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XII

What's the Difference?

The two foxes were busy toying with each other beside the stream. While one of them was sitting on the bank with his footpaws soaking in the cool stream, the other one was naked and washing the filth off his body as he stood directly in the water. The older of the duo looked at the nude fox in the stream and shook his head with shame.

"How can ya possibly do that?! Takin' a bath, Slivik? It's disgraceful to vermin everywhere!"

Slivik snickered as he started to wipe his armpits. "Hey, I already told you that I'd try to bathe at least once a season! It's spring; may as well get it out the way now!"

"You shouldn't be takin' baths at all, brother!"

"Why not? Don't gotta worry 'bout catchin' some deadly disease now that I'm clean! 'Sides, maybe it'd be easier for us to evade those woodland critters if they couldn't smell us all the way from Redwall!"

"Wot're you talkin' about, brother?" Islik paused for a brief moment so he could raise his right arm and sniff his pit a few times. "I smell perfectly fine!"

"You smell like Kurwin's balls, Islik."

The older fox sighed and rolled his eyes. "Awright, awright, I'll go take a bath with you."

Slivik smiled, surprised that the fox would even consider saying those words out loud. He jogged into the stream until the water was up to his waist. Shortly afterwards, Islik took a huge breath and bobbed beneath the surface of the water. He came back up only a few seconds later, his fur and clothing now soaked in all the water. Islik rubbed some of the fluids from his eyes before he exhaled and grinned.

"There! Finished!"

Slivik chuckled. "That ain't no fuckin' bath! You just walked in the water! You may as well wait 'til it starts raining an' let the water wash you off!"

"That's wot we vermin do: let the rain wash ourselves off!"

"Pssh! If you say so, bro!"

Islik walked out of the stream and shook all the water off his body. The fox dug a finger into his left ear and sighed as he scratched some of the wax out of it. The fox sat down on the bank and observed his brother scrubbing more filth out of his fur and scalp.

"How much longer?"

"Couple minutes. Think I got blood stuck in my fur again..."

"Not yore stupid bath! This badger fellow; how long you think it'll be 'til we find him?"

Slivik shrugged. "Could be days, bro. Hopefully we'll find him sooner than later after we slaughter all these squirrels."

"Why not jus' waltz over to Salamandastron and call the stripedog out?"

"'Cos those hares up there will shove arrows up our arses the second they smell us! Or smell you, rather, Sir I-Don't-Need-No-Bath."

Islik spat on the ground and grumbled. "Just sick of all this waitin', bro. It's...it's like waitin' for a battle, you know? Everybeast is shittin' themselves, all worried about whether or not they're gonna die. Then the battle happens, an' everythin' goes smoothly. We got upset and worried for nothin'."

"This isn't nothin', bro! We're talkin' about a Badger Lord! You've any idea--"

"Step out the way bitches!"

The two foxes didn't have time to react. By the time they realized that Blowhorn was there, he was already jumping into the stream. Islik shielded his face as the rat splashed water everywhere, which led to him spluttering and shaking more water off his body. The flatulent rat chuckled to himself as he stepped in the waist-high water and looked at Slivik.

"Yew guys tryin' to catch fish too?" asked Blowhorn.

"Actually I'm takin' a bath. You should really try it sometime; a lot of us aren't a big fan of smellin' yore dirty arse all the time," said Slivik.

The rat grinned. "Not a chance!"

Islik smirked. "See? Even Blowhorn here knows that bathin' just ain't wot we do!"

Blowhorn looked around the stream before he sniffed. "Either a' yew seen any fish here?"

Slivik shook his head. "No. Why?"

Blowhorn grinned. "Guess I'll just have to smoke 'em out!"

Slivik watched as Blowhorn grunted and made two fists. A few seconds later, Slivik heard a muffled flatulent noise and saw various tiny bubbles popping on the surface of the water. He had no idea what it was until he glanced behind Blowhorn and realized that the bubbles were forming around his rear end. The rat sighed shortly after the bubbles stopped; Islik started to laugh to himself whilst Slivik looked at Blowhorn with a sullen expression.

"We have spears an' nets, y'know. You could try fishin' normally like the rest of us do."

"That takes too long! 'Sides, got lotsa gas back there; ain't no point in wastin' it! Hehe...think I got the trots too if I'm bein' honest."

"Wot do the trots..."

Slivik looked at Blowhorn's nasty grin with wide eyes. Before he could do anything more, the dark brown rat was already grunting and making two fists again. A few seconds later, Slivik heard another flatulent noise, only this time it was much more revolting and squishier. Several bubbles exploded on the surface of the water, but what really disgusted Slivik was when the water around Blowhorn immediately turned brown. Blowhorn sighed with much relief as the water around him continued to turn brown and spread around the stream. Slivik shouted with disgust once the brown water quickly flowed his way, and he scrambled as he ran out of the stream and threw himself on the ground.

"Wot the fuck, Blowhorn?!"

Islik was on the ground laughing hysterically, despite the foul smell that was quickly plaguing the air. "I bet ya wish you ain't taken a bath now!"

The bubbles around Blowhorn stopped popping, and the rat was surprised when he saw a silver and yellow-scaled fish slowing down and gradually rising to the surface of the water. He quickly reached down and snatched the nearly dead fish out of the water and chuckled as he stepped out onto the bank.

"Look at that! I actually caught one!"

Slivik was covering his nose as he backed away from Blowhorn. "Urgh, well good luck gettin' anybeast to eat it! Nobeast's gonna chew on a fish that stinks of rat shit!"

Blowhorn shrugged. "More for me then!"

