A/N: Greetings beloved readers!
Waycaster: Character progression*, he's been developed for a while now. So... would you say it's an accurate comparison?
AlexFalTalon: Yes the evil author will not confirm anything... yet... hehehehe!
Abrahem: I liked your names! Although I did er- make up gender and species for them. So... we'll see your thoughts on them. Ironically I did have several ideas for that scene- and yeah the Theon and Yara thing came into play... buuuut there was another idea I had- was that Swallowtail... is... Thornflame! Now I'll leave you theorizing over whether or not I kept this idea... but we'll see... (honestly I think it's a little obvious...)
A littlefinger type character makes a lot of sense... And it makes even more sense after this chapter. And that whole scene should make *even more* sense now. Spoiler, it's not *really* about Klis hehehe
Alas... no new drawings this week. Well... I doodled of course but havent uploaded.
Also yeah, I think I ought to mention that the name Klis came from Abrahem. It just *fits* him so of course I had to use it XD To be fair he's been in three chapters so far so there's still a lot of unknowns about him. Buuuut it was pretty obvious wasn't it XD?
Keldor: Ah, if only I hadn't already put him through hellgates... (and yes, that is very much the kind of thing that would happen to him). And to be fair, Fret's intro had him sleeping through history XD Obviously he doesn't know about the darn details!
Honestly... I was convinced I was interpreting him your way XD
Sebias: To be fair even if Fret does kick the bucket around here *hides papers* there's still everyone else to deal with. He may be the titular character but he's only one of the protagonists (albeit I think, the 'main' one so to speak).
Pretty long chapter here, but a lot of stuff happen in it sooo... I'll let you see for yourselves!
Enjoy!
Fret's dejected feetpaw continued to hit the ground. Well, they dragged along the ground at a slow, sluggish pace that would have made even a snail laugh, but when was he not the laughing stock? The going was not hard exactly- but he was shivering and there seemed to be no end to the ceaseless tunnels. They sloped at an angle, so that it was not entirely obvious that he was going up. But after Longclaw's similarly-built castle it was easy to spot here, where the tunnels before him were visibly at an angle.
After what felt like (and most likely was) a few hours of endless walking he came upon a fork. The tunnel split into two, identical and neat, paths. Indistinguishable form one another, save and except that one was on his left, and the other was on his right.
"What was it Momchillo said?" He demanded crossly of the walls around him. Then his mind began to whirl around and think. "Martin said that every turn from now on should be to the... left..." Well that advice had lead him directly into a snake (literally). Without another thought, Fret went right.
No amount of seasickness could have stopped Bork from eating to his heart's (if not his stomach's) content. The young wolverine was big enough to scare off anybeast that dared approach his muffin basket. Captain Ripple Sharkbreath had stomped over as soon as he'd recovered from the first smack, only to be sent away with another. Being a ridiculously strong, if overweight, princeling sure was fun! Nothing could ruin his mood, not even the thought of his father's disapproval.
"The son of a King." Longclaw would narrate. "The son of an Emperor!" He would add. "Must be strong, and fit and obedient. He must rule over all the lands his father conquered for him and conquer some more. He cannot spend his days eating and playing, or else he is at most a puppet ruler, and at worse, likely to be overthrown."
Rot in Hellgates, ye dumb old beast. Bork thought, as his sharp teeth tore apart an innocent strawberry-laced muffin. He was not particularly fond of them but they, along with hazelnuts (another flavour Bork was not too keen on) had been a favourite of the first Whimper's. He wondered what the Castle was like now. Most of it was empty, and Whimper was more or less on his own now. He doubted his father would do anything to a son of Mad-Eye Marik... Although he had made Clogg replace the littler Whimper. And killing his only friend and serving him in a pie- perhaps as a way to scare him away from pies forever- was just the sort of cruel thing his father might do.
Bork was nearly sick at the thought, but shook his head determinedly. No. Clogg would never let that happen. And if it did happen he and the rat would flay his father alive. Which meant his father wouldn't do it. Whimper would be alone and miserable, no doubt, but he'd be alive. The young wolverine selected the last remaining muffin- blueberry flavoured- when he heard a voice.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't little Stumpclaw!"
Oh no. Thought Bork. It's the Muffinbeast!
