Chapter 7

The Spirit of the Paladin

Winslow had been unusually quiet for the past few minutes. Although he kept that big smile and wagging tail, his movements were stiff and measured as if he were forcing himself to do so. Marley sighed, wishing they could understand why. It also felt odd that Winslow felt like he had to force himself to act like this in the first place considering Marley was the only other beast around. They were close, so what could be on his mind?

Marley had a guess, but it didn't feel right to bring it up. After all, they weren't in the best of moods, either. Shadows danced in the corner of their vision from the rustling foliage, moonlight peeking through the gaps in the leaves like billions of eyes staring down at them. Marley unconsciously moved closer to Winslow as the pair moved deeper into the forest.

"How long 'till we find somethin', ye think?" Winslow asked.

Marley expected Martin to tell them, but the spirit was silent. They couldn't tell if that was a good sign or not, but that didn't stop them from telling Winslow, "I think at this point we should just keep heading straight." Martin, if you forget to tell me something and Winslow gets hurt, I will punch you for real the next time we meet.

Winslow snickered. "Aye, because we've always been the best at that. Seriously, though, ye say that like ye know where we're goin'."

"I don't know for sure," Marley replied after a quick glance around the woods.

The river otter sighed, stretching his arms behind his head. "Y'know, I've gotta ask, ye ain't lyin' to me, are ye? This isn't 'a small problem' like ye said earlier, hm? I don't see why ye'd be leadin' me this far unless ye had a good reason to do so. Look, I ain't mad at ye if ye are, I just wanna know if this is somethin' I can help ye wit'."

"So… define 'lying'," Marley asked slowly, causing Winslow to roll his eyes at the moon. Eventually, the mouse slowed and turned to the otter. "Winslow, I'm sorry. I didn't even think you'd be awake. I was hoping to leave and come back without you knowing." A low growl rumbled in Winslow's throat. Even Marley knew that meant they must've said something wrong. "Are you sure you're not mad?"

"Mad?" Winslow stared at the grass, lips curled in a fanged grimace. "No, I'm bloody terrified. Ye were really just gonna leave wit'out tellin' anyone?"

"Is that a problem?"

"I… I don't know, mate. I'm sorry, I'm just worried, that's all. I don't want to lose ye again."

"You don't need to apologise for that."

Winslow pulled Marley close. From here, the mouse could really feel the otter shivering. Marley hastily shut their eyes and tried to call Martin over again to no avail. Given the spirit's earlier willingness to chat, they guessed that he was either ignoring them or busy, but they had no idea what else he could possibly be doing right now. Something about his refusal to answer made Marley think something bad was going to happen soon, and they couldn't help but feel weird about it.

To pass the time, Winslow and Marley caught each other up on small things the other missed during Marley's banishment. Marley, expectedly, didn't have much to talk about, while Winslow had a couple of fun tidbits, like how a dibbun Marley read to occasionally learned how to curse and kept doing it until somebeast washed their mouth with soap. Of course, the mood couldn't stay light for long.

At a certain point, the scent of rusted metal overwhelmed Marley's senses. The mouse coughed and turned in its direction, causing Winslow to stop. "Mate, what's wrong?"

Marley hesitated, realisation creeping down on them as they realised why Martin might be staying quiet. Without answering, Marley pointed west. Winslow glanced at the mouse and motioned for them to stay behind him. The otter padded forward, clenching his fists while Marley pulled out the dagger Kanor had given them. At some point, Winslow must have started smelling it, too, since he tensed up and began looking around more. There was no question at this point what they were smelling was blood. The question was, why didn't Martin tell them about this?

Winslow gasped and froze on the spot, something Marley only processed when they bumped into his tail. They were about to ask what was wrong when they noticed something on the ground: frantic claw marks hacked into the forest floor, tearing out grass haphazardly. Marley stepped past Winslow and gazed at the scene in front of them.