Blowhorn heard his stomach churn deeply, as if the rat was hungry and longed to have some food. He dropped his fish and groaned as he wrapped his arms around his abdomen. The rat found himself snickering again as he squatted down and placed his paws on his knees. Slivik huffed.

"Now wot's wrong?"

"Still a li'l clogged up back there! No point in holdin' it all in, so..."

The fox brothers heard a repulsive noise that sounded like sludge sloshing around very quietly. Blowhorn was sighing with a relieved expression on his face, his mouth wide open and his tongue hanging out. Islik didn't notice it at first, but the rat's tail was slightly lifted. When the older fox brother looked at the rat's trousers, he noticed that they seemed a little bloated from behind. And when Slivik looked at Blowhorn's legs, he noticed that light brown fluids were running down them and forming a puddle around his footpaws. They sniffed the air--and wished they hadn't, as the fetid smell of rat effluent immediately bombarded their olfactory senses. Islik stopped laughing and groaned as he covered his nose, and Slivik found himself retching.

"FER FUCK'S SAKE, BLOWHORN!" shouted Slivik.

"Yore jus' gonna shit yoreself right there?! You ain't even gonna try an' go on the ground?!" asked Islik.

"Pfft! Yeah, like I'm gonna go through the trouble of grabbin' my waistband an' pullin' my shorts to the ground instead of just squattin' an' goin'."

Slivik shook his head and sighed. "If anybeast deserves a bath, it's this nasty fuck right here!"

Blowhorn stopped soiling himself and stood straight up. He shook some of the watery waste off his footpaws before he grabbed his fish and chuckled. "Say wot you will about my stench fellas! I ain't gettin' no bath and I ain't bottlin' up all my farts an' shit! Get used to it!"

"We've been--"

THUNK. The three beasts' eyes grew wide. The arrow seemed to have materialized right before them. It was lodged into the ground, not far from Slivik's footpaws. Just a few inches forward and the fox would have a shaft sticking out of his midriff. Islik slowly took out his rapier whilst Slivik began to look up into the trees.

"Where the bloody hell did that--"

Blowhorn shouted as he suddenly stumbled forward. He swore vociferously and began to whine and pant, grasping his backside in much pain. Slivik grabbed his rapier from the ground as well as the fox brothers stared at the brown rat.

"Shit! Are you hit?!"

"YES!"

"Where?!"

"In the fuckin' arse, Slivik!"

Islik and Slivik couldn't help but look at each other with snide smirks on their faces. Blowhorn groaned terribly to himself as he reached behind and felt the shaft that was awkwardly lodged into his bottom.

"Don't jus' fuckin' stand there! Pull it out or-or somethin'!"

"I dunno. Does this feel a bit...karmic, bro?"

Islik chuckled. "Aye! After all them times you've tormented us with yore smelly arse, now you--"

Another arrow found its way into the ground, this time missing Slivik's groin by a mere inch. The fox brother shouted and immediately grabbed Blowhorn.

"Fuck this! We gotta get back to camp now 'afore anybeast else shows up!"

The three corsairs all hobbled away from the stream, while their enemy fired off another arrow. The assailant missed again, this time hitting a tree instead of the back of Slivik's head.

---

Blowhorn was lying on his stomach, wincing and groaning as one of the Juskamard medics pulled out the shaft and applied poultice to the rat's wound. Nobeast dared to lick the wound clean though, and the medic had to patch up Blowhorn's wound with her nose covered the entire time. Meanwhile, the fox brothers were standing in front of Kurwin, Traegar, and Bloodbrain, all of whom were staring at the foxes waiting for an explanation.

"So how did this happen again?" asked the weasel.

"It's our fault, Cap'n," said Islik.

"Yeah, our fault," added Slivik.

"We were jus' hangin' out by the stream. Y'know, chattin' and stuff."

"Then Blowhorn came along and...did Blowhorn things," Slivik grumbled.

"Point is, we weren't lookin' fer any intruders or eavesdroppers--"

"--and we're guessin' that somebeast was spyin' on us--"

"--long enough to get a shot at us."

"We're fine, but obviously Blowhorn took an arrow in the bum."

"Not that we're complainin'," muttered Traegar with a sly grin on his face.

Kurwin shot a glare at his first mate that immediately wiped the smirk off his face. The scarred ferret blinked before he looked at the foxes again, both of whom had their eyes on the ground in shame.

"Sorry, Cap'n. If we had been payin' more attention--"

"This isn't your fault."

Islik and Slivik looked up at Kurwin with confusion. "Err...it's not?"

"No. If anybeast is ta blame, it's Bloodbrain."

The red and black ferret with his red cloak turned his head slowly as he stared at the corsair and flared his nostrils. "Wot?"

"You an' Dirtfoot have done nothin' but slay countless squirrel scouts fer no fuckin' reason! And now because of that, the MSB has gotten suspicious an' sent out even more trackers! They followed the bodies; they've prob'ly picked up our scent too! And now one of their scouts found us!"

"Not necessarily. They only saw Islik, Slivik, and Blowhorn. They don't know about our army."

"Yet, Bloodbrain. They don't know yet! But if that scout took a shot at Blowhorn, he's gonna wanna finish the job! How long d'you think it'll be 'afore the squirrels find our entire camp?! They're gonna wait until nightfall so they can slit all our throats in our sleep!"

Kurwin shouted with frustration before he walked away from his soldiers and started to rub his head. The four corsairs knew how Kurwin was whenever he entered this stressful mood, so they didn't bother or even go near him. They simply stood idly by and watched as the ferret paced back and forth, mumbling to himself as he recited his thoughts out loud. Then the ferret paused. He rubbed his chin for a moment before stepping back over to his soldiers.

"This scout didn't follow you three, right?"