Bork had first met said Muffinbeast on his fifth nameday. It had been a small celebration, which his father had of course not attended. In truth it had been an excuse to summon a few of the Lords of the Frozen North and execute them. Naturally the fact that it had been his birthday made no difference to his father, who had on that day cemented his strength in the Northlands irrevocably.
The Muffinbeast had been one of said Lord's guards or something- Bork had never bothered asking. The wildcat, older than him by perhaps five or so seasons, had been lucky enough to be spared from the massacre ensuing in an adjacent room, having been too preoccupied with a sumptuous feast to hear his master's pleas for help or mercy. To be fair Bork hadn't heard the lords either.
Between the two of them they had finished the meal of ten lesser beasts. It had even seemed like a sort of alliance! Until there was only one muffin- incidentally, blueberry flavoured- left.
Bork had refused to give up his claim to the muffin. "I am the Prince." He had said. "This is my feast."
The wildcat had laughed. "Prince of what? Prince of Flab?"
The young wolverine had growled, and unsheathed his claws. "I ain't flabby and nobeast calls me flabby!" Except his father of course- but that was different.
The wildcat had gone a step further however, and drawn his sword. In one swift motion the wolverine's claws were reduced to tiny little stumps. The feline howled with laughter. "Stumpy! Stumpclaw! Hahahaha! Stumpclaw the Fat!"
Bork had stood up in rage, his young face red with rage and shame. Claws were the pride and joy of any sane wolverine. Much moreso a wolverine prince. Standing on his chair so that the shortness (and plumpness) of his age did not hamper him, the princeling bared his fangs. "Ye'll pay fer that ye kitten! I'll make ye-"
The wildcat's curved sword next sliced through the first two chair legs of his seat. The young wolverine hit the table face-first with a might CRASH!The muffinebeast had offered him no further mercy after that, and pinning him to the table, had brought the flat of his blade sharply against his rump as if he were nothing more than a naughty dibbun.
The feline had stopped as soon as Longclaw entered. The King of the Lands of Ice and Snow had had claws and teeth covered in the blood of former lords. Bork had almost smiled. His father was here! Now the wildcat was in for it!
To the young wolverine's horror, he had been the one dragged out the hall by the ear and locked in his room for a week. It had been the worst birthday present of his entire life.
The wildcat had recieved no punishment, and had in fact been given a brand new ship. "Anybeast who can humiliate my son the way you did. " Longclaw had said, within earshot of Bork. "Must look like a king."
Bork snarled at the memory and the reappearance of his nemesis.
The Muffinbeast looked different now. He was older, obviously, as many seasons had passed. He wore a thick plate of black Southwardian Armour he had no doubt gotten off of a large otter. Though the spiked shoulderpads were most likely an addition of his own. He was tall for even a wildcat- and although Bork would no doubt outgrow him, the feline still overtopped the young prince. A thick layer of golden brown fur clung to him, blowing slightly in the breeze of the sea. His face was decorated with many a whisker and a scar that had not been there last time. A wicked slice across the feline's face, that took with it his right eye- now a marble white- leaving the other icy blue.
"Nice scar." Bork's paw held on to the muffin with an iron determination. "Couldn't duck in time could ye?"
The wildcat let out a barking laugh. "That's the best ye could come up with? Pathetic." He pointed at the eye. "A hatchet took this eye. I took the Hatchet-throwers life."
Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. The words rung inside his head like a bell. "It's better than Stumpclaw!" He pushed himself shakily to his feet, the ship did his balance no favours. "What do ye want anyways?" Bork glanced down at the muffin in his paw. "Because if it's vittles go an' get yer own!"
The wildcat regarded the wolverine critically. "Muffin. Now."
Revenge is sweet. Thought the Prince, taking a deep bite out of the blueberry goodness. "Mmmmmmmm! Thish ish shooooo good! Mmmmm! Pity there'sh none left." He wasn't even exaggerating. The muffin was sweet too!
The wildcat drew closer so that they were face to face. Bork stood his ground, unafraid and still determinedly chewing. "Chew on this!" The feline drew his head back and spat.
Bork was momentarily blinded by the glob of spit, growled and slashed wildly. His claws found nothing. By the time he'd wiped away the saliva, his opponent had seemingly lost interest and had his back turned.