The entrance to a burrow was torn open, clumps of dirt and grass scattered everywhere as if someone was struggling to get inside. The stench of blood oozed out, causing Winslow to gag. "Oh, seasons, that's strong. Smells fresh, too."

Marley padded forward, peeking inside the burrow. "Do we check what's inside?" they asked flatly.

"Do ye really think we should? We know what's gonna be in there."

"A dead body, yeah. Maybe a couple, if the amount of blood we're smelling is any indication. But we can't leave this alone. There's no one else nearby who could help."

Winslow coughed and wiped his mouth. "Help who? Ye think there is anybeast inside we can help?"

"Honestly, no, but on the off chance there is, we can't leave just yet."

Winslow groaned and took a deep breath to steel himself before nodding in agreement. "Ay, yer right. Damn. I didn't think we'd ever see more bodies after last time. C'mon, let's just get this over wit'." Winslow stepped aside so the smaller Marley could enter the burrow first. Marley took a glance around their surroundings before slowly ducking inside. With the darkness and blood overwhelming their senses, they had to rely on their whiskers and sense of touch to move down the slope. Every time Marley's footpaws brushed against something, they paused, slowly reaching down to ensure it was just a loose rock before continuing onwards. Down and down the burrow went, but eventually, Marley touched flat ground. They took a step forward and kicked something heavy. The mouse quickly backed away, hearing a squish as their footpaws stepped in something damp.

"Marley?" Winslow called out as he entered the room. "Are ye- oh, gods…" The otter trailed off, and when he did speak again, his voice was barely a whisper. "Do ye see this?"

"I see a couple of shapes. Why, what are they?"

"There're, uh, I see two… squirrels. Ground squirrels. A couple, it looks like… Wait… Marley?" Winslow's voice quivered as he walked forward.

"Winslow, are you alright?" Marley felt along the wall until they entered another room. They sighed and continued onwards, jolting forward as they slammed into a cot, falling on top of it. Marley groaned and felt around, pausing when they realised the cot felt a bit… small for an adult squirrel. The mouse looked up and called out, "Winslow, there isn't a third body somewhere, is there?"

Marley heard the otter roam around the burrow for a moment before replying, "Nope, 'tis just two. Why, ye don't think there is someone else here, do ye?"

Marley hesitated. "I think there might be a kid."

"Excuse me?" Winslow growled. The otter ran over to the room Marley was in and sighed. "Aye, yer right. This was a family of three, there is another bedroom the other way. But where is the kid then?"

"If I had to guess, taken by whoever killed the parents." Marley turned in Winslow's direction as they realised, "The blood is fresh. The kidnapper might still be nearby."

Just then, a jolt of searing white light flashed through Marley's vision. The mouse yelped and fell backwards, grimacing as Martin finally showed up through the darkness covering the burrow. The spirit stood like a statue exhibiting nothing that made him feel alive earlier. Even when he spoke, his voice was flat, cold, as if he knew what was going on already. "Marley, you have a choice to make. That weasel is still out there. I know you want to find him before sunrise, however, a young squirrel is in danger right now. I will tell you before you decide, that going after him has nothing to do with your goal. In fact, 'tis complete coincidence you saw any of this. I didn't even know a family was living here. 'Tis entirely possible that you won't get a chance tomorrow night. The weasel might take off and your chance of finding him will be gone forever, even though you risked your position in the abbey to do so. Well then, Marley, what will you do? Continue your search, or find the missing squirrel?"

Marley stared silently at the armoured mouse. They blinked and rubbed their eyes, unsure if what they were seeing was even real. Martin was standing so still that they weren't sure he was actually there.

"Marley? Ye alright?"

Winslow's voice reminded them that this wasn't a dream. Marley shook their head and sat up, staring straight at Martin's helmeted visage. You should already know how I feel.

"Say it."

Marley pushed themselves out of the bed and stood in front of Martin. "We need to find the squirrel."

