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Different Approach

A/N: So after much time and planning, I finally got around to starting on this Redwall fanfic. Expect it to be...different from Brian Jacques' legendary series. By which I mean it's not going to focus on Redwall so much (at least, not in the first part). And just a fair warning, expect to see lots of violence, gore, swearing, crude and/or vulgar scenes, and some sex scenes, some of which might be actual rape.

---

Mossflower. There was a lot that could be said about the forest. It just depended on who you asked. Some would say it's a great place to live, if you know how to fend for yourself, that is. Others would say that the forest is a place festering with beasts and vermin, sociopaths who would backstab their own friends and family just to get what they want. And some beasts would say that Mossflower isn't so bad, despite the vermin lurking around. After all, the forest wasn't all bad; every now and then a kind beast would offer shelter to those without a home, or rescue anybeast in peril merely because they knew it was the right thing to do. And of course, there was always Redwall, the glorious abbey filled with the kindest creatures anybeast could ever meet. There were playful Dibbuns, exquisite, mouth-watering food, amazing architecture, and as always, the famous tapestry of Martin the Warrior. And the Redwallers were so kind and trusting, that they would welcome anybeast with open arms and shelter and care for them without hesitation. Maybe Mossflower wasn't the best place in the country, but everybeast in the forest had to admit that Redwall made things much better.

Broddigan Quarles thought these beasts were full of it. The light brown squirrel knew the difference between reality and fantasy. He knew what Mossflower was like when he wasn't inside the beloved abbey, and even then Broddigan wasn't a big fan of Redwall. The squirrel used to love growing up there, but like every other beast, he eventually came to the conclusion that he was getting older. And as his body became taller, muscular (and eventually, fatter), the squirrel's mind grew as well. He realized that Redwall was just a giant box filled with vittles. Sure, he loved it, but Broddigan knew there was a giant world out there waiting to be explored, and he wasn't going to let his fear of vermin prevent him from doing that. So he trained himself and became skilled with a bow and arrow--so skilled that several other squirrel warriors started calling him "Longbow." He decided to travel the country, helping other beasts whenever he could, and preventing any crises before they happened. Eventually, his name spread throughout Mossflower, and everybeast was well-aware of the great Longbow: one of the forest's most valiant and noble squirrels. And his name would be forever remembered, even long after he died.

But Broddigan knew the difference between reality and fantasy. He wanted to believe he was special. He wanted to believe that Mossflower Woods was a great place to live. But it wasn't, and he isn't. Everybeast saw him as a great role-model and a squirrel no beast should antagonize, but as he sat there in front of a thick log, looking at the large campfire burning in front of him, he knew he was just an aging squirrel who was skilled in archery. It was as simple as that. Broddigan still wandered around Mossflower helping those in need, but it wasn't for the glory, or even because he longed to help others. He just didn't know what else to do with his life. The squirrel knew he'd probably sacrifice his own life just to save some random beast being picked on by vermin. Broddigan sighed heavily at the thought and told himself to stop mulling. He could worry about how his life would end later. Right now he was more focused on keeping an eye out for vermin in the area.

He didn't know where he was, but the air didn't stink of vermin, so at least no tribes had plagued the area. The squirrel picked up a twig and poked at the fire in front of him, watching a few sparks fly up into the air. He exhaled and placed his paws over the fire for warmth, surprised that it was still cold at night even though it was spring. Broddigan blinked a few times before he scratched his face and felt his stomach grumble. He opened up his giant sack filled with food he picked up at Redwall and exhaled. The squirrel pulled out a hazelnut and started to munch on it; he planned on saving the bigger meals like the honeyed nutbread, goatsmilk, and oatmeal bannock for breakfast tomorrow. And since the squirrel was already tired, he didn't see the point in stuffing his face now. ...And yet, Broddigan couldn't help but pull out a second hazelnut. And a third. And the next thing he knew, he was munching on a slice of soft, white cheese that had nuts stuffed into it. Broddigan took a large bite out of the cheese and then stopped. A twig snapped behind him.

The squirrel warrior started to reach for his bow when he remembered that he was eating cheese with nuts in it. He looked left and right cautiously before another spark erupted from the fire. Broddigan resumed eating his cheese, but he did so very slowly, and he made sure to keep his ears open. After the squirrel gulped down the cheese, he heard leaves rustling. In the time it took to blink, Broddigan snatched up his bow and took an arrow out of his quiver. He jerked himself around and started to breathe heavily as he looked around in the darkness. The seasoned warrior leaned forward and sniffed the air, thinking he detected vermin stench. But the squirrel also remembered that he hadn't bathed in three days, and that his brown cloak and tunic hadn't been washed in a week. Broddigan sniffed the air again before he sighed heavily and lowered his bow. He rubbed his forehead and shook his head. Just get some sleep, he told himself. You need it. So the squirrel closed his sack, sat down on the ground, and leaned against the same thick log.

And then he hopped back up and decided it would be best to double-check the area, just to be sure. He crept around the campfire, climbed all the trees near him, and even sifted through several bushes and looked behind several trees. No beast was spying on him; if somebeast was, he couldn't see, hear, or smell them anymore. That was just another "small" price he had to pay for being a warrior. He could never settle down and relax out in the open without thinking somebeast was out to get him. After the squirrel finished checking out his surroundings, he sighed heavily and slowly walked back over to his campfire. For a brief moment, he envied Redwallers. Sure, they were "trapped" inside a box, but at least they were happy. At least they could sleep in peace. At least they had comfortable beds... Broddigan huffed and stopped himself. Just shut up and go to sleep, he told himself. Broddigan sat down at the log again and placed his bow down right beside him. He leaned back on the log, his footpaws inches away from the fire so they would stay warm overnight. Given the squirrel's age, it wasn't hard for him to close his eyes and lose consciousness.

Half an hour later, the squirrel was still asleep. As the squirrel slept, he failed to notice that a reddish-brown weasel clad in a messy sleeveless shirt and pantaloons had found him. The weasel could see the squirrel lying against the log and grinned. He took out a smooth knife from his black waistsash and crouched down, hoping to sneak up on the squirrel. But the weasel was careless; as he took a step forward, he stepped on a pile of leaves. Broddigan snorted. The weasel immediately fell flat on his stomach, hoping the darkness would conceal him well. But lucky for him, Broddigan didn't even wake up. He just snorted in his sleep and mumbled; he was still lying on his log. The weasel didn't take any chances. He remained in the same spot for two whole minutes, desperately trying not to squirm when some insect started to crawl all over his right footpaw. The weasel shook the insect off before he got back up, slowly and carefully. Then he resumed creeping up behind the squirrel. He was only a few feet away when paranoia kicked in and he hid behind a large tree.