I'm not five seasons old anymore, you ugly kitten. Nobeast pushes me around! Bork snarled and pounced with avengeance, his claws unsheathed.
Because fate loathed him and refused to ever, no matter what, throw him a bone so to speak, he found himself at the foot of an immense cliff. It was so tall that Fret was tempted to just go back and turn left- but he's already come this far and the ice here seemed to have a few good footholds.
For Butch! He thought, snatching at the first icicle. For Momchillo! He brought his other paw into the wall and clung on. For Snakeskin! He brought his right footpaw against the icy walls- his claws giving him some semblance of purchase. For my momma! His last footpaw found a foothold and he heaved himself above the ground and against the cliff.
He was already exhausted from the climbing (and he was only about a foot or so off the ground to begin with), and he couldn't even see the end of the cliff-face!
Just as he was beginning to reconsider, there came a distant CRACK! and he held onto the ice with even greater vigor. Another CRACK! came, this one closer, followed by a third tremendous one. The cliff-face seemed to be splitting in half.
Fret swallowed as a multitude of tiny crack!s could be heard all over the frozen wall, and before he could even whimper, the whole thing burst into life. Fret screamed as water exploded from the ice around him, which was in fact, not a cliff, but a frozen waterfall!
And of course, it washed him all the way back to the frozen lake.
"Poison-blade." Clogg pointed at a rat sitting somewhat comfortably on the ropes above. "She may not look like much, but she knows more about poisons then me an' ye put together. Ye'll stay out of her way if ye know what's good for ye. She don't like crowds much so ye should be fine, but be careful. She gives ye so much as a scratch an' ye'll be in more pain then a slave in a cave."
"Obviously because I make sure my slaves are in good workin' conditions." Klis nodded, completely missing the point.
Clogg had the self-control (albeit not the desire) to stop himself from facepawing. "Jus' give her a few good yards an' ye'll be fine."
Klis nodded. "Anybeast else I should know abo-"
There came a loud splash from somewhere else on the boat, followed by a cacophony of laughter and another- almost equally loud- splash. When Clogg stomped over it became clear why. Sitting on the deck, now sporting a black eye and sniffling into his wet fur- was Bork. His rescuer, a mink called Toothclaw (named for the teeth he wore over his claws... for... reasons...) was looking slightly out of breath.
The Dreaded was laughing, as was a wildcat Klis did not recognise, and all their lackey were joining in.
"OI!" Shouted Clogg, banging his footpaw against the deck. He was smaller than most of the beasts around him, but wasn't called Captain for nothing after all. The laughing corsairs stopped. Turning to the mink (now wringing seawater out of his tail) the rat swiftly demanded an explanation.
"I'm not entirely sure what happened." Toothclaw shrugged and pointed in Bork's general direction. "He hit the water an' I pulled him out. Min' yew, I think I pulled a muscle draggin' him back on the ship."
"I'll tell ye!" Said the one-eyed wildcat. "The lil' princess here decided he wanted te swim, an' I bein' a true gentlebeast, helped him te the water."
Bork snarled, but Clogg stepped firmly between them before the wolverine could hurt himself more. "Anythin' else ye wanna help the 'lil Princess' with?"
Several of the corsairs went 'ooooh' to the challenge (it wasn't worded like one of course- but that was the point), as if this was a dramatic piece of theater rather than a staredown between two grizzled and half-blind pirates.
After a few tense minutes the wildcat spat upon the ground and turned away. His supporters went with him and soon the crowd dispersed. As soon as they were out of earshot, Clogg put a paw on the wolverine's shoulder.
"Ye hurt bad?"
Bork sniffed loudly but shook his head. It was just a big bruise. That was hardly something to complain about. Once he'd scraped his knee on one of his father's stupid secret staircases, and as soon as he brought this complaint to Longclaw, the older wolverine had dismissed it as a small cut and that crying over such aches and pains did not befit the son of a King. Even if it hurts like Hellgates.
Clogg patted the wolverine's lower back. "Had enough te eat yet?"
Bork stared miserably at the table in the distance, now occupied by the wildcat and his crew.
"C'mon. Let's get back on my boat. Vittles are better there anyways." Clogg helped the wolverine up (well, he made a valiant effort to push Bork onto his feetpaws).
