"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." ~Ernest Hemingway.

Charcoal-dark steel armor framed the lean and lanky sable's body as he strutted into the vermin camp, coolly twirling the twin daggers in his paws. In his left paw, a studded steel knife protruded from a leather-bound hilt in an expert reverse grip. In his right, a jewel-encrusted dagger that curved upwards at the blade extended from a handle of polished shining brass. An impressive broadsword forged of the finest folded steel hung strapped to his back.

All gazes followed the armored sable striding confidently through the camp. He could not mistake the curiosity in their eyes and the apprehension in their stares. Shoulders pulled back, head held high. A fanged smirk pulled at his lips from their silent staring, haughty and vain.

To their surprise, he stopped before the black-and-gold tent. He bowed his unarmored head before its flaps.

Then the flaps parted. Nagrig Deathblade stepped out of the tent and approached the kneeling sable. Zakrul and Adhuxnuo flanked either side of him.

"Dragel," Nagrig spoke the sable's name in an uncharacteristic formality. He spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture and grinned broadly, showing his fangs in the morning sunlight. "At last, you've arrived. Not a moment too soon."

"Milord Deathblade," Dragel lifted his head, pride shining in his eyes. "I've arrived as ya requested. I brin' me reinforcements as promised from Terramort Isle. His Royal Majesty, da Kin' of Searats, is presently preoccupied wit' many pressin' matters o' state. Thus 'e sent me in 'is stead."

"King Grimscar Ragthorn would not miss a thrilling conquest like this for the world, Dragel," Nagrig nodded his understanding. "But the Land of Death requires his vigilant supervision. It is no easy land to rule. Grimscar will have other opportunities to satiate his ravenous bloodthirst. He can rest assured of that. You always are his greatest mercenary, Dragel. He couldn't have sent anybeast better."

Nagrig walked past Dragel down the length of the camp, motioning for the sable to join him. "Come. Walk with me."

Dragel joined Nagrig on his left side abreast of Zakrul, matching the commanding strides of the two royal rats.

"I've sent scouts out to gang-press vermin all around Mossflower into my service," Nagrig explained as they walked the perimeter of the camp. "You'll want to look out for Darksnout, Skullback, and Mudclaw. They should return around sunset, per their usual curfew."

He gestured to a large, horizontal, tan-colored tent on their left. Inside, Khaimtsu and Krodnal fitted the gang-pressed vermin for suits of armor. Brosk and Ember pressed spears, swords, daggers, and slings, bows and quivers of arrows into their paws. The woodland vermin shuddered at the cold metal in their palms, and gulped or whimpered at the lifeless armor being tied to their bodies.

Dragel scoffed, curling his lip in sadistic disdain. "Dey don't look like much, compared t' da rest o' yar soldiers." Their frightened, worried expressions elicited a callous sneer from the sable.

"They've lived sheltered lives," Nagrig admitted, his tone dirty with disapproval. He folded his arms over his chest and shot the goodbeasts a dark scowl of disapproval. When they met his eyes, they cleared their throats, trying to adopt pathetic attempts at rough and aggressive expressions.

"Farmers, tanners, artisans; hardly battle-worthy. Out of shape. too. But battle will teach them much of the world and of life. They shall open their eyes and minds to reality. In the end, they'll follow every command."

"Gan'-pressin' woodland vermin, huh?" Dragel thought aloud, sneering. "Like ol' Cluny da Scourge before ya."

"I'll admit he did serve as the inspiration," Nagrig stroked his chin, a devious smirk spreading across the Scornful Tyrant's face. "I even tried to steal my quarry out right from under the Redwallers' noses. Slagar the Slaver did that in seasons of old. But the difference is that he actually succeeded."

He curled his paw into a fist and beat it confidently to his chest. "Nevertheless, after all the hard work is done, the size of my army will put even the legendary Scourge's to shame. Why, if I had him here, I'd make him kneel and beg for my pardon. Right before I severed his bladed tail and stabbed him to death with it!"

He made a violent stabbing motion in the air with an invisible weapon. "It's all about the psychological might, Dragel. The physical might should only be a last resort."

The rat gave the sable a reaffirming nod. "Redwall Abbey will be powerless against us. We'll raze it to the last red sandstone if they don't give us what we want."

A sudden smack cut him off. A pine marten (Nagrig recognized him as the same one whom he had kicked in the shins some three days before) had elbowed Krodnal in the stomach when the stoat tried to sling a quiver of arrows across his back.

Krodnal reeled, his body crumpling from the blow knocking the wind out of him. Zakrul and Adhuxnuo caught him before he hit the tent floor.

The pine marten tossed his spear and shield aside. He then scrambled to remove the bow from his back, spinning around in frantic circles and knocking down the other creatures in the tent.

Dragel moved in a flash. In an instant, he had drawn his jewel-encrusted dagger and dashed in front of the pine marten. He seized the mustelid by the shoulder to spin him around until they were face-to-face. He gripped his dagger tightly, and slowly lined up its deadly steel point to the pine marten's eye level.

The marten screamed aloud at the sight of the pointed curved blade so close to his eyes. He instinctively shut them tight. Dragel's open paw shot up and clenched around the mustelid's chin, tightening around the jawbone. His prey let out a shout of pain and then a whimper, shuddering in his grip.

Dragel huffed out of his nose in displeasure and released the pine marten's jaw. He grabbed the vermin by the ears to throw him to the ground, shouting in disgust. The intimidated marten lay there, whimpering and shaking, before slowly standing up.

"We stand for righteousness and honesty!" A lanky, middle-aged, dark brown polecat protested, shaking his armored fists furiously. He dropped his sword and shield to the floor in objection, as if to prove his point. "We're not your puppets to string along or front-line fodder to be sacrificed on the front lines! We're creatures, too, with families and homes and trades to live for! We won't fight for you! We're not that kind of vermin!"