Islik shrugged. "Don't think so, sah. Whoever the scout was stopped firin' arrows at us shortly after Blowhorn was hit."

"Good! Then we beat them tree climbers at their own game! I want everybeast out lookin' for any scouts we can question: soldiers, Juskamard tribe members, captains, trackers--everybeast is to split up into groups and begin the search as soon as possible! This whole situation has changed now; we don't have days ta find these squirrels anymore. We have hours! If we don't find this camp by nightfall, I can assure you that they'll attack us first with full force!"

Traegar nodded. "We're on it, Cap'n!"

"Don't worry, sah! We'll find that squirrel camp before you know it!" reassured Slivik.

Bloodbrain, unsurprisingly, remained silent. He merely looked at the corsairs around him and blinked before he turned around and walked away. Islik looked at the mercenary before spitting in his direction.

"Fuckin' sadist. When we gonna get rid of him, Cap'n?"

"In due time, Islik. In due time."

---

Stinkfoot was standing up against a tree, relaxing and enjoying the moment. The sun was shining brightly, but all the trees and the thick canopy blocked out most of the heat. The stoat noticed that a few birds were singing in the distance, and a woodpecker was pecking on tree bark. The wind blew quietly against his face, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and leaves. The soil beneath his footpaws was rich and fresh and felt as comfortable as a rug. Somewhere off in the distance, the stoat could hear the stream Slivik was bathing himself in babbling quietly and splashing against small rocks. Stinkfoot saw an orange and black butterfly quickly flutter by his face, the sight of which made him smile. He felt something tickling his left footpaw and looked down, surprised at what he saw. The stoat giggled and wiggled his toes, noticing that a thick caterpillar was sluggishly edging itself along the top of his toes.

"At least somebeast doesn't mind the smell of my footpaws."

Stinkfoot wiggled his toes again and watched as the caterpillar eventually slithered itself off his footpaw and moved elsewhere. The stoat blinked and sat down on the ground, smiling to himself as he tried to enjoy the pleasant morning. But just as the stoat started to relax, he heard a vicious snarling sound followed by leaves rustling from a bush. Another stoat with part of his tail painted red hopped out, frothing at the mouth with a crazy look in his eyes.

"SHARKBAIT IS BORED!!"

Stinkfoot shut his eyes and covered his ears. "Well you don't need ta shout."

Sharkbait rubbed some of the saliva from his mouth before he jerked his head left and right.

"Where are the mean little squirrels who stuck a shaft in Blowhorn?! Sharkbait can't wait to tear their insides apart! He can't wait any longer!"

Stinkfoot opened his eyes and sniffed. "We'll find 'em soon buddy. Just sit down and relax."

"HOW?! How does Sharkbait relax?! How can Stinkfoot relax when we need to find squirrels?!"

"Easy. Just plant your bum on the ground."

Sharkbait stared at the stoat curiously before he blinked. He slowly sat down on the ground beside Stinkfoot and huffed, feeling the grass and soil flattening beneath his bottom. The two stoats sat for a few seconds, listening to the wind blowing and the birds chirping, before Sharkbait groaned with frustration and slammed a fist against the tree.

"Sharkbait is still bored, Stinkfoot! Can't we at least go play or-or somethin'?"

"No."

"Then can we at least talk to each other? Sharkbait doesn't like silence!"

Stinkfoot shrugged. "All right. Whatcha wanna chat about?"

"D'you remember the time Sharkbait sliced that ferret's head in half? Hehe, Sharkbait still remembers all the blood and brain fragments he scooped out--"

Stinkfoot sighed with exasperation and pinched the bridge of his upper muzzle and face. "Something else, Sharkbait. I'm not in the mood to hear another one of your gory tales."

Sharkbait blinked and quieted down. "Oh. ...Well, um, wot does it feel like? Sharkbait never asked you that!"

"Wot, t'have my head chopped in half? Pretty sure that's painful."

"No, silly! To die! Wot does that feel like?"

Stinkfoot was caught off-guard. Sharkbait never asked him a question like that before, even for how odd and sadistic the creature already was. He stared at Sharkbait for a moment then turned away and looked down at the ground. He paused, not sure how to answer. Instead he picked up a small pebble and threw it, hoping to think of something to change the topic. He was almost tempted to talk about why leaves change color, but that would end up boring him too. So Stinkfoot sighed deeply and answered.

"Peaceful."

Sharkbait scratched his head. "That's an odd answer. Why would Stinkfoot say that and not painful?"

"'Cos it is peaceful mate. Not at first, obviously. Some beasts bleed out; some die from fever; some are stabbed and left for dead; some drown...I could go on. But after you die, there's nothin' ta worry about anymore. Beasts say that dying's painful, that it's hard, but that's a buncha bullshit. Look around you, Sharkbait. Wot d'you see?"

Sharkbait glanced around the woods and blinked. "Err, trees? Dirt an' leaves? Is this a trick question? Sharkbait don't like tricks!"

"No trick. An' wot you said is right. There's a beautiful forest in front of us. The sun is out. The air is fresh. It's a wonderful day, Sharkbait, and you know wot we're doin'? Pissin' it all away tryin' to look for a bunch of squirrels to kill. In death, we don't have to worry about any of this. No wars, no invading armies, no stripedogs, no fever, no pain, no tension--nothin'. Jus' nothin', Sharkbait...nothin' but serenity."

"So why haven't you killed yoreself?"

Stinkfoot looked at Sharkbait angrily. "Wot?"

Sharkbait held up his paws and giggled nervously. "Sh-Sharkbait meant no offense! Really, he didn't! But doesn't Sharkbait's logic make sense? Stinkfoot wants peace. Stinkfoot says only death can bring peace. So Stinkfoot should kill himself to be at peace forever!"