As they left, Klis could not help sighing in minor relief. Nobeast had any idea that he wasn't really Whimper.
Fret was now dripping wet when he turned left- because the right tunnel was definitely not taking him anywhere he wanted to go. It had taken him almost twice as long to get to the fork (because he had to wade through tunnels now) and this had not improved his mood.
And to make matters worst, he was faced with stairs- something that would have delighted him if they were small enough for him. But no, it was as if they had been built for badger feetpaw alone and he had to pull himself onto each individual step.
"I just." He growled, his claws digging into the ice he next had to climb. "Want. To. Go. Home!" That was all there was to it. Sure he'd save Butch along the way, but only to get back at the toads. "Why! Is everything I do! Difficult!"
At long last he reached the top. The ferret lay flat on his back, panting from the effort of the climb. He was tired, extremely tired... Perhaps this was a safe place to rest?
Turning his head to the side Fret nearly screamed at the sight of a dozen, giant, pearly-white eggs. The ferret shot to his feetpaws, his eyes and ears darting about in panic. How typical of Martin the Warrior, to lead him right into a snake! Safe? Safe!? He could think of noplace less safe than this!
Refusing to breathe, lest it give away his location, the ferret tried his hardest to calm his beating heart. Panic was telling him to turn and run back into the tunnels below, logic told him that snakes would find him there anyways.
Why is it always snakes? W-why can it never be snails? He tip-pawed round the shiny eggs. He was sweating of course, but anybeast in his feetpaw would have been! The last thing he wanted right now was to be eaten again.
Find Momchillo and Snakeskin. Save Butch. Save bats. Hurt toads. Go ho- The minor movements of a nearby egg made his heart drop into his stomach. "Go home." He squeaked to himself, searching left and right for an exit. Anything that could take him away from the unborn predators!
To his left he spotted a narrow tunnel and he allowed himself the smallest of relieved sighs. Which quickly turned into a panicked squeak, for now all the eggs seemed to be stirring, as if the creatures within had sensed the presence of frightened prey.
Fret did not waste any more time. Abandoning stealth he scrambled over to the tunnel as fast as all four of his paws could carry him. Save the beaver. Go home. And hopefully, there would be no snakes awaiting him there.
"You know I did think there was something fishy going on. Obviously, nobeast got too good a look at Whimper- Longclaw's doing I heard- but quite a few beasts have mentioned the words 'small', 'skinny' and 'runt' in connection to him. And then there's the name of course... So you can imagine my confusion when this big burly ferret comes aboard my ship. Did everybeast just lie to me? How could this be? Didn't we all have a deep bond of camaraderie and trust?"
The worst part about working for the Manywhiskers wasn't that he could kill you at a moment's notice and not care about it, that was standard amongst vermin leaders. The worst part was that he talked... a lot.
"But then it all makes sense now! Somebeast must have killed the first fake- or maybe he just went and died, runts you know? So Clogg finds a new one! Genius!"
Swallowtail reminded him of her presence with a small cough. The miniature wildcat looked at her, his eyes wide with hurt.
"But I was just getting to the good bit."
"Ye've already told it te me three times!" She snapped. "I did what ye asked, I got the truth outta that idjit. Now cough up! We had a deal me an' ye!"
"I haven't forgotten." The Manywhispers said with his usual flare. Reaching under his desk he withdrew several sacks- each jingling with coinage. "Three hundred gold coins, yes?"
"I'm countin' them jus' so ye know." The female ferret said, her eyes glazed over with greed.
"Well it's yours!" He made to shove them towards her, but suddenly hesitated. "Although... I do think you owe me some gold too..."
"Fer what?"
"Well..." The wildcat frowned slightly. "I didn't tell anybeast about what you did with Termitetooth." He withdrew one of the bags completely. "Or how much he payed you for it. And then there was that business with the Dreaded. Not to mention where you stabbed poor Lack-nose. There was also the incident with the oars, and I never did get around to telling Clogg you stole one or two of his rats... or Longclaw that you stole about six... this season. And don't even get me started on that juicy rumour about you and-"
There was only one bag on the desk now. Noticing this, the Manywhiskers made a sort of 'hmmm' noise. "You do deserve some sort of reward for all that hard work... luring a total oaf into a chamber after I already separated him from his captain. And making said oaf tell you the truth. Yes... not many beasts could do that." He stroked a particularly long whisker, before nodding. "I've decided to pay you." He seized the final bag and Swallowtail reached out to receive it... only to find a single gold coin in her paws.