When Nagrig turned to regard the polecat, Zakrul and Adhuxnuo helped Krodnal back to his feet. The stoat held his stomach, shooting the pine marten a heated, furious glare. Dragel grabbed the marten by the collar of his armor, forcing him to his feet. Nagrig followed suit. Khaimtsu picked up the quiver and gathered the arrows that had fallen out.

"Ya shall all figh' fer High Lord Deathblade," Dragel commanded through gritted teeth. He pointed an accusing claw first at the polecat, then the pine marten. "Whether ya live or die in da upcomin' battle is no concern o' ours. Like in a game o' chess, ya're all nuthin' but pawns t' be sacrificed." He circled his claw around the entire group.

Now all the vermin shouted in united protest. They threw their weapons and shields down and started unstrapping their armor from off their bodies. Dragel rolled his eyes and turned away from the growing ruckus. Zakrul sighed in dismay and facepalmed himself. Adhuxnuo simply shook his head and facepalmed himself, shrugging in confusion.

"Silence!" Nagrig roared, clanging his gauntlets together with all his strength. The metallic resonance echoed through every corner of the camp. In an instant, the gang-pressed vermin all fell silent. Shuddering and apologizing sheepishly, they picked up their weapons. Though a scarce few muttered curses and worries under their breaths.

Krodnal finished putting the quiver across the marten's back. Dragel turned on his heels without another word and resumed his place at Nagrig's side.

"Me blades thirst fer woodlander blood," he remarked, speaking to nobeast in particular. He twirled his daggers between his fingers. He patted the hilt of the broadsword strapped to his left hip. "It has been too lon' since dey've been fed. Killin' disobedient corsairs an' peasants on da whims of Kin' Grimscar just ain't doin' it fer me, milord. I anticipate sheddin' da blood o' Redwall Abbey an' Mossflower. Ya said dey didn't give inta yar demands, my Lord, even after ya explained dem very plainly as only ya can?"

"No, they didn't," Nagrig grumbled bitterly. Dragel noticed they had stopped at one of the many spear racks that Brosk and Adhuxnuo had assembled days earlier. Nagrig removed a spear from the rack, inspecting it meticulously.

"They're crafty beasts, those blasted Redwallers." Zakrul picked up the telling while Nagrig was occupied. "Smarter than they look. Seem to have the luckiest timing, too."

Nagrig grunted and shook his head in disbelief, returning the spear to its place on the rack. "Their hubris, however, shall be their inevitable downfall. I explained my terms plain and simple. Yet they refused to listen. We promised to leave them in peace if they turned over the Sandeyes, and they did not believe us. Wretched fools."

Zakrul grinned a wicked grin from ear to ear. "Perhaps you can satisfy your blades' bloodlust on them, Dragel, and whatever allies they may dare to assemble for their feeble defenses."

Dragel matched Zakrul's callous grin. He traced his fingertips admiringly along the blades of his daggers. An eager shine twinkled in his callous eyes. "Well, if it's a war dey want, den it's a war dey'll get!"

He dropped to one knee before Nagrig. "Lord Nagrig Deathblade. My thoughts tell me dat these inexperienced vermin o' Mossflower migh' not figh' for ya. If dat turns out t' be da case, know wit' a reassurance dat da armies o' Terramort Isle are at yar comman'. We shall fill da numbers these basic, lunatic vermin dare leave empty. Our loyalty is beyon' any doubt. My soldiers an' I are at yar disposal."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Nagrig nodded his agreement. Dragel stood to his feet. Nagrig turned to face the sun, high in the sky, bathing his camp and the Skeleton Rocks in golden light.

"Blood follows blood. That sun shall be bathed in it multiple times over before the first month of autumn is even past."

"If I'm fortunate, I migh' even get t' kill a special member o' Redwall," Dragel remarked. He unsheathed his basket-hilted tower sword and looked at it closely. "Like a member o' their pompous, self-righteous order. Or even da puny, foolish Abbot himself."

"You might…if Nagrig and I don't beat you to it first!" Zakrul lips pulled into a cunning smirk.

Dragel's lips pulled into a sneer, showing his fangs. "I do love a little frien'ly competition." He licked his lips hungrily, as if imagining the taste of blood on them.

"How about we don't turn this into a competition?" Nagrig suggested, waving a paw dismissively through the air. "We must all work together if we are to bring down Redwall. I can personally guarantee that everyone will have their chance to spill woodlander blood. Never fear, Dragel."

He put his paws on his hips, his countenance turning thoughtful. "Now that you've arrived, Dragel, we can make the final preparations for our ultimate assault. Those pint-sized woodlanders won't know what hit them until it's too late."

"Milord Deathblade!"

From within the brush, Baric came bounding out. A lumbering Ripspit closely followed him. They clambered to a sudden stop before Nagrig Deathblade. He stood near the westmost boundaries of the camp alongside Adhuxnuo and Zakrul.

"Ah, Baric, Ripspit!" Nagrig acknowledged them. "I trust your little leisurely saunter through Mossflower was productive? Tell me, what gossip have you uncovered around the forest? Anything we can use to our advantage over Redwall Abbey?"

"Aye, yer Lordship," the corpulent tan-orange wearet scratched idly at his overgrown stomach. "We foun' a place in a little clearin' near Redwall. A hut belon'in' t' a beast named…er…'Ang on, um…Fernlo? No, that's not it. Farnlack? Oh, no, wait, it's righ' on th' tip o' me tongue…"

Baric facepalmed himself, sighing in exasperation. "Fernleaf! You belly-bottomed, brick-brained, pot-bellied grog swigger! His name is Fernleaf!"