"Hm." Martin nodded, glancing between Winslow and Marley before abruptly fading. "I was hoping you'd say that. Follow my voice. I know where the squirrel is. This time, however, I will not be nice. If I tell you to do something, you better do it immediately. Otherwise, you or your partner might die. Got it?"

Marley sighed, checking that their dagger was easily accessible before nodding. "Yes, fine. Winslow, let's go. We have a squirrel to save and not a lot of time."

The situation was explained to Winslow as they left the burrow. Marley somehow knew where the squirrel and kidnappers were, so they would rescue the kid and bring them to Redwall Abbey to recover. More selfishly, it would give them an excuse in case someone saw them leave since Winslow reasoned nobeast in good conscience could turn them away if they returned with an injured squirrel. Of course, that was assuming they would succeed, but Winslow wouldn't let them fail.

As Marley led them through the woods, Winslow couldn't stop growling. His heart pounded like rolling thunder as he and Marley weaved through the forest. Even when Marley was starting to get tired (rather quickly), he grabbed the mouse and pulled them along. There was no way he would let the kidnappers get away. His face twisted with feral anger as he thought back to those days before he came to Redwall Abbey. Trey was still a small pup at the time. His parents left the house. Later that night, a couple of his neighbours grimly told them that his parents would never be coming back. He never got to say goodbye. It was as sudden as that. One afternoon, and they were gone forever, and these lowlives were doing this to someone else?

"Winslow, you're hurting my arm," Marley suddenly whined. Winslow slowed his pace and glanced down. His quivering paw was clenched tightly around the mouse's wrist, claws digging into the sleeve of their purple tunic. Winslow scoffed and let go as gently as he could manage. Marley rubbed their arm and asked, "You're okay with going after them, right?"

Winslow scowled. "Of course, I am. Let's go! Where are they?!"

"Winslow, try to keep your cool, it's harder to-"

"I'm not keepin' my cool fer this! Tell me where the hell they are! … Please."

If only he was better at tracking, Winslow would've run ahead and pummelled the kidnappers. Unfortunately, his knowledge when it came to living in Mossflower Woods was embarrassingly low given that he had lived more than half of his life here. It did make him curious how Marley was able to track them. He loved the mouse, but Marley could be quite dense. The mouse moved erratically, running in one direction before abruptly backing up before turning and heading in another. Aren't we goin' too slow? Winslow thought, by the time we get there, the kid could already be-

"Hey, you!"

Winslow's eyes widened and he turned, shoving Marley behind him defensively and stepping forward. "Who are ye?"

"Winslow?" Marley warned, nudging the otter's back. "Behind you."

A fox approached from the front while two rats came behind them. Winslow's mind immediately assessed the situation, noting that the three beasts surrounding them seemed to want to travel light. Each only carried a small messenger bag and a dagger attached to their belts. Luckily (if you could say that), they had no other weapons or armour. What caught Winslow's eye, however, was the bound squirrel slung over one of the rats' shoulders, still squirming in the rope tied around his limbs. The otter's eyes burned furiously as he snarled, "What the hell are ye doin' to them?! Let them go!"

"Careful now," the fox drawled cautiously, "Don'tcha know it's dangerous for kids like you to be out this late? You'd best leave now, before anybeast gets hurt."

Marley reached for their dagger. "Let the squirrel go, now."

The fox snorted and slowly stepped forward, yanking the dagger out of his belt. "Look, this ain't your problem, and we don't need trouble. You're outnumbered, that mouse doesn't look like a fighter, and you don't even got a weapon. Just run away before you get hurt."

"Oh, yer so concerned fer our safety," Winslow sneered. "Well how 'bout this, ye let the kid go, or I'll cave yer skull in."

"Do you really think you can do that?" The fox sighed.

"Why don't ye come at me and see fer yerself?!"

"Winslow, be careful," Marley muttered.