"Trap," he whispered. "I bet that ole squirrel an' his mates got a trap set fer me."

He peeked around the side of the tree and blinked. This was too easy. It had to be a trap. The weasel exhaled and realized it wasn't worth it. He could find food elsewhere; no point in sneaking up on somebeast who clearly looked like he knew how to handle himself. The weasel's stomach disagreed, and it growled at him viciously. The weasel shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Guess I'll have to risk it."

He came out of his hiding spot and crept behind Broddigan, getting closer and closer, stepping meticulously to avoid making too much noise. The squirrel was still sleeping; maybe this would work out after all. Broddigan snorted again, causing the weasel to freeze. He was just a couple feet away; now was the time to strike. The weasel took three huge steps, stopping when he was not even four inches away from the squirrel's head. The weasel didn't think; there was no time to. He acted. Using his left paw, he covered Broddigan's mouth and jerked his head backwards, exposing his throat. Broddigan jerked awake and let out a muffled shout. The squirrel immediately reached for his giant bow, but the weasel was too quick. It only took the weasel a second to run his blade across the squirrel's throat. The next thing Broddigan knew, he was groaning, coughing, and spitting up blood as he thrashed his arms and legs around. The weasel held onto the squirrel tightly, grinning as blood splashed all over his paw. The valiant warrior was choking and drowning in his own blood. His brain knew he was dead, but his body kept fighting the inevitable. The squirrel knew he shouldn't have gone to sleep.

Even after Broddigan grabbed his bow, the weasel just smacked it out of his paw. Broddigan stopped struggling so much; he knew his life was about to end. The front of his cloak was stained with blood, and Broddigan's vision was becoming weary. Everything around him was becoming dark and bleak, and the warrior stopped moving around and grunting so much. The squirrel stopped moving his arms and legs, and the warm blood continued to run down the giant laceration on his neck. He slowly began to shut his eyes, unable to do anything more. The next thing Broddigan knew, he was standing in front of the gates of the Dark Forest.

And so ended the life of the famous squirrel warrior.

"Heh, seems like yore luck ran out, mate!"

The weasel was still grinning as he wiped the blood off his blade, using the squirrel's own cloak as a cloth. He slipped the knife back into his waistsash before he began to search around the campfire. The weasel picked up the giant bow and strapped it onto his back. He had a bow of his own, but he knew the rest of his crew would be impressed to hear how he got it, and one of his friends could probably use it. The weasel went ahead and took the quiver full of arrows too; no point in leaving them to waste, especially since he may encounter more woodlanders later on. The weasel was just about to leave when he noticed the large sack sitting beside the campfire. The creature crouched down and opened the sack with his dirty paws before a wonderful fragrance entered his nostrils. The weasel looked inside, and his eyes grew wide.

"You gotta be shittin' me!"

Inside the sack was an assortment of vittles that would make any hungry beast weep with joy. Hazelnuts, goatsmilk, blackberry cordial, fine, white cheese, some honeyed nutbread and oatmeal bannocks--there was even a thin jar of vegetable soup inside. Broddigan had enjoyed the soup Friar Gavley, the new chef in Redwall, made so much that he asked if he could take some with him in a jar to eat on the go, even if it was cold. The weasel's mouth started to drool at the sight of so much delicious food all cozy and stuffed into one sack. The weasel glanced at the squirrel's cadaver and snickered.

"Well, no point in lettin' this food go ta waste, right?"

The weasel didn't know what to start off with first, so he just shoveled his mouth as fast as he could. He smacked and chewed, crunched and slurped as he stuffed his face with all the delectable vittles. He knew he needed to bring most of it back to his crew, but he didn't care right now. He had been searching all night for food; he wasn't going to let his greedy crewmembers hog it all. After the weasel finished eating all the hazelnuts and slices of bannock, he opened up the bottle of blackberry cordial and drank right from the container. He quaffed nearly half the whole thing before lowering the bottle and belching rudely. The weasel finished off the rest of the cordial before starting on the cheese wedges again. He adored how soft and warm the cheese was, how smooth it felt going down his throat. And unfortunately, he wound up eating all of that too. He worked on the honeyed nutbread next, biting slices of the bread in half before stuffing the rest into his mouth. He was busy smacking on all the bread when his throat became dry, so he took out the goatsmilk and started to drink from the bottle, despite his mouth being full.

It wasn't until he finished drinking a third of the bottle that he realized most of the food was gone. The weasel blinked and looked inside the sack again. All that was left was the vegetable soup, two-thirds of the milk, and half of the nutbread. The weasel sighed. If he returned to his crew with no food at all and a full stomach, they'd figure out he selfishly ate everything for himself. So he put the lid back on the milk and stuffed the bottle back in the sack. Since his back was already full, the weasel stuffed the quiver into the sack, closed it, and removed the bow from his back. Then he put on the sack and put the bow back on. He knew the bow would be useless without the arrows, but he didn't feel like walking around with the quiver, the sack, and the bow all dangling from his body. Besides, he had his trusty dirk and knife in his waistsash; that was enough. The weasel checked to make sure the squirrel didn't have anything else of value before he turned away from the campfire and left.

A new bow, a dozen arrows, some milk, vegetable soup, nutbread, and a dead squirrel warrior. Not too bad for one night of work. Hopefully it would be enough to placate his captain.

---

The ferret shivered as he tried to stay near the fire for warmth. The three rats accompanying him were scared out of their minds, panting and looking over their shoulders, their cutlasses drawn.

"Where'd they go?! Those blasted 'ares are crawlin' all over us!"

"Shut yer mouth, Flin! Yer scarin' the fat one!"

The vermin the other rat was referring to was Bosca, a pregnant ferret. "You watch yore language. The only reason I 'aven't slain you myself is 'cause I need you ta get me back safely!"

The other rat scoffed. "Oh dear, I seem to 'ave angered her! Surely a ferret with a babe is much more threatenin' than a giant stripedog an' his 'ole army of rabbits!"

"I said shut yore mouth!"

And so he did. Permanently. An arrow magically appeared going through his neck. The rat didn't even have time to gurgle before he fell forward and dropped his cutlass.

"How many times must we tell you cretins?! We're hares, not confounded rabbits, wot!"