"Fernleaf, aye!" Ripspit perked up and jerked a finger in the air, as if he hadn't heard the leather-armored rat correcting him. "Tha's roigh'! 'Is name is Fernleaf!"

Baric shook his head and groaned. "Anyway, Lord Deathblade. The grog swigger Ripspit and I did a bit of reconnaissance. We observed this here Fernleaf from the shadows. He's a ferret, you see, sir. Does some herbalist and healing work for them creatures of Mossflower. Sometimes he helps at Redwall, too, in their cozy little Infirmary."

A mocking grin spread across the rat's face. "Maybe Mudclaw and his boys can convince him to fight for us?"

"I'd be happy t' stick my daggers in 'im if'n he doesn't," Dragel twirled his daggers expertly between his fingers and thumb before sheathing them.

"A most stellar idea, Baric," Nagrig interjected, bringing the conversation back on track. He hit his fist into his palm as a gesture of approval. "Last I spoke to them, Mudclaw's crew headed off in Redwall's direction. Meet up and direct them to this Fernleaf. If he doesn't turn to our side easily, then do not hesitate to use force. Threaten, coerce, manipulate him. I do not want him dead. I want him broken. He'll be an invaluable asset to our cause, both as a healer and a fighter."

"Any other news?" Zakrul asked, stepping abreast of Nagrig.

"Aye, Lord Zakrul," Ripspit nodded. He turned his head and spit a gob of slobber on the grass beside him. Baric backed away and grimaced in disgust. Ripspit, not noticing, jerked his thumb at the northeast side of the forest. "We also 'eard rumors roun' Mossflower o' dem Guosim shrews doin' a thin' with them Guerilla Union o' Rovin' an' Foigh'in Shrews. Foightin' school or sumfink like tha'. They're gath'rin at dem ol' Brockhall ruins."

Adhuxnuo placed a thoughtful paw on Nagrig's shoulder. "This may be an opportunity for us, sire. The Sandeyes might be there participating in whatever those shrews are doing. With all luck, you may be able to snatch them away from under the Guosim and Guoraf's noses."

"Without luck, though, I may have to incapacitate the Sandeyes myself with my own bare paws," Nagrig finished the thought for his fellow rat. He stared down at his armored paws. Then he thoughtfully clenched them into fists. "Yes, that'll be perfect. I'd be a fool to pass up this golden opportunity."

"A fightin' school, huh?" Dragel started stretching his arms and legs at the thought of the event. "I'd like t' see this fer meself, too. I've been stuck on my blasted shipfer da past four days. I could use da exercise. With yar permission, my Lord, I'll head off t' tell me troops t' set up camp, an' den meet ya at Brockhall."

"So, you're the leader of the reinforcements we've been expecting, eh?" Baric narrowed his eyes and studied Dragel closely, putting a paw to his chin in thought. "You don't look like much. Nagrig talked up a real storm about you, dontcha know. Hope you're stronger than his words painted you out to be."

Dragel, hardly fazed, stuck his nose up at the rat, curling his lips into a mirthless smile. "I'd warn ya not ta underestimate my 'bilities, Baric. I've been at dis mercen'ry business since yar bygone days of being a mere suckling on yar mother's chest. Do us both a favor an' don't give me a reason ta hurt ya, or dis overweight bones-fer-brains ya call Ripspit. 'Is Lordship needs us both in prime fightin' shape fer when we finally attack Redwall."

Ripspit's eyes widened and he stepped away from Dragel, backing up against the trees. "I thin' we should listen t' him, Baric. 'E means business."

"Business in blood, Ripspit," Dragel stated in an ominous growl. He licked the blades of his daggers, imagining fresh warm blood dripping from them. His cold, heartless eyes locked on the shuddering wearet.

Nagrig looked back up at Baric and Ripspit. "Excellent work, you two. Now, the day is still somewhat young. Go find Mudclaw's crew and meet with that Fernleaf. I want him turned to our side before sunset. No exceptions. No excuses. Threaten. Coerce. Bargain with him if you must. Failure is not an option. Now off with you two!"

Baric snapped to attention and saluted, touching the side of his paw to his brow. Ripspit let out a loud and hearty belch, to which Baric instinctively averted his gaze, repulsed. Ripspit made a clumsy saluting gesture, his paw reaching up halfway to his temples. Without a word, the two mercenaries turned tail and disappeared back into the deep forest brush.

"Now, my brothers," Nagrig turned to Zakrul, Adhuxnuo, and Dragel. "The four of us shall head to Brockhall and investigate this fighting school of sorts." His lips parted into a malicious sneer. "If luck is on our side, we'll be able to snatch the Sandeyes away from the shrews and be back here just in time for dinner."

Nagrig rubbed his gauntleted paws together. Their razor-sharp metallic noises drowned out the ambiances of the camp and forest. He turned his eyebrows downward and stretched his lips into a devious grin.

"Either I can steal the Sandeyes away when the shrews aren't looking…or I can kill them right then and there. In any case, it doesn't matter. I will emerge victorious at last!"

As he and the others left to make travel preparations, Dragel perched himself atop a tall boulder. He drew his broadsword and pointed the impressive blade southwest.

"At lon' last, Redwall! At lon' last I shall fulfill th' lifelon' ambition o' Grimscar Ragthorn, th' Kin' o' Searats, to brin' Redwall to its knees! I'm comin' fer yer riches, an' yer blood! I, Dragel o' Terramort Isle, swear t' be th' ruin o' Redwall Abbey!"

"You're challenging me?!"

Jared stared agape at Jacob. The wolf responded with a cheeky grin.

"Yep," Jacob continued to rub the headfur between Jared's ears. "I want to challenge you, Jared Sandeye, to an exhibition fight. Your Kōnōtash against my wrestling. How about it?"

The wolf's playful yet gentle rubbing seemed to put the squirrel at ease. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh to enjoy the large paw smoothly ruffling his soft silky headfur.