The fox scowled and raised his weapon. "I'm sick of this. Get 'em."

Wainslow raised his fists as he prepared to defend himself. "Winslow, move!" Marley ordered. Winslow spun around and leapt out of the way as one of the rats thrust his dagger towards the pair. The fox was more cautious, attempting to circle around to the side until Winslow slammed his tail into his ankle, throwing him off balance. That was enough for the otter to pounce, tackling the taller beast into the dirt. Spittle flew as the fighters rolled on the ground, grasping for the dagger.

The fox kneed Winslow's stomach, sending a jolt of agony through his body. He released his hold on the fox, giving him an opening to raise his dagger. Winslow clutched his arm right before the blade made contact, landing a hook to the fox's wrist and sending the dagger to the side. The fox foamed at the mouth with rage as he unsheathed his claws, scratching wildly at the otter beneath him. Winslow returned the favour, pounding away at the fox with wild but powerful blows. Despite the pain, Winslow managed to shove the fox aside and scrambled up for another bout when a yelp tore through the air.

"Winslow!"

The otter spun around. Marley had been grabbed by one of the rats, who was struggling to press his dagger against the mouse's neck.

"Marley!" Winslow howled. The otter ran forward but was tackled from behind. Winslow yelped as the fox's paw covered his mouth, dagger approaching his neck as he struggled to escape. Blood pounded in his ears as Marley thrashed around in the rat's grasp, but no matter how much Winslow tried to move, he couldn't get away. As soon as the blade pressed against Winslow's neck, the otter shut his eyes.

He was surprised when he heard a splash and felt freezing water engulf his body. The otter's eyes jolted open with a shocked gasp. He wasn't in Mossflower Woods anymore. Instead, he was enveloped in an ocean of scarlet. Winslow experimentally waved his limbs, feeling them glide through the sea like a knife through butter. Where am I? Where'd Marley go? There's no time, I need to get to them, I need to save them!

Winslow bared his fangs as he propelled himself towards the surface, every inch of muscle from head to tail reaching higher and higher as sunlight filtered through the water.

He broke through the surface with a burst of light, yelping with surprise as his vision adjusted to focus on a ketch speeding towards him. A large paw enveloped his entire forearm and pulled him onto the boat, bringing him face-to-face with a beast unlike anything Winslow had ever seen. A massive, muscular otter with a barrel-like chest and a kilt stared down at Winslow as it steered the vessel with ease. Winslow tried to make eye contact, but the bag obscuring its face made it hard to do so. It also made him notice the large collar with chains hanging down its neck to its stomach. The otter-thing's voice rippled the water around them despite the muzzle clamped around his snout. "Ha! Why so nervous? Haven't ye ever been on a boat before?"

Winslow shook his head to try to clear his vision, but he was still on the ketch. Enraged, the otter stood up and spat, "Where the hell am I and why didja take me here? There are a couple o' beasts I need to help, and I won't stand bein' stuck on some damn ship!"

The otter-thing cackled heartily and knelt to match Winslow's eye level. Winslow glared defiantly back, clenching his fists with a growl. "Ha! I knew it! Yer a fighter, ain'tcha? I can see it in yer heart. Yer somebeast who would go to the ends of the world to protect everythin' ye hold dear. Who cares if everyone else sees you as a lazy, bloodthirsty brute? We know what ye truly yearn fer. Right now, there's a mouse an a squirrel that needs yer help, plus a ferret and otter waitin' fer ye back at Redwall Abbey. Are ye gonna let yerself die here? Of course, not! Yer not gonna stop 'till every last drop of blood is spilled! Let me help protect the beasts ye hold dear as I did when I was alive. All ye need to do is take my paw."

Winslow bared his fangs, quivering furiously as he eyed the giant otter. Although he wasn't sure why, there was a flash of epiphany like a lighthouse telling him this was right. He grasped the paw, grinning like a madbeast as a name floated in his mind. "Ye better help! Let's tear 'em apart, Shogg!"