"DOWN!"

All the vermin dropped to the ground when two more arrows zipped past them. Flin, the rat arguing with the one who just died, suddenly began to wonder if being in one spot was such a bright idea.

"We gotta go now! If we 'urry, we can blend in with the darkness!"

The male ferret scoffed. "Ain't no point in runnin' around forever mate! That rabbit with the bow will keep trackin' us!"

The ferret shouted when another bow whizzed right past his face, cutting against his cheek.

"I heard that!"

Flin grumbled. "Yew three wanna stay 'ere, fine! I ain't gonna sit on me arse an' wait for some stripedog to chop me ta bits!"

And with that, Flin turned around and began to sprint away from the campfire, leaving the remaining vermin to the slaughter. The male ferret saw him running away and snarled.

"Coward! Yore just gonna leave--"

"Forget him! The three of us can make it back! All we gots ta do is kill that...thing hidin' in the trees 'afore his mates show up," said Bosca.

The pregnant ferret didn't want to say "rabbit," because she knew that the hare up in the trees would be angered by it. The male ferret and remaining rat all looked up into the trees, their weapons drawn. Bosca didn't have a bow and arrow, so the other ferret and rat had to aim at the trees. They breathed very quietly, looking left and right as they listened for anything out of the ordinary. They heard a few crickets chirping and the wood in the campfire crackling as the fire burned it, but nothing more. The rat's paws were shaking as he looked up into the dark canopy, hoping the hare would be stupid enough to just fall down and break his neck. The rat and ferret saw leaves shaking and immediately fired their arrows, quickly reloading afterwards. The hare hiding in the trees snickered moments before more leaves fell from one of the trees. The rat shouted and fired another arrow, missing again. Before he had the time to even grab another arrow from his quiver, he grunted when the hare fired an arrow into his torso. He collapsed afterwards, his body limp.

"COME OUT! If you rabbits are so strong an' brave, then face me--"

The male ferret was silenced when a blunt stone cracked against his jaw. His bow and arrow flew out of his paws and he fell onto the ground, his vision blurred and mandible broken. The pregnant ferret noticed that her paws were shaking now, and she suddenly began to wonder if staying behind was a good idea. She was about to turn around and run when she heard somebeast screaming in the distance, followed by a sickening squish. The hares must've flanked them and killed Flin as he tried to bolt. Bosca realized with horror that she was surrounded. Even now as she stood by the campfire, she could hear footpaws pounding against the soil, getting louder and louder as seconds passed. Suddenly, the ferret heard a loud thud and felt somebeast looming behind her. She shouted and swung her cutlass backwards, but the hare easily knocked the weapon from the ferret's paws with his sabre. He snickered to himself, his giant belly wobbling.

"Mayhap you cretins need to be taught a new word. Hare. Can y'say that for me? Hare," said the chubby leporid.

The ferret saw no point in running. She tried to reach over and grab her cutlass, but she wound up shouting when a hard stone cracked off her paw, nearly breaking it. She groaned and fell down, panting and whimpering as she rubbed her paw. Bosca looked up for a brief moment and screamed. She could see the hares now, all of them dressed in some kind of colorful, military coats; Bosca already knew that they were members of the Long Patrol. Some wore trousers, while others walked around bare from the waist down. The hare who had picked off Bosca's mates in the trees brushed some dirt off his blue coat before putting his sabre back in the sheath. He wouldn't need it anyway, not with how scared and pitiful this ferret looked. Bosca whimpered as she crawled backwards, nearing the flame.

"Stop! Y-you can't slay me!"

"An' why not? So's you can skitter h'away an' stab h'us in the neck with that blade you're concealin'?"

The dark brown hare who just spoke to her was also the one who broke the other ferret's jaw. He looked down at the ground after hearing a gurgled moan and noticed that the ferret was still alive and trying to stand. He unsheathed his sword and nonchalantly stabbed the ferret in the back. He didn't even have time to groan again before he fell to the ground. Only this time he wouldn't be getting back up. Bosca whimpered as she crawled backwards again, her fur nearly singed by the fire behind her. She was about to open her mouth again when everybeast heard large footsteps in the distance. A few hares started to grin or chuckle while others remained stoic. They stepped out of the way so they could let their ruler get through. Bosca heard loud breathing as the immense and nightmarish thuds began to grow louder and louder. She saw a great big figure in the distance slowly appear from the darkness. She honestly thought she was having a nightmare, but everything she saw was real. The beast walking towards her was a massive badger clad in blue armor.

"No...this can't be happenin'!"

The badger was gargantuan, like all badgers known throughout Mossflower and Salamandastron. He easily overshadowed all the hares around him, even some of the ones with massive ears. His armor would always shake loudly and emit a noisy metallic sound; he would always create small tremors in the ground with each large footstep he took. A broadsword much too heavy for the ferret to carry was strapped to his back. In his warm, big paws was a giant axe designed for only badgers. To the badger, it weighed no more than a regular stick. But any other beast would strain his or herself just to try and pick it up. The badger stopped in front of Bosca, and she managed to get a better look at him. A rare and odd blue-colored stripe was going down his head. He had such innocent blue eyes that for a moment, Bosca thought this badger was harmless. She never did know how badgers could look so gentle and threatening all at the same time.

"Please...you can't kill me!"

The fat hare in a blue coat scoffed. "Typical of you vermin! The least you could jolly well do is face your own demise with a spot of dignity, wot!"

Bosca huffed. "Dignity?! Some stupid stripedog--"

The badger growled so loudly that she shouted and whined. She closed her mouth moments later.

"I am not some 'stupid stripedog,' do you understand? My name is Urthquake the Tough, Badger Lord of Salamandastron."

"But you--"

"Stop," he growled again. "I do not have time to stand here--"

"I'M EXPECTIN' A BABE!" she suddenly screamed.

The other hares looked at the whimpering ferret and just now noticed that her belly was fatter than usual. A female hare wearing a red coat chuckled.

"Yes, yes, an' I s'pose my brother here is expectin' a leveret as well? Or perhaps Becker over there?"

Bosca was on the verge of crying now. "I'm serious. Please...you can't do this ta me. I just want to 'ave my babe...that's all."

Urthquake stared at the ferret's eyes for a moment and tried to see if there was any truth to what she was saying. He blinked once before he shook his large head.