"You'll show me all those strong wrestling moves that Dallas and Oliver taught you? Is that your plan?"

"Only if you don't hold back with all your hard-hitting Kōnōtash moves you used against Gavlin," Jacob removed his paw from Jared's head and put his fists on his hips. He leaned down over him, his shadow practically covering the shorter woodlander as his mouth spread into a cheeky fanged grin. "And maybe a lot more, if you're willing?"

"I…" Earnest reluctance creased Jared's brow as he reopened his eyes. "I don't know." He grimaced, hesitant. "You're much stronger and taller than me, Jake. All you'd have to do is step on me, and you'd win in an instant."

Jacob shook his head and waved his palms to quiet him. He returned his paw to its former place between Jared's ears, tenderly stroking his headfur. "I promise I'll hold back against you, Jared. You're not my enemy. I certainly don't want you as mine."

"I'm still not sure whether this is a good idea…" Jared gazed down at his feet, not meeting the wolf's eyes. He could not tell if it was out of fear or trepidation.

"Will ya be fightin' as well, Miz Larina?" Tillie appeared beside Larina to offer her a cup of freshly-brewed peppermint tea.

"Oh, no, thank you, Tillie," Larina gladly took the tea, cradling it in between her paws. She watched as Jared and Jacob continued to debate back and forth. "I'm no fighter. I'm just a simple peasant girl; the daughter of farmers, that's all. I never learned Wungkan growing up."

"Eh, there ain't nut'in' wron' wit' that," Tillie sipped her tea nonchalantly. "Wun'kan ain't fer everybeas'."

Larina glanced back at the boys just in time to see Jared turning his back on Jacob. He gave a sideways glance to her, looking genuinely concerned.

Her mind stirred for ideas. Then something clicked.

"Tillie," she turned to the young shrewmaid. "I've got an idea. This might help give Jared the confidence he needs to fight Jacob."

She spun around on her heels and bolted down the hallway behind her, tea gripped tight between her paws. Tillie sprinted right behind her.

Larina hurried into the infirmary, coming to a stop at Madeline's bed nearest to the entrance.

"Maddie!" She told the younger Sandeye sibling, catching her tea just in the nick of time. "Jacob has challenged Jared to a fight!"

"What?!" the bandaged and poulticed Madeline swung out of her bed faster than lightning. "Are they crazy?! Now this I've gotta see!"

She sidestepped past Larina and barreled out of the infirmary out into the hallway.

"Wait!" Therese hurried in vain after her, waving a freshly-made poultice. "Miz Mad'lin'! Ya ain't finished bein' patched up yet!"

"It's okay, Miss Therese!" Larina was already turning to follow Madeline. "She'll only be watching! You can finish her up during the fight!"

"Oy!" Antonius practically leaped out of his bed as well. "Wait for me!" He staggered after the trio, slightly bent over and one paw holding his bruised ribcage. His other paw held his sandals.

Madeline sprinted back into the main hall, panting from the effort. Larina skidded to a stop behind her. Therese bobbed and weaved to stand abreast of the two squirrelmaids. Without missing a beat, the shrew Infirmary Keeper resumed her treatment of the teenage maiden. Madeline, captivated by the fight about to take place, passively resigned. Antonius came hobbling in behind them, clumsily shuffling his sandals onto his footpaws.

"Hey, Rina told me that Jacob challenged you," Madeline asked her brother.

Jared nodded and folded his arms over his chest, as if protecting it. "Yeah," he sounded unsure, almost insecure. One arm lowered to shield his torso. "I don't know if I feel strong enough to take him on, though. But…"

He glanced over his shoulder at Jacob, who was taking a discreet sip of Larina's peppermint tea. Larina laughed out loud. "I've never been one to turn down a fight."

Madeline shook her head, giggling. "No, you never have. Come on, what could possibly go wrong?"

"Yeah, come on, Jared! It'll be fun!" Jacob put an arm over Jared's shoulders. "Let's show each other what we can do! The fight's only three minutes long. And who knows?" He hugged Jared to his side, one paw draping over the squirrel's chest. His clawed fingers slipped beneath the V-neck collar of Jared's tunic to tease his chest fur. "You might even learn something from me. And I'll learn something from you!"

When Jared did not reply for a moment, Jacob patted him softly on the back. "C'mon. Let's go tell the Log-a-Logs we want to fight next." He took off across the hall.

Jared opened his mouth to protest. But Madeline had already seized him by the shoulders.

"Go get 'em, bro!" She pushed him right to Jacob's side. "Naimbag a gasat kenka!"

"All right!" Jared resigned, throwing his paws up in the air. He straightened out his tunic where Jacob's paw had ruffled it. "I'll do it." He put his paws on his hips and stared up boldly at the wolf.

"Jacob Atherson. You've got yourself a fight."

"Awesome!" Jacob pumped his fist, grinning from ear to ear. "This is gonna be great!"

"Oh, please do be very careful, you two!" Larina called after the boys on their way to the tree stump where the two Log-a-Logs stood.

"Don't worry, kras!" Jared called back to her over his shoulder. "We know what we're doing! I hope…" He dropped his voice to an anxious low volume when he turned away from Larina.

"Kras?" Jacob hid his snicker behind a paw.

"Sh-shut up!" Jared elbowed Jacob in the side, his face turning crimson red. "We are not having this conversation again!"

"Whatever you say, loverboy," Jacob snickered and elbowed Jared in return. "Log-a-Log Tipuka! Log-a-Log Tiraqoo! Jared Sandeye and I would like to fight next! I'll be using my standard wrestling!"

"I'll use styles from the Akret Branch of Wungkan," Jared added, raising a paw to indicate himself.