A flash of light later and Winslow was back on the ground. A feral snarl escaped his snout as he bit down on the fox's paw, tearing his fangs away as he muscled out of the fox's grasp, launching himself to his footpaws like a coiled spring. He felt the blood pumping through his veins as he whipped his head towards Marley. Or at least, where Marley was before. Confused, he looked around and saw the mouse had somehow escaped and ran to his side, aiming the dagger defensively in front of them. Winslow chuckled and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How'dja get out of that, mate?"

Marley simply answered, "I'll tell you later."

Winslow grinned. "I wonder what that could mean?" Shogg mused. "Now, take 'em down!"

"Marley, one of the rats is too busy trying to keep the squirrel from escaping. Use that to your advantage."

Marley glanced at Winslow. "You take the fox. I'll handle the rat. Don't worry about the other one."

"Gladly." Winslow rolled his shoulders and crouched in a boxing stance.

Their opponents squared off, the fox having picked his dagger back up from when Winslow knocked it away. He aimed his weapon at the pair and snarled, "You damn brats! I'll teach you to stop stickin' your nose where it doesn't belong!"

"Listen carefully. You're weaker than average, have low stamina, and don't know how to wield a dagger properly. Your only advantage is your size. Keep your distance, make yourself as small of a target as possible, and most importantly, do not panic."

Winslow lunged first, slamming into the fox with a sickening thud. Marley prepared themself for the rat's approach while Winslow and the fox snarled nearby. The rat ran towards Marley so they did as Martin advised and circled to the side. Marley readied their dagger to slash at the rat's back, but Martin's voice ordered, "Not yet. Stand still."

The rat spun and swung wildly, making eye contact with Marley when he realised they weren't right behind him. He charged again. Marley leapt out of the way and planted their footpaws in place. Again and again, the rat slashed at Marley, who kept scampering out of reach. The mouse's breath ran ragged with every dodge. It didn't seem like the rat would be tiring out anytime soon. The rat charged again and Marley sidestepped in response. This time, however, the rat swerved and shoulder-checked them, sending a spike of agony up Marley's chest as they fell to the grass.

"ROLL, NOW!"

Marley's vision darkened as they rolled to the side, barely avoiding the blade of a dagger as it sunk into the dirt. A kick to the rat's leg elicited a sharp yelp before Marley scrambled to their footpaws. It was then they realised they had dropped their dagger when they fell. The rat slowly rose, turning towards Marley with a twisted scowl. Behind him, Winslow and the fox were still snarling like madbeasts, the otter having pinned the fox to the grass in what looked like a wrestling move to Marley. Winslow was too busy to help them. They needed to think of something.

Marley knelt, making a show of reaching for the dropped dagger. The rat noticed and stomped on the weapon to stop Marley from grabbing it, but that's when Marley pounced, clumsily locking an arm around the rat's neck.

"What the-!? Get offa me!" The rat panicked, swinging his dagger wildly as Marley struggled to latch themself onto his back. Try as he might, however, the rat was having difficulty stabbing a target directly on top of him. The rat spun and flailed around, trying in vain to throw the mouse off.

"Let go!"

Marley released their grip and dropped to the grass. A startled yelp pierced the sky as the rat slashed his shoulder with a cut meant for Marley's paws. The mouse then kicked his ankle expecting him to fall, but only causing him to stumble. Still, it was enough for the rat to back off, hissing with pain as he glanced at the fox. Winslow managed to pin him to the ground, snout pressed against the dirt as he twisted an arm behind his back. The rat snarled and turned to the other rat, who had been struggling just to keep the squirrel still the whole time. "This ain't worth it, I'm leavin'!"

"Hey!" The fox roared. "Come back! Don't just leave me here!" But it was too late. Both of the rats had already run off. Marley jogged towards the bound squirrel with heavy steps, lethargically untying the rope wrapped around his body. The squirrel, probably not even Trey's age, stared at Marley with wide, quivering eyes.