"That thing inside you is a curse. If I spare you, you'll tell your babe of this night. And then he or she will grow old, and learn to hate Urthquake the Tough--"

"No, that ain't--"

"--and then that babe of yours will come find me and try to slay me in my sleep. And I will kill him or her, wondering why I failed to slay his or her mother so many seasons ago."

Now actual tears were running down the ferret's face. Bosca could see that Urthquake was lifting his giant axe.

"Have mercy!"

Urthquake blinked, his eyes still kind, his face still emotionless. "You brought this on yourself. You vermin always do."

The ferret didn't even have time to squeal before Urthquake slammed his axe down, practically bifurcating the pregnant ferret. One hare scrunched up his face when he saw some of the ferret's bones and another yelped when warm blood splashed all over his recently cleaned coat. Lucky for him, it was red already. After slaying Bosca, Urthquake blinked and pulled the axe out of the corpse.

"Are there anymore?"

"No, sah," said a gray bunny with patches of black fur around his body. "We spotted a straggler runnin', but he didn't get far."

Urthquake nodded. "Good. Then let's keep moving."

Urthquake and his massive army of Long Patrol hares began to walk away from the campfire, acting as though nothing even happened. However, one young hare with dark brown fur couldn't help but stare at the ferret's body and the armor-clad badger as he coldly walked away. He knew he shouldn't question a Badger Lord (especially one like Urthquake), but he couldn't bottle this up all night. At the very least, his leader could tell him why he just did what he did. So the young hare rushed over to the badger and walked alongside him and a few other hares.

"Uh, sir? Sir?"

"It's 'Lord,' Corporal. You address your badger as a 'lord'! How many times do we gotta tell you that, wot!"

The young hare lowered his ears slightly. "My mistake, Lieutenant."

"Does it matter whether he calls 'im 'sir' or 'lord'? It all means the same," said another, skinnier hare.

The lieutenant faced the other hare and snorted. "Was I talkin' to you, Sarn't?"

"No, but I--"

"Then shut your mouth!"

Urthquake sighed. "Morson, I do not need you to tell my army what they should and should not address me as. Now...what is it, Tike?"

The young corporal scratched the back of his head. "Well...about that ferret expectin' that babe...was she lyin'?"

Urthquake shook his head. "No. I know the difference between somebeast who's fat and somebeast who's expecting."

Tike blinked. "But then why did you slay her, sir?"

"Tch! Why not! D'you want her to follow us an' stab us all in the back? Or mayhap you wanted her to spy on us so she could go back an' rally up another group of vermin to come slay us in our sleep! Urthquake did what he had--"

"I am more than capable of speaking for myself, Morson," said Urthquake, much louder than normal.

The lieutenant knew when he needed to shut his mouth. Even Morson wasn't stupid enough to try and talk back to Urthquake. ...Most of the time.

"I know it must've been hard for you to see that. But you must understand, Corporal Bonson. All these vermin we run into, these spiteful, malignant, cold-hearted creatures we slay for a living...they started out as babes once. Innocent little creatures that only cared about the next meal they would get. But babes grow up, Tike. Their hearts grow colder and colder, they develop this...hatred for us peace-loving woodlanders that they can't stand. And the next thing you know, there's another Swartt Sixclaw running around Mossflower. Think about it, Corporal. Picture what would've happened if somebeast just found Swartt Sixclaw when he was just a babe and slashed his throat. Or Slagar the Cruel. Or Ferahgo the Assassin. Or even Cluny the Scourge. If somebeast had just killed these beasts before they were old enough to control an army, imagine all the tragedies that could've been averted, the lives that could've been saved."

Tike knew that the Badger Lord was being cold, but after he thought about it for a brief moment, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I...I understand, sir. I don't like it...but you have a point."

"I didn't say you needed to like it. You just have to understand. Once you understand why these vermin need to die, slaying them becomes much easier."

"...Right."

The badger and other hares continued to walk through Mossflower woods, eager to find more vermin so they could rid them from the forest.

---

There were fourteen bodies scattered across the soil, but there was at least forty body parts. The vermin didn't even know what hit them. They were walking through Mossflower searching for food when a ghastly odor filled everybeast's nostrils. The next thing they knew, arrows and throwing knives were coming from all sides. Everybeast's ears were filled with the sounds of screaming and groaning as the group was picked off one by one. And then the attackers showed themselves, and the vermin were slaughtered even faster. They were lizards, specifically monitor lizards. The giant reptiles ambushed them without breaking a sweat; they didn't even lose a single lizard. And now that the vermin were all dead and spread across the forest, the hungry lizards began to feast. They snarled, hissed, and slobbered as they tore away at the cadavers, some not even bothering to cook the food over an open flame. So now the lizards were stealing the weapons from the dead and filling their stomachs with the cooling flesh. All but one of the vermin was dead; the sole survivor was being teased and tormented by several of the lizards.

"Poke him again!" shouted one lizard.

A grayish-brown lizard carrying a spear snickered moments before he poked the fat rat in the bottom. He yelped and jumped forward, while all the other lizards laughed. The plump rodent was on all fours, shaking and whimpering, tears running down his face.

"Please, spare me, please!" he whined.

"Lizzen to the way he begz!"

A very large monitor with bluish-gray scales stepped towards the rat. The black rat slowly looked up at the burly lizard clad in tattered shorts and a tunic. He grinned very slowly and crouched down, his tongue occasionally slipping out of his mouth.

"Zo, you wanna live, hmm?"

The rat had to turn his head when the lizard's nasty breath filled his nose. "Y...yes..." he muttered.

The giant lizard hissed quietly before he stood up and walked behind the black rat. The rodent yelped when the lizard grabbed his thick tail and slowly lifted it. The lizard blinked as he stared at the rat's noticeably large behind clad in brown trousers. He growled deeply.

"That'z a lovely arze ya got there. Gotta zay, I really do love a rat with meat on hiz bonez..." growled the lizard.

The black rodent did not like where this was going, especially when the lizard grabbed his waistband. Thankfully, the leader of the group, another vile lizard with dark green scales, stopped the commotion.

"That'z enough!"

The giant lizard let go of his tail as the leader of the group showed himself. Like all the other lizards, he was very large and wearing tattered clothing; this lizard was mostly wearing blue. He looked down at the black rat and grinned wickedly, his dark yellow eyes staring right into his.

"Who'z your crew?"

The rat turned his head again. The lizard wasn't even crouching in front of the rat and he could still smell his rank breath.

"What'z your name?"

"Uh...R-Razzik...it's Razzik."