"Wonderful!" Tipuka bent down to offer his palm, and Jared and Jacob both high-fived it. "I'm so excited to watch you two! I'm sure you won't disappoint! Oh, this'll make for a most experimental fight indeed!"

"Attention, friends!" Tiraqoo cupped his mouth and hollered out across the hall. "Our second exhibition match is set! Jacob Atherson versus Jared Sandeye! Standard wrestling against styles from the Akret Branch!"

Cheers and applause broke out from the shrews. Jared and Jacob turned around to face their audience, smiling and waving.

"Akret Branch?" Larina asked Tillie aside.

"Wun'kan's got different categories, ya see," Tillie explained in between sips of tea. "Makes everythin' easier t' identify than if'n we just lumped all th' styles togetha inta one disorganized list. Them creatures o' th' Eastern Islands an' th' land o' Senshan knew what they were doin' when they created th' Akret Branch. That's where Kōnōtash, Gōryjūn, an' a pawful o' others are all classified."

"Aye, Tillie be righ'," Samson, who came up on Tillie's other side, nodded and put an arm around his fellow Guoraf's shoulders. "Kuanzai. Ganguen Huk. Timakwo. Domnal. Halichit. Tuah Mann. They all got special branches o' their own. It's a real pain in th' tail t' try to mem'rize 'em all, I'm tellin' ya."

"Aye, ya'll see, Rina," added Fritz, sitting down on a log holding a mug of Strawberry Cordial. "I reckon Mista Sandeye gonna show us most o' th' Akret Branch in this short figh'."

As if to emphasize the shrew's words, Jared stepped into the fighting ring. He whipped his head to one side. The tails of his thin black headband swung off his shoulder to hang behind his head in one smooth, slow motion.

"Oh, my…" Larina let out a childish giggle unbidden. She pressed a paw to her heart leaping in her chest. "I think my heart just skipped a beat."

Tillie gave Larina a sidelong glance, then also let out a little giggle. Samson and Fritz both groaned and rolled their eyes.

Jared looked up at Jacob approaching the ring. The wolf stripped off his shirt, folded it, and laid it on a root-woven chair. Off to one side, a small gaggle of Guosim shrewmaidens giggled and tittered amongst themselves, and waved sheepishly at Jacob. The bare-chested wolf flashed them a confident smile and puffed out his chest. He stepped into the ring wearing only his leather trousers.

"Remember, boys!" Tiraqoo called out to them. "Three minutes only! And I want to see a clean, fair fight from both of you!"

"Nakahanda!" Jared put his legs and footpaws together, standing straight, and bent down at the waist to Jacob. His eyes gazed downward, back straight and arms down by his sides. "Ready!"

Jacob hit one fist into his open palm. "Ready!"

Jared planted himself into a classic Kōnōtash stance. One leg drew back behind him. Front leg bent at the knee at least 45 degrees, shin vertical with the knee above the ankle. Back leg stayed straight; the foot also angled at a 45-degree angle. Front foot turned slightly inwards; knee pushed outwards just over the shin. Breathing deep, Jared centered his gravity with approximately two-thirds of his weight on the front leg. The rest he moved to his back leg. He also focused his pressure on the insides of his feet. Finally, with a fierce shout, he set his fists at his hips. His eyes locked tight on the wolf.

Jacob bent his knees and hinged his waist, eyes on Jared. His feet drew apart at hip distance. One foot stood in front of the other. Then he placed his paws up in front of himself, elbows bent.

"Begin!" Tipuka announced at the top of his lungs.

Brrrooonnnggg!

Jacob's eardrums rattled from the deafening gong. He gathered his wits and stepped into the fray.

He crouched below Jared's eye level and dropped to a knee on his right leg. His left foot stepped towards the squirrel.

Jared slid his footpaws through the dirt to evade and readied his paws to counter. His left paw formed the outward block with the inside wrist. His right paw rocketed downwards using the inside wrist. He aimed to catch Jacob's shooting ankle.

But the wolf came faster, carrying the momentum of his steps. He swung one arm in a wide arc to swat Jared's paws away. His left footpaw moved in, placing the knee between the legs of his opponent. Jared let out an exclaim of surprise and sudden shock.

He jabbed one leg out to catch Jacob's. But Jacob swung his other knee sideways to the woodlander's lead leg. Jared shouted as one of Jacob's paws grappled his foot. The other locked his ankle in a vice grip.

Jacob stood up straight and took Jared with him. Taken by surprise and thrown off balance, Jared cried out as the wolf lifted him off his feet. Jacob growled aloud and tripped Jared onto the floor.

Jared slammed into the dirt spine-first. Pain and impact stabbed through his thoracic spine. Triumphant rumbling laughter from Jacob filled his ears. His lips stretched into a smirk, showing his canines. They glinted bright and sharp in the sunlight.

"Jared!" Larina clapped her paws to her mouths to stop her high-pitched scream.

"Whoa!" Gavlin's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Classic single-leg takedown! Why didn't I think of that before?!"

"Impressive!" Tipuka applauded the wolf's wrestling technique. "Takedown for the first move! A bold if not boastful choice!"

"Come on, kuya!" Madeline called out to Jared to encourage him. "You can do it! Stand up, kapatid!"

Grunting in frustration, Jared threw his palm upward. He slapped the paw around his ankle with the pinky side. Jacob yelped in pained surprise and withdrew, releasing Jared's footpaws.

Now Jared sprang to his feet. Rubbing his aching spine, he quieted his breathing into near-silence. Jacob watched in vigilant silence; eyes locked on while he too settled back into position.

Jared launched a straight punch into Jacob's side. It hit fuzzy fur and thick muscle. Jacob flinched and let out a short grunt of pain. But he remained rooted in place.

Jared lunged into a flurry of punches against every inch of Jacob he could reach. A smirk pulled at the wolf's lips, growing wider with every futile blow to his bare fur and skin.

