Captain Santain's eyes flickered open as lighted shadows danced about the room and blurred voices echoed in his head. He closed his eyes and fell back into a shallow slumber. When he awoke his cheek was covered in splinters, and groggy thoughts of the hedgehog family swirled in his head as Smigs' coal-black eyes proudly bore into him.
Santain was to his feet in a flash being caught by Ramir. "I'll jolly well wring your neck you vile worm!" The otter struggled to restrain the furious hare.
"Yer really gonna wring a crippled beast's neck 'cuz yew startled him?" Wungle asked from behind the captain.
"Whattaya talkin' about he's not…" Santain fell silent as he looked at the burly ferret. The muscles in his upper body bulged from beneath his tan tunic as he wrapped his arms around scores of scrolls, tools, and homemade trinkets. To Santain's surprise, both of his legs were cut off about halfway up the thigh.
Santain shook his head, clearing thoughts of the odd beast from his sight. "He flippin' well chucked a hammer at my noggin, wot wot! You must've been hit by a couple 'r else you'd keep your mouth shut."
Santain could feel the moles frown from behind him as the otter gruffly sat him on the floor. The no-legged ferret snickered.
"Not so tough anymore ye wimpy rabbet! Scared of a wee lettle ferret are ye?"
Santain scoffed. "If it weren't for these turncoats, I would've punted yer hide through Lord Bromwell's window by now, wot. Now where are the hedgehogs?"
"We're right here Captain." A meek voice called from the corner of the room. The hedgehog family huddled together in the corner of the single-roomed hut. The parents stood in front of their children who timidly looked around them. The grey-furred rat knelt at the side of a dirty bed and pressed a wet rag to the ill Idris' forehead. She wore Santain's rapier around her hip. Dronga held a bowl as he stood next to her anxiously glancing between the hare and the rat. Mosslyn paused for a moment as her cold eyes swiveled toward the hare before turning to her work.
"You vile rat!" Santain spat as he lurched forward, once again being caught by Ramir who stood at arm's length. "If you touch a hair on her head-"
"You're a bit late captain, she's been feedin' her medicine fer the past hour." The otter responded firmly as he sat the hare down once again. Santain tried to swing at the otter, but he realized that his paws were tied behind his back.
"You dirty riverdog! Untie me this blinkin' instant, you scurvy rabble, so I can clobber some sense intah that thick bunch o' heads of yours!" Santain shouted before Ramir snapped the hare's mouth shut with a large, webbed paw.
"Shut your mouth you rotten old fool! We don't want to hurt any of ye but you keep running your mouth and acting like a wild dibbun!"
Smig cackled smugly as Ramir whirled toward him. "One more peep outta yew an' I'll toss all yer horrid trinkets intah the fire!"
The ferret stopped laughing and cast a hateful glare at the otter. Santain felt a strange strand of connection with the ferret due to their mutual disdain toward the burly brute. Santain tried to wriggle free of the beast's grasp but failed as Ramir had him in an iron grip.
"Dronga, do you happen to have any smoked perch 'r flats ov bread that isn't covered in mold?" Wungle asked as he rummaged through various crudely made elm drawers.
The hut was larger on the inside than the outside although the presence of over half a score of beasts made the living space feel quite cramped. Santain sat awkwardly in the otter's grip just inside the flimsy door to the hut. In front of the hare lay a square firepit bordered by smartly cut stones with a fire that produced barely enough light to see the faces of the hedgehog family tucked in the corner. The choking smoke was ventilated by a small circular chimney cut into the triangular roof. Beyond the rising heat sat Smig on a dirty, maroon pillow filled with straw, grasses, and dried moss. The ferret rested his back against the thin planks of wood that made up the hut's walls.
"D-Dere should be some in tha shelve t' y-yer left if Smig didn't eat all o' it." Dronga awkwardly responded. Clearly, he wasn't used to guests in his home.
Smig shot his brother an annoyed glance. The stuttering ferret quickly looked down to the bed where the sick hedgehog lay. The wall to Santain's left had two beds lined against it. Both were simple enough with a pathetic-looking pillow and blankets that Santain had good enough reason to believe the vermin stole. The biggest difference was that one looked large enough for a normal beast, while the other looked as if it were made for a dibbun. Several shelves grew from the walls above the bed holding an odd assortment of items. Strange rocks, pinecones, a fishing rod, bits of twine, a thick net, and an assortment of tools. Judging the height of the shelves Santain could safely guess which of the brothers the shelves were claimed by.
"Well, I hope your brother didn't devour everything. I was hoping for something other than a few frost berries and toasted acorns." The mole responded as he hopped from the low cupboard to the cupboard. He had done his best to not disturb the vermin's meager belongings, but he had moved their two cups and three plates to the small table that sat to Santain's right.
"Thank ye fer opening up yer home t' us Dronga," Wungle said as he pulled a few dark flanks of fish tied tightly together with twine from a cupboard. "Don't think we'd be able t' last for much longer if ye hadn't been as kind t' let us rest." Santain didn't note the mole's usual snark when talking to the fretful ferret, it was slightly disgusting he gave the vermin any respect.
