Sorry, meant to upload this earlier, but kept procratinating until now. Hope everyone enjoys, and please do comment if you read the entire thing...and if you don't, please tell why!

Chapter 2: A Tale

Colan shot up in bed, the rough cloth he used for a sheet soaked with sweat. He collapsed back down, breathing heavily. He groaned and turned over on the dry grass that served as his bed, striving to shut out the echoes of the bloodcurdling screams that had pierced his ears earlier that day. Colan closed his eyes and listened to the deep breathing of the other occupants of the room, his family. He furrowed his brows and sat up again, looking about the dark room.

His father wasn't there. Colan wasn't worried though, he knew where his father was. Rising silently, Colan tippawed to the door, careful not to wake his mother or Runtha. Peering around the doorway, Colan looked around in the darkness. Stars filled the sky, dotting the heavens with a billion tiny pinpoints of light. The moon was absent from the sky tonight, but that only meant there would be more darkness to hide in. The only guard in sight was peering over the palisade, holding a flaming torch. The salt tang of the breeze was lessened, but still noticeable. "It must be still early in the night." Decided Colan.

Slipping out of the doorway but keeping to the shadows, Colan crept toward the center of the slave compound. There was a clink of metal and Colan dropped to the ground and pressed himself against the base of one of the mud houses. A weasel marched around the corner and past him, cutlass at his side. Poking his head into the doorways as he passed, he checked to see that the slaves were sleeping. Colan exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as the sentry disappeared around the next corner. Pushing himself up, he continued on. Passing along the walls of a rather nondescript hut, he slipped into a gap between it and the next. The passage was narrow, but Colan had ample room. Arriving at a small gap head height, he stopped.

"I wish I was a fish." He murmured. It was a line from an old otter poem, it used to be longer, but much had been forgotten. The only known words were two lines:

I wish I was a fish, to swim in the sea.

_ _

Freedom the fish, oh aye, that's me!

Movement came from within the hut, and a shrew's face appeared in the dark gap momentarily. Then a paw appeared, waving him on. Colan followed the small alley, reaching a low door at the end. As far as Colan knew, this was the only door in the slave compound that didn't have anyone guarding it. He turned the knob and stepped into the smoky room beyond.

Heads snapped toward him as he stepped into the room, then the occupants relaxed and turned back to Colan's father, Athuran, who was sitting on a chair in front of a semicircle of more wooden chairs assembled around a small fire. Most of the chairs were occupied by fellow slaves. Many were sprinkled with grey fur, but a few, like Colan, had weaseled permission from the elder group to attend. Colan took a seat on the packed earth floor next to an empty chair he knew to be his father's.

Athuran finished the tale he had been telling and stood up. Most of the group touched their snouts with their paws in approval. Colan remembered his confusion the first time he had come to the dark moon gathering. Athuran had explained that because slaves weren't supposed to gather, loud noises such as clapping were too dangerous. So they had adopted the gesture of tugging the snout instead. Nodding gratefully to the listeners, Athuran returned to the semicircle of chairs, taking a seat next to Colan.

Smiling sadly, he whispered to his son, "Couldn't sleep?"

Colan shook his head.

"I don't blame you. It was a rough day for everyone." Athuran's face brightened slightly, "Oh, Sanem's up next. He may be a little cheeky, but he knows more good tales than any two beasts here despite his age."

Sanem sat down in the storyteller's chair. He was a squirrel of about twenty seasons of age, small and nimble-looking. His red fur glowed even redder in the firelight. Looking around the room at the numerous expectant faces, he frowned. "Don't get too excited, my extremely esteemed grey-furs, you haven't heard my story yet. Time is short, so you'll have to make do with a condensed version of my story." He cleared his throat and began.

"As you all know, I've only been here a few seasons. I was taken captive off the coast of Greenvale by a crew of corsairs, the only beast worth keeping after they finally captured our vessel. I had been visiting a friend of mine on the isle, but that's beside the point."

"Before that, I lived in a small walled town in the woodlands. It was a place that knew the hardships of war well, but it also knew the joys of peace. Many of its inhabitants through countless years have been former slaves, and even its founder, a mouse by the name of Samuel, was a slave for part of his life."

"My tale begins before Redwall abbey was built, about the time Samuel arrived in the woodlands. At that time, the area was held under the tyrannical rule of a cat. He commanded a formidable army of many types of creatures. He had two children, Valiete and Ginger. Samuel was captured and brought before this ruler, guilty of carrying a weapon in his domain. Samuel argued that he couldn't be held accountable because he was only a traveler passing through, and couldn't know the laws of the land. The warlord admired the courage he saw in Samuel and asked each of his offspring what Samuel's punishment should be. Valiete was quick to say that he should be killed, even if he claimed to have no knowledge of the law. Ginger thought that Samuel should be escorted to the borders and given back his sword, not to come back under pain of death. The Warlord compromised the two sentences and ordered that Samuel should be locked in the dungeons for the winter, then set free. Valiete furious that her suggestion had not be taken, broke Martin's staff. Martin vowed to slay her for breaking his staff, which had been a gift from his father."

"Later that night, the warlord died. At the time, Valiete accused Ginger of poisoning their father and locked him away in the dungeons, his name never to be spoken again. Ginger was blamed, but everyone knew Valiete was the poisoner; however no one would admit it."

"Spring came, and a new prisoner by the name of Kale joined Samuel in his cell. Within a day, the two had escaped. They were picked up by the resistance forces that fought against the warlord, and now his daughter. Samuel soon left for a nearby kingdom to request aid."

"Meanwhile, two young otters were captured by Valiete and held as hostages. They were kept in separate cells, Ginger's cell between them. The cat broke holes in the walls of his cell and brought the young otters into his own cell, reuniting them. When the guards found them gone from their cells, it was assumed they escaped. After much maneuvering and planning on the Resistance's part, they did escape along with Ginger, although their rescuer, a brave otter if there ever was one, died in the escape."

"Much more occurred, but for expediency's sake I will shorten it. The stronghold was flooded and sank, Valiete was slain by Samuel as he vowed he would, and Ginger settled down with his mate and lived a peacefully as a farmer."

Sanem stood, "Now, not to sound like a mother, but we should all go to bed. I at least want some rest before I go back to pruning trees." As he made his way to the door Colan stopped him. "Is there more to the story?"

Sanem smiled, "Oh yes, much more. I'll tell you sometime."

"I'll look forward to when we have the time." Colan cocked his head. "Another question, why that story?"

Sanem shrugged, "I felt like it was one that needed to be told."

Before Colan could ask him what he meant, the red-furred squirrel was gone.

The slave snuck home warily, a few at a time. It was getting towards morning when Colan finally crawled back into his bed, still pondering what Sanem meant. He had heard enough of the squirrel's stories to know that many of them had a purpose beyond just entertainment. What was the meaning of the story then? Would someone from the town that Samuel founded come to save them? Some wanderer from a distant shore? Colan pondered the possibilities until his eyelids fell shut. Then he slept like a log for the little remained of the night.