The lizard hissed loudly and crouched in front of Razzik. "Do you want to die, Razzik?"

Razzik shut his eyes and sobbed. "No! Please, you-you don't 'ave to kill me!"

The leader stood up, planted his right foot on the rat's face, and shoved him backwards. Razzik whimpered as he crawled backwards and sat against a log.

"Ohhhhhh, truzt me! Death iz a blezzing compared to what we'll do if we keep ya alive!"

The bluish-gray monitor that was groping Razzik's bottom earlier hissed. "Remember the lazt chubby rat you caught?"

The leader hissed again. "Indeed I do! We ztarved the vermin for only one day. That waz all it took! Then Luggrar an' I both took turnz az we zliced the rat'z own flesh from hiz body! You remember that day, Luggrar?"

A light green lizard licked a long and thin flaying knife before he snickered. "Yez, Great Leader! That rat loved to zcream in our earz, didn't he?"

"Stop..." moaned Razzik.

"But I'm not finished yet! He got hungry and, well, we didn't have no food for the poor thing, zo we had to feed him hiz own flesh! Hehehe, greedy little rodent gobbled it all down az though it were vittlez from Redwall! Everyday we did the zame thing to him, cutting off hiz flesh an' feeding it to him, until he choked to death. He died eating himzelf! Such a nazty way to go, ain't it?"

Razzik couldn't answer. He just sat there and kept sobbing, snot coming out of his nose as more tears ran down his face. The powerful monitor lizard removed his cutlass from its sheath and planted the blade against Razzik's fat belly. He poked him a few times, but not hard enough to draw blood.

"Let'z ztart right...here! Now hold ztill! Wouldn't want ta cut too deep!"

Razzik's eyes grew wide and he stopped sobbing. He gasped for a moment as he felt utterly helpless. Suddenly, the lizards heard a loud hiss, which was immediately followed by the sound of trickling. Razzik whimpered quietly and was overcome with embarrassment. The leader of the lizards looked down and noticed that a small puddle had formed in-between the fat rodent's legs. The lizard had scared him so badly that he wet himself. Once everybeast found out what Razzik did, the section of the forest was filled with laughter and hissing noises. Razzik looked down in shame as everybeast laughed and teased him; he already knew they considered him to be a common babe now. Even the leader was hooting with laughter. Luggrar stopped laughing for a brief moment before he grinned and shook his head.

"You vermin are all alike! You run around gawkin' at how mean an' tough you are, but when it comez down to it, yore all juzt babez who can't ztop pizzin' an' shittin' themzelves when they ztare death in the eye!"

Razzik yelped when the leader grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back onto his footpaws. He brought the rat so close to his face that Razzik could feel his foul breath on his nose.

"Now you lizzen to me! I'm not gonna kill you...not yet anyway. I want you to run back to your group of pathetic, pantz-wetting vermin and tell them all that Krazzak Ralfur iz coming! You tell them all that Krazzak Ralfur will become the ruler of thiz forezt and no beast will ztand in hiz way! By the time I'm through tearing thiz forezt apart, beazts all around the country will think the Hellgatez themzelves opened up and unleashed all itz fury onto the world!"

Krassak shoved Razzik back down onto the ground, at which point he whimpered and panted as he quickly started to stand back up.

"Go! Tell your zniveling band of vermin that zoon enough, there'll be no plaze left to run or hide! Krazzak Ralfur iz coming!"

Razzik didn't answer or look back. The black rodent panted and sobbed as he sprinted away from the malicious creatures, all of them jeering or hissing at him as he ran away. Even for a rat of his size, Razzik could run surprisingly fast. Krassak and Luggrar stared at the rodent until he was out of their field of vision. Krassak grinned slowly and chuckled, his tongue slipping out of his mouth.

"Yez...one day zoon, all theze mongrelz will kneel before Krazzak and hiz army!"

The burly bluish-gray lizard snorted. "Shame. I waz hoping we could have a little fun with him firzt."

Krassak laughed. "Don't worry, Rowgat. We'll find you another rat to play with zoon enough!"

The other lizard grinned. "Good."

---

It was finally dawn. The weasel could see the sun slowly rising beyond the horizon, ready to shine brightly upon Mossflower. He could hear the various seagulls crying out at sea and flying above the water, almost as if they were gliding. The cool wind from the sea was blowing his way, bringing along the familiar scent of the salty air he knew and loved. The weasel smiled as he stood there, looking down at the sandy beach and feeling some of the sand in-between his toes. For a brief moment, the weasel had completely forgotten about the crisis he and his crew were facing. But as he looked down at the beach, the peaceful moment was ruined when he saw the two beached vessels that had recently been ravaged by a wicked storm almost a week ago. The weasel also happened to notice the large group of vermin occupying the beach, most of whom were sleeping lazily or unconscious from drinking too much grog. The weasel stopped smiling and sighed heavily before he walked towards the ship on the left side of the beach. As the weasel trekked across the sand and approached the wrecked vessel, he could hear several of his crew members snoring loudly, some of them even gurgling since their mouths were filled with slobber. He shook his head and muttered to himself. They needed to get moving--and fast, otherwise everybeast would become too lazy to even lift their cutlasses.

"Nice to see yore back early," said a light brown stoat.

The weasel sighed. "Where's the Cap'n?"

"Still in his cabin. Been mutterin' to 'imself lately; I think bein' out here fer so long is messin' with his mind."

The weasel rubbed his head. "I'll talk to him."

"Good luck with that."

While the weasel was busy walking into the beached ship, the captain was busy pacing inside his cabin, scratching himself and talking to himself on occasion. He had various paw-drawn sketches of Mossflower spread across the table in his cabin. The ferret looked down at all the maps and stared at some of the important locations before he grunted when a drop of water fell right on his left ear. The whole cabin was very humid and clammy; the rain from the recent storms had soaked through the wood, and various parts of the ship were freezing. Even now the captain noticed how nippy the air inside was.

"Now...now if we just advance over here..."

The captain kept muttering to himself before he shut his eyes and rubbed his muzzle. He abruptly swore vehemently and swiped some of the sketches off his desk before he snatched a canteen of grog from his table and sat down in a chair. He shoved the canteen against his mouth and took a huge gulp of the fiery fluids, swallowing multiple times as the liquids went down his throat. He exhaled after having his fill, just in time for the weasel to step inside. The ferret blinked and turned his head, smiling when he saw his first mate walk through the doorway.

"Trae! Yore certainly back a bit earlier'n expected!"

