Chapter Text
The seven of them ran even after the last echoes of Marshank had vanished behind them, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the fort, ignoring their exhaustion. Martin’s legs and lungs burned as one, yet he spurred everybeast onwards.
“Come…on…just…a…little…farther!”
“I…I don’t…don’t know how much… how much farther I can go.” Felldoh panted. “It’s…It’s getting…It’s getting hard to…to take a breath.”
“Matey, he’s…he’s right.” Gonff added. “We’re all too…too knackered after that fight, and…and don’t forget that…hal-half of us are really injured.”
Martin’s shoulder was searing where Badrang had slashed it as a matter of fact, and had been for some time, but he’d been ignoring it until Gonff mentioned the rest of them. For whatever reason it all but sent a twinge up his arm strong enough that Martin winced, and he stumbled to a stop.
“That’s… that’s fair enough, Gonff. We’ve probably put enough darkness between us and Marshank.”
The rest of them all came to a stop, groaning as one. “Please tell me we’re camping here for the night.” Keyla rubbed his legs. “I feel like my paws are about to fall off.”
Martin looked around; the area of the forest they’d stopped in was certainly quiet enough, and the ground was covered in a layer of grasses and flowers above the dirt. The canopy above them was thick enough to provide shade from inclement weather, and best of all one of the pinewood trees directly to his right looked to have some kind of gaping nook they could use to store the supplies from -
My pack! By the fur, I left it at Marshank! Martin realized he’d forgotten to grab it in all the confusion. Quick - was there anything important in there ? He ran stock: he’d managed to hold on to his sword, as well as the knife Amber had given him, although her travel cloak was probably still lying where he’d used it as bedding. There was something else, something Martin was forgetting about, but whatever it was had been important. At least, he had the feeling.
Still, nothing for it I suppose. Taking one last look around, Martin turned back to the others. “This place’ll do nicely. Everybeast, get some rest - I’ll take first watch.”
Nobeast answered, instead immediately flopping on the ground with various moans of pleasure. “Urgh, finally! ” Brome curled up next to a small fern. “I haven’t ever felt this tired in my life.”
One-by-one they all drifted off to sleep, filling the clearing with the snores of three different species. A multi-species harmony , Martin couldn’t help but think. Ordinarily it would’ve been annoying, but after spending the past few days with little but Badrang’s cruelty providing the background noise, the mouse actually found it relaxing.
Looking around, Martin noticed he wasn’t the only one that was still awake. “Rose? Is everything alright?” He spoke quietly so as to not wake the others, but Rose still heard him and turned.
Walking over, Rose shook her head and sat down at Martin’s footpaws. “I nearly got everybeast killed back there, didn’t I?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That plan of mine was foolish and half-baked. I thought I was being so clever with having my brother shout in code, but -” Rose glanced at her brother. “-Badrang still figured it out. Do you know what he told me? He said he was grateful. He said that he’d suspected that I’d had some sort of friends outside, or that I was here to get somebeast out, and that my little scheme had given him the perfect opportunity to lay a trap for them.” She sniffled and rubbed her eyes. “I’m such an idiot.”
“But his trap failed, didn’t it?” Martin sat down facing Rose. “We’re free now, all of us, not to mention we managed to give him a bloody nose on the way out.”
“Maybe, but still, I - Brome - he was - he was counting on me to keep him safe, and I nearly ruined it.”
“Rose, as my old teacher used to say, ‘nearly’ and ‘did’ are worlds apart.” It was something Bane had said whenever his young pupil got a bit too proud of himself for almost accomplishing something. “And at the end of the day, you didn’t get us killed, did you?”
Rose half-sobbed, half-laughed. “That’s not exactly comforting to hear, you know.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. My brother was always the better one for this kind of thing.”
“Your brother’s a wildcat, right?” Rose looked at Martin, curious. “What’s it like, having a wildcat for a brother? Is it weird?”
Martin shrugged. “I don’t know, you get used to being the shortest one in the family? I guess?”
“What. That’s your answer? Are you joking?”
“Look, I’ve only ever lived with wildcats, alright? I don’t have anything else to compare it to, so asking me what it feels like to live with them is like asking you what it feels like to live with mice.”
Rose giggled. “I understand. Maybe it’d be better to ask what your brother’s like as a creature?”
“Who, Gingivere?” Rose’s giggle had momentarily thrown Martin’s attention off. “No, sorry, of course you meant him. Gingivere’s lots of things - he’s smart, kind, and probably one of the most caring creatures in the world, but at the same time he’s awkward, prone to getting tongue-tied, and incredibly fun to tease.”
“Brome says that about me, too, you know.” Rose smirked. “A few weeks ago he told me that poking at me is the single most fun thing in all of Noonvale.”
“What about the rest of your family?”
“My parents are the chieftains of Noonvale. My father Urran Voh’s the legal ruler, but he always says Aryah’s just as important. Father’s always gentle and usually kind, but he can get a bit stern when he’s mad about something.” Rose gestured towards Brome. “An argument with him is why my brother ran away, you see.”
