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Morning sunlight, gray and cold, streamed in through the rock crystal window at the far end of Redwall's Infirmary and splashed across Argo's face, waking the large fox from the best sleep in recent memory. He stretched, wincing a bit from the fresh wound on his back, and resolved to lay in the comfortable bed -the first he'd rested his head on in about five seasons- as long as he could. Unfortunately, he'd always been a creature that couldn't stand staying dormant for long, so it was just a short time before he hauled himself from the warmth and comfort of the borrowed bed and began dressing himself. He left his sword and the majority of his daggers under the cot wrapped in his cloak -a compromise he reached with Abbess Song the night before- and slipped out of the Infirmary, moving silently down the red sandstone steps to the main floor.

He stepped quietly into the kitchen, careful not to wake the young mouse aid napping on a bed of empty sacks in a warm corner next to the oven, and grabbed a few scones from a cooling tray and went to find a quiet corner for himself. He was about to go down the three wide steps to the smaller area the Abbeybeasts referred to as Cavern Hole, when he noticed a beautiful tapestry at the other end of the larger dining space, a detail he somehow managed to miss last night. Though it wasn't the artistry of it that caught his eye, but the figure in the center. He was an armor-clad mouse, a smile radiating calm and confidence on his friendly face, with all kinds of vermin fleeing from him. The fox slowly munched his pilfered scones as he studied the mouse, something from his memory trying to claw itself back up to the front of his mind.

"Cut's quite a figure, don't he," a voice said from behind him, shaking the fog from his mind. He turned to see Dann, the young squirrel champion, walking up to him.

"Aye, that 'e does. 'o is 'e?"

"That's Martin the Warrior. Countless seasons ago he rid Mossflower of a wildcat warlord and helped found this Abbey. It's said his spirit appears to those who need his guidance."

"I see," Argo said, rubbing the small ring hanging around his neck, 'ow do you mean 'appear'?"

"In dreams, mostly," Dann replied.

Sudden recognition crossed the fox's scarred fox. "That's it," he said excitedly, "I saw 'im in me dream last night!"

"Really?! What 'appened, what did he say?!"

"I was standing in the middle o' Great 'all. Least I think it was, it was foggier'n any fogbank I ever seen. Anyway, 'e came out o' the fog an' I started tellin' 'im 'ow guilty I felt 'bout stayin' 'ere instead o' keepin' up searchin' 'o I'm searchin' for. 'e just smiled and I suddenly felt calm, like e'erything was gonna be ok. Then 'e whispered just one word, 'wait.'"

Dann placed a friendly paw on the fox's broad shoulder, "You should feel honored, he doesn't appear to just anybeast."

"I do, cully. Guess your Abbess were right in convincin' me ta stay."

Dann nodded, "Aye, Song's truly wise beyond her years. Would you like to see Martin's sword?"

"Ya mean it's still around," Argo asked, surprised, "when ya said 'e's been dead since time untold I figured any o' 'is belongs'd be long gone."

"Sadly most of his possessions are," he said, removing the sword from the scabbard on his back and cradling it with both paws, "this is all that's left. It's said twas forged by a badger Lord from a hunk of star that fell from the sky."

"Beautiful," the fox said, wonder and reverence shining in his bright green eyes as he examined the expert craftsmanship, the deep blood channel running half the length of the blade, and the shimmering red stone adorning the pummel. "Never seen anot'er like it, you're a lucky beastie ta be tha one ta wield it."

"Thank you, mate. Here, feel the weight and balance, they're perfect."

Dann was in the act of passing the fine weapon when a sudden shout stopped him.

"Dannflor Reguba, just what in the name of Hellsgate do you think you're doing!!"

Squirrel and fox both wiped their heads around simultaneously to see Rusvul running towards them, javelin out and seemingly ready for use, with the rotund Janglur and his grey-furred father Gawjo trying desperately to grab hold of him. Argo glanced at the sword held out towards him, then down at the dagger strapped to his right ankle, then put them out of his mind, not wanting to disrespect the Abbey using a blade even in defense. He glanced to his left and, as luck would have it, saw a long-handled candle snuffers used for the tall candelabras scattered about within easy reach. He grabbed it just in time to knock the sharp tip of the older squirrel's javelin, which had been pointed directly at his chest, down and to the side with a loud CLACK.

Rusval, however, was not to be stayed. He bellowed in rage and came at the fox again and again, forcing him to keep up a constant defensive volley. They fought all over Great Hall, Argo trying to put distance between them and failing, until their noise eventually roused the rest of Redwall's residents. Sleepy Woodlanders crowded into the dining hall, trying to stay near the russet walls and therefore out of danger. Abbess Song shoved her way to the front of the crowd and was on the verge of calling out to both combatants when her father's paws landed on her shoulder.

"'old a moment, missie. The way Rus's going at it, 'e ain't got much left in 'im. I say let'em fight."

Song bit her lip, not sure now if she should put a stop to it or not. She deferred to her father's knowledge of the squirrel's fighting ability and kept quiet. Her father was correct: it wasn't long before Rusval's attacks began slowing down until finally stopping. They were both leaned over panting, the squirrell propped up on his javelin, Argo on the snuffer.

Blood trickled from Argo's wound which had torn open during the fight and he seemed to be in considerable discomfort, but he was still the one to hold an open, empty paw out to the exhausted squirrell.

"Truce?"

The squirrel looked up for a moment before whacking the proffered paw hard with his javelin, dragging a pained yelp from the tough fox. He picked up his attack right where he'd left off, forcing Argo to wield his improvised weapon single-pawed as he tried to shake feeling back into the other. Argo was in bad shape: wounded, one paw out of commission, and an opponent far more skilled with a javelin than him. He kept up his defense as best he could, desperately searching for an opening in Rusval's offensive. He finally saw a chink in his armor as the squirrell reared back a bit too far, placing too much of his weight back on his right footpaw. The fox struck out quick with the candle snuffer, hooking the heel of the other creature's left footpaw and pulled up, knocking him off balance and onto his back on the hard stone floor.

Rusval propped himself up on his elbows, about to heave himself back up, but found the handle of the snuffer press against his chest, forcing him back down. Argo stared down at him for a few moments, his eyes narrowed to slits, the removed the handle from it's position. He turned his back on the squirrell and placed the snuffer back where he found it. The Abbeybeasts made a path for the panting, sweating fox as he made his way back up the stairs to the Infirmary.

Janglur strode purposefully over to his hot-headed friend and helped him up from his position on the floor before leading him down to Cavern Hole to talk one-on-one.

"OK Rus, ya mind tellin' me just what all that was about?"

Rusvul, still practically shaking with rage and incapable of keeping his voice down, shouted, "Dann was about to pass off Martin's sword to that vermin scum! What was I supposed to do?!"

"That 'vermin scum' saved the lives o' two Dibbuns and's been nothin' but cordial since 'e showed up."

"I don't care what he's done, I don't trust him."

"That's fine if ya don't trust 'im, but ya can't just attack a guest o' the Abbey for no reason. Maybe if we knew more 'bout 'im ya wouldn't be so on edge."

"Aye," Rusval replied, "maybe."

"Well, we know where 'e is and there ain't no time like the present."