Autumn had Mossflower country within its firm grasp. The brutal summer sun that lounged in the sky for long hours reluctantly began leaving earlier in the day, to the relief of all those caught in its rays. The land had begun to cool, and with it came a great change. The verdant rolling hills and forests draped in shades of green had slowly but surely transformed into a collage of reds, oranges, yellows, and browns. The hot and stuffy air became cool and crisp making it easier to live and work in. The air carried the scent of fall, which was accentuated by the freshly fallen leaves carpeting the forest floor along. Outcroppings of wild squash, wheat, and fruits ripe for picking peppered the changing land. To the north, the tallest mountains already had snow decorating their peaks. On a clear night while the moon was high, the colors of the forest created a hauntingly beautiful setting for an escape.

At the foothills of the northern mountains, camped a vermin horde. Dozens of fires circled the camp and lit the dark banners that decorated the perimeter. The banners were completely black with a large white badger's skull painted in the center and four red stripes like talons tearing through it. Hundreds of tents lay scattered on the hills, closer to the center of the camp lie the larger and more extravagant tents. Each tent was colored in the same black, white, and red and was ordained in the spoils of war. In the center of the camp sticking out like a mountain in the sea lies the tent of Zidar the Mauler. In front of the tent, a hooded creature addressed a large white rat.

"Marrow," the hooded beast hissed, "Seabane and several others including one of the healers have just deserted. Master wants you to retrieve them…" Her words, in a hushed tone, floated heavily into the night.

"Master wants you to bring Seabane and the healer back. You may kill the rest, but he wants to make an example of these … traitors." The albino rat nodded in understanding.

"If you fail to return them, Master will make an example out of you! Many in the horde would like to see that." She seemed to smile at the albino as she added the last part.

Unwavering, the albino nodded in understanding.

"Now go!" she barked. "They headed south into the woods. Knowing who's with them they shouldn't have gotten very far." With that, the large rat turned on his heel and began sprinting through the camp after the deserters.

A mile or so away the deserters were hurriedly making pace away from the vermin camp.

"We would 'ave been long into Mossflower if we didn't have to wait for our stupid seer to pack up all her filth!" an angry voice shot at the fleeing vermin.

"Shut yer trap Muckfur! We'd be moving faster if yar scrawny legs could keep pace!" An angry female voice shot back. "Besides my tonics, an salves are much mor-"

"Quiet!" ordered a beast from the rear. The bickering stopped.

"How much farther?" Pleaded an overburdened vermin from the front of the line.

"We need to put distance between us and the horde." Came from the voice in the rear. "If we stop yar littluns will be torn to shreds, so keep moving ya, mangy runt!" A pitiful groan of understanding was the only response.

Three hours later the band of vermin paused to catch their breath and replenish themselves at a winding river they had barely managed to cross. The band had traveled far too many miles for them to count in the dark of night. Not that counting the distance had been the first thing on any of their minds. Seabane had forced them to leave far earlier than any beast was prepared for, and their escape was not as smooth as they would have liked. Desertion of any kind was often punishable by death. Zidar the Mauler personally saw to the punishments himself. As any beast could guess his name came from his viciousness. He has been known to tear his opponents limb from limb while they attempt to cut him down or beg for mercy. His preferred tool was a pair of gauntlets modified with the claws of a large mole Zidar slaughtered when he was barely eight seasons old. It was claimed that Zidar ripped the mole's arms off and used his claws to cut down almost a score of woodlanders, not that anybeast lived to tell the tale. Seabane shuddered at the thought of being captured.

A searat stood at the top of the riverbank and watched his fellow deserters. The canopy above them shielded them from moonlight which reflected off the calm river like a silver bowl on a table of black satin. Seabane was a tall male rat with short fur the color of toasted walnut. He wore a buttoned-up maroon vest with green trimming. A simple belt held up his dirty yellow trousers and kept his cutlass at his hip. His arms were lean and muscular and wore the scars and tattoos that told the stories of his time as a slaver on the ship The Damnation. He had been captured by slavers when he was but a few seasons old. They gave him a choice: join the crew, or join the slaves, he chose the former. He had spent most of his life on that ship and he hated it. Not the slaving, pillaging, and murder, he was content with all that, no he hated life on the sea. He never liked being surrounded by water and was constantly seasick. His crewmates thought that a sea rat hating life at sea was hilarious, and got tired of his constant complaining, so they gifted him his name: Seabane. It had stuck with him ever since. The one positive that came from his past life as a slaver was his skills with the cutlass. His cutlass was slightly shorter than the length of his arm and the silvery grey steel had a slight curve to it which ended in a sharp point. The pommel and hilt were of simple design but provided his sword paw with excellent protection. Seabane cared for his cutlass as if it were his babe, it had saved him countless times.