The mouse blankly stared back and waved. "Hi. We're here to help." They glanced at the fox lying on the grass and muttered, "Do you mind staying here for a second? This won't take long." The squirrel hastily nodded, so Marley got up and walked over to the now-restrained kidnapper. Winslow was kneeling over his back, a forearm pressed against the fox's throat while the other locked the fox's arms into the air. Marley tilted their head as their eyes glazed over the scratches on the otter's body. Somehow, Winslow managed to avoid getting stabbed by the dagger. Then again, so did Marley, but they had Martin's help to do so. Was Winslow really that good of a fighter? Sure, he had been taught how to fight but otherwise had no professional training after his father passed away. Not to mention he'd only been taught boxing, not wrestling. The mouse put that question aside for now and crouched next to the fox. "Winslow, what do we want to do with him?"

The otter shrugged, offering no immediate response other than his heavy breathing. The otter waited to regain some of his energy before answering. "I'm not lettin' this scumbag walk free." Marley nodded and slowly passed a dagger to Winslow. The otter eyed it silently before grabbing it with a quivering paw. Marley watched as Winslow slowly raised the blade over the fox's throat. He took a deep breath, muttering to himself as he lowered the dagger with wide, unfocused eyes.

Winslow snarled and tossed the dagger aside, hanging his head with a sigh. "I can't. Just tie him up or somethin'. Sorry."

Marley blinked. "Really? Alright." The mouse scratched the back of their ear before padding over to the squirrel. The kid shrunk away, so Marley kept their distance. "We're from Redwall Abbey. Do you have anybody to stay with, or would you be fine if we took you there temporarily?"

"U-um… no-nobody," the squirrel mumbled.

"Alright." Marley stood silently for a moment before crouching to meet the squirrel's gaze. "Are you okay? I mean, you're not hurt, right?"

"Um…" The squirrel looked around his arms and legs before nodding. "I-I'm fine."

"That's good." Marley wasn't sure what else to say. They scanned the young squirrel's face, trying to make out anything that indicated if he trusted them or not. As usual, however, that was something beyond their abilities. Marley sighed and rubbed their neck. "My name's Marley. I'm sorry we couldn't have helped sooner, but we're glad you're safe. And you are?"

The squirrel gulped. "I… Simon."

"That's a nice name. So, Simon, after we tie that fox up, we're going to take you back to Redwall Abbey so you have somewhere safe to stay while you recover. How does that sound to you?"

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The squirrel instead nodded, pulling his tunic over his body.

After Marley and Winslow restrained the fox, they led Simon back to Redwall Abbey. Winslow kept an eye on the squirrel the whole walk over, his expression cut with something Marley couldn't make out. Just going off what they knew about the otter, however, Marley guessed that it wasn't something he would want to talk about, like that "family matter" with Trey. All questions could wait until later, though. The most important thing on the pair's mind right now was bringing the squirrel to safety.

"You did a good job," Martin said, his voice no longer as flat as before.

Marley stared at the sky, unsure how to respond. It wasn't as if it would matter. Martin knew how they were thinking anyway, so they chose to stay silent and bask in the moonlight lifting from Mossflower Woods with every passing hour.

Most of the time, the patients in Redwall Abbey's infirmary consisted of beasts with illness or minor cuts from some other work-related accident. Suffice it to say, the mood was usually serious and light-hearted at the same time, which Marley thought was a paradox, but Finn assured them it made sense. Then again, that might have been because of the infirmary's healer-in-training, Elynnis (or El, as everybeast called her). Throughout the many years they and Finn had known the rabbit, El never seemed to take anything seriously. At least, that's how Finn (and Winslow, although they've known each other for less time) described her.