"I'm the one who built it yew wormed-brained fool. I'm the smarter one of tha two, our mum said I was given all the brains when we wuz born." Smig sneered in response. "Iv it weren't me useless dolt of a brother beggin' me tah stop, I would' be skinnin' ye fer some blankets."
"You're the smart one? Fooled me!" Ramir chortled. "Now watch yer mouth lest ye want me t' place ye on one o' the shelves fer a timeout."
Smig flashed his teeth at the otter as the rat attempted to hide a smile.
"Yar watch yer mouth riverdog! I might not look it but I'll send ye tah the Dark Forest no sweat! Yer lookin' at a future warlord the likes Mossflower's never seen!"
Now it was Santain's turn to laugh.
"What's so funny hare!" Smig squeaked in anger.
Santain began to laugh even harder, rolling to the floor and laughing uncontrollably as the Steeltail children joined in a few hearty chuckles.
"Shuddup all of yew! I could kill ye all wiv nuthin' more than a flick o' me wrist if it didn't mean gettin' me and Dronga hurt!"
"Settle down matey. I don't think bein' a warlord is something someone of your… stature should be tryin' t' do." Ramir tried advising.
"Yer a fool if ye thinks any vermin would follow ye around like some sort o' leader! What fi one o' them challenges ye, wot? Yew gotta be able t' stand up fer yerself lad!" Santain snickered.
"Shuddup idjits! Yew think I don't know about me legs!" Smig roared. "I've lived widout 'em fer seasons an that hasn't stopped me plans. Once I find a vermin band who kin see me smarts, I won't be stopped 'til I sit on the highest throne in Mossflower!"
"Ohh, well I'm sure we kin find ye a highchair big enough for ye."
Smig's face bloomed in anger. "Shuddup rabbet! Yer kits 'll be me slaves! After I chop ye tah pieces in front o' them!"
"Settle down ferret," Ramir responded lest ye want me tah toss yer plans intah the fire for kindling."
Smig practically hissed in anger. "Stay away otter! If ye touch me 'r me drawing's, I'll-I'll rip yer throat out!"
Ramir stormed to the ferret and grabbed a rolled-up parchment. Smacking the ferret on the snout with it. Smig cursed something horrible at the otter but stopped as Ramir held the end of the scroll over the fire.
"Stay quiet and you won't lose any of yer disgusting trinkets."
Smig shut his mouth as Ramir placed the parchment on a small table across the room. Santain couldn't believe what he had somehow gotten himself into. Losing Thimblebrand was hard enough but now he had to keep his sanity together while this band of vermin and woodland allies held him hostage straining his already frayed nerves.
Looking out the off-square window from the kitchen twilight dusk had come and gone. In its wake, an imposing storm had blotted out the moon and stars. Dronga glumly nodded as he received another irate glare from his brother. Mosslyn quickly slapped his leg demanding his attention. Santain fumed as he lay captive to these maddened beasts. He had heard of evil woodlanders, but they were only stories of poor beasts driven mad from a scorpion's sting or by the loss of their loved ones. The mad ones Santain pitied, as a heartbreaking loss could break even the strongest beast's conscience. The ones who willingly chose to aid vermin were a different story. His superior Colonel Iskar had been captured by a pair of cunning voles that had tricked her into helping them with a band of pesky vermin that had been pestering them. She was led straight into a trap. After waking up she saw her captors share a spot by the fire with the voles who mocked her stupidity. She was lucky that an otter troop had managed to barge into the camp later that night. The voles treated the otters as heroes, thanking them by kissing their feet and cheering as they chased the fleeing vermin as they ran off. Colonel Iskar made certain they would never trick another beast after that night. The captain couldn't believe he had the luck to run into the only lizard-slaving band and mad woodlanders in all of Mossflower, all within the same day.
Santain swung his head to the side, breaking free of Ramir's grasp.
"Do ye mad beasts think ye can get away with this? Once Salamandastron finds out-"
"Finds out how ye attacked a poor legless ferret? I think they'd be disgusted at that!" Wungle snapped as he walked past the hare with a plate of dried fish. "You're in big trouble when your superiors find out about one of their noble hares attacking an innocent beast."
"Are ye daft mole!" The father hedgehog shouted to the shock of the shorter beast. To Santain's surprise, the hedgehog broke free from the corner where he had stood like a shield in front of his children.
"Yer protectin' these vermin while ye tie up the beast who saved us!" The hedgehog snapped as he pulled Ramir away from Santain. The tall, broad-shouldered otter stepped back, as the hedgehog pointed an accusatory claw in his face. "Yew three idiots haven't got a clue what danger yer puttin' all o' us in!"
Ramir held his paws up in defense. "We're not gonna hurt ye or the hare. He just needs t' calm down. There's no reason t' slay either one of the ferrets."
"There's every reason you wet-eared pup! They're dirty, rotten, murderers! They'll stab ye in the back when yer not lookin'!"
"Whattabout Mosslyn? She's lookin' after yer little'un." Wungle asked as he broke off bits of dried fish and passed the bit of food to the mother hedgehog who refused it.
"I don't trust the lot of ye, her the least!"
