Relatives and Sinister Cloaks

After awakening from her dream, Rose thought about it for a little while. So she now knew Martin's future. But how could she tell him? Or more importantly, why would she tell him? Martin was able to take care of himself, he didn't need a dead mousemaid to prove that. He had proved that before, and he had proved it now by staying alive and not giving up on his life.

This was a bit of a comfort to Rose, knowing that the warrior mouse was safe. His future was uncertain to him, but at least he had one. She sighed. If she had lived, they could have been in Noonvale now, maybe wed, perhaps still planning a future yet to come. But, it was a lost cause. Dead she was, she couldn't do anything about that, she would just have to wait for Martin's time.

"Come now, don't fret, deary. There's so much to see and do around here. Perhaps you'd like to meet my grandson's parents, aye? Sayna and Luke. They thought for sure Martin would have saved you if he had been older," Windred chatted, walking into Rose's room without so much as a knock.

"His parents? That's... a little abnormal isn't it, Windred?" Rose asked, unsure of her place on the journey.

"Oh, come now. You'll have to meet them eventually. Martin would want you to. I know he would."

Sighing, the mousemaid followed the sprightly grandmother down the path to a new destination. Perhaps Rose would enjoy their company. Who knew?

---

Ever since the drunk weasel had stopped him on the pathway, Martin had been more alert. This helped him forget about Rose. He felt as though he were turning his back on her if he did this, but he would mourn for the rest of his life if he did not move on. It was only logical that he move to something else, as he still had his whole life to live, and he could not, and would not give up on it.

He breathed in the fresh scent of a world turning to autumn. It was a bitter one in his young life. But many things could happen for the better. Oppurtunities always presented themselves at odd times. His grandmother Windred's motto rang true. Although he had lost all his family and his love, he had survived, to pass a legacy down through the seasons. Martin knew that this would be true, it just had to be.

He travelled for at least a third of a league that day, and he was undoubtedly tired. The darkening sky had been a welcoming sight to his aching limbs, they had been urging him to sleep all day.

Staying on the outskirts of the woodlands, just off the small meandering pathway, Martin laid his head on a smooth rock, a blanket covering his body, preserving his warmth through the night. Or at least he thought.

An hour before midnight the sound of snapping twigs and gruff voices awakened the mouse warrior. Knowing better, Martin lay still and waited for the noises to subside. But they didn't. Instead they came closer. Ever closer. Then, almost beside him.

Unable to stand the tension, Martin grabbed his sword from the sheath and jumped up. Figures circled him and moved away, one reached out to grab him, but he lashed out with his blade. The paw withdrew almost lazily, a crimson drop fell from it. The circle expanded and shrunk, ever moving. It was both eerie and mesmerizing, and, to his horror, every time the ring of creatures shrank, they drew closer in, and did not withdraw. This thought nagged him.

"What do you want from me?" he yelled desperately, hoping to hear the familiar voice of anybeast, but all that greeted his plea was the unearthly rustling of cloaks about him.

Then, just as quickly as they had begun, they ceased. The black-cloaked figures stood stock-still in the dreary moonlight, the only sound now the breeze stirring the material hiding their true identities. The warrior mouse watched in horror as not a single move was made. A dreadful feeling spread through his entire being, and the fur on the nape of his neck rose as though it were drawn upwards by an invisible force.

Stars exploded in his vision as he instantaneously felt the blow of a heavy wooden club crash onto the back of his skull. He collapsed to the ground, drawing in short, ragged breaths, and, with a last wild glance around, his world dimmed and blackened.

---

Rose, for the second time after her arrival, was again being led somewhere. It was most unnerving, especially when you were being brought to company's house, when you weren't in the least invited. But, she pushed these thoughts from her mind. She had no call to worry, and there was really no point in worrying anymore. Her path was already decided, and her death never really changed it.

Windred was skipping ahead, obviously relishing in her improved physique. Rose did not really know how an old beast could so foolishly skip around, but she guessed it was probably something any creature of her age would have desired to do, back when they were among the living. Hard years and the weight of the seasons could dim such hopes, but here, with just about no way of aging, any creature's hopes and desires would be rekindled.

"Where exactly are we going, Windred?" Rose asked, after what felt an eternity of walking.

"Wherever Sayna and Luke live, of course!" Windred called back, her companions worried tone did not dampen her lively spirit.

Rose shook her head slowly, and kept a steady walking pace, usually behind the older mouse. Sometimes, Windred would stoop on the side of the path and gather up a few flowers, and weave them expertly into chains and bracelets. The younger could only guess how much practise the latter had with daisy chains around here.

"Do you even know where they live?" Rose asked, a hint of exasperation showed through her clear voice.

"Of course, dearie. Don't be upset, we've got all the time in the world to get there! Oh yes, all the time in the world," Windred had dropped back briefly to talk without yelling to loud to her younger companion, but she soon skipped on ahead, the warm sun streaming down.