Stinkfoot looked away from the energetic stoat as he thumped his tail against the ground noisily with a smile on his face. Stinkfoot shut his eyes and shook his head.

"See...when you say it like that, it just sounds stupid."

"But Sharkbait is merely usin' Stinkfoot's words! So by Stinkfoot's logic, he should kill himself to be happy and at peace! Or is Stinkfoot jus' a hypocrite? A liar? Is Stinkfoot toying with Sharkbait now? Is Stinkfoot bein' a rude little shit like Jaleen was with her candied chestnuts?!"

"No! I'm just..."

Stinkfoot sighed out of frustration and quickly stood up. "Forget it. Let's just go look for these squirrels."

"But Sharkbait still doesn't get it! Don't you--"

"Shh!" Stinkfoot held up a paw and crouched down when he heard a twig snap. "D'you hear that?"

Sharkbait was about to bring up what Stinkfoot was talking about when he heard faint snapping in the distance as well. "Yeah...wot does Stinkfoot think it is?"

"Doesn't matter. Just hide!"

Sharkbait didn't ask any more questions. He listened to the other stoat and threw himself into the same bush that Stinkfoot quickly hid in. The two stoats moved some of the leaves and branches aside so they could see and stuck their muzzles forward. Nobeast would've noticed either of them unless they were up close, so they weren't worried about getting caught. After breathing softly for a minute or two, the stoats noticed a short squirrel reveal himself from the woods. He walked along the ground for a moment before kicking something. Then he followed the object he kicked and kicked it again, obviously having no other way to entertain himself.

"Aww, it's just a little one! He looks so sad and bored!" said Sharkbait.

"Just stay still. I doubt he's alone," warned Stinkfoot.

The foul-smelling stoat was right, as not a moment later an older, more muscular squirrel appeared from the woods jogging after the shorter squirrel. He had a standard sabre drawn, but after he noticed that the younger squirrel was safe and sound, he exhaled with relief and put his sword back in its sheathe.

"What did I tell you about wanderin' off? You know it's dangerous out here!"

The younger squirrel kicked the rock again and huffed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"I told you we'd do sumthin' together tomorrow. The camp's still in danger and we gotta find out who's tryin' to attack us."

The young squirrel blinked and rubbed his right arm. "If you say so," he said solemnly.

Stinkfoot blinked and stared at the older squirrel as he tried to console the younger one. But judging by the way the younger one was acting, he didn't want anything to do with the older one anymore. Even when it looked like the old one was trying to hug him, the short squirrel just moved away from him.

"Can Sharkbait play with him?"

"...I got an idea. I know it'll look crazy, but just follow my lead."

Sharkbait grinned. "Crazy is wot Sharkbait does best!"

Stinkfoot walked out of the bush nonchalantly, shaking off some of the leaves and dirt. He saw the two squirrels in the distance and walked right towards them without even hesitating.

"Hello there, fellow beasts! You two lost?"

The older squirrel immediately grabbed his bow and notched it with an arrow from his quiver. He aimed right for Stinkfoot's heart, causing the stoat to stop and raise his paws.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey! Let's-let's all just relax now...let's be calm about all this!"

"Shut up! You turn right back around and walk away 'fore I put this shaft right in yer black heart!"

Stinkfoot, somehow, was still smiling at the squirrel. "You gonna kill a stoat jus' for sayin' hi to you? And right in front of your son? I doubt he needs to see that."

"You've no idea what my son has seen these last few seasons!"

"Dad..."

The older squirrel looked down at his son when he noticed he was tugging on his blue cloak. The squirrels heard more rustling just as Sharkbait revealed himself, hopping out into the open and quickly rushing to Stinkfoot's side.

"See?! I fuckin' knew it; this whole thing's a trap! How many more of you vermin are hidin' 'round here?!"

"There's nobeast else! Just--" Stinkfoot huffed as he reached for his sword. "All right, I'm reachin' for my weapon. I'm gonna toss it on the ground, kay? My friend here is gonna do the same."

Sharkbait looked at Stinkfoot with confusion. "Like hell Sharkbait is!"

Stinkfoot stared at Sharkbait with a scowl, and the crazy stoat suddenly changed his mind and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Sharkbait is! Hehe, of course he'll gladly toss aside his only means of protection!"

The squirrel was surprised when he saw both stoats actually go through with it. Stinkfoot got rid of his sword, whilst Sharkbait tossed aside his cutlass and dirk. But the squirrel still kept his bow and arrow aimed at them, unsure if he should trust either of the vermin. Stinkfoot took a risk and slowly lowered his paws, whilst Sharkbait looked at the squirrel's son with a smile on his face.

"See? We've no intention of hurtin' either of you beasts!"

"Then why is your friend over there starin' at my son like he's fried bird meat?"

Sharkbait looked up at the older squirrel and blinked. "Oh! Err, s-sorry 'bout that! Sharkbait just loves babes and Dibbuns! I--no, no, not-not like that! It's just, babes are so fulla energy, and Sharkbait is so fulla energy! So Sharkbait loves it when he gets to play with babes an' have lotsa fun!"

The older squirrel raised an eyebrow, while Sharkbait scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously.

"Okay, s-so this is not goin' the way Sharkbait intended. Ma-maybe Sharkbait should start over!"

Sharkbait ignored the squirrel pointing the arrow at him and approached his son very casually. He waved at him with a big grin on his face before greeting him.

"Hi! Sharkbait's name is Sharkbait! Wot's yores?"

The young squirrel was shaking as he looked at the two stoats, but when he saw Sharkbait extend his paw and wag his tail, he slowly began to calm down. The squirrel's father glanced down at his son and snorted.