After his escape from The Damnation, Seabane had shortly traveled through northern Mossflower before meeting Zidars horde. He once more was given a choice to join or die. Once more he joined. He had bested some of Zidars officers in blade-to-blade combat which had impressed the horde and its leader. Zidar personally offered Seabane a position as an officer. He would have accepted if it didn't mean meeting with Zidar more frequently. Seabane lied to the warlord, saying he wasn't very good at planning and enjoyed the bloodlust of fighting on the frontlines instead of commanding from the rear. Zidar knowingly smiled and told him that he would get his wish. Seabane joined a poor score of vermin under the command of an incompetent Lieutenant named Bileguts. His skill with the cutlass had saved him from skirmish after skirmish, but more times than not he found himself fleeing with whatever remained of his comrades. It was one thing to raid the occasional band of squirrels and mice that lived in the surrounding area, but they continued to run into otters and the dreaded Long Patrol. Most of his comrades had no experience in a real fight and stood no chance against seasoned warriors. Somehow, Seabane always made it out alive. Deep down he worried that his luck was running out.

Seabane laid his forepaw on the hilt of his cutlass. Most of the vermin were on their backs trying to catch their breath or gulping down the cool river water. The only one who was standing was the young ferret seer Sathe. She wore the same as all the other seers in Zidars horde, a black robe that covered all but the tips of her ears and her whiskers with a pouch sewn on her hip to store various herbs and medicines. She was tending to one of Crooksnout and Silvertounge's kits who had woken up on the journey. Keeping the young asleep was a necessity as stealth was paramount to their escape. Seabane could tell that Sathe was furious with the weasel parents for bringing their kits along with them.

Sathe was one of the seers that assisted Zidar's officers in various roles such as decision-making and planning. However, she was the youngest of the seers and was given what she deemed to be undesirable roles, such as healing the sick and entertaining the officers. Sathe took pride in being a seer and saw being tasked with healing the various aches and pains of the common rabble, along with being daily amusement for those above her as a personal affront. Sathe tended to snap at everybeast she interacted with, save Zidar and his officers. She took cruel pleasure in mocking those who came to her looking for aid if it didn't immediately benefit her.

Seabane didn't care for the mysterious roles that seers played in seeing the outcome of battles, their potion-making, or whatever other magical things they may do. All he cared about was that Sathe could heal the wounded and that she was one of the best at it. He had seen her save many of his comrades' lives after being attacked by woodlanders. He was impressed enough to risk asking Sathe to join him in deserting. Seabane knew of Sathe's discontentment, and he needed a healer if the band of vermin was going to start again. Sathe loathed being the designated healer and entertainment for the horde but was hesitant to leave due to the thought of capture. Seabane told Sathe of his plans, then lied and said that if captured her punishment would be far less than the others. As Seabane said, "Zidar can afford to lose a few horde beasts, he can lose a talented seer." That was good enough for her and she agreed.

Sathe begrudgingly made a solution to put the weasel kit back to sleep. Seabane wondered how and why some beasts became seers. The mysterious vermin tended to act like the morning mist, appearing and then quickly vanishing. They hated mixing with other regular hordebeasts. They saw themselves as much higher than the common vermin rabble and didn't hesitate to let the vermin know. He hoped that Sathe's pride wouldn't be too much of an issue to deal with. They already have enough to worry about.

Seabane heard splashing and tightened his grip on his cutlass. Turning towards the river he could see the outline of Muckfur, Bloodclaw, and Herrik the Mad, greedily downing water at the river's edge. Bloodclaw and Herrik kneeled in the water soothing their travel-weary paws, dunking their heads in to quell their thirst and calm their nerves. Meanwhile, Muckfur squatted carefully on the riverbank, cupping his paws together before lifting the water to his dry lips.