"We haven't hurt ye-" Ramir started but was cut off as the mole hurried to untie the bound hare's paws. "Don't do that! I'm not gonna have him threaten anyone, vermin-"
Ramir was cut off as Captain Santain lept to his feet and slammed his fist into the otter's chin with a crack. The broad-shouldered otter's footpaws momentarily left the floor before he fell to the ground with a crash. Santain stepped over the body of the otter with a deadly fury in his eyes. Wungle was the first to react, charging toward the fallen otter.
"Yew vile hare! Yew kill't 'em!" Santain kicked the mole in the chest sending him sprawling into Smig. Tools and parchments flew about the room before clattering against the flimsy wood of the hut as the two beasts cried out in pain.
Mosslyn unsheathed Santain's rapier and pointed it at his chest. The hare paused his slow progression toward the rat as he slowly raised his paws. There was a muffled squeak of horror from the father hedgehog seeing the vermin between himself and his family. Dronga scampered away from the two beasts tucking himself into a corner as he attempted to make himself as small as possible. Santain saw the glint of surprise had left the rat's light green eyes, what replaced it was an empty, heartless, pit that was so common from her kind.
The rat momentarily twitched and Santain tensed, ready to parry any thrust of her blade, but one never came. As Mosslyn bent her knees to spring through the air like a pike speeding through the water, she lurched backward.
"Don't yew dare yew mute brute!" The mother hedgehog pulled the rat to her chest with a thin chord that wound around the grey rat's neck. She floundered about kicking up a storm before dropping the rapier. Santain rushed to collect it before raising his voice to be heard above the struggling beasts.
"Don't move rat or I'll fill ye with holes, wot!" Santain barked pointing his rapier at her throat. Mosslyn grunted as the hedgehog's mother tossed her to the ground, her sharp eyes bearing into the hare. The tips of Santain's mouth twitched upward in a restrained smile. The rat could only toss hate-filled glances at him but could do nothing else, which was how the hare liked to deal with vermin.
"Grab some rope and tie that otter's paws together. Ma'am if ye'd like t' restrain the mole I kin deal with the vermin, wot." Santain kindly ordered the two hedgehogs. The father mole had already begun binding Ramir's paws before Santain had finished.
Santain found Dronga who had curled up into a ball in the corner of the room, the ferret had his head between his knees and rocked back and forth quietly whimpering. Santain ignored the cowardly beast for the moment.
"Lad, could ye give me that riverdogs belt, wot?" Santain asked the father hedgehog, who just finished tying the otter up. With a nod and a grunt, the hedgehog quickly removed the otter's thick mahogany-colored belt and handed it to the hare.
"Thank ye, if you'd deal with that legless ferret then I'll tie this rat up and we can get some answers." The hedgehog nodded and rushed to help his mate deal with the unruly mole.
"Stop we aren't tryin' t' hurt ye!" Wungle cried as the mother hedgehog grabbed his wrist and pulled him from the pile.
"Tyin' the hare up an lettin' these murdering vermin walk about. Yer all mad!" The hedgehog responded as if she was chastising a child.
"It's their home! They know where all the food, blankets, and medicines are! You beasts are acting like thieving scum!" Wungle snapped as he wrenched free of the mother hedgehog's grasp.
The male hedgehog slammed into the mole from behind tackling him to the ground before pinning him to the floor. Out of the corner of Santain's eye, there was a blur of grey and green motion. Santain reacted by whipping the belt about. Mosslyn cried out as the brass belt buckle struck her just above the eye. The rat crumpled to the floor as Santain jumped atop her forcing her head down while tying the belt firmly about her paws.
"I told ye not tah move yew stupid vermin!" Santain shouted as he smashed her head into the floor, at that moment Mosslyn went limp. Santain looked up at the terrified hedgehog kids who huddled in the corner of the room.
"Don't worry maties we've got everything under control, wot." Santain smiled sweetly at them as their parents tied Wungle and Smig together behind the hare.
Santain tossed the last split into the fire. It was fully nighttime outside, but the hut remained warm as tongues of flame lapped the edges of the firepit. The mother hedgehog tended to the sick Idris; the other three kits huddled onto the smaller empty bed aside from her. Their mother bounced between Idris and her siblings as she tried to put them to sleep. Sleepy eyelids tried to stay open, but they would rest closed in a short time. The door to the hut swung open as their father burst into the room, in his paws was a cauldron filled with snow.
"I didn't want t' brave th' ice at night, but I managed to fill this up with snow. We kin boil this down for tea." The round beast said as he waddled into the room and placed the pot over the fire. Santain nodded as he pulled a stool toward the father hedgehog who accepted it with a nod of thanks.
"This is a nice cauldron; they only make these in Redwall or Salamandastron. I wonder how ye vermin ended up wid it?" The hedgehog snapped at Dronga.
The ferret sat with his back against the wall across the fire from the door. His paws were tied together with the thin chord the mother hedgehog had used to subdue Mosslyn. He had been quiet and fretful the entire time, not responding to any of Santain's barbs or resisting being tossed down next to the other bound beasts. The three Steeltails were tied up and sat next to him. The otter lay unconscious, leaning on the grey rat for support. The belt buckle had opened a gash above her eye that trickled blood down her face. She was still awake but sat supporting the unconscious otter between hate-filled glares at the hare. She kept silent which was all Santain cared for. The mole and the legless ferret, on the other paw, were a back-and-forth of insults and complaints.