His paws shot out to trap Jared's right fist mid-punch to his stomach. The squirrel's left forefist came swinging in an upwards arc at his chin. Jacob swerved to the side to dodge.

He brought his leading leg at a slight angle in front of his rear foot. Torso folded at a bent angle. Grip tightened around Jared's clenched fist. Jared grimaced and bent under Jacob's larger paws and vice clamp.

Stepping in, Jacob placed his knee a second time between Jared's legs. He lowered his center of gravity in the same motion to keep balanced. Jared shot out one leg to block. But Jacob had already planted himself in the middle of his legs.

He brought his rear leg around to strike the sides of Jared's patellae. Yet Jared had already moved to evade.

He arced his foot underneath Jacob's to catch and pin it down. Then, planting their feet flat into the dirt, Jared brought his other leg around in a low roundhouse kick.

His foot swiped at Jacob's ankles, tripping the wolf's feet out from under him. He let out a loud cry of alarm and stumbled backward. Jared prepared his released fists.

Jacob stumbled to replant his footpaws. Jared moved in. He stepped halfway to the wolf to close the distance between them and propelled himself forward on his front leg. Then he pushed up from the floor.

Whump! His stepping punch struck Jacob's diaphragm. The wolf crumpled and staggered to the edge of the fighting ring. Jared immediately followed up with a low, short-range horizontal punch from the back of his fist to Jacob's ribcage. Finally, he leaped sideways into the air and kicked Jacob hard in the chest.

Jacob let out a gasp and wheeze from the punch knocking out the wind in his body. He tripped over his feet and slid on his back and tail clean out of the fighting ring.

"Showoff!" the teasing Madeline called out to her brother. Meanwhile, the Guosim and Guoraf let out victorious cheers.

"Seamless blending of Akret styles, Sandeye!" Tiraqoo cupped his paws and called out, grinning from ear to ear. "Well executed techniques!"

"Impressive indeed!" Tiraqoo agreed, shaking his empty beer mug with an enthusiastic grin. "Boys, you have two minutes and thirty seconds!"

"What on earth was that?" Larina asked, gripping her peppermint tea in her palms, riveted by the fight. "Did Jared blend Kōnōtash with another style?"

"A straight punch followed by a backfist and a standard Kōnōtash kick," Madeline explained, and raised her fists to replicate the sequence of punches. She bent back and lifted her leg at mid-height to imitate the kick. "The backfist, though, is a move from Rtuyoshi."

"Rtuyoshi?" Larina asked in genuine curiosity. Meanwhile, Jacob had already reentered the righting ring.

Madeline pulled gently at the straps of the poultice that Therese had placed over her chest to secure it. "Yes, Rtuyoshi; another style from Maraul. Remember that neighbor of my family's I told you about, Divan Tonaka? He's a Rtuyoshi practitioner."

"That's so interesting!" Sincere interest glowed bright in Larina's hazel eyes. "I would love to see him in action someday—"

A sudden clamor of anxiety arose from the crowd. The squirrelmaids' eyes instantly shot back to the action. Their beaming fascination turned instantly to abstract horror.

Jacob had seized both of Jared's legs and lifted him into the air. Jared flailed and kicked at Jacob's torso and stomach to no avail. Jacob spun around in a circle, dragging Jared along with him.

Howling, Jacob threw Jared out of the ring and towards the wall behind him. Madeline, Larina, Tillie, and Therese all screamed in unison.

Jared threw out his paws and planted flat on the firm and fibrous bark of Brockhall's tree. He dug his feet likewise deep and flung himself forward.

His footpaws met Jacob's open palms in a flurry of flying kicks. Jacob rolled his arms over and under each other to swat them away. Jared landed back in the ring, The impact tossed dirt and tree bark every which-way.

Jacob lunged to grapple Jared by the shoulders. Jared ducked and clamped his paws around Jacob's wrists. He crouched low, then pushed Jacob's paws down to propel himself into the air.

He pushed off Jacob's shoulders to launch higher towards the ceiling. He spun round to face his opponent.

Landing behind, he ducked underneath Jacob's extended arms and placed his heel behind the canine's. His foot pulled in a contrary motion to Jacob's other leg.

Jacob clenched his shin muscles and planted himself firm and rigid in the dirt. Jared—perhaps sensing that the wolf could not be toppled as easily as Gavlin—withdrew his heel from behind Jacob's leg in resignation.

He threw out a punch to Jacob's ribs. He followed up by leaping into the air and delivering a full-foot kick to the chest.

Jacob lurched but dug the bottoms of his feet into the bark-littered dirt. He locked himself in place, bent his knees, and hinged his waist: he'd fallen back into his starting stance.

"Two minutes!" rang out Tipuka.

Jared gave the Guosim Log-a-Log a quick sidelong glance and a comprehending nod. Then he turned back to Jacob, curling his open paws into tight fists.

Can't beat him with Kōnōtash alone. I need a new strategy!

He began to form a new starting stance. Bringing one foot behind him, he turned it to face directly forwards. His front foot placed a single shoulder-width apart from the back, inwards at a 45-degree angle. He tensed his knees in a diagonal direction and gripped the floor with his toes. Both his hips and body faced his opponent. He finished by tucking in his hips, rolling his groin upwards and tensing his rear and stomach. One arm he held horizontal at waist level; the other hovered above his head.

"Gōryjūn!" Madeline, immediately catching on, pumped her cloth-wrapped fists. "That's more like it! Get him, Jared!" On the log, Fritz leaned forward in genuine interest.

Jared snapped into the style in an instant. Again closing the distance between himself and Jacob, he lunged and twisted his hips. Jacob shifted back to create more space.