"Don't touch 'im! The next thing you know, he'll grab you an' break your neck!"

But the squirrel's son didn't listen. He reached forward anyway very slowly and grabbed the paw. The squirrel looked up at Sharkbait and blinked as the two shook paws.

"Gillan...my name's Gillan."

Sharkbait giggled. "Gillan, eh? Such a nice name!"

The energetic stoat rubbed his chin as he looked to his left and noticed several bushes resting beside a tree. "Sharkbait couldn't help but see that there's lotsa blueberry bushes around here! Sharkbait loves blueberries! Wot about Gillan?"

The young squirrel nodded. "Yeah, I love blueberries!"

Sharkbait grinned. "Betcha Sharkbait can eat more blueberries than Gillan!"

Gillan, surprisingly, smirked a little as he looked at the stoat. "I doubt that. Dad, can we...um, well...can we eat them together? It's jus' right over there; you'll be able to see us. It's been a while since I had an eating contest with friends."

The father was still suspicious. "How do I know you won't touch him inappropriately or kill him?"

"'Cos I'll castrate him if he does," Stinkfoot chimed in.

Gillan blinked. "What's cas--"

"You don't need to know."

The older squirrel looked at Stinkfoot. Then he looked at Sharkbait and Gillan, both of whom were staring at him with smiles and hopeful eyes. The father, frustrated and defeated, huffed and lowered his bow and arrow.

"Sure, whatever. Just don't wander off too far."

"It's right there, Dad. I'll be fine."

Gillan's father watched as his son and Sharkbait rushed over to the blueberry bushes, talking amongst themselves. The older squirrel observed as Sharkbait snatched a few blueberries from the bushes and stuffed them in his mouth. His son repeated the same gesture, taking off as many tiny blueberries as possible and filling his mouth with them. Stinkfoot walked over to the squirrel as he put his arrow back into his quiver and sat down. The stoat sat down across from Gillan's father on a log and sighed. The squirrel looked at Sharkbait as he wagged his tail and ate more berries before he shook his head.

"The fuck's wrong with him?"

"He's..." Stinkfoot blinked and rubbed his left ear before pausing. "He's not...sane. Nobeast really knows wot's wrong with him. One second he's playful and happy; the next he's juggling severed heads with a grin on his face. It's like he's got two different beasts livin' in the same body."

Gillan's father shook his head again. "So long as he doesn't hurt my son."

"That's the thing: Roshack--well, 'Sharkbait'--loves babes and Dibbuns. I think if he wound up killin' one by accident he'd probably have some sort of breakdown."

Gillan's father didn't say anything. He simply stared at the smelly stoat as he listened to the noises in the background. A few minutes ago Stinkfoot enjoyed all the pleasant noises, but now it seemed to only intensify how strange the moment was. Gillan sniffled for a moment while Stinkfoot scratched his knee, trying to find the right words to say. He glanced away from the squirrel as he curled his toes and coughed.

"I can see that this is awkward."

"No shit."

"Well...no point in wastin' time. I may as well just get right to it. You're part of the MSB, right?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"Wot's your name?"

"Pillard. What's yours?"

"Everybeast jus' calls me Stinkfoot."

Pillard sniffed the air again and scowled as the stale odor of musk and rotting cheese filled his nostrils. He glanced down at the stoat's footpaws as he wiggled his toes with a slight smirk on his face.

"I can see why," he said, trying not to cough, "but what's my name got to do with anythin'?"

Stinkfoot could've asked the questions he needed to know the answers to right then and there. But he figured it'd be better to get inside the squirrel's head first.

"Why's your son taggin' along with you?"

Pillard shrugged. "Where else is he gonna go?"

"Don't he have other family?"

"I'm his only family. ...My mate passed last autumn. Don't know what it was, Dryditch Fever maybe. All I know is that one day, she was fine, the next she was jus' lyin' on the ground and wouldn't wake up."

Stinkfoot exhaled quietly and lowered his voice. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Sure you are."

Stinkfoot ignored the sarcasm in his voice. "Doesn't the babe have a guardian, some other safe haven he could--"

"The MSB camp is the safest place for him. He's used to how much we move around Mossflower; he deals with whatever problems we run into."

"Your son needs to be around beasts his own age. He needs--"

"Don't tell me how to raise my child."

Stinkfoot blinked and kept going. "Your son needs beasts around him his own age. He needs somebeast who cares for him."

"I do care about my son!"

"But yer also part of the MSB, and he's just taggin' along doin' wotever your camp's commander says. He's surrounded by beasts who have to sneak around and kill us vermin for a livin'. You seriously think that's gonna do well on his mind?"

"He'll get used to it. It'll harden him so he can grow up to become part of the brigade like me."

"Does your son want to be part of the brigade?"

Pillard shrugged. "Never asked."

Stinkfoot folded his arms. "An' you say you care about your son."

"Stop judgin' me! What do you know about raisin' children?! What do you know about bein' a decent beast? You're a murdering, gutless psychopath who goes around stealin' food from everybeast and rapin' their corpses! At least the female I mated with to have my son agreed to let me inside her! How many fuckin' times have you raped somebeast in the past season--the past week?!"

"Zero," said Stinkfoot bluntly.

Pillard scoffed and folded his arms too. "Sure, yeah. Maybe not this season, but I'm sure--"

"I've never raped anybeast. Ever."

"Doesn't mean you ain't slain somebeast before."

Stinkfoot paused and unfolded his arms. "Of course I've slain somebeast. I've killed several in my lifetime. Some beasts I regret killin', others deserved to be sent to the Hellgates. I won't lie about that. But this 'murderin, gutless psychopath' has not killed you yet. I haven't threatened you or yer babe; I didn't even pull out my sword when I saw you. I put my paws in the air and removed my weapon. Not too many psychopaths do that."