"Dronga thought it was the biggest pike he'd ever hooked. Mudbrained fool thought we wouldn't be hungry for a full moon, instead he's got a bloody pot!" Smig spat as Dronga's lower lip quivered.
"Right…" Santain rolled his eyes. "An the two o' ye didn't rob some poor traveler while yew was out and about, wot."
"Look at me yew stupid hare!" Smig snapped as spittle flew from his mouth. "Oi've got no legs t' run around wiv! An me brother's about as helpful as a one-winged sparrow!"
"Mind yer manners ferret! I ain't got the foggiest clue what these trinkets are, but I'll pitch 'em intah the flames if ye start yer yappin' again, wot wot!"
The ferret curled his lip in disgust and ground his teeth but remained silent. Now it was the mole's turn to rub on Santain's nerves.
"So, you trespass in their home, attack him when he defends himself, tie him up, and now you're gonna burn his stuff? You're a looter and a robber you wicked hare."
"Watch your mouth mole!" Santain snapped. Wungle ignored him and turned to the father hedgehog.
"I can't believe you Jaren. Mosslyn, Ramir, and I wanna help you and your kin but you still think we want to hurt Idris or the rest of your kids just because Mosslyn's a rat! We all just escaped from some cannibalistic lizards and yet your worried about her!?"
The father hedgehog frowned but didn't look at the mole. "Listen to the hare mole. If ye don't ye might turn out to be as vile as these ferrets."
"Listen to the hare?" Wungle snapped. "He's an idiot! He barged in on a crippled ferret's home, armed and unannounced, and got surprised when he got a hammer thrown at him."
"That gormless twit should've heard his dolt brother hollerin' for him, wot!" Santain retorted. "Besides, vermin will be vermin. I'm surprised you and your 'siblings' haven't learned that you mole reject."
The mole's face dropped into a momentary shame-filled frown before being replaced with anger.
"Tch, learned what? All you did was spew some platitude that's meaningless to me. Hare's kin be as vile as ferrets, as we've all found out today."
"Yer parents were smart enough to teach ye what a platitude is but not about yer vermin sister. Sounds like your family's got more kinks and quirks than a jolly barrel of snakes, wot wot."
"My parents are twice the beasts you and every ass with a mouth in your mountain are, including your badgerlord, who allows violent brutes to roam the lands harassing ferrets!" Wungle snapped.
"The ferrets are vermin and vermin are evil beasts end of question," Jaren stated kicking Dronga's injured leg. "They sulk in the shadows an' break intah yer home t' slit yer throat while ye sleep. If yer lucky ye' kin find them running around in gangs and deal with them then. Saves the struggle of tryin' to watch yer back."
"Can either of you idiots tell me what either of these ferrets have done to you?" Wungled asked. "Give you food? Let you use their house? Sure, one of them complained about it but he still did. OH, but you just had to get 'em first! Shelterin' us for the night is a ploy, you just know it!"
"You mean the ferret you found in that murderous gang of vermin you stumbled into, wot? An' his brother the mad, no-legged wannabe hordesbeast who's got plans to topple Redwall Abbey or Salamandastron. These vermin should be spending the night outside hanging to a tree!"
"You're both horrid beasts. My father warned us about monsters like you, hare. I hoped he was wrong."
"Yes, yes, yes, your father who happened to be a badger, wot." Santain rolled his eyes. "I think ye might be confusing him for a large pine marten or a wolverine. Yer eyesight's terrible and ye don't strike me as a very intelligent beast so its easy t' see why ye failed t' recognize that."
"I know a bloody badger when I've seen one!" Wungle snapped, waking the hedgehogs young just as they just settled to sleep. "The tips of your ear wouldn't reach his shoulder and he's as wide as a mighty oak! He's got two white stripes that run down his head and his tail is the color of hardened steel! He can carry a felled beech over his shoulder like it's nothing and he's the former lord of Salamandastron, Lord Aaron Steeltail!"
Santain was going to snap at the mole when he took pause. Steeltail. That was a name he hadn't heard since he was a little dibbun. A name that was rarely spoken of in a good light. Santain narrowed his eyes at the mole as Jaren snapped at him not to wake the kids.
"Why would a lying vermin scum's take that name mole, wot?" Santain asked as he stood from his chair in front of the fire. "Lest he wants t' die a painful death, wot wot."
"He's as real in the flesh as you or me, mate," Wungle said with a more hopeful expression. "Once the winter rolls through I kin take ye t' meet him. Although with yew hittin' Moss and knocking Ram out cold, he might not like ye. Even worse will be when mum finds out, her rollin' pin is a force t' be reckoned with when she's mad."
"Your weasel mother?" Santain snickered as the absurdity of it wasn't lost on him.
"Aye, Valka Steeltail. She hasn't had the best experience with yew hares, but she's certainly a better mother than whoever you had."
"Valka…" Santain murmured. These names sounded familiar, far too familiar but he couldn't pull them from the recesses of his mind.