Muckfur was a small dark-furred weasel. He was a good sleuth and could move virtually undetected even on nights when the moon was full. In addition, he was great at trapping small game so he would be a necessity to the deserters if they were to live off the land as Seabane hoped they would. He wore green trousers and carried a dirk at his waist which he effectively used to slide between unsuspecting foes' ribs. He had gone back into the camp after most of the deserters left to retrieve Sathe who was taking far longer. In addition, Muckfur had also gone back to kill Bileguts, the stoat Lieutenant who had been tormenting the weasel ever since he joined Zidars horde. Muckfur had proudly announced his revenge once he and Sathe had joined the deserters outside of the camp. Seabane would try to remember to throttle Muckfur for being a fool! They needed to escape undetected, and a dead officer was something that warranted attention. Muckfur gets under other beast's fur better than most. Especially with beasts that have a higher sense of purpose, such as Sathe. He had made plenty of enemies within the horde so when the offer to leave presented itself he gleefully took it.

Bloodclaw was a young red fox. He wore a green and black checkered kilt and a green rough spun tunic which was the same color as his eyes. He was barely old enough to join in on raids and was smaller than his fox counterparts. His size and inexperience mattered very little to him as he boasted that with his ax he would "cleave the heads off all the flea-bitten woodlanders!" On his first raid, an otter hit Bloodclaw with his rudder-like tail which threw him into a tree and knocked him out cold. He affectionately earned the name Ruddy from that experience. In the next raid, Ruddy happened to be with Seabane going after the same otters that knocked him out. The vermin attackers had caught the otters preparing to camp for the night and fell on them. However, due to the general incompetence of their leadership and the resilience of the otters, the surprise attack began to quickly fall apart. Through the chaos of the retreat, Seabane spotted Ruddy rooted to the ground in terror as he watched an otter's spear pin two of his comrades to a tree. After cleaving the pined vermin's heads off with his sword, the otter turned to dispatch Ruddy. The sight of a gore-splattered beast mad with bloodlust was more than enough to paralyze the young fox. Seabane could see the tears well up in Ruddy's eyes and the look of horror on his face as the otter charged at him. He would have joined his comrades in the Dark Forest if Seabane didn't pull him out of the path of the killing blow and drag him back to camp. Ruddy furiously claimed that he didn't need any help and that he would have avenged their fallen comrades, but he never strayed too far from Seabane after that. Seabane enjoyed Ruddy's company and found pleasure in teasing the young fox. It was fun seeing him worked up. When Seabane asked Ruddy if he wanted to leave with him, the fox didn't hesitate to say yes.

Herrik the Mad was just that, mad. The stoat could always be found in some corner of camp wringing his paws and chattering to himself about ridding his pain. His shaggy cream-colored fur was covered in scars and his two forepaws looked like they had been torn apart and put back together. Older horde beasts say that he was crazy from the moment he first joined the horde. When he first saw Zidar, he lunged at him trying to tear his throat out thinking that he was a badger. Herrik quickly realized his mistake and tried to beg for forgiveness. Zidar laughed and let Herrik know of his amusement, while he tore open the stoat's back with his claws. Zidar promised to let Herrik have the first shot at a badger when they met one. That seemed to shake the stoat to the grave. Herrik had made many enemies in the horde due to his antics. He followed Seabane around like a lost young'un because he treated Herrick with slightly less animosity than others. Slightly. Seabane didn't want Herrik to desert with them as he worried, he would have enough fighting between Sathe and Muckfur. But Seabane felt pity for the poor stoat, and Herrik had good hearing which is how he overheard the plan to escape.

A bunch of savages! Seabane thought quietly as he surveyed the ragged group below him.

"We need to keep moving, they must've noticed we've been gone by now."

"We've gone far enough. Let's rest and leave before dawn." Said Bloodclaw. The soaking-wet fox looked exhausted.

"They'd hav caught us by now with all za ruckus that our healer made leavin'" chided Muckfur, ignoring a hateful glare from Sathe. " 'cides Silvertounge's cut 'er paw trying to carry the young'uns across the rocks."

Seabane looked at Silvertounge. At first glance, he couldn't see the blood pooling around the mother weasel's right foot paw. But then again in the darkness, he couldn't see much of anything. Sathe had applied dry moss to soak up the blood and tied a torn piece of cloth around her paw to keep the pressure on the wound. The bandage was already soaked through.