Winslow and Marley were chatting in their respective cots when El suddenly walked up, paws clasped behind her back as she leaned to the side. "Seasons. So like, from what I can tell, there is nothing too wrong with either of you. I mean, Winslow got scratched up like he fell into a thorn bush, but otherwise, both of you should be fine."

Marley raised a paw. "What about Simon?"

"The kid?" El raised a paw to her chin. "Ok, so, physically speaking, he's fine. Once he's feeling better, Father Athelstan's going to ask him what he wants to do next. At least, that's what I think he's doing. I dunno for sure. That's not my job. I'm just the healer." El stretched her arms with a yawn before burying her sleeves in her custom habit pockets. To be more accurate, El's habit was more of a sweater since she cut the length and tucked it into a short kilt, something that Finn guessed was only tolerated because of her job as the healer-in-training. "I'm soooo tired. Can you tell me now if you need anything else? Because like, I'm not even supposed to be here today. This was my break day, so I didn't prepare anything."

Marley shook their head. "No thanks, we're good."

Winslow flashed a grin. "Aye, thanks El."

"Neato. Right, I'm going to take a nap, but don't hesitate to holler for me or Sister Heyier if you need anything. She should be watching over the dibbuns in the pond today in case one of them starts drowning or something. Alright, see ya." The rabbit left, leaving Winslow and Marley alone in the infirmary. Neither said a word. Minutes passed as Winslow gazed silently at the ceiling while Marley patted their blanket like a drum, recreating a song they and Finn liked.

"Hey, mate?" Winslow asked softly.

Marley looked over. "Hm? Need something?"

Winslow raised an arm, slowly flexing his paw. "Do ye think I'm violent?"

"Huh?" Marley blinked and sat up. "Where's this coming from?"

"I dunno." Winslow let his arm drop to the cot before rolling on his side. "Y'know how after ye left, I kinda lashed out at other beasts?"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"Well, every time it happened, I had to speak wit' the abbot afterwards. I think he just wanted a place fer me to cool off alone so I don't end up punchin' anybeast. But… I dunno. He told me some things. I need ye to honestly answer if ye think I'm violent."

Marley scratched an ear, unsure what Winslow was getting at. "Well… you kind of are."

"Aye," Winslow muttered. "Do ye think I'm gonna hurt someone?"

"No. You're too nice for that."

"Am I? Ye didn't see what I was like when ye left."

"I just know. What did Athelstan tell you?" Marley asked. Winslow bit his lip and gazed out the window. After it became apparent that the otter wouldn't answer, Marley pushed themself out of bed and padded over to Winslow's cot. "Look, I would be lying if I said you weren't a little bit violent, but that isn't all there is to you. You care a lot about me, Finn, and Trey, not to mention you willingly put yourself in danger to save that squirrel. There's more to you than how they see you, and we both know that. You know because you're yourself, and I know because I've seen those other sides of you. I know you're not going to hurt anyone."

Winslow's eyes glazed over, still staring out that window. "'Tis kind of hard fer me to believe that, but thanks, mate," he eventually replied. A few seconds later, the otter smiled and motioned for Marley to sit next to him. "Sorry if I've been actin' strange. It did feel nice to be outside the abbey at least. Oh, by the way, ye never told me how ye got out of that hold. How'd ye do that?"

"Ah." Marley's ears twitched. "I don't remember what you're talking about."

"Ye sure about that?" Winslow smirked. "Sounds like ye know."

"Why are you asking?"

Winslow shrugged and tried to rest his arms under his head before wincing from the scratches. "Just wonderin', that's all."

"Well, if we're both 'just wondering' here, I thought you were only taught how to box, but then I see you pull off these wrestling moves."

Winslow laughed and crossed his arms. "'Tis a bit hard to explain. I'll tell ye later."

"Huh, we're putting off a lot of things to say to each other, huh?"

"Aye, but I'm not mad or anythin'. I trust ye have a reason fer doin' so." Winslow yawned and fluffed his pillow before hugging his blanket against his body. "I'm beat. I'm gonna try to take a nap. Ye should probably get somethin' to eat."