"Aaron Steeltail. You mean Lord Steeltail?" Jaren started. "You mean the badgerlord who was slain by a vermin seer!"
"He wasn't slain by her; they fell in love-"
"And they went on to have over a score of young ranging from rats to hares. You're mad mole!" Jaren snapped.
"They did! I've got almost a score of younger siblings, ferrets, mice, squirrels, and hedgehogs. All of us were orphaned or found alone and they took us in and raised us like we were their own."
The fire filled the silence of the room as Santain slowly closed the distance between him and the mole.
"That's not possible." Santain's voice was a deadly murmur as he neared the mole.
"Why not?"
"Because Lord Steeltail was slain by vermin both he and Salamandastron were foolish enough to trust!" Santain roared.
Now it was the mole's turn to be confused. "No, he's alive. Our family lives in a clearing by a tributary of the Great South Stream." Wungle paused. "Why would he be dead? Father said he left without issue."
"He died!" Santain roared slamming his fist on the wall above the mole's head. "He was killed by a vermin we believed was helping him! He was slain and entombed in the bowels of Salamandastron while that vermin wretch escaped never to be seen again!"
"Ah, well what an amazing father I have, raisin' us even when he's a corpse." Wungle snapped.
"Watch your tongue mole! Lord Steeltail was a fantastic leader and a warrior. He was slain in a moment of weakness by a lying vermin wretch! If he were alive today, he'd have slain your sister and these ferrets."
"He's alive you long-eared fool! If the only way to convince you is to take you to him, we can. You better untie us now unless you want a furious badger t' greet ye at the door."
Santain paused for a moment. He was barely old enough to walk when Lord Steeltail was killed. It was a dark day in the mountain, he remembered his parents crying when the newly appointed Lord Bromwell recounted all that had taken place. The anger echoed through the great halls of Salamandastron as the new badgerlord vowed to take revenge. The Long Patrol Captain knew that the death of his brother was still a sore wound for the current Badgerlord.
"No, he is dead. If you want to tell Lord Bromwell his brother is alive you can do that once we arrive in Salamandastron. I'm certain the badgerlord would love to hear that the brother he buried is now alive and living with some vermin wench. I'm also certain his son will have some choice words for you fools trying to take his throne."
"If he's as scared about us barging in and slaying his father for some worthless title he's a bigger fool than you are. Besides, if Lord Bromwell thinks that our father is alive, then you should be asking him why you've been lied to."
Santain wished to smack the mole's viper tongue. It sounded like he was raised by vermin, and it was unfathomable to think that a badgerlord would ever abandon his position for a lowly weasel of all things. The thought was nauseating. Sure, some badgers had turned down the role as rulers of 'Death Mountain,' as captured vermin had affectionately referred to it. But they never left the position in the middle of their tenure as lord or lady. The only reason for them to retire was if they became too old or were slain. If Santain remembered correctly, Lord Steeltail had destroyed a large horde that had torn a warpath from the Southeast of Mossflower toward Salamandastron, before his foolish demise. The story of his folly and subsequent betrayal was known well throughout the land surrounding the mountain and told as a warning to young dibbuns never to trust vermin, no matter how innocent and well-mannered they seemed.
"What do you know about your father anyways? Did he ever tell you about what he did before he… abandoned his position?" Santain asked. Probing for more information.
"He was the badgerlord of Salamandastron. He had taken the Long Patrol and an army of their allies to stop Vott Twisttooth and his horde. He was successful and stopped them at the mouth of a tributary of the Great South Stream, several days march from Brockhall. He fell unconscious from his wounds and slipped into the river. Our mother found him and saved his life before our father decided to live out the rest of his life with her in peace."
Jaren scoffed and Santain shook his head at the mole's childish retelling of the story.
"Ye got rocks fer brains if ye think Lord Steeltail would've been wooed by a weasel of all beasts." Jaren snapped. "My father fought at the Battle of the Watermeadows. He saw Lord Steeltail plunge his sword into the heart of that vile rat and said he had as many arrows stickin' out o' him as I have spikes. He slipped intah the river and that was the last he ever saw of him. The story goes he was pulled from the river by a weasel who kept him alive to try and bargain for gold from Salamandastron. When they offered her a sword Lord Bromwell had made as a bargain for Aaron's life, she accepted but was a greedy, lying, witch. She had been keeping him alive but was also feeding him a poison of her own making. When Lord Bromwell was taken back to the mountain, his condition worsened and their healers' found traces of the poison he had been eating. While a great number of the Long Patrol was out searching for the weasel, she had snuck into Salamandastron in search of gold. When she found none, she took Lord Steeltail's sword and plunged it through his heart. When Lord Bromwell found the slain Lord, there was a letter from the vermin mocking him and laughing at how foolish Salamandaston was to have trusted her. She was never seen after that.
"That's a really stupid lie for someone to come up with. What would they have said if our father came back? What if he forgot his favorite blanket or something? I would have said he was conspiring with the vermin and found them to be a bit better company than loudmouthed, vile hares of the Long Patrol!" Wungle snapped.