"If we didn't 'ave these kits to slow us down then maybe we'd be south of Redwall by now!" Silvertounge glared venomously at Sathe.

"If we knew we were leaving before dinner we might have had more time to prepare." Retorted Crooksnout. "This feelin' of doom you have Seabane better not be gettin' us killed."

Seabane stared disappointingly at Crooksnout. The crimson-furred weasel was slightly shorter than Seabane. He had a sword strung to his hip and wore a long-sleeved undershirt and a brown vest overtop. He had a tattoo on his right paw which matched his mate Silvertongue. The two looked very similar in fact, their fur color, eyes, and tattoos were the same. The biggest difference was that Silvertongue wore a rough green full-body dress, and her nose wasn't set at the awkward angle as her mate's. Crooksnout was the first vermin Seabane had befriended (as far as vermin could befriend). Originally from a vermin tribe that Zidar had forced to join, Seabane trusted the weasel enough to tell him about his premonitions of impending doom. Crooksnout was the first vermin Seabane wanted to join him in deserting the horde, but he was adamant about bringing his mate and young along. Seabane wasn't excited about the three weasel kits escaping with them, but he was desperate to leave and needed to have someone trusted by his side.

The weasel's teal eyes bore into him as he continued. "Silvertounge can barely walk so someone's gonna have to carry the littluns."

"Ruddy 'ill do it," Seabane stated.

"Why me!?" Responded Bloodclaw with a sour look on his face. "And don't call me Ruddy!" The fox's pride was his greatest possession.

"Because you're the youngest and can take the extra weight… and because I said so."

Bloodclaw was going to further express his displeasure but before he could Herrik shouted in a panic.

"Footsteps! Footsteps! Footsteps! Fast! Fast! Fa-"

"Quiet!" demanded Seabane and they were silent. It looked like Herrik had been useful after all.

The vermin got low and strained to hear. Those who were in the river moved to the bank and into the darkness that shielded them. They heard nothing for a minute. Then waited for another. Before Seabane could say it was clear, a hulking white form shot out from the other side of the bank. It hovered in the air for a split second, before crashing into the water below. The white beast began quickly moving towards them from under the water. Picking up speed and strength until it looked like a rogue wave was charging them.

"Run!" shouted Seabane and the vermin dashed up the riverbank and into the trees.

He began to panic. How could they have caught up so quickly? He had to escape! He couldn't go back! There was no other option but death! He had seen how Zidar and his officer had ravaged vermin who fled from battle. He was sure that he would be torn apart by Zidar in front of the whole camp! He must escape! He had to!

Seabane felt the stinging of branches hitting his face as he ran. He was hoping that whoever Zidar had sent was busy dealing with one of the vermin behind him, which gave him more time to flee! His lungs were on fire and his legs felt like were made of iron. He looked behind him and saw the scared faces of all but Bloodclaw and Silvertounge. When he spun his head around, he saw a flash of white and then ran full force into it. Seabane bounced backward and straight into Muckfur before collapsing in a heap. The two vermin lie dazed and tangled on the ground. When Seabane regained his senses, he looked up into the piercing red eyes of Marrow.

Seabane's mouth was agape. He heard a muffled whimper from Sathe and a cry from Herrik. The hulking white mass of Marrow stood looming over top of him. The white rat dwarfed every one of the deserters by at least a head. His muscular chest was scattered with scars from his many victories. His grey trousers barely reached his knees and were held up with a simple cord of rope. Tucked into his waistband was a singlehanded war hammer. The insignia of Zidar the Mauler was tattooed in black on his back. Under both of his arms, he held Bloodclaw and Silvertounge who were white with fear.

Marrow was one of Zidars strongest warriors. Nearly unstoppable in battle. Seabane had seen him tear through countless beasts with his hammer. He was best known in the horde for tearing off the door of a cottage where a group of Long Patrol hares and otters were stationed. Slaughtering all but the two commanders, he returned to the horde with his two prisoners. After an interrogation, Zidar ordered Marrow to crush the heads of both the otter and hare in front of the whole horde. It was an awesome sight to behold. He reported directly to Zidar the Mauler, and he had been sent to kill the deserters.

Seabane remained stuck to the ground trembling. He couldn't move his eyes away from the white rat. The beast never spoke as far as any were aware of. His actions spoke for themselves. He was a monster. None of them were getting out of this alive.