She turned to him, appalled, and found him waving her away with his paws.
"Hush now! No need to say 'thank ye'! And remember, any more juicy rumors come straight to me!"
The tunnel had been a tight squeeze at times, but Fret was relieved when he found himself amidst familiar caverns once more. Or at least, familiar in that they looked very much like the ones Snakeskin had taken them through. Which meant that he could be anywhere! Every tunnel in the Lands of Ice and Snow looked exactly the same! He was also physically drained, soggy-furred and freezing. Not once in his life, had any of his decisions caused him this much suffering!
"I just had to be the hero." He growled to himself as he lay flat on the ice. "Couldn't just wait for Clogg. Couldn't wait for Snakeskin and Momchillo. No! I had to do it myself!"
The ferret froze when he heard a voice. Ironically, it was one that said 'I think I heard a voice Chief.' Unfortunately it was Longtongue's, a scheming high-pitched ribbit that sent shivers down Fret's spine.
Scrambling to his feetpaws, his heart missed another beat when Slimegut's deeper croak- albeit laced with rage rather than smugness now- met his ears. "Then go find out what it is! And if it's that sneaking warlord brat I'll- I'll-" He growled, and Fret assumed he was hopping up and down in rage. "Longtongue! Wormbreath! Swamphide! Follow that noise!"
Panic of course, was the first thing that set in. No no no no no! This couldn't be happening! He had just escaped the toads! H-he couldn't just- It wasn't fair! He could hear their approaching footsteps, and could see their shadows growing taller as they approached. He needed a deep breath, but that would give him away. He wanted to run-, but that too would give him away. Fret shook his head and forced himself to think as he bit back on a whimper.
They were coming from one tunnel, and there was another that lay opposite it. Next to this tunnel there was a third, but he couldn't get to either of them without the toads noticing him- and in his present condition he doubted he'd do much outrunning...
"Do you smeel dat?" Came the voice of a toad he hadn't heard before.
"Aye. The little stinkball's here somewhere!" Longtongue growled. "We're gonna get him now, the ugly sneak."
Fret had to force himself to think of escaping, rather than irony of being called ugly by a toad. He couldn't escape without either going back to the snake-nest (not an option) or somehow making all three of them walk right past him! But how was he supposed to do that?
The ferret stiffled a whimper and his eyes began to water. This was not fair! Not fair! Not fair! He had been good! An-and he'd tried to help the others and... He was doomed. The toads would turn the corner any minute now, and then any hopes of seeing Redwall and Constance again would be squashed like a bug. His paw squeezed tightly around his yoyo, the strange metal bob that had followed him for so long and through so much. It was then that inspiration struck.
Swiftly, he unwound it from his neck. The amphibian fools were dumber than Grollo... there was a chance it could work...
He hesitated. His Nuncle had given him the toy... a lifetime ago. Of course he'd dismissed it- Connington's gifts had never appealed to him much. But this one... The yoyo was Constance and Connington and Redwall. It was the happy days where his only worries had been dish duty and getting a scolding. And despite the fact that he'd called it a stupid toy half-a-hundred times over, his paw refused to relinquish it. Even if it was his only chance at escape.
"Do you think Chief'll kill him?" He heard the third toad snicker.
"If he doesn't." Said Longtongue. "I will."
Stiffling a whimper, Fret raised his paw and hurled the yoyo into the furthest tunnel. He had no choice... there was nothing else at paw to throw. It clattered and bounced along the walls- not particularly loud, but a cacophony in the tense silence of the moment.
"I definitely heard him!" The same third toad cried.
"Aye! He's down that tunnel!"
"Quick! Afore he gets away or the chief will have our hides!"
If the trick hadn't cost him his most precious possession, Fret would have laughed. He went unnoticed as all three of them raced past and into the tunnel. Oblivious to his quivering form and it's shadow.
The ferret wasted no time and scampered away as soon as their sprinting receded, down the tunnel they hadn't taken (though one they might have under different circumstances). The strength of his beating heart and the close call he'd just had gave his paws the strength they needed to carry him away. But as soon as the panic subsided, Fret slowed his pace.
