Chapter 3

Inner Circle

"So, today's the day, hm?" Martin asked as he walked through the cloisters. Marley followed him, choosing to gaze at the clouds instead of the armoured mouse, but tonight's sight wasn't as pretty as Marley would've liked. Irritatingly vibrant hues of purple, red, and pink were tossed haphazardly across the sky like a stained glass window or those colourful wooden blocks dibbuns played with. For a moment, Marley wondered if the lacklustre environment was their or Martin's fault before coming to the conclusion that it didn't matter.

"Yeah, I'm allowed to return to Redwall Abbey at sunrise. I might come back earlier, though. It's not like they can do anything about it." Marley wasn't sure why Martin summoned them back here, but they had a suspicion that it was an attempt to gain their trust given what Marley said at their last meeting. Regardless of the reason why, they made sure to keep a tail length's distance away from the other mouse.

"Hm." The armoured mouse folded his arms. "How do you feel about coming back?"

Marley shrugged. "I don't know. They stiffly placed a paw against their chest, feeling their heart pound rapidly beneath their tunic. "I think… excited? Or scared? I can't tell. Can you?" The armoured mouse nodded but chose not to elaborate. Marley filled the silence by asking, "How do you think they will treat me when I get back?"

Martin shook his head. "You have friends, Marley. Just focus on that."

"Is that you telling me to do something for some grand plan or…?"

"No, just speaking generally. Take it from me, sometimes that's all you need to get by."

"You are making it sound like you know something bad is going to happen when I get back."

"Marley, considering what you've done, you have to know that things won't go smoothly, right?" The armoured mouse paused when they reached the staircase leading into the great hall. "Putting that aside, do you mind if I ask something as well?"

"Another question? Oh, go right ahead," Marley answered dryly.

"You have been asking your fair share of questions, too," the armoured mouse said. Marley got the sense he was joking. They weren't sure why. It just popped into their head. "How do you feel my abbey is doing?"

"Why are you asking me that? Can't you see everything that happens inside?"

"I can, but…" Martin glanced over his shoulder at a bench in the courtyard. Marley turned and realised that bench wasn't in the real Redwall Abbey the last time they checked. Now that they thought about it, the layout of this version of the courtyard looked slightly different to the real one. "... Things change. I have seen Redwall Abbey from its beginnings until now, but I still can't help but look at it from the perspective of a founder. I like to hear the point of view of beasts currently living in it with their current ideas and goals. You can be honest. I don't mind."

"Ah." Marley buried their paws in their pockets and slowly looked up at the other mouse. They weren't sure why they were noticing this now, but the longcoat Martin was wearing felt a bit too elaborate. Was Martin ever depicted with a longcoat? "Um, I… like it. Overall, I mean. There are… a lot of things I don't like and can't let go of, but I grew up with my best friends there. That by itself is more than enough for me."

Martin tapped his finger idly against the side of his armour as he listened to Marley. Eventually, he stopped and said, "And I bet you want to return and see them again, correct?"

"More than anything else in the world."

The armoured mouse chuckled softly. "Then, I will let you go. See you later."

Marley couldn't wait any longer. The moment they woke up, they scrambled out of the burrow and ran straight for Redwall Abbey. The moon shone brightly above them, casting slits of light through the dense foliage. All the while, they couldn't help but think of the beasts they would see when they got back. Most of the other residents kept their distance, even before they were banished, but there were two that they knew would be there no matter what, and if for nothing else, they would return to Redwall just for them.

However, Marley's pace slowed as the trees thinned out, allowing more moonlight to illuminate their path home. Once they saw the giant red sandstone abbey standing high above the rest of Mossflower, they stopped. There it was. Marley's head pounded violently and their throat dried once they laid eyes on the giant wall surrounding the main building. They guessed it was because of dehydration. Marley took a quivering step forward, then another, inching ever so closer towards home. "Hello?" They called out once they were in front of the main gate. "Is anyone there? It's me, Marley."