“And your mother?”
“The greatest cook in all Noonvale, save maybe Grumm, and the sweetest, warmest mouse you’ll ever meet. If we ever reach Noonvale, you’ll love her.” Rose looked at Martin. “What about you? What are your parents like?”
The warm feeling that had been growing inside Martin began to flicker away. “Well, that’s… that’s a little harder to answer. For one I’ve never really had a mother, since both my blood parents died when I was little, and my father’s wife died around the same time.”
Rose raised a paw to her mouth. “Oh, Martin, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine - my father and my brother were all I ever felt like I needed most of the time. And if you’re curious what my father’s like, he’s a lot like yours - gentle and kind most of the time, but stern when he needs to be. He always tried to make sure I knew I was loved, and that the fact I was a mouse and he was a wildcat didn’t stop us from being family.”
“He sounds wonderful. Perhaps I could meet him one day?”
Martin looked down at the ground, unable to look Rose in the eye. “That’s probably not possible.”
“Why not? I could come back to Mossflower with you, couldn’t I? Unless you were exiled or something?”
“That’s not it, it’s…I’d rather not talk about it.”
Rose studied Martin, as though trying to figure out what he meant, before nodding. “I understand. Just know that if you ever do want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.” Reaching over, she gave his paw a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for letting me talk with you, Martin. I think I really needed that.”
“I’m glad.” Martin was glad it was dark; the grin that had appeared on his face the moment Rose touched his paw would have been wildly embarrassing for her to notice. “Now get some sleep - it’s been a long day.”
Later on he woke Gonff so that the other mouse could take over his watch, then laid down to sleep, still trying to remember what exactly it had been that he’d forgotten.
***
The next morning, everything ached. Martin’s arms felt like they weighed at least thrice as much as they had yesterday, while his legs had quadrupled in weight, and his shoulder felt like somebeast was repeatedly hitting it with a rock where Badrang had slashed it.
“Does anybeast else feel like every limb is about to fall off?” Martin asked. “Or is that just me?”
There was a general groan of agreement. “I can’t even unbend my fingers.” Gonff moaned. “Word of advice for you lot: don’t hang precariously off a roof for long periods of time. Doesn’t do the body any favors.”
“I’m even hungrier than I am sore, myself.” Brome sat up. “Grumm, what’s for breakfast?”
Ah. Martin looked around, it suddenly hitting him that it didn’t seem to just be him that had forgotten everything in their mad dash to escape…
“Ur, did anybeast arctually take anything when ‘ee left yon fortress?” Grumm asked.
The only response was silence.
“No?” Grumm sighed. “Not even th’ toiniest a vittles?”
“We were too busy running, matey.” Keyla replied.
“Well that’s just marvelous, isn’t it?” Felldoh rolled his eyes. “We escaped death by corsair only to face death by starvation!”
“Oi, wouldn’t go that far just yet.” Gonff pushed himself on his footpaws. “We can just go foraging for a bit. Ol’ Bella’s tricks kept Keyla, Martin and me alive on the journey upwards, so we can definitely make do now.”
“Who’s Bella?”
“Old badgermum. Traveled a lot when she was younger, and learned a lot about what’s edible and what isn’t. Anybeast else feeling up to coming with?”
“I will.” Rose stood up and stretched. “If I sit still much longer I fear I’ll turn into a statue, not that I know all that much about foraging.”
“Alrighty then!” Goff clapped Rose on the back. “I’ll teach you some things then!”
As the two mice walked off, Gonff looked back at Martin and smirked.
They had only been at it for a few minutes when Gonff picked up the distinctive aroma of wild garlic. Following it the two mice found a small glade covered in white flowers, and Gonff bent down and picked one up.
“Ha! Flowers are all still healthy!”
“Garlic flowers are safe to eat by themselves? Aren’t they going to be a little, uh, strong?”
“Not as bad as you’d think. Besides, we can grind ‘em up, maybe sprinkle a bit on some nuts. If we can find some pine or hazelnuts it’ll taste amazing, believe me!”
“I’ll trust you then.” Rose smiled. “How much do we need?”
“Wouldn’t hurt to grab a fair bit in all honesty - stocking up for leaner times is never a bad idea.”
“Alright, I’ll try and make something to carry them in.” Gonff looked at her quizzically, and Rose laughed. “You’re not the only one that’s been taught things by old mothers.” Walking over to a bush, Rose began to methodically strip the leaves off the branches. “Just leave me your knife, will you? It won’t be my best work but I think I can make a rough basket.”
“Good on you. And while you do that, I’ll keep looking around to see if I can find anything else.”
“Just don’t wander off too far.” After she took Gonff’s knife, Rose began to hum as she started cutting the bush up into little twigs.