"It's just..."

Pillard unfolded his arms and looked over at Sharkbait and Gillan. Both of them were still eating blueberries, their faces and paws dark blue and purple from all the berries they've consumed. Then the squirrel looked at Stinkfoot and started to calm down. He didn't see a murderer or a conniver. He didn't even seem like he was crazy. He was simply a beast with scruffy fur that needed a bath very badly, but otherwise, he seemed harmless.

"I'm sorry...maybe you're not some psychopath. Maybe you're not even a rapist. But you still don't get the right to judge me. You don't know how hard it is; you don't have a son."

"I had a son."

That threw Pillard off-guard. "...What d'you mean 'had'?"

"He's dead."

"He...oh. Shit, I didn't...I'm sorry."

Stinkfoot moved his footpaws around the dirt a little before sighing. "Such a cute child he was...very rowdy though. An' loud. Had a wife too in fact. All three of us would travel around the country, sight-seeing, staying in certain forests for a week or so before moving to a new place. My son, Ervin, wanted to head back to the Northlands where he was born, so we did. But we wound up attractin' the wrong attention and..."

Stinkfoot paused and shook his head. He huffed. "Some bandits were chasin' us. Or slavers; I can't remember. I told my wife and son to split up so I could hold 'em off an' lead 'em away in case we got caught. And I did. I don't know how they found us, but when we rendezvoused near the edge of the plains, their leader spotted us. I had taught Ervin how to use a sword in the prior season...and he just so happened to have taken a sword from one of the dead bandits. So when he saw the bandit leader with his bow pointed at us, he attacked him. ...I guess I didn't train him well enough."

Stinkfoot shut his eyes and let that sink in for a moment. For a while now, he had been trying to forget that painful memory, and he just brought in up again. Pillard didn't say a word; he could only stare at the stoat empathetically. The squirrel still had his son, even if he was estranged from him. But this "psychopath" had watched his son die in front of him trying to protect him, and judging by his face, he probably blamed himself for it. Stinkfoot exhaled and sniffled for a moment before he resumed talking.

"My mate left me shortly after that. She blamed me. I blamed me. I was with her one day, then when I woke up the next mornin', I found out that she took all the food we had collected an' left. So there I was, all by my lonesome for...fuck, I don't even remember how long. Sure, I stumbled across some friends here and there, wandering vagrants jus' like me. Sure, I even joined a tribe or two. But things kept happenin'; tribes would be attacked and I'd have to scatter; my so-called 'friends' would rob me an' leave, or they'd try to rob me, and I'd have to kill 'em in self-defense. I started to lose my mind, would talk to myself at times 'cos I couldn't bear the silence. Sometimes I'd just break down sobbin' fer no real reason at all. It was all too much fer me."

"So what happened?"

"One day I found myself sittin' on the coast, reflectin' an' wotnot. I was starin' at this magnificent sunset and listening to the waves crashing into the sand. It all seemed so peaceful. So I...I just walked into the water and began to swim. I didn't plan on goin' anywhere. Didn't plan on survivin'. I just wanted to be at peace forever. I'm not sure how long I had been swimming, 'cos when I woke up again, I was throwin' up water, shiverin' and lyin' on a ship. Somebeast saw my body floatin' in the water an' fished it out."

"Who?"

"A pirate named Kurwin."

Stinkfoot could see in Pillard's sudden change in expression that he was aware of the name. More importantly, he was aware of all the horrible things Kurwin had done in his past.

"He an' his crew rescued me, took me in. I didn't have anybeast else, an' after I told 'em about my story, they actually showed me sympathy. Hell, Kurwin even hugged me when I started blubberin'. And ever since that day, I've been in Kurwin's crew, helpin' out the other corsairs an' followin' Kurwin's orders. So here I am, just some stoat sittin' here, tryin' to have a civil conversation with a squirrel."

Pillard still felt sympathy for the stoat, especially after hearing how he lost all hope and tried to commit suicide. He almost felt tears welling up in his eyes for a moment. But when the squirrel heard the name "Kurwin," his mood suddenly changed, and he went back to being on guard from the beast.

"Let me just say that I'm sorry. I really do mean that. Nobeast should ever have to have their family taken away from them like that, no matter what species they are. And I am glad that you didn't manage to kill yourself."

Stinkfoot nodded. "Thank you."

"But this-this doesn't make any sense. You're not some bloodthirsty maniac like Kurwin is. You've proven that already just by talkin' to me like this. You actually seem very amiable. What's a beast like you doin' with a pirate like Kurwin?"

"He cares about me, Pillard. He cares about all of his crew members, no matter how stupid, selfish, or despicable they are."

"His full title is Kurwin the Flayer. Y'know what that means, yeah? He skins beasts alive for a livin'!"

"I know. I've seen him do it."

"So what, yer-yer just fine with that? You're fine with this beast who 'cares' about you slayin' innocent beasts in horrible fashions?"

Stinkfoot blinked and sighed. "I may not agree with everythin' Kurwin does...but sometimes you must do somethin' to please the ones you care about even if you don't want to or know it might be wrong, yeah? Sometimes you have to look the other way."

Pillard scoffed and shook his head. His sympathy for the pirate was slowly dwindling. "Yer a hypocrite."

Stinkfoot raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"You say yer not a murderer or a rapist or a psychopath, yet you have no problem allying yourself with them and lookin' the other way! You may as well be murderin' and rapin' innocent beasts yourself!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're saying that I'm responsible fer all these corsairs' actions 'cos I simply looked the other way, or 'cos I'm friends with these beasts?"

