchillo was silent while he contemplated this. As was the usual with his thoughts these days, they diverted to Fret. Some beasts are just the way they are...

The bats returned a moment later with chairs. Momchillo was unceremoniously dumped into one and pushed close to the table, so that his nose was uncomfortably close to the bowl of worms.

"So, what's good, good, good?" The Bat Chief began.

"Lotsa thin's. Snakes-a-plen'y an' all the mea' I could eat! The mouse an' 'is frien' showed up about a week ago, 'scaped from that idio' Kin'. Foun' em jus' in the nick of time too. The other was about te get eaten. Ye know me Snap, always the gen'lebeas'. Can' have a pair of dibbuns los' in me tunnels. 'Ad te 'elp 'em back 'ome."

"You can have some if you like, like!" Tree Fang, who had noticed Momchillo's cross-eyed stare (but evidently not the green coloration of his face) snatched up a bunch of worms in her talons and held them above the mouse's face.

"I- I-d-d r-rather not." He managed, then composed himself. "Nothing wrong with them, j-just p-personal taste."

Sap, the other bat, scooped up a talon-ful and stuffed her jaws with worms. They had been bad enough before, but oozing green slime from the sides of the large bat's mouth? Momchillo felt like he was about to be sick.

"They taste fine to me, me, me."

"Hush girls! I'm about to explain the bear problem, problem, problem."

Both went silent instantly and the Bat Chief, who went by Snap, spoke somberly. "It started a few weeks ago, ago, ago. A bear showed up at the bottom of the waterfall, fall, fall. Demanded food, food, food. We gave it some, but it kept asking for more, more, more. And when we refused to give it, it, it... I don't know how they got there, but it has some of my people, people, people... And it wants more food, food, food. Most of my bats are foraging through the tunnels, but you know there's barely anything to feed us all already..."

"That's... horrible." Momchillo started. He wanted nothing more than to help these bats in some way. The heroes of Redwall Abbey would have chased away the bear and restored peace to the tunnels... But Momchillo knew well that he was no hero. Just a child very far from home. And his dream was not the greatest of motivators...

"I'll pull up a carcass or two." Snakeskin promised. "Go' loads already anyways. 'Ey girls! 'Ow about ye show Momchillo over 'ere the river? 'E's new around 'ere so play nice." Turning back to their father the stoat said loudly. "They sure 'ave grown since I last seen 'em!" And quieter, with Momchillo now distracted by the pair of over-excited bats lifting him off, whispered to the Bat Chief. "I also 'ave far too many poun's of poison."

A meaningful look was shared between them for half a heartbeat, and then Snap smiled gratefully. "You truly are the best of friends, friends, friends."

"Come on mousie, to the river, river, river!"

Momchillo did not have much of a choice. Both bats were bigger and stronger and had him by the paws until they were outside. He shut his eyes tightly and curled his legs up until he was once again met with land.

"You can use the easy way down, down, down."

"Yes, yes! We meet you there!

"W-wait. J-just wait."

"See you at the river mousie, mousie, mousie!'' Clamping her talons over his shoulders and ignoring his loud cry of ''please just wait!' Tree Fang stuffed the mouse headfirst into a wide tunnel.

Sap gave his backside a kick and Momchillo was off, screaming down a tunnel of ice, much like the one he and Fret had found on the Honeycomb Hill. This one was far less painful however, perhaps because he didn't have anybeast tied to his tail. Yet he found it impossible to enjoy himself! He was moving at unnatural speeds into an uncertain future. For all he knew there was a pile of spikes at the bottom...

"Surprise!" Instead he found both bats who, despite his impressive momentum, caught him with ease.

"Did you like the slide, slide, slide?"

"Was it fun, fun, fun?'"

There was no trace of rudeness in their voices, which to him at least, suggested they were ignorant of his discomfort.

"It was... An experience." He said, upon being put down on the ice. Dizzy as he was, he clutched the sides of his head and stumbled about until he fell on his rump.

The sisters both laughed and helped him up. Taking him down a path at a, thankfully, normal place they soon found the river. Three mouse's wide and strangely light green in colour.

"Downriver is very big, big, big. Huge waterfall, fall, fall."

"Not big now, now, now. Ice hasn't melted yet, yet, yet."

"But in summer it's big, big, big. Too big for mousie to swim, swim, swim."