Santain grabbed the mole by the collar of his dark sweater. "Remember who saved ye from becomin' a meal fool! Besides ye can ask Lord Bromwell when we make it to Salamandastron! Maybe he can personally inform you of the truth, wot."
"Ask the liar if he's lying! That's brilliant!"
Santain was about to smack some sense into the mole when the legless ferret started laughing. The mustachioed hare whirled around to face him.
"Wot's so funny ferret?"
"Nuffin yew long-eared twit! Just listening t' yew two mad beasts made me realize how good I've had it. I could be a stupid mole with no real parents 'r I could've been an empty-headed hare!" Smig chided through a malicious smile.
Santain backhanded the vermin, before clamping his mouth shut with his claw. "I think ye'd do best sleepin' outside ye vermin rotter!"
The ferret tried squirming away, but Santain held his grasp. He was pondering how to best deal with this quarrelsome wretch when he remembered the rolled-up bit of parchment that Ramir had taken from the ferret. Smiling the hare let go of Smig who cursed him.
"Well looks like you're gonna lose some of your trinkets laddie."
Santain hummed to himself as he grabbed the parchment and unrolled it looking at the contents on the paper. On the parchment was a drawing of what Santain first thought was a house. Looking closer he realized it was a covered battering ram with a strange object on the front that looked like a cauldron with its bottom stuck to the head of the ram.
"Some ingenious beast yew are, wot." The hare scoffed. "Battering rams have been tried before, and all the beasts who used 'em were slain."
"You're a fool to think I don't know that! But your pride will be my greatest advantage! With this marvel of my ingenuity, I'll blow the doors off Redwall and gash a hole in the side of Salamandastron!"
"Of course, ye will," Santain responded as he tossed the scroll into the fire.
"No!" Smig screamed as he lurched forward only to be caught by Jaren before he toppled into the fire.
"Settle down ferret there's no reason to cook yerself over a drawing." Santain barked as he picked up another scroll and without looking at it tossed it into the flames.
Smig grit his jaw as Santain tossed what appeared to be a small triangular compass and an additional drawing into the fire. A pained look bled from his eyes as seasons of work were burnt to a crisp.
"Aww is the bally vermin warlord gonna cry? Oh my whiskers, someone fetch him a hanky!" Santain mocked as he scurried about looking for anything else of value to toss into the fire and quickly tossed in a pair of spectacles and a small notebook.
"S-S-Sah please stop." Dronga meekly asked before being kicked by Santain.
"Keep yer mouth shut vermin, lest ye want me tah stab yer other leg"
"You think you can bully a beast because he's vermin. You're disgraceful." Wungle protested.
"Disgraceful! Are ye daft! I'm preventin' this brute from slaughterin' scores of innocent beasts! I'm even doing the vermin a favor as they'll live to be slain for another day."
"That's fine you vile bastard." Smig bluffed. "I'm far smarter than ye anyway hare. I got them all locked up in me noggin and ye can't crack that."
"Oh, I most certainly can, wot! I've been throttlin' beasts like yew since I was a wee babe. Cracking yer skull open will be easier than toastin' acorns." Santain joked, to which the ferret averted his glare. Santain noticed there was a heavy-looking bag attached to the belt of the ferret that Smig was less than successfully attempting to conceal.
"Now what do we have here?" Santain asked as he knelt and ripped the bag off of the ferret's belt. "You steal these coins from some poor woodlanders? You scum are all the same!"
"No! Put that down you'll get us all killed!" Smig snapped as he lunged toward the hare who calmly kicked him to his back.
"N-no! P-p-put that down!" Dronga cried as terror cascaded across his face. The ferret received a swift kick to his injured leg which sent the ferret howling.
"So, the brave hare robs the legless vermin of what little coin." Wungle mused. "You're despicable!" Santain ignored him.
"Now," Santain quipped as he tossed the bag between his paws testing its weight. "Let's see how many lashings you'll receive tonight!"
Santain was surprised to find that the bag didn't feel like it was filled with gold coins. It felt a tad lighter than he expected and felt like it was filled with sand. The bag itself smelled of something smoky and vile and was covered in a black coal-like soot. Santain pulled the small knot that held the bag closed undone and dipped his paw inside. Grabbing a hold of the sandy substance inside he pulled his paw free. It was covered in the black sooty sand that stained the bag.
"Wot in blazes is this? A bunch of… dirt?" Santain demanded.
"I'll kill you! I'll kill you hare!" The legless ferret had what appeared to be tears running down his face as he thrashed away from Jaren's grasp. "Don't touch it don't drop it! It'll kill us all!"
"What game are you playing vermin?" Santain snapped as he tossed the bag into the roaring fire.
"No!" Smig screamed as an explosion and brilliant flash filled the room.
Santain saw a bright white light as his ears rang with a piercing wail. He groaned as he rolled to his stomach as his vision slowly returned to him. Groaning he felt a burning sensation along the left side of his body as the acrid smell of smoke filled his mouth and his lungs. With his vision finally returning he could see the hut was in shambles and on fire. The firepit was a flaming crater of coals and burning bits of wood. The metal pot that had been melting the snow until it boiled was nowhere to be seen, but there was a jarring hole in the roof filling the room with cold darkness. Rolling onto his rear as the ringing intensified Santain could see that the clothing on the left side of his body, the one closest to the fire, was burnt to nothingness. His leg specifically the fur around his ankles felt like they were on fire and the whiskers on the left side of his face were smoking.