"Find Snakeskin and Momchillo." He whimpered to himself, so quietly the words didn't even echo. "Save Butch. Get my yoyo back." He blinked and wiped at the coming tears. "Go home."
As soon as the ferret slammed the door shut, the Manywhiskers gave a giggle. "So Cloggo is playing puppetmaster now? Hehehehe, well. Klis sounds like an interesting fellow." He rubbed his paws in glee. Things were going to be very fun now. "Brownfeather!" He called, tapping at the floorboards beneath him.
A moment later a small, muddy-brown crow slunk into the room and gave a sweeping bow. "Your bidding, master."
"Yes, yes. My bidding." He giggled again. "Send word to my informant's informant's informants! I want to know as much as possible about a ferret named Klis! One copper coin for a rumour, one silver coin for a fact, one gold coin for a fact they can prove!" He clapped his paws impatiently, the bird bowed and made his exit and the little cat sat in his chair and gave a contended sigh. "Ahhhhh Whimper... It really will be a pleasure getting to know you."
Momchillo's hopes of finding Fret dwindled with every footstep. Any and every tunnel they passed though had no trace of his fur, or pawprints, or even his scent. The ferret was nowhere to be found.
"We'll find 'im." Snakeskin continued to reassure him every time they turned into a new cavern, but that comforting was as stale as his bread, and even the stoat sounded glum after repeating it fifty times. Saying the words seemed to be a monumental effort now. It sapped away at his inner resolve and outer strength. The two had started off at a brisk pace, but had since devolved into dragging themselves across the ice.
"I think 'e's dead." Said Snakeskin, as they came upon another empty cavern. His voice was empty and broken, and even his hypnotized eye seemed to be mourning.
Momchillo felt the harsh sting of tears against his eyes. No. No that was not possible. "H-he can't be!" The mouse insisted, almost fanatically. "M-Martin the Warrior would protect him. O-or his mother would. Somebeast had to save him! H-he can't be d-d-d-" He couldn't say it. The thought was too frightening. "I-I wo-"
"Shhhh." The stoat had an arm round his shoulder as quick as a flash. "Everythin'll be alrigh'. Ye just got te-"
"This is all my fault!" The mouse's voice, hysteric to begin with, echoed around the cavern as if a demented bat were speaking. "H-he told me not to drag him through the tunnels but I didn't listen! A-and then a snake nearly g-got him. And n-now he's missing. And if I hadn't b-b-been- if I hadn't..." He pulled free of Snakeskin's arm. He did not deserve comfort. "I called him vermin! I made him miserable! I-I-I was a bully!"
"It's ok-"
"None of it is okay! Fret is g-gone because of me! He left Redwall b-b-because of me! B-because I thought it was funny t-to hang him off the walls o-or b-because I couldn't, I couldn't..." He trailed off and stomped over to the wall of ice. Snakeskin winced as the mouse brought his own face into it without mercy. "I'm stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" The mouse slammed his head into the wall with each 'stupid', but Snakeskin did not let him finish a fourth one.
"Ye ain' stewpid." The stoat said, grabbing him under the armpits and pulling him away from the wall entirely. In his paws the mouse was as droopy as a wet towel. Gone were the protests of being cradled, the attempts to pull free from his unwanted grip. All there was, was a shudder and a hollow response.
"Yes I am."
"Yer not. An' trus' me, beatin' yerself over thin's ye did ain' helpin' anybeas'."
"It makes me feel better." Momchillo mumbled, wiping at his eyes. "I deserve worse."
The white stoat placed him gently on the ice, before sitting down opposite him. "Ye don'. I know it can feel that way, but it's not righ' te blame yerself."
"Even if it's your fault?"
Snakeskin sighed and dragged his paws over his face. "We shouldn' 'ave gone to visit the bats. That was my faul'. No' yers."
"But I-"
"I used me own sons as bait." Snakeskin interrupted. "Nothin' ye ever did te Fret comes close te that." The stoat sighed once more, his ears drooping. "I'm an 'orrible father."
"I don't think you're horrible." Momchillo mumbled quietly, but did not know what else to say. There was silence now between them. No noise penetrated the air, until Snakeskin sniffed. The young mouse watched as the stoat stood up, marched determinedly over to where he had been hitting himself, and brought his head into the ice.