Then Jared uncurled his fists and lashed out at Jacob using his open palms. His hips twisted left and then right. He unleashed a flurry of brandishing punches to the wolf's chest and torso.

But Jacob refused to budge. He only remained rooted in the dirt. Jared switched to punching Jacob with his knuckles.

Suddenly, Jacob caught the squirrel's wrists mid-punch. Jared's stoic focus fell to surprised anxiety. A confident smirk pulled at Jacob's lips. He tightened his grip around Jared's wrists. Jared winced slightly as the wolf's claws dug into his fur, grazing the flesh beneath.

Before Jared could react, Jacob let out an excited yelp and bent down low to place his head underneath the squirrel's chest. On instinct, Jared attempted to pull his legs away from him. But Jacob grabbed the inside of his right leg.

Jared cried out as Jacob lifted him up and perched him across his shoulders. Then Jacob fell backward onto the ground, taking his combatant with him.

Jared's full back from his cervical to his lumbar spine hit the hard floor below. He bit back the scream and rolled onto his stomach. Madeline, Larina, Tillie, and Therese all screamed at the tops of their lungs in unison.

"Jared!"

Right on cue, Therese rushed from Madeline's side and into the ring. Jacob's ears twitched at her approach. He turned onto his stomach and took Jared by the arms. Together, he and Therese helped Jared to his feet.

"I'm sorry, Jared," Jacob apologized with the utmost sincerity and remorse. "I didn't mean to be so aggressive with you. Are you okay? Are you hurt? We can stop fighting now if you want."

To his surprise, however, Jared brushed dirt and tree bark from his clothes and flashed the wolf a bright and forgiving smile. "Nah, you got me good, Jake. I'm impressed. I didn't expect you to be that good. Dallas taught you well."

Turning to Therese, he added, "I want to continue the fight, miss, if you're okay with that."

"'Ere, Jared," Therese reached into the wide pocket of her nurse's apron and pulled out a small salve. "This little ointment is made wit' fresh herbs an' mineral oils from right 'ere in Mossflowa. Rub a little bit o' this on anywhere that 'urts, an' it should numb yer pains in a snap."

"How much time do we have left on our clock?" Jacob asked the two Log-a-Logs.

"One minute and forty-five seconds, my good lad," Tipuka answered, nodding at the wolf. "But we can always pause it while Jared treats himself. Let him take his time."

All action ceased while Therese guided Jared on applying his pain-numbing ointment. After he had finished, he returned the salve to the shrew nurse, who resumed her place at Madeline's side.

Jared looked over at his sister and Larina. Worry and fear creased their faces. He gave them a reassuring nod and a thumbs-up. Though they returned the gestures in kind, it did not change their expressions.

"Oh, I dearly hope he's okay," Larina confessed to Madeline. "Jacob could have seriously hurt him. What if Jared had broken his bones?"

Madeline hummed in agreement. "I think he got carried away, just like I did. Caught up in the heat and excitement of the moment. But if I know my brother," she allowed herself a hopeful smile, her eyes twinkling. "I know Jared won't give up until the very end of this fight."

"Are you sure?" Larina asked Madeline, now biting her claws nervously. "At the risk of getting even more thrashed than he already is?"

"Sure," Madeline responded with a decisive wink. "You just haven't seen his full skillset yet."

"Well, that's got me thinking, all of a sudden," Larina's face creased in thought. "Still, all this fighting back and forth…" She shuddered and hugged one arm around her body. "It's gotten me rather frightened."

"Well, it warn't a perfect use o' Gōryjūn," Fritz commented, drinking the last of his Strawberry Cordial. "But I gotta give yar brotha credit fer tryin', Mad'lin'. 'E did 'is best an' that's what matters, eh? 'E be all righ' in my book, aye ma'am."

Jared faced Jacob square-on. Jacob raised his eyebrows and extended a paw in concern. Jared raised a palm to reassure him. The ointment that Therese had given him first warmed the bruised places to soothe the pain. Then it cooled the next instant to settle his muscles and bones.

"Okay, Jake," His face grew into a smirk. "You've had all your fun."

The wolf's eyes widened in surprise. He flinched in concealed shock when Jared raised his clenched fists to his eye level.

"Now it's my turn."

He reached out a footpaw and drew a cross sign in the dirt. He placed his foot on the front right angle in line with his back toes. Rear foot he placed on the left rear angle. Both feet were at shoulder-width, knees slightly bent. Fists he set at his eye level. Confused but on guard, Jacob took his beginning stance, watching Jared closely.

"Yes!" Madeline clapped in anticipation. "Hoskinyuk! Now that's what I'm talking about!"

"My word!" Tiraqoo thrusted forward in astonishment. "Hoskinyuk? One of the trademark Wungkan forms of Maraul? Just how many styles in Akret is Jared proficient in?"

"Looks like we'll soon find out, Tiraqoo!" Tipuka chuckled, his lips pulling into a toothy grin. "Fighters, your clock restarts as soon as one of you makes the next move! One minute, forty-five seconds!"

Without warning, Jared moved in a blur. His left paw came lunging at Jacob.

Whoof! The side of his paw chopped Jacob's exposed left bicep. Then the right paw did the same, disabling the canine's other bicep.

The wolf gasped and cried out from the twin blows. He backed up to retreat. But Jared's paw sliced into his solar plexus. Winded and paralyzed for a moment, Jacob bent back.

Jared closed in. Jacob held a paw to his stomach and threw out a palm to stop the incoming forward punch from the squirrel. This time, though, Jared neither grimaced nor winced. Jacob's eyes widened at the tight look of focus upon the woodlander's face. He took the lull in the fight as an opportunity to catch his breath. Jared shifted his weight and watched—waited.

Then Jacob zipped in quicker than an arrow shot from a bowstring. He balled up a paw into the hardest fist he could muster and threw a standard punch. He shifted his hips to throw his full weight into the blow.

