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The dawn broke grey and ugly over Redwall Abbey, most of the sun's warm rays hidden by a fine misting rain, the type of rain that wormed its way into the bones and chilled a body from the inside out. The former crew of the Chainbreaker and their squirrel captors were already in position, formed in a wide circle around Prince Ingral. The twin bells of the Abbey, Matthias and Methusula, tolled, their bright rings cutting through the eerie silence. Upon the final ring the massive oak double doors of the fabled building opened, releasing a procession of all the able-bodied Redwallers. Leading them was the fox, Argo.

Using plant dye he'd painted three red stripes, one each for his wife, son, and former captain, diagonally across his face, adding that much more to his already ferocious appearance. He was bare-chested and bare-pawed, wearing only his leggings, his father's dagger in its customary spot at his ankle, and the throng with his wife's ring around his neck. He'd even left behind his sword's sheath, opting to carry it in his paw so as to remove anything that might slow him down. His silver incisor shimmered dully in the dingy light.

The living ring of creatures split, allowing him to enter, then closed like a steel trap behind him. He tried to keep his breathing steady as he stared at his nemesis, readying himself for anything. To the squirrel's credit the facade of casual aloofness was gone; he stood completely silent and ready for action. After several moments of inactivity, some unspoken signal seemed to cross between the two beasts; they simultaneously rushed one forward at one another, steel meeting steel with a loud clang in the very center of the circle.

Mud squelched underpaw and splattered in all directions as they circled and lunged, weaved and parried. Bil had been correct in his assessment of the squirrel's speed; only Argo's years of experience was keeping the battle on an even field, and just barely. Though they were both bleeding from a dozen different cuts, the fox was clearly at a disadvantage. Worse yet, he could feel fatigue setting in, forcing him to go more into the defensive, searching desperately for an opening.

Sensing his enemy's condition, the cocky smile had returned to Ingral's face. He began to almost toy with his adversary, hurling insults and inflicting cruel but non-life threatening injuries just to make him suffer. Argo roared in pain and rage as a sudden upward swing of the squirrel's blade severed the majority of his right ear from his head.

"What's this now," cried the prince in a jolly voice, turning his head ever so slightly to the side to get a better view of the Redwallers,"going to pieces on me, are we!"

That momentary pause was exactly what Argo had been waiting for. Despite being partially blinding in one eye by the blood flowing from his wounded ear he feinted high with his sword, turning low at the last second, and managed to carve a deep gash across Ingral's chest, drawing a shriek from him. The fox caught his second wind, releasing a flurry of attacks, flipping the table and forcing the squirrel into the defensive and sending him retreating to the edge of the circle. However, what the former mercenary didn't know was he was being led right to a trap!

The squirrel, bleeding heavily, led him as close to his second-in-command as possible, then circled until Argo's back was to the large squirrel.

"Now, you fool" he cried, his voice tinged with pain and panic as his desperation wiped him of any composure.

Pain the likes of which he'd never felt before ripped through Argo's body and blackness threatened to overtake his mind as Chanser's spear ran him through from low and to the side of his back, going right through the scar of the wound he'd entered Redwall Abbey with. He stumbled forward, clutching the hole left after the spear was pulled back through, his sword falling from his paw. Ingral stalked the fox like a cat after a wounded bird, not even noticing Chanser's body folding to the ground with blood flowing from a slit throat courtesy of Bil.

As they neared the center of the muddy circle the squirrel sliced a deep cut across Argo's back, following it up with a cruel gash at the back of his leg which forced him to his knees. Ingral placed his sword's tip flat over the fox's shoulder close to his neck, a mockery of a knighting ceremony. He blew rainwater from his nose tip and blinked it from his eyelashes.

"It's been grand knowing you, scum," he said, speaking low so only Argo could hear him. "If it brings you any comfort, you'll be seeing your female and your son in just a moment. Why, I might even send your daughters to see you shortly! Aren't I truly a thoughtful beast?"