"An' if I 'adn' been so stewpid they'd still be 'ere! Slimeball! Flicker! Fret!"
It was comparatively harder for Momchillo to pull the stronger beast away from the wall, but the mouse managed after Snakeskin hit himself no less than thirteen times. With a shudder the stoat went limp, and slid to the ground with a whimper.
There was a very awkward silence, wherein they both attempted to breathe as quietly as possible lest it set off anything.
"We'll rest up a bit, maybe eat somethin' if we're 'ungry." Although it went unspoken, both knew neither would be able to eat anything. "Then we can try lookin' someplace else maybe. Maybe ask Snap fur some 'elp findin' 'im. An'... if we don'..." The older beast trailed off.
Momchillo felt the tears return and his stomach twist. He could not bear to imagine what it would be like to arrive at Redwall and be the beast that had to tell them all about Fret's demise. He would never be able to look Constance, or Abbot Martin, or any of his peers in the face again.
Snakeskin sighed, stood up, and stretched his paw out towards the mouse. "C'mon. We can skip the meal an' 'ead straight te the bats. The more eyes an' ears we 'ave the easier it'll be te fin' the lil' stinkball."
Momchillo took the paw in his own shaking one, and the white-furred stoat easily pulled him to his feetpaws.
"We'll find 'im." The stoat said, with renewed confidence- one that Momchillo knew was put-on but was grateful for anyways. "I can already smell 'im!"
Momchillo sniffed at the air, and sure enough there it was. A singularly unpleasant smell. Yet one that brought life back to the mouse's face. "I-I can too."
They shared a look of surprise, turned back the way they came and to their surprise and delight, there he was. Dripping in half-dried fur, with a singularly filthy chest and a head that looked like it had been dumped in slobber, the ferret was only a short distance away. His head was bowed. He had noticed neither of them, and from the way he was walking, looked exhausted.
"Find Momchillo. Find Snakeskin." Momchillo could hear him repeating in desperation, as the mouse ran closer. "Save Butch. Hurt the frogs."
"FREEEEEEEET!" The ferret was startled, and looked up just in time to see Momchillo jumping at him.
For one horrible second the mouse thought he'd just dive right through him, the way he'd flown right through Martin the Warrior in his dream. But the next thing he knew, he'd brought the ferret to the ground.
"Momchillo?" The ferret asked, his head spinning as four, five, six mice swam before his eyes.
"You're alive!" The rodent cried, his paws glued to the ferret's chest. It was impossible to put into words the relief that flooded through him. "We were so worried!"
"Maybe no' worried." Snakeskin gave a casual shrug as he drew closer. "But we did wonder where in 'ellgates ye've bin all this time."
"I..." Began Fret as Momchillo got off him and helped him sit up. "I don't even know." There was a strange, haunted look in his eyes, as if he'd seen a ghost.
"Ye alrigh'?"
"I- no." The ferret shook his head weakly. "I-I-" He was hungry and cold and tired and wet and dirty and his feetpaw were sore, and his eyelids were droopy and his arms ached from climbing, and he wanted his yoyo back and he needed to rescue Butch and the other bats, but maybe not Bartok and Momchillo was staring into his face, the mouse's eyes full of worry.
The ferret was taken aback when he noticed they were sore and red- had he been crying? It was most unlike Momchillo to cry. "Are you- are those tears?"
"I told you I was worried." Momchillo could not help looking sheepish as once more he rubbed at his eyes.
Fret did not know what to say, but felt some sort of warmth stir within him. He quickly squashed it aside however. Now was no time for warmth!
"So. Did ye really jus' wonder off an' ge' los'?" Snakeskin wore a smirk on his muzzle as he posed the question, but it vanished instantly when the ferret began explaining.
"No. I was sleeping- I don't know where you two were." For a moment he glared at them both- where had they been? He'd needed them! "But then this big ugly bat dropped me into a waterfall!"
He did not notice the look of shock and horror that passed between Momchillo and Snakeskin.
"Said some bear needed to eat! The grey flapping fiend! I'll- I'll-" He wasn't sure when he had started pacing, but it was what he did now. "I'd have clawed him to pieces but then the other bats pulled me off him! And Butch! And then he sat on me! Well not really, but it felt like it!"