"Put her down!"

It was Crooksnout. His voice was shaky and strained. Seabane turned his head to see the weasel had drawn his sword, attempting to put up an air of confidence. His sword shook in his trembling paw. For as long as Seabane had known him the weasel had always been a terrible swordsman. His singular talent was with the lute. He had known the weasel family would slow their escape. It was just Seabane's luck to find the one vermin father that cares about his kin. Too bad it would get him killed.

To the surprise of the vermin, Marrow gently placed Bloodclaw and Silvertounge down. Silvertounge quickly skittered over to hide behind her mate. Bloodclaw holding one of the kits, lay completely still green eyes begging Seabane for help.

Seabane stammered, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"W-Wh-What do you want? You can't stop us!" He hoped that he sounded somewhat confident, not that it mattered.

Marrow said nothing but moved his deadly glare from Seabane to the rest of the vermin. Seabane could feel the fear and hopelessness radiating from vermin as the eyes of Marrow passed over them.

When Marrow's eyes got to Sathe, he threw out a claw and pointed at her. The ferret maid collapsed in a sobbing heap and pleaded for forgiveness.

"Please, please, please have mercy on me! Tell Zidar I am his faithful servant, and I was tricked! Please I don't want to die!" Sathe knew she would not be spared.

Marrow jutted his other claw at Seabane. Seabane felt his heart leap from his chest.

"Up," Marrow said although it was more of a grunt than a word. Seabane quickly did what he was told, Sathe was slower to follow.

With his claw still pointed at Seabane the white rat continued.

"Leave. Horde." It was difficult to understand him.

Seabane didn't know how to respond. He couldn't lie to the rat as Marrow knew of their plan, but the truth would be a death sentence. Seabane just stood in silence moving his mouth trying to form something that would save them from their demise. Instead of saying anything he just nodded his head in shame.

With his eyes trained on Seabane, the white rat pointed towards himself.

"Leave. Horde."

There was a pause. Again, Marrow repeated the guttural words gesturing towards himself.

"What?" Seabane stammered.

Scores of questions and thoughts flooded him. Was Marrow loyal to Zidar? He has the hordes emblem tattooed on his back. Why would he want to leave? They were well beyond the range of any hunting party, so he had to be alone. Marrow only wanted Sathe and Seabane, he would have killed the rest if he wanted to return to the horde. Bloodclaw and Silvertounge should have been dead, but Marrow spared them. What if he wanted to leave?

Before he could ask anything more, Crooksnout lunged at Marrow.

"Die monster!" The weasel shouted. Crooksnout had his sword raised above his head and moved to bring it down on the white rat.

As quick as a flash Marrow sidestepped Crooksnout, stepping on Bloodclaw in the process. Crooksnout slashed down and contacted the dirt Marrow was standing on a split second ago. Before the weasel could react one of Marrow's claws grabbed the hilt of his sword and the other wrapped around the weasel's neck. Realizing his mistake Crooksnout released his grip on his sword and attempted to do what he had always done when an attack failed, beg for his life. As he opened his mouth to plead for forgiveness, the claw around his neck tightened and lifted him off the ground.

The chaos of the attack jerked Seabane from his thoughts. He had to do something to save himself and the deserters from this monster. He just hoped that he wasn't crazy.

"Stop, that's enough!" Seabane shouted and freed his cutlass from its sheath.

The steel shook slightly as he pointed it at the fighting vermin. Marrow stopped raising Crooksnout but kept his grip on the weasel who was now struggling for breath at eye level with the giant albino. He turned his head to look at the brown rat.

"Ya want to leave the horde with us?" Seabane asked, hoping his mind wasn't playing tricks on him.

Marrow nodded silently.

Seabane felt a wave of relief wash over him, but he still had to save his new crew.

"Then you will listen to me and do as I say. Drop the weasel!"

Marrow released his grip on Crooksnouts neck, as he landed hard on his rear. Marrow kept his grasp on the sword and jerked it out of Crooksnouts claws. Crooksnout's eyes were wide and bleary as he gasped to regain his breath. His paws went to his throat to try and open his windpipe. Marrow stuck the sword into the ground in front of the sniveling weasel.

Seabane gained confidence. "Now get off the fox and throw me yer hammer!"