Ingral's mockery was the furthest thing from the fox's mind at that exact moment. His eyes were riveted right in front of him as, seemingly mere steps away from him, stood the majestic-looking mouse from Redwall's tapestry, Martin the Warrior! Every detail, from the red stone on his sword's pommel, to every strand of fur and bolt of armour, to his smile of calm confidence, was exactly as it appeared on that ancient needlepoint. He pointed directly at Argo with the tip of his magnificent sword and uttered one word in a deep but friendly voice, "Duck!"

Argo obeyed immediately, dipping his head forward as far down as he could manage at precisely the same moment his adversary's was coming down in one last mighty swing, decapitation the squirrel's goal. As the force of the swing carried the younger creature's body completely around, the fox used the last bit of energy he could muster and spun around up on his footpaws, drew his dagger from its sheath, and thrust it deep into Ingral's gut.

For a moment all was silence and stillness, as if frozen solid in ice, then the squirrel, Prince Ingral, feel lifeless to the ground, dagger still protruding from his torso like a branch from a tree trunk. Argo turned slowly back to the Abbey. He made it three stumbling, uneasy steps before falling to his knees. He vision went black, and he pitched forward into the mud unconscious. In his mind he saw Dennalia, looking exactly like she did the first time he laid eyes on her, and his son Harven, looking big and strong, their fur shimmered in bright light. Tears squeezed out from between his closed lids and mixed with the mud and blood on his face.

Abbess Song was the first to recover from the sight of the brutal fight.

"Sister Sloey, quickly, run back to the Abbey and ready the Infirmary! Skipper, I need you and some of your otters to carry Argo if you would."

"Would be an 'onor to, Abbess," the tall, brawny otter chief said, still awed by the battle they'd just witnessed.

"Thank you, sir. Careful not to jostle him around to much. Father, I need to follow and lend my assistance, would you and the others see to these creatures out here?"

"'Course, me beauty," he said with a wink and a smile, giving her a quick hug before she dashed off after the precision of otters and their cargo.

"Alright you lot," he called out to the former mercenary crew, whom already seemed healthier now that they were no longer prisoners, and the rest of the squirrel guard, whom on the other paw looked as scared and unsure as baby birds fresh from the egg, "listen up and listen good! 'Ere's wot's gonna 'appen...!" **************************************************************************** Song wiped her brow with the flowing sleeve of her gown and looked down at their patient. It was well past sundown, and every moment of her, Sloey's, and several helpers' time since the duel that morning had been spent tending to Argo. The majority of that time had been spent on his spear wound, staunching the blood flow, cleaning, and sewing up as best they could with silk thread and a fishbone needle. After the worst of it had been taken care of they took to cleaning the drying mud from his body and seeing to his myriad other wounds. There were several times during the entire ordeal he could be heard muttering to himself in his feverish state, but none could decipher what he was saying.

She would hate to admit it to anybeast, but seeing such a fine, strong creature as Argo like he was, looking small and frail, covered in bandages and laid up in a sick bay cot worried her deeply, so she was secretly glad when a gentle knock came from the closed door. At least it would provide a distraction, even if just for a short time.

"Enter," she said quietly, and was delighted to see badgermum Cregga's great striped head appear around the door. The massive badger closed the door behind her and padded over to the lone patient in the room.

"Good evening, Cregga, how're our guests getting along?"

While they'd been working diligently on Argo, news had trickled in about what'd happened outside the gates. The squirrels had scattered to all four directions shortly after Janglur began speaking, but the crew of the Chainbreaker opted to take the portly creature up on his offer of remaining at the Abbey, for a short time at least, on the stipulation they not cause any trouble.

"If those 'guests' continue to eat the way they have been, there won't be a leaf on a tree nor a blade of grass left by the time spring ends! But you let me worry about those rascals," she said, tenderly laying an enormous paw upon Argo's shoulder, "everybeast is desperate to know how he is."

Song sighed heavily, seating herself upon a wooden stool at the foot of the fox's cot.

"I just don't know. Sister Sloey said she'd never seen a creature lose as much blood as him and survive, that it was in the paws of fate now. Oh Cregga, what will we tell his daughters if he passes!?"

"We'll tell them the truth, Mother Abbess; their father was a brave beast who gave his life to save theirs."