Marley waited a minute or so with admittedly low expectations. Nobeast was usually awake at this time of night, anyway. They were about to leave and try breaking open one of the side doors when the main gate opened a crack. The mouse froze and stared at the gap before slowly padding inside. As they expected, the lawns were empty, but if that was the case, who opened the gate for them? Marley's breath hitched as they realised it must have been one of two beasts. All hesitation vanished. They darted further in, driven by something deep within their heart.

"Marleyyyyyy!" Somebeast howled.

Marley's breath was forced out of their chest as something heavy tackled them to the ground. A large, rudder-like tail wagged excitedly from behind a river otter as he wrapped his limbs around the mouse like a vice. "Marley! Mate! Haha! Yer back! Yer finally back! I've missed ye so much, ye have no idea! Yer back, yer back, yer baaack!" he screamed. Even with Marley pinned to the ground and unable to see their "attacker", they knew who it was immediately. The way the otter hugged them tightly gave it away. It was Winslow Wakepull.

Marley struggled to push the laughing otter away, but it was like moving a boulder. They eventually managed to squirm out of his grip and rolled onto their belly. Winslow sat up with a massive grin on his face, beaming at the mouse who had the same deadpan expression. Marley scratched their ears and spoke. "Love seeing you again, Winslow. Sorry for being gone for so long."

"Mate, ye've got nothin' to be sorry fer! I'm just so glad yer okay! Yer here, yer okay, yer safe, yer back!" he repeated multiple times before pulling the mouse into a tight hug. Marley's chest warmed as they reciprocated the gesture, wrapping their arms around the otter's chest. Winslow giggled and nuzzled their neck only to pull away a moment later. "By the claw, are ye okay, mate? Ye feel a bit cold."

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are ye sure? When was the last time ye've eaten?"

"Yesterday. Well, technically it wasn't that long ago."

"What did ye have?"

"I found some nuts. That's kind of it."

Winslow pulled away and rustled the mouse's headfur. "That reminds me. Stay right here, aye right? I've got somethin' fer ye. Ahh! Marley's back! I still can't believe it! Yer back!" Winslow giggled and bolted away before Marley could say anything. They could smell the food Winslow brought over before he arrived: honey porridge, some pears, and a glass of apple juice. Marley's mouth watered as they saw the food they had been denied for the past 70 days. "Sorry, I wanted to get ye fish, too, but I asked El, and she said I shouldn't feed ye too much this early. That, and I couldn't catch any. Eat up." Winslow handed the tray to the mouse, who grabbed it hastily.

"Thanks, Winslow." Marley quickly bit into a pear, savouring the tart fruit. "Y'know, you didn't have to try catching a fish just for me."

"'Tis alright! I knew ye'd be starvin' after ye came back and I thought it'd be amazin' to have some after banishment. Also, I wanted to share. How's the food?"

Marley swallowed a spoonful of porridge and quickly went for another. "Great."

"Mate, slow down, yer gonna get yerself sick," Winslow chuckled.

"Sorry, I wasn't that great at finding stuff to eat."

Winslow chuckled again, quieter this time. "Good thing yer back, then. Did ye have a hard time out there?"

Marley chewed silently for a moment, recalling how they struggled to figure out what was edible and got themself sick multiple times. "I managed." The mouse grabbed the pear to take another bite when they realised something. A feeling of heaviness rose in their chest as they looked around. Why was it only Winslow here? Weren't there two beasts that were supposed to greet them? "Winslow, can I ask something?"

"Go ahead, mate."

"Where is Finn?"

At this, Winslow turned away. Marley had been extremely close with Finn ever since the two were dibbuns, so they were surprised that she wasn't here. The otter tapped his tail against the ground as he spoke. "She's… Finn told me to tell ye that she's glad yer safe and sound, but she didn't want to be here to see ye return."

"What? Why? It's she alright?"

Winslow sighed. "Just give her a bit of time. She still feels really guilty and thinks she's the reason ye were kicked out. I get the idea she thinks ye'd be better off without her."

"But that wasn't her fault, I'll tell her-"

"Marley, I already tried tellin' her that, but she didn't listen. I can't blame her, though. That entire day was a massive pile of shit," Winslow growled. "Besides, they needed somebeast to blame, and, of course, it always goes to her. It doesn't matter if ye don't see it as her fault, because she does. Just give her some time, aye? She'll come around."