Santain had been thrown into a cabinet on the far side of the room, his shoulder had partially caved it in. Bits of flaming wood and ash sprinkled about the smoke-filled room the acidic scent from the fire bit the inside of his nose and throat. Santain could see the hedgehog kids crying but couldn't hear them as the ringing in his ears remained. The hare spotted the ferret brothers writhing on the ground with smoke seeming to have painted their faces as the Steeltail children lay in a crumpled heap atop the otter. Jaren appeared to have landed atop of Wungle as his spikes dug into the mole as he cried out noiselessly in pain. The hut looked like a great wind had picked every object off its feet and spun them around haphazardly, throwing beasts about and discarding them like trash. Santain supposed that was what a leaf felt like in a thunderstorm.
Santain staggered to his feet and stumbled toward Jaren to pull him off the mole. He rubbed his ears as the piercing ringing turned to the cries and groans of the other beasts.
"It's all right! Is anyone injured, wot?" Santain asked through coughs.
The mole was screaming in pain as the hedgehog did his best to pull himself off the shorter creature apologizing as he did so. Santain rushed over and pulled the hedgehog free. There were several spikes still stuck in the mole's fur. Several were broken and burrowed quite deeply into his side.
"You idiot." Wungle moaned as he tried to wipe away the soot covering his face. Santain pulled his rapier free and cut the binds on his paws.
"Sorry, I didn't know everything would go up in smoke, wot!" Santain exclaimed as he pulled several quills from the mole.
"I told ye not to…" Smig groaned as he propped himself onto a bound elbow. "Stupid… blasted… hare."
Santain was furious yet deeply terrified. That bag the size of his fist had left a crater the size of a large rock in the floor and bits of flame everywhere. The captain was quick to recognize how dangerous whatever that was as well as note how devastating it could be if in the wrong paws. Or the right paws…
"Seasons! Oh, Martin help me!" Santain's momentary inspiration vanished like the morning mist as the mother hedgehog cried out in pain.
The hedgehog fell to her face as a pool of blood began to pool around her. Her kits held their ears and sobbed as Santain rushed to her and flipped her over. Santain grit his teeth as shards of splintered wood still glowing from the fire protruding from the mole's forearm and midsection. Santain swore and frantically looked about for something to stop the bleeding or for something to remove the embers from her body.
"Captain." Ramir's voice cut through the hare's panicked thoughts. "She needs a healer. Cut Mosslyn free and she'll save the hedgehog."
Santain raised his lip in disgust as he glared at the rat. She looked up at him, setting her jaw as large green eyes begged for his trust. Santain hesitated before remembering the ferret who had saved Sister Lilac at Redwall. Hoping the rat was as skilled as Sathe had been he cut her loose.
"Do what ye must," Santain said before he could scramble past. "But save her." The grey rat nodded before pointing toward Ramir who remained tied.
"Fine ol' gel! But no games, wot." Santain warned as he cut his binds as well. The two beasts scrambled to the hedgehog's side as Santain warily watched before breaking into a haggard cough.
The room began to fill with smoke as the ashes from the explosion began burning the dry interior of the hut. Santain realized in a few minutes the hut would be submerged in flame. Alarmed Santain burst into action.
"Get up and start stomping out the fires!" Santain ordered Wungle and Jaren as they struggled to gather their bearings. Santain hopped about the room and stomped out small blazes before the fire took hold and burnt the cottage to a crisp.
"You gonna apologize for tryin' t' kill us!" Wungle snapped as he rose to unsteady feet.
"After the fires out mole! We've got a bigger bloody problem than pointing claws, wot!" Santain snapped as he kicked a hot coal into the crater in the floor.
"Of course, ye will! Just like ye've taken responsibility fer all the other trouble yew've caused!"
"Not now you blasted beast! I promise on the honor of the Long Patrol I'll make things right once we stop the flames spread!"
"You better," Wungle said as he began stomping out the ashes that surrounded his siblings.
Santain raced into the kitchen and struggled to maintain a fire that was spreading from cupboard to cupboard. Santain stumbled over the prone Dronga who was curled up in a trembling ball.
"Get up ferret unless ye want yer hut t' burn down around yer 'ead, wot!" Santain barked as he shook the ferret. Dronga opened his eyes in surprise before turning to horror upon seeing the hare. The beast tried to worm away from Santain who held him in place.
"I-I-I told y-ye nu-not tah do i-i-it. Please don't hurt m-me!"
"I won't if ye put out the fire ye dirty runt!" Santain ordered as he cut the ferret free. "No games help me put this blaze out or else, wot!"
Dronga nodded as Santain hauled the ferret to his feet and pushed him towards the blaze. The ferret started forward before stopping looking at the blaze that was quickly taking over the hut and bolting out the door.
"You vermin scum!" Santain bellowed as he leaped forward and started stomping on some of the bigger outcroppings of flame. "I still have your bloody brother!"