“Have no fear, madam, I’ll stay within earshot of your music.” Gonff began to meander his way down the line of bushes, examining them. Is this Hawthorn? It is! Wonder how old the leaves are… Gently pressing down on them, Gonff was dismayed to find that most of them were rather tough. Drat, too hard to eat. But maybe some new growth? He continued down the line, looking for younger plants to take their leaves, checking back every so often to see how far he’d gone from Rose.
Gonff was inspecting the topmost leaves on a small hedgerow when he heard it.
“With a smile and song we’ll travel along,
“On our Rambling Rosehip way, hey!”
The sound of song and instruments was music to Gonff’s ears, and he deeply wished that he hadn’t left his flute behind during the escape, so badly did he suddenly want to join in. But he restrained himself, unsure as to what to do, and instead hunkered down to listen.
The musicians, whoever they were, promptly engaged in some lighthearted bickering about choreography; apparently the song he’d caught was part of some performance. Peering out, Gonff saw a mixed retinute of Woodland creatures led by a badger, who knocked a pastry out of a hare’s paws as Gonff watched.
“Bad form that, Rowan, chucking a lad’s breakfast out!” The hare protested in a tone that reminded Gonff of both the Long Patrol and, oddly enough, of Gingivere.
“Oh, ‘bad form’ my paw! How many times have I told you, Ballaw, breakfast comes after rehearsal, not during! ” The badger spoke in a rougher voice than Gonff would have expected (granted, he supposed, his only reference was Bella, so he wasn’t exactly an expert on what badgermums sounded like), but he could still sense the underlying kindness. They seem trustworthy enough. I’ll go get Rose.
Gonff crept back through the brush.
“Well?” Rose asked when he returned, a half-finished basket in her lap. “Did you find anything? Please tell me there’s an apple tree or something nearby.”
“No, not an apple tree.” Gonff grinned. “Better - a whole troupe of players, complete with actual food!”
“Really?” Rose leapt to her footpaws. “Do you think we can trust them?”
“Most likely.” Gonff nodded. “I watched and listened for a bit, and they seemed like goodbeasts. Here, follow me - it’s just a little ways down past that bunch of Hawthorn bushes!”
By the time Gonff and Rose returned to Gonff’s hiding place, the troupe’s discussion moved away from their opening song and towards a discussion of poetry.
“Ugh.” Rose shuddered. “Hope they’re better than the Noonvale Poets’ Guild.”
Unfortunately none of the creatures seemed in the mood to provide a sample, instead debating over the exact type of poetry to recite.
“It’s a rougher type of creature up here than normal,” the badger Rowan began, “so none of the light stuff’ll do I fear.”
“What about something with some action?” A mousemaid suggested.
“It’s a poem, Gauchee, not a play!” A squirrelmaid replied. “You can’t have ‘action’ in something that’s over in fewer than 20 lines! We need something short and funny.”
“Aye, but I’m afraid it can’t be the ‘witty’ sort of funny.” Ballaw shook his head. “Most like to go right over the heads of the locals, eh wot?”
“How about something bawdy, then?” Before Rose could stop him, or before Gonff could stop himself, the mouse stood up and strode out of the bush. “Something like this:
“There was a mousemaid in Mossflower,
“She paid blokes to till by the hour.
“So I asked her mate,
“If they help seeds germinate,
“No’, he said, ‘we just plow ‘er!”
“There was a moment of silence about the camp. Then, suddenly, the squirrelmaid burst into hysterical laughter. “Plow ‘er! That’s amazing! By the fur, that’s bloody brilliant!”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far, Calendine.” All the same, Gonff saw Rowan’s chin quivering with suppressed laughter. “But it does make me curious, though: who’s the mouse behind the rhyme?”
Gonff bowed. “Gonff, Prince of Mousethieves, late of Mossflower, at your service!” Gonff heard a rustling from behind him and saw Rose step out, looking fairly scandalized. “And this is -”
“Laterose of Noonvale, also at your service.” Rose’s bow was deeper and altogether more formal than Gonff’s, and the other mouse couldn’t help but notice how nicely it concealed the blush on her face. “And who might you be?”
“My name is Rowanoak, and that bottomless stomach of a hare over there’s Ballaw. Well, sir Ballaw de Quincewold and a whole other list of titles I won’t bother you with at the moment.”
“Bother them’, Rowan old Oak? Why, the very thought of my name being a ‘bother’!”
“We’d love to hear them,” Gonff cut in, “but could it wait a bit? Besides us we have five more companions a little way back into the forest and we, uh, kind of forgot to bring anything for breakfast, so could we pinch some of yours?”
“Oh? First you interrupt our practice and then you want to steal our food?” Rowanoak affected a look of mock sternness. “The very cheek!”
“Please, ma’am, we just -”
“I’m just pulling your tail, young miss. There’s plenty of food to go around, so go on! Get your friends and bring them here. Let it never be said that the Rambing Rosehip Players turned hungry mouths away!”