"Butch?" Momchillo asked.
"Some beaver." Fret waved the question away. Then he growled. "You know there isn't even a bear! It's just a bunch of toads dressed as one. One tried to eat me!"
Both mouse and stoat winced.
"B-but then I said I was a warlord's son and he said he was gonna ransom me." Fret kicked at the ice. "Then I escaped! But do things go well for me? Of course not! I land in some frozen lake fifty- I don't even know how much more underground than this! And I can't see anything! It's cold and scary an-and- Grrr! When I get out I have to walk and walk and walk, and then what happens? I have to climb a cliff that turns into a waterfull and drags me all the way back to the beginning! Then I find a snake-nest! Hundreds of eggs! But no snakes." He shivered in relief. "Hurrah!" He said sarcastically. "And then I have to climb a tunnel and that leads me right past the frogs and then I have to throw away my yoyo-" His voice broke here and Momchillo felt his heart well up with sympathy. "And then I got lost and after I don't even know how long, you come along!" He spun round to face them, his voice accusatory and heartbroken. "So where were you?"
"We er-" Momchillo glanced up at Snakeskin. "We..."
"We wen' te see the bats." Came the stoat's voice, filled to the brim with the awkwardness of this subject.
Fret's arms fell limp at his side, his shock replacing the fury. "You... what?"
Standing up the white-furred snake hunter gave a nervous chuckle. "I- er 'e'e'e'e, ye see. Their chief is an ol' frien' of mine."
Fret blinked, then felt rage swell up within his chest. "So while I nearly died six times." He growled through gritted teeth. "You were visiting an 'old friend'?"
"We were looking for you too." Momchillo stared miserably at his feetpaws. "We were-"
"Worried, I know." Fret said coldly. He wanted to hit Momchillo for being an idiot. He wanted to hit Snakeskin for laughing. He wanted to hit the Chief for being involved. Most of all he wanted to hit the bog-dweller of a bat that had thrown him off a waterfall!
"Well sorry Fret. Bu' we 'ad no idea any of this would 'appe-"
"We were very worried!"
"An' when we couldn' fin' ye anywhere-"
"I'm sorry I-"
"Anyhow we don't have time for this!" Fret snapped, silencing their apologies and excuses. "When the toads realize I'm missing they-they'll..." He was not sure what exactly they would do, but it was no doubt something horrible, and they still had the frightened Butch.. "We have to get the others out too." The ferret said with a conviction Momchillo had never before heard from him. "W-we could-" Here the ferret trailed off. He had been so intent upon saving himself that he had not thought of any plan of rescue. His ears drooped and his muzzle twisted into an expression as miserable as Momchillo's. "We..."
Snakeskin, however, was suddenly grinning. "So these 'ere toadies dress up as a bear, eh?" The white-furred stoat cackled and rubbed at his paws. "I think it's time we- 'ow do woodlanders pu' it again?- 'oist 'em by their tails!"
"What do you mean?" Momchillo asked after a moment's pause.
The stoat however had not heard him, too intent upon his diabolical laughter. "A'a'a'a'a'a'aA'A''A'A'A'A'A'A'A'A'A'A'A!"
Footnote: Stay tuned to find out what Snakeskin is laughing about- feel free to join in the diabolical laughter everyone!
Sooo, Poisonblade became a rat, fairly standard vermin species, helps that her (you didn't mention... but I assumed...) shtick is looking unimpressive but being deadly.
And Toothclaw became a mink-because I wanted a mink. I'm not sure if there are any in Redwall buuut there is a species of European mink so I didn't think too much about adding one. I already have beavers sooo... Plus it helps that minks are semi-aquatic, I wasn't sure how else to save Bork from his impromptu swim. These characters are named by (and er-I assume property of) Abrahem.
You know an interesting idea I got (but which er-wasn't mine) was to have Fret turn up -sans all the adventures- and just have him rant about all the horrible things that happened to him... but I figured it was better to show bits of it-especially since that yoyo hasn't had much screentime in a while. The game of hot-potatoe must continue! XD
Also, in case not obvious. One-Eye, the Wildcat belongs toooo... One-Eye the Wildcat! Hehehe, he's gonna be fun (although please don't expect much screentime for him- he's kind of just a semi-background character)