Fading Rose Petals (Redwall Fanfic)

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Something didn't seem quite right.

He was, after all, a trained warrior, one of Luke's best, to the point he'd been left behind tasked with protecting Luke's family and not through some fluke. The question of whether it was a seers poem bothered him, particularly with how readily Brome had assumed in the first place it had been a seers poem. Then there were too many questions about Martin.

But then, with the way they had him hang up his blade and the way he was asked to stay behind, "It's that they don't trust warriors, being the peaceful folk they are. Or something along those lines of wanting me to follow their rules to prove I'm trustworthy. And I can't blame them." He took a deep breath. "Alright. I'll abide by your rules."

To which more time passed, Timballisto kept his promise while carefully listening to the chatter. Or more of, he saw the stares, with one of the things he heard being, "Another warrior? You'd think Uranvoh would have learned with the last one."

He didn't bother asking, as it wasn't his place, and he would soon be away from this place, though he did offer to help around the home as he would in Mossflower. Some obviously didn't want his help, but some, like Uranvoh's wife, welcomed it. "Don't mind them. You're quite welcome."

And so he helped her haul things, and she asked. "So your friend is still recovering?"

"He is," Timballisto said, bothered with how it came up.

"Well, I do hope he recovers then," which made him pause. "He seems like an important person to you."

To which Timballisto relaxed. "Martin is the only one left of my tribe, the only member of my family, but I've known him since he was born. And Luke left him in my care when he left to hunt down the vermin who killed Martin's mother, who he knew would continue killing if he didn't. And I failed in that regard. But, I don't know if Martin will fully recover."

"Is it like our Rose?"

"Your Rose?" Timballisto asked. "She wasn't born unable to walk."

"No. There was..." There came a pause. "An accident."

"I don't know if that would be better or worse than what's wrong with Martin," Timballisto said. "When he rescued me from the slave ship—me, who was supposed to protect him, he could remember the name of every member of our tribe who went with Luke, among many others. Now, he can't even remember his grandmother's name, or how it is he came to leave our village. And simply because he was driven to protect the peace Mossflower wanted. It's rather cruel, don't you think?"

"But he wanted to protect it, right?"

"Oh. Sorry. Our tribe is actually not originally from the western caves. We originated in Mossflower, though my only memories of the woods were under the previous Greeneyes tyranny, and he was a shadow compared to Tsarmina. A wild cat. A mouse went to fight a damn wildcat to make sure the friends he made could have peace."

"You lie," another creature said, a squirrel. "No creature could see other than a badger! Not even this Martin."

It was said with venom, anger. Timballisto couldn't place it the reason for such hate. "Martin can fight like a badger. The stupid idiot..." Timballisto felt his teeth clenching, his anger building. To which an actual badger—he'd learned her name was Rowanoak, came and took his load. "Perhaps you should take a break, Mr. T.B. before you lose your temper on a poor good beast?"

"I'll bring you some tea, so..." Uranvoh's wife paused, the sound of singing suddenly filling the air. "Well, I'll be. Rose is singing."

"It's beautiful," Timballisto thought. "If only Martin could hear this. He might—he might actually get better."

"Don't get any ideas on the daughter of our chief, warrior," the squirrel snapped.

"Shoo!" Rowanoak said, sitting herself down next to Timballisto. "Which, before you think of such a thing..."

"Oh. No. I thought it might do Martin some good. You know, to hear her voice."

"It might. She's..." The badger laughed. "Well, I was going to say she's taken to you. But, that is amusing."

"It is?"

"And you say Martin fights like a badger?"

"Boar, the fighter trained him. And..." Timballisto took a deep breath. "It was predicted Martin would come. With Gonff, Dinny, Log-a-Log. The latter isn't here as his tribe was elsewhere when we began our journey."

"Martin was predicted among the badger lords?"

"Well, yes."

"You do realize that's unusual, an abnormality. I've been told that it's only supposed to be badger lords who are both inflicted with the Bloodwrath and the gift of being a seer. And Martin didn't ask for any of this. That little mouse babe—he didn't deserve that kind of fate."

"So, what is Mossflower doing now that Greeneyes is gone? I ask because the Rambling Rosehip Players did travel there."

"Martin is helping the Abbess to build an Abbey. With walls that no vermin can breach, a pond as a water source and orchards so it can be self-sufficient if need be."

"But it's not out of sight like Noonvale?"

"No. It's a place where any goodbeast can come, which Martin says is any beast who is good of heart."

"That's good to hear. That he's building such a place."

"Yes. It is," Timballisto said, taking the tea.

Uranvoh's wife frowned. "He really is building such a place."

"I don't know why you sound surprised. Just because we're warriors doesn't mean that's the only thing we can do. And we prefer peace. Not all of us can live here in peace, in secret."

"No. Actually, it's not so much surprise. I think Uranvoh will be interested in hearing that."

"Really? It doesn't feel..."

"Oh. That my husband much likes warriors? It's not that, but more of..."

It was then that her head turned, her eyes widening in surprise and...

"Rose!"