Marrow did so without emotion and tossed the hammer toward Seabane.

Seabane turned and motioned to Muckfur, who was lying where Seabane fell on him. After hesitating the dark-furred weasel scurried around Seabane's legs and collected the weapon, before returning to hide behind the brown rat.

Seabane relaxed but continued, "If ya lay a claw on any one of these beasts like ya just did to Crooksnout, I will cut you apart and leave yar gizzards to the crows!"

He hoped he sounded threatening; he wasn't sure he could stop Marrow even if the giant rat was unarmed. Still pointing his cutlass at Marrow, Seabane turned to the rest of the vermin.

"Any beast who attempts to leave Zidars horde is no enemy of ours. He knows what happens if we get caught and yet he wishes to leave. We're all deserters now." His words hung in the air; the silent night engulfed them.

"An what iv he decides he wants to go back to the Zidar with all of us in tow? Then what?" Cried, Sathe as she wiped her eyes.

"He hasn't killed us yet, a-" Seabane started but was cut off by Silvertounge.

"Yet! Is that the best excuse you've got for us? First, you tell us to leave everything behind because you feel a wee bit of danger" The mother weasel was clutching her young with a fiery conviction.

"Then you drag us out here to be hunted down and killed. He's already strangled my mate an he'll do far worse to the rest of us!" Silvertounge sobbed.

"Horde is Dead."

Every beast's eyes whipped to Marrow. It was the clearest thing any of them had heard him say.

"Woodlander southwest. Badgerlord coming." For the first time in history, Marrow looked scared.

Any mention of badgers chilled the vermin to their very being. The Badgerlords of Salamandraston were unstoppable and bloodthirsty. Glistening in their armor no weapon could touch them, and it was said they could kill you with a glance. Even Zidar the Mauler couldn't stand a chance against the armies of the Badgerlord.

"How do you know?"

Marrow gestured to his eyes and ears. "See. Hear."

A desolate silence fell over the vermin. It appeared that Seabane's premonition had been correct. He smiled; he liked being right even if it meant impending doom.

"Looks like none of us have a choice." Seabane said solemnly before starting with renewed vigor, "All of you on your feet, we're moving!"

The various vermin scrambled upright and collected their bearings. Bloodclaw quickly scampered towards Seabane.

"Are you sure we can trust him? He did just try to kill Silvertounge and me." Bloodclaw was still holding Crooksnouts young, more for his protection than anything else.

"We're too far from the horde for him to have come with others… And if he meant to kill ya, all but Sathe n' I'd be dead now." Seabane saw Bloodclaws scowl deepen and continued.

"I think my hunch was right to leave when we did. If the badgerlord is heading north…" Seabane shook his head. "Then there isn't much to go back to."

"Do you think we might run into a stripedog?"

"No, of course not. They wouldn't bother with us" Seabane lied.

"Besides, Ruddy he wouldn't kill ya he'd leave that to the otters!" Bloodclaw bared his teeth and turned to leave.

"Thanks for carrying Silvertounge's kit." Seabane called after him. The fox shook his head before walking to Crooksnout, who was still struggling to catch his breath.

Seabane approached Marrow and sheathed his blade. He hadn't moved since he removed his weapon. Seabane stopped when he was less than an arm's length away and looked directly into the rat's red eyes. He put on his best commanding tone.

"If we even think yar gonna betray us I'll gut you like a fish!" He paused looking for an acknowledgment of understanding from the beast. When none came he continued.

"I'll hold on to your hammer until we trust ya, and yar gonna cover that tattoo on your back. Can't have you causing more attention than needed." Again, no response.

"How do you know the badgerlord is heading north?" Seabane asked in a hushed voice so none, but Marrow could hear.

"Zidar." Was his response.

Defeated, Seabane sighed. He didn't know if he could trust Marrow, but his premonition saved him from death on The Damnation. If the badgerlord and his armies were heading north to destroy Zidar's horde it might have just saved him again. Whatever their fate maybe they had to keep moving south, and hopefully, they wouldn't run into any woodlanders or vermin who saw them as their enemies.

"Alright then. Let's get out of here before we meet this badger!"

The vermin band with its new companion regained its bearings and then trudged southward into the dark of night.

Made some edits to the chapter as it was hot garbage before. Hopefully, it's somewhat readable now.