'If my parents could see me now, worrying like an old mousewife,' Rose thought to herself. Finally, she decided to abandon her thoughts, and she raced ahead as she attempted to catch up with her sprightly friend. Rounding a bend that Windred had just disappeared behind, no more than ten feet ahead stood a small cottage, with smoke rising lazily from a stone chimney.

"See, what did I tell you, Rose? And now, here we are!"

Two mice came to greet the greying Windred on their veranda. One was a tall, proud figure, his paws scarred from long years of battling. His paws were crossed over his chest and his bushy brows curved into a lazy downward arch, which made his appearance slightly formidable. The other was a young mouse wife, with ice-gray eyes. 'Just like Martin's,' Rose thought to herself.

"Welcome, young 'un. And who might you be?" the male called out. The young mouse maid assumed that this was the Luke that Windred had spoken of. His brows lifted slightly when he spoke, and the mouse maid caught the occasional flash of his shining eyes.

"I am Laterose of Noonvale, sir. And whom have I the pleasure of addressing?" she asked in her sweetest manner.

"Well, look at us here," the mouse wife, Sayna, spoke up now. "Yelling across at each other like vermin. I'll not have that here. Come on inside Laterose and Windred. Good for you that I had just finished cooling a batch of apple tarts on my windowsill."

Rose followed the three older mice inside, but didn't say anything. She was still shy and felt that her coming along with Windred was a bit, if anything, abrupt.

The others seated themselves at a little table in the kitchen, and Rose looked about it wonder at the tiny, but well kept house that Sayna and Luke resided in.

A large window hung above the sink, and the sun streamed in, lighting the dust motes like bits of gold on a breeze. To one side, a stove stood. Very large, but ornately carved, probably by Luke; she guessed. Above that was the window ledge spoken of earlier. And true enough, a tray of delicious apple tarts laid cooling. The rest of the kitchen was an assortment of cupboards and a few shelves horizontally placed on the walls, with labeled spice jars placed evenly along each flat piece of balsam wood.

"Help yourself to some tea, dearest," Sayna cut into her thoughts, and placed a large porcelain teapot and a matching cup and saucer in front of the mouse maiden.

"Of course, thank you," Rose replied, and poured out the red-hued tea into the china. Shortly thereafter a plate of the tarts was placed in the middle of the table, right beside a beautiful vase of lilies and yellow tulips.

Finally, Sayna seated herself and began to chat leisurely, while her husband looked quite bored.

"Oh, of course. I am Sayna, and this is Luke. You already know Windred. How have you been enjoying the Dark Forest, dear?" The mouse wife talked as though Dark Forest was not a permanent settlement, merely a short stay. It at least made Rose join in, and the tarts and tea dropped her past worries. Perhaps she would have a nice time here. Yes, perhaps she would.

---

Martin woke with nary a sound; he knew the possible consequences if he tried to sit up. The cannibal lizards had been enough proof for him. Instead, he opened one eye in a tiny slit, just enough to take his bearings.

A damp and dingy cave assaulted his eyesight, and the cloaked figures sitting not far off were no welcoming committee for him. His instincts told him to shut his eyes and feign unconsiousness, but Martin would not give in.

Just as he had hoped for, a ferret came into his vision, the only possible way to tell what sort of creature it was being the fact that his hood was pulled back away from his face. The ferret passed a cup of something to one of the still cloaked figures who was apparently watching him.

"We know you are awake mouse. Do not try and fool us again," the creature who had accepted the cup from the ferret spoke, though Martin could not see a mouth beneath the hood. It's voice was monotone and grating, hissing and deadly, all at once.

Martin sat up, knowing pretending would just make him even worse off. He faced the creatures who surrounded him, the dim light of laterns above his head showing just how big the cave was. It was hard to really make a guess of it, for the walls were so thickly lined with the beasts.

The one who had spoken to him stood, and lifted his hood away from his shadowed face. It was an otter. Average size, height and weight. But his eyes, his eyes were dead. They were a mix of dim browns, greens, grays and blues. If they bespoke of the creature behind the eyes, Martin would have been a lot less frightened. But he saw nothing. The eyes were cold and hard.

"W-what do you want from me?" Martin asked weakly. It was the best tone he could manage when he felt so many eyes on him, even if he could not see them. In fact, he was quite glad he couldn't see most of them.

"Where do you come from? Why do you come here? Who is your chief leader?" the otter asked.

"The abandoned shores of the south," Martin knew he would have to lie about that, he would not put the creatures of Noonvale in danger. "I am just passing through. As for a leader, I follow no one. I am just an innocent traveller, as I said, passing through."

"We'll see how long liars like you can last, mousie," the ferret jeered.

To be continued...

---

Well, I stuck in another chapter, though I doubt I'll get much reward for it. I guess I felt bad that people were starting to watch out for it, and I thought that there had to be at least one person out there that would give me an honest and satisfying review.

Hopefully, you decided to read this chapter. If you did I would REALLY like a review from you, and suggestions are welcome. If you didn't review, maybe you will in future, maybe on a different story, I just hope you'll have enjoyed it.

Remember my rule about reviewing, and that's about it.

Zealak Silverdirk