The weasel shrugged. "Any other beast back yet?"

"Longfang an' Bloodeye came back with some ramsons--not that many of the crew feels like eatin' that nasty stuff. Tugger found a new spear an' some bread lyin' around at a campfire."

"What about Razzik an' his team?"

The captain shrugged. "Dunno. Prob'ly got lost again in the woods. Wot about you? Find anythin'?"

Trae smirked proudly and snickered. "You know me, Cap'n! Always producin' results!"

The weasel took the sack and bow from his back and set it down on the table. The ferret set his canteen of grog aside and laughed as he examined the long, sleek bow.

"Wow...who d'ya kill to get this beauty?"

"Eh, just some squirrel sleepin' in the woods. Snuck up behind 'im an' slit his throat."

The captain looked at Trae with a wide and nasty grin on his face. "Killin' somebeast while he's sleepin'? Bit unfair, dont'cha think?"

The weasel shrugged. "I don't fight fair, Cap'n. I fight smart."

The ferret laughed heartily before he set the bow down and opened up the sack. "That you do, Trae! That you do!"

Trae watched as his captain removed the quiver of arrows and set them on the table beside the bow. He looked at the container of milk, soup, and the slices of bread before he started to drool.

"Haha, you did good, Trae! Haven't seen vittles like these since last season!"

As Trae kept smirking to himself, the ferret started to frown when he moved his paw around the seemingly empty sack.

"Where's the rest?"

"What rest, Cap'n?"

"You stole this sack, yeah?"

"Right."

"An' that squirrel you killed only brought bread, milk, and some stew with him?"

Trae froze for a moment before shrugging again. "Guess he weren't a big eater."

The captain looked up at Trae and started to scowl. "You sure you didn't get hungry on the way back here?"

"No, sah! I ate 'afore I even left to go look fer food!"

Trae forced himself not to gasp when the ferret leaped over the table and took his knife out of his waistsash. For such a tired ferret, he sure knew how to move fast. "Open yer mouth."

Trae blinked. "What for?"

"I wanna smell your breath. If you're not lyin', then I shouldn't smell any vittles on yer breath, right?"

The weasel scratched the back of his head nervously as the ferret got closer and closer. "Err...I don't think I should, Cap'n."

"Want me to open it for you?" snarled the ferret menacingly.

The ferret was so close to Trae that he was able to put his cold blade against the weasel's chin. Trae grumbled softly as the captain started to grab the weasel's jaw. Not wanting to antagonist the ferret further, Trae opened his mouth wide and exhaled in the ferret's face. The captain didn't even need to sniff; he could smell it already. The captain groaned with disgust as he recoiled and backed away from the brown creature.

"Yurk, that's foul! Wot the 'ell's been festerin' in your mouth?!"

Trae scratched the back of his head. "Wild ramsons, sah. I got 'ungry on the way back and I couldn't find anythin' else to munch on. They taste fine after ya down two or three of 'em."

The weasel found that lying always worked well when he mixed in the truth with it. Before he arrived at the beach, Trae did get hungry, and he was fortunate enough to find ramsons nearby. Since he suspected something like this might happen, the weasel shoveled several ramsons into his mouth to mask the scent of his breath. Unless somebeast planned on sifting through his excrement to find evidence of vittles, he had nothing to worry about now. The ferret groaned again and leaned against the table. He placed his knife back into his waistsash and sighed.

"Right then, you make sure to stay a few feet away from me fer a few hours."

Trae smirked. "Will do, Cap'n!"

The ferret took all the vittles out of the sack and placed them on the table. He sat down and started to messily shovel a slice of bread into his maw, smacking and getting some slobber on the table. The weasel was still standing in the cabin, as though he were expecting something from his captain. The ferret didn't even notice he was still there, in large part because he started chugging the warm goatsmilk. After slurping up a large amount of it and burping, the captain glanced over at Trae and blinked.

"Somethin' else you want?"

"...About this plan of yours--"

"It's goin' to work, Traegar. You just wait an' see...everybeast in Mossflower thinks they can just snatch all our freedoms away from us, slaughter any corsair that even smells like vermin. Heh...I'll show 'em."

"It's not that I doubt yore plan--"

"Really, Trae? It certainly sounds like it."

The weasel had known the ferret long enough to realize when flattery would get him out of a tough situation. He just had to say the right words, put on the right face. So the brown weasel grinned and scoffed.

"Yore Kurwin the Flayer, Cap'n! Other corsairs dread yore name an' yore nasty reputation! You take what you want, slay when ya feels like it, and you raid other ships just to watch the other pirates shit themselves once they see yore ugly face!"

Kurwin couldn't deny that he didn't exactly look handsome. Several scars were spread across his head. He had a particularly nasty scar on his left eye after receiving a cut that nearly blinded him, and there was another scar that went from his right ear all the way down to his neck. The ferret smirked, taking what Traegar said about his face as a compliment.

"All corsairs on the sea fear you, Cap'n! You an' that blade of yours."

The blade Trae was referring to was the ferret's special flaying knife. When Kurwin was in a "good" mood, he had a habit of skinning his victims alive and hanging the corpses from trees or the masts of rival ships. Kurwin snickered evilly, enjoying all of Trae's flattery.

"Wot's yer point?"

"Beasts an' all the other second-rate corsairs who can't hold a cutlass the right way fear you. Those who don't look up ta you, wanna be like you! ...But we're pirates, sah. The sea's where we all belong, not with all these landlubbers an' their trees an' giant abbeys."

"An' how are we s'posed to be at the sea when my ships are only good for bonfires?"

Trae scoffed. "This ain't the first time the ships have been scuttled, especially this one! We lost the whole mast in the winter before last; lost a few good beasts in the process too! But we got the ship fixed, didn't we?"

"After pissin' away the entire season, an' losin' more fellow corsairs and a steersrat before spring finally arrived."

"But we recovered! That's the point, Cap'n! If we can--"

"Trae," said the ferret, so loudly that the weasel stopped talking. He reached over and grabbed his canteen of grog again. As he started to unscrew the cap, he sighed heavily. "Mossflower is nothin' more'n a bog. Beasts go in, an' most don't come out. How many times have we visited Mossflower an' lost crew members 'cause some woodlanders ambushed us? How many times do we have to lie awake at night 'cause we don't want some riverdogs to stab us all in our sleep with their javelins? How many times do we have to hope that we don't run into some stripedog carryin' a giant axe?!"