"Yes!"

"Then by your logic, yer a hypocrite too, and you're no better than me."

"That--" Pillard huffed and stopped himself before he raised his voice too much. "That is a fuckin' lie an' you know it."

"Earlier today, one of the scouts in your camp started firing a bunch of arrows at three of my friends, nearly killed 'em. One of 'em even got a shaft in his arse. D'you wanna know wot these beasts were doin'?"

"What?"

"Nothin'. One of 'em was naked, takin' his seasonal bath. The other one--his brother--was sittin' by the river soakin' his footpaws in the water. And the third beast was shittin' his trousers."

Pillard raised an eyebrow and looked at Stinkfoot with disgust. "What was he doin'?"

Stinkfoot grumbled and shook his head. "Never mind. Point is these beasts weren't doin' anything wrong. They weren't forcing their cocks into some innocent beast. They weren't killin' anybeast fer sport. They weren't even abusin' an innocent beast. Yet one of your friends tried to kill 'em all. No warnin', no hesitation. The scout jus' started firin'. So, by your logic, you're a heartless bastard who doesn't give his enemies a chance to fight, and you slaughter anybeast who even looks like vermin."

Pillard closed his eyes and exhaled as he rubbed his forehead. "It's not the same."

"How many of your friends have raped vermin jus' for fun? How many of them have slain defenseless creatures while they were on the ground pleadin' fer mercy? Hmm? Can ya tell me that? Can you answer--"

"Shut up!" Pillard blurted out.

The squirrel started to pant heavily as he stared at Stinkfoot. "Why are you even talkin' to me? If-if you're with Kurwin the Flayer and one of our scouts tried to kill some of your beasts...then you must want somethin' in return, don't you?"

"Unfortunately. I need you to tell me where your camp is."

"...You son of a bitch. This-this whole thing was a charade, wasn't it? This was all some mind trick to make me feel sorry for you, wasn't it?! I bet you made up that entire fuckin' story about your family!"

"It's all true. You believe wot you wanna believe."

"Why the fuck would I do this anyway?! You're askin' me to betray my friends! I already know what you and yer corsairs are gonna do. Yer gonna slaughter 'em all, aren't you?"

Stinkfoot didn't answer. He simply looked away as he moved his footpaws along the ground. Pillard scoffed.

"Thought so."

"Yer friends are irrelevant, Pillard. All that matters now is your son an' keepin' him safe, alive. The reason why I'm talkin' to you right now is to warn you. You and yer son need to get away from here, right now. 'Cos if you go back to that camp, I can tell you right now that both of you will die."

"Not if I don't tell you where our camp is."

Stinkfoot blinked. "But you will tell me."

Pillard smirked and shook his head. "No, I won't. What makes you so sure?"

"'Cos if you don't tell me now, then I'm gonna get up and walk away. And when I come back, Kurwin and all the other 'heartless, murdering rapists' I'm friends with will be by my side. I don't need to tell you wot they'll do to your son just to extract the information we need outta you."

Pillard frowned. He looked to his right and could see Sharkbait and Gillan sitting down beside a tree, their bellies stuffed to the brim with berries and their paws and muzzles completely sticky from the juices. The squirrel took a few quick breaths before he blinked and looked at Stinkfoot with mercy.

"You...you wouldn't."

Stinkfoot nodded. "And while that's happenin', I'll just stand by an' watch. I mean, after all...I am a hypocrite. I'm no better than my friends, remember?"

Pillard huffed and let out a shaky breath. "Then-then I'll just slay you. I'll kill you, kill yer mate over there--"

"And then my friends will find our bodies and come searching for you. Kurwin already has scout parties out lookin' fer squirrels to interrogate. D'you know how lucky you are that Sharkbait and I found you first? Do not make this harder than it needs to be, Pillard."

"You fuckin'..."

Pillard huffed and gritted his teeth. He was already reaching for the dagger in his waistsash when he looked over at his son again. He was smiling. He hadn't seen Gillan do that for over a week now. He didn't know what Sharkbait was saying or doing with him, but there he was, chatting with a beast he didn't know and having a pleasant conversation. Pillard frowned and loosened the grip on his dagger. Then he let go of it entirely. He gradually lowered his arm and set it down on his right leg before he looked back up at Stinkfoot.

"Please don't make me choose..."

"It shouldn't be that hard. Wot's more important: your son or your friends and your reputation?"

"You can't ask me that; you don't have a son anymore."

"Exactly. I'm tellin' you right now, from my own experience, that there is nothing more horrible than losin' your only child. If you don't tell me where that camp is right now, one of two things is gonna happen: sooner or later, you and your son will die. If you don't die, then your son will get caught in the crossfire of some battle. Either way, your son's gonna die if you continue this life. D'you really wanna turn into me before I met Kurwin, wanderin' around the woods, alone, depressed, angry, and suicidal all the time?"

Pillard knew he lost. He couldn't endanger his son, no matter how much he wanted to stay with the MSB. He closed his eyes slowly, contemplating his future. There were all sorts of things he could be seasons from now: a chef, a guard at Redwall, a leader of his own tribe, or even a mercenary who helped the Long Patrol assassinate vermin scattered across the world. But without his son, none of these occupations seemed to matter to him. No matter how successful he would or would not be, he couldn't imagine life without Gillan. So Pillard opened his eyes slowly, trying his hardest to blink away any tears that were forming.

"...Northeast. Just keep headin' northeast. We set up camp in the thickest section of the woods; lots...lots of trees and such. You'll probably find a blue flag hung up somewhere with our logo on it. There's a few tents too...can't miss it."

