A Second Chance (Redwall Fanfic)

Skipper

Once he had been known as Warthorn, the Skipper of his otter tribe, leading them through the troubles of the Mossflower war. The adult goodbeast sat in the hold watching as the others moved about, his mind lost in thought. "I should be dead... not at all alive."

One of the female otters brushed away the mold growing in one corner of the holt, a frown on her face. "How long has it been since the holt has been used? The rooms are practically empty, almost as if there was no longer a holt."

Another otter frowned. "Shouldn't we be asking why we're still around, or even yet wondering whether or not we're some kind of ghosts."

A few kits splashed in the water, the situation not bothering them at all. Skipper's head turned, watching as the young ones played, a frown upon his muzzle. "I wonder how things are going on at the Abbey and whether or not they are facing a similar problem. None of this makes sense at all. Will we have to take the young ones there until we can make the holt a warm place again?"

"I'm going..." The otter moved forward, pausing to see his face in the water. The frown upon his muzzle deepened as he noticed that he was much younger then when he had met Martin. "If I am correct, Gonff should be younger then the young warrior."

"You already sent otters out to search for friend and foe. You don't need to go yourself." The female otter frowned.

"We look younger. Something strange is honestly going on." Skipper turned back to dive into the water, only to find something lunging out of the water to latch onto his head, pulling at the fur on top of his head. A strong paw reached up to force the furry bundle off him and held it away at a paw stretch. His mouth twisted up with ire and his head was dripping wet while the rest was dry. "An otter should be all wet or all dry, not half way between."

A small kit struggled in his paws. "Let me go ya vermin!"

"Matey, why did you just attack me?" Skipper watched as the little kit barred her teeth at him.

"Aye ain't ya matey. Aye ain't, I ain't!" The kit rattled off her words, spitting as she did so. She wiggled about in an attempt to get loose.

"Fine then, what was the reason you attacked me?" The older otter continued to hold onto the kit.

"I be Corai of the Calloon Holt!" The little otter's comment caused the Skipper to suddenly hang her upside down.

"Now, let me ask this. What has the Calloon Holt have to do with this?" The older otter raised an eyebrow at the Dibbun, figuring her to be around three seasons old.

"Ghosts are bad things!" The little one rambled on. "The rest of Calloon Holt is gone... gram says so! Thus you have all come back as ghosts to eat us!"

"We aren't the Hold Calloon. We actually never had a name, but I guess you could call us ghosts." The otter frowned. "We ain't dead and we ain't aiming to hurt you."

"No! You're going to hurt Gram 'cause she can't run away!" The little otter tried to bite Skipper, only to have him hold onto her with both paws.

"Bulla, please go and search for this young ones gram." The leader of the otters turned his head to look at the otter who was in charge of the kits.

"I'm sorry that she got through skipper. When I looked at our kits swimming, I thought she was one of ours." The female dived then into the water and after awhile she came back with another otter, helping the old one to swim through the water.

The old otter looked over the other otters when she surfaced with the ones helping her. "You're strangers here... and yet you're not..."

The little otter continued to struggle in Skippers arms, finally biting down on is paw. "Gram." The bite caused him to let her go. "Don't hurt Gram!" The otter kit scurried over to where this Gram beast was and hurried up into her arms, clutching the clothing of the older otter. The older otter let out a laugh that was merciful in tone. "Dibbun... I heard you called them ghosts... they are very much alive."

Skipper raised an eye. His muzzle fought to hide his amusement as he tried to glare at the young otter. "Where exactly has your own holt gotten. This place looks like it hasn't been lived in"

"Where has it gotten too?" The older otter blinked a couple of times. "Almost all the adults were killed by Calloon and his crew. They took the kits and killed the old and frail that would be no use to them. I hid myself and Corai and we ended up lucky. A few adults were left and they buried the dead before going off after the little ones. That was a turn of the season ago. This place... you can now consider it a dead place that our holt never goes in, and yet we saw movement here and Corai became curious."

"Corai was not curious! Corai is going to protect gram!" The small otter bared her teeth at the otters.

The older otter sighed. "Forgive her bravo. Despite acting all tough she is actually afraid of this place."

"They're ghosts." Corai muttered leaving the old otters arms and diving into the water.

Skipper gave a sad look Corai's way. "She's not incorrect about us being ghosts despite us being flesh and blood. What news of Redwall Abbey. Is it it not still a place of sanctuary? Wouldn't they have been able to help in your holts time of need."

The old otter remained silent for a few minutes before speaking up again. "There used to be a time when the abbey was full of life, but now there is only a half dozen or less old beasts there that can do nothing to help. Redwall always stood against it in the past."

"So there isn't even a ghost there that can help." The words slipped out without Skipper thinking of them.

"There used to be stories of a ghost that walked the halls of Redwall after death. Stories say that it was a mouse, an odd creature that always helped lead the victories of the Abbey. This also said I can agree with the statement that you beasts are ghosts. Not only can I see you but you're also flesh and blood. Just be forewarned... she won't listen to a Skipper who isn't her father."

"So her father is the Skipper of your holt."

"I am thinking probably was. I am quite sure that he isn't alive either."