Fading Rose Petals (Redwall Fanfic)

Sleeplessness

The passage of time for good creatures seemed to move too fast.

More importantly, Martin wished he'd gone with him, his body becoming more and more fidgety. The Dibbun he'd played with kept occupied. At the same time, while their parents' work was now being kept inside, away from the illness in hopes of them not catching it, something he understood pretty well while he struggled with the overall arching dilemma in his head of not knowing what was going on his friends.

And it made for some very sleepless nights.

"You really need to get some sleep," Columbine said a few days after they'd left, leaving what she outright said was a very bored warrior, to which she prompted him to practice some of the sword dancing he'd decided to take on—a way to make his use of the sword peaceful while retaining the muscle movement, or more of building it back up as he moved.

She said it was beautiful, so there must be something to what he was doing, even though she and Germaine were the only ones to see. Yet, isolation didn't prevent more in Mossflower from coming down with it, nor was he allowed to help care for the ill. In the back of his mind, he knew, "They are afraid of me coming down with it, what with how close to the Dark Forest I'd been only at the beginning of this season."

"They're going North," Martin said. "Past the lake. To the left of the mountains."

"Oh? You remember your journey South?"

"My journey South?" Martin thought to himself. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you and the Abbess?"

"Well, you're helping to gather wood along with the Skipper and his crew."

"Except the Skipper can handle that. He's lucky this hasn't touched his crew, but then they weren't there when it first started appearing and have kept their distance, though I'm not sure if that is the reason for it spreading as it does. It might also have to do them not coming down with it, at least not yet, with the way they live in and around the water."

"Possibly. What about your journey South do you remember?"

"Outside of coming out of a vast stretching land heading to the west of some mountains and that lake. Nothing. My mind draws a blank as if the further back I go, the closer I get to something I don't want to remember, but..."

"But what?"

"I need to remember," Martin said. "I need to remember..."

"Remember what?"

"Her?" It was a question more to himself than it was to Columbine.

"Have you slept at all, Martin?"

"No. I've not been able to sleep except for a few winks since they left."

"Are you avoiding the dreams, or are you avoiding making more prophetic riddles for us to solve while they are gone?" Columbine asked.

"I never asked for that ability. Are those who have it cursed? Boar died. And Polleekin. None of her family were left, were they?"

"Who's Polleekin."

"A molemum. Very kindly. I wonder what has happened to her. Should I have left her alone?" Martin shook his head, laughing suddenly. "No. I think we both knew when I left, for whatever reason I did, for whatever reason I couldn't stay, that I was supposed to go South. That it was meant to be, for me to come here."

"Funny. Timballisto said something similar to me before he left," Columbine said. "And, while I'd love to give you herbs to grind and other tasks, I first want you to get some sleep. Goodness knows the Abbess has already ordered it to be so."

"Sleep," Martin muttered, frustrated, wishing he could know more regarding what was going on. He hated being still, remembering wandering—through his mind kept going back to traveling down the path and the face of a molemum which was kind to him, a thought crossing his mind. "You know. I think she knew?"

"Knew what?"

"Well, about what I was supposed to do here, but I also had the gift. Yet she couldn't tell me because I had to find my gifts on my own."

"Gifts?"

"I wasn't exactly..." Martin pondered for a bit. "Boar taught me how to fight better. Better than I had. I'd had nobody to teach me. I don't know why I say that. I mean, I had Timballisto to teach me, right?"

Columbine startled, her ears twitching before she ran a paw through her whiskers. "You really need to sleep, Martin, but it sounds like you're starting to remember things."

"Is that a good thing," Martin said. "And what did Timballisto mean when he said he felt it was meant to be? Me coming here? He's not got the ability. I'm sure of that. You can kind of sense it in others, you know. At least, I think you can. I could sense it in Boar. And in Polleekin. But not anyone else. So maybe that's why my memories of them are so strong."

"Perhaps," Columbine said. "You know what he meant by that. Do you remember where your father's tribe is from?"

"Well, the North, right?" Martin said, turning his head. "That's what..." He paused. "Someone told me. It's what everyone told me, but I only ever remember those caves. And..." He paused. "Even that is vague. I mean, my father would have told me if there was something else. My father and..."

"Other family members."

"Yeah, that. So I guess Timballisto would. I mean, unless they were trying to hide it from us younger generation for some reason." Martin sighed. "Though, to be honest, I don't feel like I can go back there. I have this strange feeling I did something wrong."

"Timballisto said you didn't," Columbine said. "Although, in saying that, I'm also going to say he'd said you'd likely blame yourself for something you were blameless in. But then, that's just who you are, trying to take everything onto your own paws. And you're trying to do that now, Martin, even though you're not traveling with them, our dear champion. So please. Get some rest? She will force you to drink before Abbess Germaine finds the need to knock you out cold with some nasty tasting concoction."

"Oh. I so do not want that, so that I will try. I think..." Martin pondered going to Bella's quarters to sleep in the oversized chair but shook it off. "Maybe I'll get to dream of how they're doing. Maybe I'll talk to them in my dreams."

"Is that even possible?"

"Possible?" Martin let out a hum, then said in an almost sing-song voice as if to make up for Gonff not being there, "I-don't-know," before following up with, "Off to bed. Good luck to you and Germaine in regards to your patience."

"Well, try not to become one."

"Yes, mam!"