"That's good, Pillard. How many beasts are there?"

"Um...'bout fourscore, maybe ninety."

"Who's the commander?"

"Chester Nuttooth. Really fat, burly squirrel with a black cloak and medals on it...can't miss him either."

Stinkfoot nodded. "Good enough for me. Thank you."

As the stoat began to stand, Pillard looked up at the smelly creature with submitted, watery eyes.

"So what now? You and all yer mates jus' gonna walk into camp an' kill all my friends, huh? That it?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"What about me...you gonna kill me now too?"

"No. You and your son are gonna leave. We'll never see each other again. Hopefully you'll find a better, happier life with your child. Find another mate. Make more babes. Build a farm, a cottage even. Better yet, go to Redwall. I don't care wot you do. But don't ever join the Mossflower Squirrel Brigade again."

Pillard blinked and sniffled again, not sure what to say or do anymore. There was only one other question he could come up with to ask the stoat.

"Why are you doing this?"

"D'you mean, lettin' you go or attackin' your camp in the near future?"

"Both."

Stinkfoot had an answer to the first part, but not the second one. He could've answered Pillard, but he chose not to, and instead looked at the squirrel sternly, hoping he'd just leave. Stinkfoot scratched his face before blinking.

"Your son needs you. He's all that matters now. Wot I do is irrelevant at this point."

Pillard didn't feel like speaking or arguing with the beast anymore. He nodded slowly as he stood up and walked over to Sharkbait and Gillan. Both of them were licking some of the dried-up blueberry juices from their paws when Sharkbait nudged the squirrel's shoulder.

"Told ya Sharkbait would win."

"Nuh-uh! You knocked summa the berries out my paw an' made me drop 'em! ...Oh, hey, Dad."

"Get up, Gillan. We gotta go now."

"Aww, already? But Sharkbait was 'bout to tell me a story!"

Sharkbait giggled. "It can wait, little one! Sharkbait's sure we'll see each other again later!"

"No, you won't."

Before Pillard said those words, Sharkbait was thumping his tail on the ground happily. But now he stopped entirely and found himself frowning.

"Oh," he said dejectedly. "Well, it was nice talkin' to Gillan anyway."

As Gillan stood up and licked his fingers again, he smiled slightly as he waved at the stoat.

"Bye, Sharkbait!"

Sharkbait still managed to smile as he waved at the squirrel too. "Bye, Gillan!"

Stinkfoot walked over to the other stoat as the two squirrels began to walk away. At first Pillard didn't know which direction to head; he obviously couldn't go back to his camp. But the squirrel had lived and navigated Mossflower woods several times before. He knew which places were rife with vermin, and which areas were serene and capable of sustaining water and food. So Pillard and his son started to walk south, in the exact opposite direction of the camp.

"Wait, isn't camp that way, Dad?"

Pillard blinked as he kept walking. "Yes."

"But that means we're goin' the wrong way."

"...We're not goin' back to the camp, son."

"Why not? I thought you said the camp wasn't movin' for a day or two? Are we leaving early?"

Pillard sniffled as he put a paw on his son's head and rubbed it slowly. "That's...that's not important right now. You told me earlier you wanted me to spend more time with you, yeah?"

Gillan nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Well, now I finally can."

Gillan looked up at his father's face and noticed that his eyes were very watery and that he looked a little distressed. He even saw a small teardrop emerge from the corner of his left eye.

"Why are you crying, Daddy?"

Pillard sniffled and quickly wiped the small teardrop away before he blinked several times to get rid of the other tears forming in his eyes. He looked down at his son and forced himself to smile.

"Just allergies. Don't worry about it."

"Oh. Okay then."

Pillard kept walking alongside his son, not bothering to look back. He tried to force himself not to think of all the friends and brave soldiers he just gave up. He kept telling himself he did the right thing for the sake of his son. And yet, as happy as Pillard was to finally be free of all the stress of being a soldier, he already knew he was going to carry this burden around for the rest of his life. Stinkfoot and Sharkbait kept staring at the squirrels until they disappeared from their field of vision. Once they were gone, Sharkbait stood up and kicked a rock out of frustration.

"Sharkbait never gets to spend much time with babes," he grumbled.

Stinkfoot sighed. "I know."

The stoats walked over to where they dropped their weapons on the ground. Sharkbait bent over and picked up his dirk and cutlass while Stinkfoot paused and looked at him. The insane stoat chuckled to himself as he grasped the cutlass with both paws.

"Ooh, Sharkbait knows! Sharkbait will find the tree climbers' camp and chop 'em all into tiny pieces! All that blood splashing into Sharkbait's fur is bound to make him feel better!"

Stinkfoot shrugged. "I guess so."

As Sharkbait began to head back to their own camp, the insane stoat noticed that Stinkfoot hadn't moved. "Is Stinkfoot comin' or wot?"

"I'll catch up soon mate."

Even after Sharkbait left Stinkfoot by himself, the stoat still didn't feel like leaving. He just stared at the sword he tossed away in the soil. For a brief moment, Stinkfoot didn't feel like picking it up. He felt like turning around and walking away, the same as Gillan and Pillard. After all, even Pillard said that the stoat was better than all the pirates he hung out with. But even if Stinkfoot left, he didn't know what he'd do, where he'd go. Without them, he'd be all by himself again. Stinkfoot knew it wouldn't be long before he reverted back to his depressed, suicidal state. He couldn't relive that part of his life; he'd rather die than wander around the woods alone and talking to himself again. If that meant he had to spend his life hanging out with a band of pirates, some of whom were murderous rapists, then so be it.

Stinkfoot sighed heavily as he rubbed his forehead. Then he crouched down, picked up his sword, and returned to his "family."