Marley stared at Winslow and then at the main building. Finn was definitely awake right now. She usually spent her nights in the loom room where nobody could bother her. Did she think they hated her or something? "I hope she's alright."

"She'll hang in there, and I'll still be checkin' up on her. Besides, if ye really need to tell her somethin', just tell me and I'll carry the message over."

Marley examined Winslow's smile, but it just looked the same as any of his others even after all the time they spent together. I wish I could tell the difference. "What about you, Winslow? Are you hanging in there?"

"Me? Why wouldn't I be? Yer back!"

"I mean before. I didn't put you through too much by leaving, did I?"

Winslow leaned back and stared at the moon. "Don't worry about it, mate. Yer here, so how I felt then doesn't matter anymore. Besides, I knew ye had to do what ye did and I don't exactly have a place to complain. I appreciate ye askin' about me, though. That bein' said, ye weren't hurt or nothin', right? Like, ye didn't see anyone… bad out there, did ye?"

Marley immediately shook their head. "No, I didn't." I did see Martin, though. Should I tell him? Then again, I barely know what I'm supposed to do. I don't think he'd believe me, anyway. Oh, that reminds me, I have to research Martin's sword for that stoat. "Hey, are you free tomorrow? I wanted to do something in the library and I might need some help."

Winslow clicked his tongue. "Sorry, mate, but I promised Roric I'd help her wit' somethin' tomorrow. Ye could ask Finn- ahem. Um, ye could ask somebody… well… I hope ye have fun on yer own?"

Marley's ears twitched. "Is there something I should know?"

"No, not now. Ye can probably guess, but I'll tell ye fer sure tomorrow. I don't want to dampen the mood when ye just got back." Winslow smiled again, although it was less noticeable this time. "I still can't believe yer here wit' me. I'm so glad nothin' happened to ye."

Nothing happened, huh?

A strange pressure formed inside of Marley's chest. The mouse nodded and hugged Winslow tight. "Yeah. I'm glad, too."

There once was a weasel named Urbahn.

There was also a wildcat named Pincers, but travelling with him wasn't an option anymore after Urbahn punched him in the face and left him in the hut, something he deeply regretted if only because Pincers was great at carrying his supplies. Granted, the entire point of the mission was that Urbahn takes down Redwall Abbey on his own, but could he tweak the definition of "on his own" to include a burly wildcat to carry all of his stuff?

Urbahn groaned as he leaned against a tree, panting raggedly as he struggled to catch his breath. Try as he might to keep his energy, he only ever worked as a performer and a seer, two jobs that weren't known for consistent heavy lifting, especially when there were always other beasts around to bear the brunt of the work. The weasel slipped the knapsack off his back and tore it open. Maybe I should rest and think of a plan 'fore I get there.

When it came to utilising Abram's information, Urbahn wasn't sure how much he could believe. The weasel's supposed paranoia was already put into question since he would already be anxious around mice like any other vermin in Mossflower. He might not react the same around other weasels. On the other paw, he was either growing or collecting dangerous herbs, which would give him a good reason to be cautious of everyone. The way he saw it, he had two options: stay as a weasel to try to befriend him or disguise himself as a woodlander to scare him. If he wanted this plan to work, he needed to gain the weasel's trust very quickly.

A thin smile crept on Urbahn's face as he thought of an easy way to do just that. He combed through his belongings before pulling out an otter mask and holding it up to the moonlight. "Ah, otters," he drawled. "They can give ye the warmest smile an ol' sailor has ever seen and maul a rat to death on the same day. Scary lil' freaks, but that's what makes 'em perfect."

After wrapping the mask over his face, Urbahn loosened his tunic and tousled his fur. A few more touches later and his new character would be set. He widened his stance, arched his back, started breathing louder than any normal beast would, and curled his lips to accentuate his fangs. Finally, Urbahn reached into his bag and pulled out a fake tail (which doubled as his pillow for the past few nights). Urbahn cleared his throat and smiled. "Strike me rudder, I'm starvin'! I could go fer a nice weasel fer dinner. Now, where shall I look?"