Santain realized he'd have to worry about the ferret later and flew into a blur desperately trying to stamp out the ever-growing flames. Santain was quickly joined by Wungle who worked breathlessly to control the ensuing blaze. The two beasts worked in tandem ignoring the fire singing their fur and smoke stinging their eyes. Santain yelped in pain as a small ember floated up and singed his eye. When he opened it Dronga had returned with arms full of snow before dumping it on a large blaze and bolting from the hut once again. Santain hurriedly kicked the remaining snow on other smaller fires. This process repeated itself several times at a breathtaking pace until the fires were finally vanquished.
The three odd beasts stood with their paws on their knees panting from the exertion. The fire had charred a good portion of the kitchen and a thick smoke hung in the air even with the open door and hole in the roof. But the hut was saved. Now it was time for Santain to get some answers.
Santain stomped over to the no-legged ferret who still had his paws tied together. Smig had watched Santain put out the blaze in his home with a stark disinterest and didn't acknowledge the hare's good-hearted attempts to put it out.
"By me fur n' whiskers, what in the name of Martin's bloody sword was that!"
"Don't look like ye have any whiskers left hare." Smig ribbed.
"Because of that foul sand you vile, blighted rotter!" Santain hissed as he grabbed the ferret by the collar. "When you get too Salamandastron Lord Bromwell will squeeze your twisted-"
"Captain Santain!" Wungle's loud voice chirped from behind the infuriated hare. "I believe an apology is in order."
"Apology for wot? I'm dealing with the vile beast now, wot."
"He told you explicitly not to handle… whatever it was you tossed into the fire. You ignored him and almost killed the lot of us! Sounds like quite a vermin thing to do Captain Santain."
Santain groaned at the snarky mole. "He was the beast who created that…that fire dust. It wouldn't have been an issue if he didn't make it! He designed siege engines, battering rams, and javelins to destroy Redwall and Salamandastron! He wants to use whatever that powder was to slaughter countless beasts for his sick pleasure! Why would I listen to him?"
"Because he's the one who made it," Wungle responded matter of factly. "And if he tells you not to throw it into the fire you shouldn't. Besides you owe us all an apology, you almost burnt the hut down."
Santain bit his lip. He had no intention of apologizing to the vermin. However, the woodlanders deserved an apology, and he was still representing the Long Patrol.
"Aye, I suppose you do deserve one. Well, I'm sorry whatever that was blew up in your face. I had no intention of harming anyone and no inclination it would cause such destruction. I hope we can all settle ourselves and agree to work together for the rest of the night."
"That wasn't much of an apology hare." Ramir said with audible disappointment.
"Don't expect much more than that from me otter. It's the ferret you should be a bit more concerned about."
"You're the fool who doesn't listen to others. We told you to settle down and you didn't. Maybe some beast must get slain for you to realize you're acting like a tyrant."
Santain bit his tongue. This argument was going nowhere. Just when he thought these beasts were respectable or at the very least understanding. Their vermin parentage was showing. No, they're just rotten beasts. Santain reminded himself. Aaron Steeltail is dead.
"I don't know what more I can do to convince ye these vermin are evil aside from letting' the rotten lot slay a goodbeast." Santain said as exhaustion hit him in a thunderous wave.
"Captain, you're so blinded by your anger you don't see how much of a fool you've been." Wungle began as he began to rub the soot from his fur.
"Your compulsive hate for anyone who looks like the beasts who've hurt you is actually making you inept and stupid. To the point where I'd trust a dibbun's judgment more than yours. He told you not to throw the bag on the fire with far more insistence than his other belongings. Even his brother chimed in. A thinking beast would have thought 'Huh, I wonder why' and then asked him what was so special about that bag. Maybe even been more cautious and just sprinkled a little into the flames. But because you were reveling so much in tormenting the ferret you didn't do these things"
Santain sighed in tired disbelief. "No. You admitted this was your first time outside the safety of your home, you haven't got a clue what most beasts have to endure in these woods. Vermin are all cut from the same cloth and are evil straight from the cot. I've been alive for far more seasons than the three of ye and I've seen vile, despicable, and evil acts; all from vermin. I'm trying to help you understand that before the three of ye get hurt."
"Your actions speak otherwise." Wungle snapped, as he sat down and began pulling quills from his side. "I understand your alarm with Smig and his antics, but you're wrong to think Dronga is like his brother. You haven't considered that he, and Mosslyn for that matter, might not be evil and that their actions today prove otherwise. I pray the Long Patrol doesn't endorse this or we will raise the alarm once we make it to Salamandastron."
"We?" Santain asked a bit taken back.
Wungle nodded sagely. "We told you before we would help you return to Salamandastron, not that you clearly remembered. If you wish to bring Dronga and his brother along, that's fine. We'll testify against your actions and tell them the truth of what happened here, but I don't want to talk of this anymore. Let's get the fire started so we don't freeze, we all need our rest."
Finals have come and gone. Hopefully, this chapter helps answer some questions from the last few ones, I will be showing these characters a bit more in the future but it's back to Redwall with the next one.
As always please let me know what you think and what I can improve on. Any and all feedback is appreciated!