Momchillo shrugged. "I'm not much of a swimmer anyways." He tested the water with a footpaw and hastily withdrew it. As cold as ice and strangely sticky. He doubted otters would find the water- if that was what it was- good for swimming, let alone a land-loving beast like himself.

"Is not water, water, water. Melted ice and something else, else, else. Good for drinking though, o, o."

"Right." Momchillo wiped at his footpaw and was silent.

The bat sisters grew nervous as the silence stretched on, unsure of their guest's condition... father would be furious if the mouse was bored.

"Want to play a game little mouse, mouse?"

Momchillo, who had been trying to guess the identity of the something else, shrugged. "Sure. Er- I'm pretty good at catch." He said, scratching the back of his head.

"Catch, catch, catch! We play bat catch!"

"Yes, yes, yes."

"What's bat catch?"

The sisters shared a look and grinned.

Momchillo realized a short while after that what the game should have been called was mouse catch, for it involved catching him. At the talons of less-competent flyers he'd have hit the river by now. But Fang and Sap were excellent and dove and swerved and snatched him up. It was dizzying of course and there was no fun to be had being flung and caught again. There was no real malice, he knew that, but being more or less... used... did not rub him in the best of ways. The rush of the air was not so strong, and he never had to worry about falling but that was one of the few good things about the game. Strangely enough, his thoughts wandered to Fret.

"He thinks we hate him." Matiya had told them on the boat of the Honest Bunch. But, if that was true, why? None of them had ever acted maliciously towards him. They had had their fair share of fights, that much was true, but that couldn't have been all of it.

No. Thought the mouse as Sap caught him by the scruff. This is why he hated us. We were careless.

Careless, carefree, they had pulled jokes on everybeast. Fret had been the butt of many, sometimes deliberately, sometimes due to circumstances. Jokes, pranks, traps, tricks and their sole purpose was to get a laugh or two. But Fret had not seen it that way and Momchillo was beginning to understand why.

It was easy to forget, when being tossed through the air in a game, or being hung off a wall, that the beasts doing such things weren't doing it out of spite. What was to one beast a joke, was to another painful torment.

His deep thinking did not have the best of effects on the already-glum mouse. His ears drooped and his form seemed to sag. It did not go unnoticed by the bats, who hastily caught him and put him down, worried that their game was the cause of his sudden misery.

"Is the little mouse, okay?"

Momchillo snapped back into reality. "Oh-oh yes, yes I'm okay. A little dizzy but that was fun." He forced himself to smile but it soon faltered. Fret would have hated Bat Catch...

"Don't be sad, sad, sad."

"Here! We make you smile now, now, now!"

When Snakeskin came down he found the mouse shrieking in laughter as the sisters attacked from every angle. Nothing was spared, not between his toes, not under his armpits and not the side of his belly.

"Stopit! Stopit! Wait! Wait! Hahahahaha!"

"Min' if I join in?" The stoat asked, his smirk wide.

"N-no! Snakeskin p-pleas- hahahahahs! N-not the p-p-pads!"

Snakeskin did not join in, he did not help either but turned to Snap. "Kids are always the bes' ain' they?" There was a note of longing in his voice that did not go unnoticed but the bat chief knew better than to stick his nose in. "May'aps I should just leave 'im with ye?"

"N-no plea-hahahaha! P-please!"

"'Ey, careful. The mouse's 'ad enough."

Instantly the two leapt off of him, allowing Momchillo to recover. Dizzily he got to his feet, a wide, goofy grin spread across his face. But it was a sham that did not quite hide the tears in his eyes. Helpless laughter was a painful thing after a while... "Well... That... Was ... Fun."

"No needs te say yer goodbyes. We'll be back soon with the other one, won't we? An' wha' we discussed." Snakeskin winked at the Bat Chief before taking Momchillo by the paw.

"See you later little mouse, mouse, mouse." Sap and Tree Fang waved.

Momchillo waved back as he walked, eager to leave the careless bats and their strange habits behind.

It had certainly been an experience. And as his thoughts began drifting back to Fret, he realized that it might just have been an educational one.

Footnote: Seven thousand words, Black and White's longest chapter yet, dedicated to Momchillo getting abused? Well? Why not? Sorry this took so long *shows list of excuses* but the good news is my business trip is over so I should be able to update... frequently? Although I am a bit behind on my reading sooooo...

Just relax, I'll update eventually. *Panics*

Edit: Changed the bit where Snakeskin and Threeclaws names got muddled. If you spot any more Threeclaws here tell me where and I'll correct it.