Gubbins hated his name. His mother must've thought it was cute, but since he grew up around other weasels, it was like his mother gave his peers an invitation to bully him on a silver platter. Suffice it to say, Gubbins, or as he was now called, Birchtail (since he had a tail and saw a birch tree once), didn't like beasts that much. His biggest dream was to have enough influence to order somebeast to die on the spot like the warlords he had been told in stories. Unfortunately, as somebeast who dreamed of power, interacting with other beasts was an inevitability.

The solution he conjured was practically perfect in his eyes. His plan let him stay far away from everybeast while gaining connections with various hordes and leaders across Mossflower Woods. What was it? Simple: learn how to farm herbs similar to those used by the Flitchaye and then sell them. It was a pain to figure out how to keep the plants alive at first, even with prior farmhand experience, but once he got it down, he was set. Plus, the work gave him the added benefit of protection since he was one of the few beasts who knew how to take care of the herbs, and no one would be stupid enough to kill their supplier, right? (Birchtail initially referred to the plants as Sleepyleaves but one of his customers thought that was stupid and started calling them Somnians).

That being said, his aforementioned antisocial behaviour and trust issues made him pretty paranoid regardless of his safety. He knew the woodlanders thought of him as an oddball, but what did he care? If that's how they saw things, that's on them.

Birchtail returned home to his one-room hut after a long day of tending to the Somnians and immediately collapsed onto his cot. "Dear Vulpuz," he growled, "I need ter hire a helper… nevermind, that requires talkin' ter beasts." Birchtail rolled onto his back and gazed at the ceiling. Okay, so I need ter put together four batches by the end o' winter, two fer that ferret, one fer the bandit wit' the stupid hat- wait, no, make that two, and… ugh. Why does risin' ter power have t'take so dang long? At least that ferret's offerin' me a position if all goes well… Vulpuz, this is lame.

A knock on the door interrupted Birchtail's daily complaining time, much to his irritation. "Whaddya want?" He snarled. When he didn't get a reply, the weasel growled and forced himself up. As the knocking intensified, Birchtail grabbed a dagger from under his cot and plodded to the door. "Are yew deaf? I asked yew a question!" He peered through the window to get a look at his visitor when he locked eyes with an otter standing outside. Birchtail froze. The otter bared his massive fangs and stomped towards the front. "No, stay back, I've got a weapon," Birchtail warned. The weasel waved his dagger threateningly but the otter kept going.

Birchtail yelped as the otter kicked the door, sending splinters across the room. "What the hell is wrong wit' yew?" He yelled in the most threatening tone he could muster, but the weasel was powerless to stop his assailant.

The door swung open with a crack and in came a monstrous-looking otter wielding a (strangely ornate) rapier. Spittle dripped from his mouth as he aimed his weapon at Birchtail. "Perfect. Ye look like a fine weasel fer my tastes."

"Excuse me?"

The otter lunged and thrust the rapier forward. Birchtail averted his eyes only to quickly realise the otter missed. Now was his chance. The weasel spun the dagger in his paw and swiped at the otter, who barely managed to twist away. Despite the otter's earlier behaviour, his gaze hardened into something more focused. Fortunately for Birchtail, focus meant nothing if you simply sucked at fighting.

Birchtail snarled as he grasped the otter's wrist. The lutrine attempted to stab the weasel, but his thrusts were clumsy, especially given their proximity. Birchtail readied his dagger to stab but was stopped when the otter elbowed him in the stomach.

As Birchtail yelped and dropped the dagger, it dawned on him that he hadn't been in a proper fight for a long time, and even then, he was a teenager. He also lost, which didn't give him the brightest outlook.

Birchtail pulled away from the otter, glancing around his home for a makeshift weapon. Meanwhile, his assailant kicked the dagger away and levelled his rapier. The door was blocked, his weapon gone, and unless he wanted to fight back with a pillow, Birchtail was screwed unless he did something risky.

"Gods, damn you!" Birchtail snarled before charging straight at the otter. As the otter tightened his grip on the rapier, Birchtail fell to the ground and slid into his legs. The two collapsed into each other, prompting Birchtail to grope around for the dagger.