"Alright. Sleep tight, Winslow." Marley waved and walked to the door, hesitating when they remembered a decent portion of the abbey wanted them gone. They hoped that the other residents wouldn't take it out on their friends, but it didn't mean helping would be easy. However, they still needed to eat no matter how everyone would react, so the mouse took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway.

"So, what do you think about Winslow?" Martin asked, propping an elbow against his armchair. Separated between the spirit and Marley was a desk, specifically a large one in the library.

Marley instantly answered, "Winslow's awesome. He's big, strong, cool, nice, I love his voice, he's cute, he makes me feel warm, his fur-"

"Sorry, maybe I should've been more specific," Martin interrupted, leaning back into his chair. The spirit stared off into the sky for an uncomfortable time before shaking his head. "Sorry, you and Winslow reminded me of someone. What I meant, however, was do you think something is different about him?"

Marley tilted their head. "Yeah, I do. I don't know how to describe it, though."

"Well, what are some questions you have?"

"Why do you want me to ask? You know what's up with him, don't you?" Marley flatly asked.

"Not for sure, but I think I have a good idea."

"Just tell me, then."

Martin chuckled, clasping his paws together on the desk. "Do you know why I sometimes withhold information from you?"

"Because you're a jerk?"

"If you say so. There are two main reasons. The biggest is that telling you would make you act in a way that's bad for everyone, but also, considering the threat we're facing, I want you to learn how to ask some of these questions on your own."

Marley tilted their head. "What do you mean 'considering the threat we're facing'? Do you think something related to magicians and seers happened to Winslow? Oh… wait, do you think he also has contact with a spirit now? You said there were multiple of them, and it would explain how he didn't get stabbed in a dagger fight. I mean, I didn't, and that was because you told me what to do."

Martin nodded. "That's what I was assuming."

"Can you sense if he has one or something? I don't know how this works."

"No. You could ask him, though. I reckon he'd tell you."

Marley brushed a paw through their fur, slowing when another question came to mind. "What even are the odds that both of us have one? I mean, I've only heard stories of you visiting beasts. And why now?" They looked at the spirit for an answer, but they guessed he didn't have one if he wasn't immediately telling them. Either that, or he was hiding something again. They wouldn't put it past them.

"I'm not sure," Martin eventually admitted. "If we're correct and Winslow does have contact with a spirit, then I have no idea who or why they chose him. That being said, if we're dealing with a seer- who might also have a spirit backing them, I might add- then having Winslow help would be useful."

"You want me to drag Winslow into this?" Marley asked, raising their voice. "I don't want to put him in any more danger if I can help it."

Martin turned and sighed. Marley realised he was staring towards the abbey's garden. "Marley, believe me when I say that I want him to be safe, too. I don't want you to have to lose somebeast you love that much, but you know how he is. I've only been actively watching him ever since you returned, and I can already tell he's somebeast that will force his help onto you. If he refuses to sit back, then I promise you that I will do my best to keep him safe as well. After all, that's your biggest priority too, isn't it?" Martin's gaze seemed to pierce through the mouse like a well-aimed arrow. Marley looked down, suddenly conscious of how much Martin knows about them.

"Once we solve whatever is going on, you're going to leave me alone, right?"

"Yes. I promise."

Marley's body felt heavy as they stared at the other mouse. "Fine."

Martin tilted his head. "Do you have something you want to say?"

"... No."

When beasts look back at this, what will I be known for? Am I just going to be remembered as a troublemaker while Martin is branded the hero for the hundredth time? How much of what I do is my choice and how much is what fate or Martin decided for me? With Martin inhabiting me, how much of me is still me? How much of what I do going forward is because of me or you? Should I be thinking of you as a friend? A mentor? A god? A schemer?

Who am I to you?

Who are you to me?