Kurwin took a long drink from his canteen and sighed heavily. "And don't get me started on that fuckin' abbey..."

"What, Red--"

"DON'T!" snarled the ferret. "I don't even wanna hear the name! All those vermin armies that tried to take over the place--if a beast even smells as bad as we do, they get slain! Tchah, Raga Bol, Razzid Wearat--even Cluny the Scourge! They slew one of the greatest conquers in all the land with a bell, Trae. A fuckin' bell!"

Kurwin drank more grog and sighed, realizing he was almost out. "I'm tired of bein' scared of this place. I'm tired of other corsairs refusin' to even go on land anymore 'cause they're worried some Redwallers or stripedogs or tree climbers or riverdogs or wotever is gonna hunt 'em down and slay 'em!"

Kurwin shook his head. "No...one way or another, we vermin are gonna rule the land an' the sea, understand? The vermin around this country are gonna realize that there's no need ta be frightened anymore."

Trae rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Cap'n--"

"You answer me truthfully now. Wot's better: spendin' a whole season rebuildin' two ships an' then sailin' back ta sea, raidin' small-time islands and hopin' we don't run into any of those riverdog pirates? Or stayin' here, buildin' our own army, and drivin' all of those beasts outta the forest so we can take it over for ourselves? That way, we won't have to be worryin' about anythin' anymore. It'll be this...giant paradise full of vermin who work together so we can all rule the rest of this world. An' we can build all the ships we want, assign each crew to one, an' send 'em out onto the seas to go find more islands to pillage and burn."

The reddish-brown weasel stared at the partially drunken corsair and his nasty grin for a while. He knew his captain wanted this--needed, some would say--but he was still apprehensive about the whole plan. The weasel knew that a lot of beasts were going to die; some were gonna have mental breakdowns; some were gonna try to pull a mutiny; some might even kill themselves from suffering too much grief. But when Trae envisioned everything Kurwin just said, about how the forest would be littered with pirates who build ships on a harbor so they could sail away to take over more islands, he started to feel very content. He stood there, completely silent, imagining what would happen if prouder, stronger vermin armies like the ones Cluny and Ferahgo controlled had taken over Redwall, maybe even Salamandastron. He could see all the hares fighting and dying as they were overrun by the enemy, the Redwallers running away with their tails 'tween their legs, only to get shot down by arrows. As risky as it was, it would pay off in the end.

"When you put it that way sah, I don't understand 'ow anybeast couldn't agree with you!"

"But?"

Trae blinked and paused. "Cap'n...this could be the death of you. This could destroy yore crew; this could drive you mad. Even if this works...we're not all gonna live ta see our victory. You know that."

"If I know that, then why are you tellin' me?"

"Because you need to realize what yore about to get yoreself into, what yer gonna get the rest of the crew into. Are you prepared for that, Cap'n?"

The ferret finished the rest of his grog and put the canteen down. "Even if I end up at Hellgates...if wot we do ends with the vermin controlling this wretched forest an' all the seas surroundin' it...I'm okay with that. That's all I want, Trae, for us vermin to stop bein' scared an' to get the respect we deserve."

Trae closed his eyes and nodded slowly. "If that's what you want."

"It is. Now go wake the crew; I'll be out soon."

"Aye, Cap'n!"

The reddish-brown weasel turned and left the captain's cabin, whilst Kurwin the Flayer sat still and rubbed his forehead. He knew that what he planned on doing with his crew would probably send them all to the Dark Forest. But he had lost beasts before, and he knew what it felt like to look somebeast in the eye and to tell him or her that everything was going to be okay when it wasn't. This was going to work. It had to. He just needed to execute everything properly. While the ferret was busy thinking about his future, Traegar was outside looking for another friend of his. He found a dark brown rat clad in gray clothing lying next to a crate and snoring with his mouth open. Trae kicked him in the sides, causing him to snort.

"Get yore arse up, Blowhorn. We're gonna move soon."

Blowhorn mumbled and turned over. "Sod off, mate. I ain't slept all night."

Trae sighed heavily and walked over to a stoat sleeping against another crate. He snatched the half-empty bottle of grog from his right paw and headed back over to Blowhorn. Without even hesitating, he bashed the bottle against the rodent's head, causing him to shout and sit up, his head throbbing.

"Wot the fuck, Trae?! Can't ya just give me five more minutes?!"

"No. Now wake everybeast up!"

The brown rat snorted as he continued to rub his throbbing head. He stood up and slowly dragged his dirty footpaws across the sand, shielding his eyes as the rising sun began to appear. He stood near the largest group of sleeping vermin he could find and sighed heavily. The dark brown rat smirked before he bent over and lifted his tail, grunting the entire time. Trae noticed what the brown rat was doing and smirked as well; he found Blowhorn's methods to be crude and revolting, but they got the job done. One second, all Trae could hear was the sound of birds singing and beasts snoring. A couple seconds later, his ears were filled with a juvenile sound that easily could've been mistaken for a very noisy horn. But miraculously, the repulsive sound was coming from Blowhorn's behind. The rat made sure he released enough wind so everybeast around would hear him. And for some of the unfortunate ones, smell him. Several corsairs shouted or got up almost immediately, while many others slowly opened their eyes and groaned after hearing Blowhorn release all his flatulence.

"Again, Blowhorn?!"

"When the 'ell are yew gonna start wakin' us up with somethin' other than your ass?"

Blowhorn stood straight up and lowered his tail as he laughed. "No need ta get mad, mates! It's all natural!"

A black female fox was busy waving a paw in front of her nose. "No, it ain't! None o' the smells yew release is natural!"

"But it is funny!"

"What soddin' idjit thinks their own foul gas an' bodily smells is funny?! It's somethin' only them babes would laugh at!"

Blowhorn scoffed. "Bah, yew guys just don't know a good joke when ya see one!"

"Or smell one," muttered the fox.

Everybeast stopped complaining once they saw Kurwin the Flayer finally step out of his wrecked ship. He exhaled as he walked across the sand, looking a bit tired. A gray rat with filthy footpaws spotted the seemingly exhausted captain and scoffed.

"So what is it today, Cap'n? More frolickin' on the beach?"

"Shut your mouth, Dirtfoot!"

"Or what, Cap'n?"

"He's got a point, sah," said a ferret with an eye patch covering his left eye. "We can't just say here an' wait fer somethin' to happen! We gotta get new ships!"

"Aye, Dead-Eye's right!"

"We gotta patch up these boats an' get back to the sea!"