The sound of metal sliding against wood punctuated the air as Birchtail picked up his weapon. Before the otter could recover, too! The weasel grinned as he scrambled onto all fours and stabbed the first thing he saw- the otter's tail. His pride faded into confusion as the blade sunk into the flesh as if he were cutting into a pillow. It tore way too easily. The otter turned before he could make sense of what just happened and stabbed Birchtail in the shoulder. The weasel groaned and fell to the floor, reaching a paw up to his arm. A wave of panic and nausea assaulted his body as he realised the blade was still in there. Meanwhile, the otter had gotten up and patted his pockets as if he were looking for something. "Crap. Fergot my flint and steel. I'll be back, ye better not move, or else I'll find ye!" The otter walked up to a cowering Birchtail, ripped the rapier out of his shoulder, and pinned Birchtail's forearm to the ground with the blade.

Birchtail screamed as blinding pain shot up his body, but for a second he could swear that the otter's face flickered with worry. It must've been his imagination though, since the otter casually left the house afterwards. Birchtail reached a trembling paw over to the rapier embedded in his arm before deciding he shouldn't touch it. He was stuck. He couldn't move unless he wanted to be in a lot of pain. The weasel stared at the open door, silently praying for somebeast to come by and save him.

As if on cue, another weasel was walking past with a heavy backpack, gazing at the sky before whipping his head around. Birchtail's eyes lit up as he called out, "Hey, yew there! Kin yew come over here fer a sec?"

The other weasel raised a brow and turned. "What?"

"I said come over here, yew dolt!" Birchtail snapped.

The other weasel walked over and ducked through the doorway, glancing around at the small house. "Now, what the hell happened here?"

"I got attacked by an otter," Birchtail explained. "I think he's still in th'area so yer in trouble too. I think he wants ter eat me or somethin'. Yew need ter get rid of 'im, now!"

The other weasel snorted and reached a paw into his pocket. "Damn otters. Fine. It'll be nice to take one down. On one condition: ya let me stay here either for a week or until my group comes here to pick me up. Whichever comes first."

"Are yew jokin' me?" Birchtail bared his fangs and stared at his arm. The blood trickling out of the wound was starting to make him nervous. If he didn't agree, he'd either bleed out and die or get torn apart by some stupid otter. "Fine, fine, just get rid of 'im!"

"Sounds like a plan. I'll be back in a bit." The other weasel nodded and ducked out of the home, leaving Birchtail to lie on the floor alone. His head felt light, and he couldn't tell if it was because of fear or blood loss. Maybe both. Gods, this ain't how I die, is it? I was supposed to die in some grand coup or battle, not on the floor of a crappy hut. This sucks. On the bright side, if that guy does come back, mebbe he'll put in a good word fer me. Yeah, I'll just put it like that, fer now.

Just when Birchtail was about to give up and try pulling the rapier out by himself, the weasel returned with his tunic smeared with blood. A wave of relief washed over Birchtail. "Didja git 'im?"

"Yup. He shouldn't be a problem anymore. Now, do ya need me to help ya wit' that sword?"

"Yes, just hurry up!"

The other weasel nodded and knelt next to Birchtail, nervously eying his arm. "Ya got any stitches or anythin'?"

"Yes, in the drawer next to the door." The weasel left and returned with the items needed to stitch up Birchtail's wound. Quite frankly, just thinking about it made Birchtail sick. He hoped this wouldn't impact his work too much. To take his thoughts away from his injury, he turned away and asked, "So, who're yew, anyway?"

The other weasel reached for the rapier and paused. He turned to Birchtail and grinned. "The name's Urbahn. Nice to meet'cha."

Marley's eyes shot open. They were back in the dormitories with Winslow's body wrapped tightly around theirs. The otter was fast asleep, snoring softly as he held the mouse against his chest. Marley blinked and saw Martin standing in the corner. The armoured mouse stepped forward, pausing when he noticed the otter sleeping next to Marley.

Marley stared at the spirit, waiting with bated breath for something to happen. Eventually, Martin vanished with a nod, but not before leaving Marley with a message.

"I was going to tell you something, but it can wait until tomorrow. I'll leave you to be with your friend for now. Once again, I'm sorry. I know you want me to leave you alone, but this has to be done. Good night, Marley."