Dallas zipped in faster than Jacob could blink. He threw a fist into the Toad's gob to stopper his threatening words towards a young fox. Jacob noticed the otter's pupils had shrunken to a bloodthirsty craze.

But Jared had seen the attack coming. He pulled his fist from Jacob's palm. He turned his left arm inward to the right from his guard position. Then he lowered it down towards the side of his leg to slap Jacob's punch aside.

The weight from the punch sent Jacob reeling forward. Jared threw up his rear leg in a front kick to knock him back. He hurried to collect himself.

Jared had already jumped and spun into the air. His footpaws shot out to kick Jacob one at a time. Jacob threw up his elbows to block the first kick. The second kick rammed into his stomach. Winded once again, Jacob fell back.

Once Jared landed, Jacob reached out to grapple his arms. Jared threw out his elbows in a pair of rapid vertical strikes to knock his paws away. Jacob launched his own wild flurry of punches. Seamless transitions between blocks and ducks and dodges met his every blow.

Dallas' craze turned to surprise as the Toad ate his punch with seemingly no effort. The monster threw a hard kick into Dallas' chest. Jacob's heart pounded when the Toad's foot grazed the tender portion of the otter's body scar, knocking him away a couple of feet.

Dallas coughed out a gob of saliva. Regaining himself, he smiled and closed in yet again. He tied himself up with the Toad and threw out a flurry of punches from his free fist.

Jacob's mind raced to keep up with the sharpness and smoothness of his opponent's movements. As only a trained fighter possessed and developed from seasons of dedicated training and consistent practice. Every punch Jacob threw, Jared either evaded or shielded, only to retaliate with a series of his own.

Jacob jerked forward to warn Dallas. The Toad hurled a floorboard that had been knocked loose by their fight straight at him. The otter saw it coming and twisted to narrowly evade it.

A cry of desperate terror escaped Jacob at the sight of the Toad's fist within the vicinity of Dallas' cheek. He turned his head to one side to avoid the blow before throwing out a fully extended jab. Jacob's heart leaped in his chest. A glimmer of hope?

Finally, Jacob shot a jab to Jared's side. He turned his head slightly to avoid a portion of the squirrel's own incoming strike. Jared threw one arm and elbow up at a vertical angle to block and brush aside Jacob's blind jab. The other arm he laid horizontal at chest level.

"One minute!" Tiraqoo shouted through the chaos.

Jared dropped the block and grabbed Jacob by the hips. Jacob squirmed against Jared's iron grip. The squirrel yelled and threw himself inward to whip his knees hard into Jacob's thigh. He did the same with the other knee, driving it into the other thigh.

Jacob yowled from the sharp solid contact of Jared's kneecaps to his thighs. Jacob summoned his fist in a retaliatory hard right punch. Jared knocked it aside using a horizontal block.

Without so much as a second to process the blow to his thighs, Jacob flinched as he watched Jared turn his body sideways and straightened his legs to unleash a duo of side kicks to Jacob's knees.

At that moment, everything turned into a formless blur. A shapeless mess of fur and clothes and limbs tangling and untangling; flurries of punches, kicks, jumps, spins, grapples, and takedowns. Beneath it all, shouts of "Forty seconds!" "Thirty!" "Twenty!" Ten!" from the two Log-a-Logs, Matilda, and Therese, respectively, broke through the din, with little result.

By the time the dust cleared from the fighting ring, Jacob had Jared pinned by his stomach to the ground. His arms were wrapped in a mindful headlock around the squirrel's neck. The two rolled from side to side and onto their backs in the dirt, laughing and struggling against each other. Jared's legs flailed and kicked in every direction in a futile attempt to shake free. The wolf's claws made playful grabs at the squirrel's throat.

"Are you strangling or tickling me?" Jared joked through Jacob's tightening throttlehold.

"Aww, is His Royal Highness Prince Tinarandel ticklish?" Jacob jived back in a mock threatening tone.

"Time!" Tipuka and Tiraqoo triumphantly announced in unison.

Immediately, the two combatants stopped and landed on their sides, laughing together. Jacob untangled his arms from Jared's neck and rolled flat onto his back. Jared did the same beside Jacob. Dirt spattered their fur and clothes. Laughter mingled with groans of pain.

"What an intense fight, Jared and Jacob!" Tipuka climbed down from the tree stump and hurried to the two combatants. He placed his paws behind Jared's shoulders, gently pushing the squirrel up into a sitting position. "I haven't seen an exhibition bout quite like that in over a decade! What a brave display of raw strength and determined skill! Truly, I applaud both of you!"

"Jared, you good?" Jacob pushed himself up onto his rear and leaned over the breathless squirrel.

"Yeah, yeah…" Jared patted Jacob's paw to reassure him. "I'm fine."

Ladies and gentlebeasts!" Tiraqoo announced and gestured to the two beasts as they climbed—gingerly and painfully—to their feet. "Your fighters!"

Brockhall burst into fervent applause and wild cheering. Larina squealed and hopped on the balls of her feet, while Madeline whooped and pumped her fists. Jared waved then doubled over, paws on his knees. His breathing still sounded somewhat labored. Jacob wrapped his arms around the squirrel and pulled him close to his chest, holding him while he recovered his breath.

"Jared!" Madeline and Larina hurried to either side of Jared. Madeline put her brother's arm around her shoulders. Larina held his chest and back. Together, they and Jacob followed Therese down the hall to the infirmary.

"Well, after that intense fight that dragged on longer than it needed to," Tipuka thought aloud, announcing to the assembled shrews. "I assume it might be best that we shorten the exhibition fights to two minutes only! Does this seem agreeable to you, my friends?"

The Guosim and Guoraf all cheered and applauded their consent.