It didn't take long before everybeast around the ships started clamoring or arguing with each other, debating on whether or not they should stay on the beach another day, or if they should take their chances and explore Mossflower for supplies to get the ships fixed. Kurwin was steadily getting tired of all the pointless arguing, up to the point where he started gritting his teeth with frustration. Eventually, he just opened his mouth and exploded.

"AN' WOT GOOD WOULD THAT DO?!"

The vermin stopped talking instantly. They knew that whenever the captain started yelling that vociferously, everybeast needed to be quiet. Kurwin stomped over towards a crate and stepped onto it so everybeast could see him.

"So we patch up the boats an' get back to sea. What then?! We get back to robbin' from tribes that have nothin' of value, we hunt down other pirates just for shits 'n' giggles, we sail around 'til we get bored an' start raidin' other islands killin' everybeast in sight?!"

"Yah, basically. Ain't that wot we've been doin'?" asked a female brown weasel.

"We ain't gettin' nothin' done! You wanna know wot those beasts out there in Mossflower are doin' while we sail the seas?! They're killin' us left an' right! Vermin aren't safe anymore--on the seas or on land! We got stripedogs tearin' us in half with their giant axes, shrews ambushin' us while we're sleepin' by rivers, an' even beasts who ain't no more'n ten seasons old are startin' ta learn how to wield daggers an' dirks! They're drivin' us outta these lands; they're scarin' us, an' they know we're scared! They know after wot happened to all the vermin leaders like Swartt Sixclaw an' the Marlfox clan that we wouldn't even dream of settin' footpaw on Mossflower!"

"Wot's yore point, Cap'n?" asked Dead-Eye.

Kurwin snickered evilly, occasionally turning around on the crate so his back wasn't always facing one part of the audience. "These woodlanders, they-they drive us out of these forests, actin' like it's theirs when it's not! We vermin have every right to rule parts of this forest, but those woodlanders won't let us! Drivin' us out Mossflower ain't enough anymore; now they got their own corsairs huntin' us down! Dreaded riverdogs who turn vermin against their own an' use 'em to hunt beasts like us down! Just two weeks ago Cap'n Deklin an' his whole crew of foxes an' stoats an' rats were all viciously slain at night while their boat was anchored at a harbour! An' it was those soddin' otters that killed 'em all; they slew 'em like it was nothin'! You wanna know wot's gonna happen if this keeps up?"

No one answered, but after hearing that a beloved captain they all knew very well had been slain by otters, some of the crew members started to get worried.

"They're gonna use stripedogs to hunt us down!"

A few members of the crew gasped or looked at Kurwin with wide eyes. The scar-faced ferret knew he was going overboard, but he needed to scare them like this if he was ever gonna get everybeast's undoubted loyalty.

"That's right! Oh, I can see it now! Giant black an' white beasts wearin' striped shirts and loose pants, waltzin' around with some spotted headband, tryin' to look like us! They carry giant cutlasses bigger'n me, and they scream 'EULALIAAAAAAAA!!!' as loud as they can, just so we can hear 'em across the sea, just so we can sleep at night knowin' that dreadful cry will always fill our ears, will always haunt our dreams! Is that wot you all want? Do you wanna wait until the day where we can't even sail anymore because badgers decided to rule the seas too?! Because we're too scared to fight 'em off?! Because we know that we won't be able t'win?!"

"Yew can't be serious!"

"We can't 'ave some stripedog patrollin' the seas!"

"Is that really gonna happen, Cap'n?"

"Pah, not if we do somethin' about it!" Kurwin pointed back to the well-known forest that, in his eyes, was home to thousands of bloodthirsty creatures whose only goal was to wipe vermin off the face of the world.

"You see that forest? In there are a bunch of squirrels, mice, badgers, otters, hedgehogs--you name 'em, they're festerin' in that forest! You wanna know wot else is in there? Vermin! There's dozens an' dozens of vermin just like us bein' hunted down by all those terrible creatures! So I say we give 'em a paw! I say we stop fightin' each other all the time and work together! I say we show those pathetic an' fat woodlanders who's really ruler of the forest!"

Several members of Kurwin's crew shouted out "Yeah!" or "Aye!" and held up their weapon as they did so. The ferret could see nearly everybeast was riled up by his speech and was more than happy to join him with his plan now.

"I think it's time we turn the tables on those beasts in Mossflower an' show 'em that they're the ones who should be scared of us!"

The ferret received more agreeable shouts from his crew. Even those who previously thought Kurwin was just a tired, drunken corsair could now see that his mood had vastly improved, and that he was more than capable of leading them to victory.

"I SAY IT'S TIME WE TAKE OVER MOSSFLOWER!"

That did it. Virtually everybeast in the ferret's crew was cheering at him now, raising their weapons or bottles of grog as a form of salute to the vicious corsair. And Kurwin just stood there taking it all in, laughing evilly and grinning as he looked around at his "vast" army. Maybe they were lazy. Maybe they had a habit of getting drunk all the time. But they were still loyal, bloodthirsty beasts who knew how to use their weapons well enough to defend themselves against a large group of Long Patrol hares.

"Kurwin! Kurwin! Kurwin! Kurwin!"

They kept chanting his name over and over again, creating quite a ruckus as they praised him. The captain was surprised at how quickly he could wake us his crew and get them all moving again. He stood on the crate and kept accepting all the praise from his vermin army, glad that they all believed in him. The ferret was grinning and laughing on the outside, but on the inside, his brain was cursing at him. Even though he had been commanding two giant ships, they couldn't house more than a hundred beasts--not without feeling too cramped. Even then, not everybeast could have a personal cabin. There was a time long ago where Kurwin had more ships in his army. But after failed raids, a mutiny or two, and the constant attacks from enemy pirates and occasional woodlanders, he was down to only two ships--both of which were useless now--and a crew that numbered less than two hundred. He knew his army could be trounced easily if he wasn't careful. More importantly, he knew that a majority of these pirates would probably be dead by the time this whole ordeal was over, himself included. Deep down in his mind, he knew he had a steep promise to fill and that things could easily spiral out of control.

For a brief moment, he thought he said the wrong choice of words and he let his pride get in the way. But he told himself to ignore all his apprehensions and to stick with his plan. Maybe his whole crew would end up in the Dark Forest. Maybe not. Kurwin didn't care anymore, not after all the things he's dealt with ever since he became a corsair.

One way or another, Mossflower was going to be controlled by vermin.