I started messing with TWB! And yes, some of the names are still Redwall, but they’ll be changed eventually. I don’t have much, the first 11 pages or so, but I’ll update it as I go.

Soft footsteps stirred the sunlit morning silence. The rough logs brushed against her unshod paws, but her attention was focused past the stone fountain that graced the front of the home.

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The morning and town remained still for a few moments, before a gray shadow swept around the corner of a house, and clopping thuds became audible.

A lanky young horse slid to a stop a few feet from the golden mouse, black mane flying everywhere. The horse took a bite of grass from the front lawn, rolling her eyes.

Dancer dropped out of her lope and into a walk as they crested a hill and entered a thicket. She stopped, and Sally slid off, untangling the navy fabric from around her legs.

Dancer flicked her long, black tail. I need grass, and the stuff it the woods is thin and nasty. Sally rolled her black eyes, though they sparkled.

Sally watched her with something akin to bemusement, before gripping her thick staff tighter and walking deeper into the woods.

Sally was proud of it. The only outlets of adventure available. She paused momentarily, before starting to run down one of the multiple paths.

Her dress flapped irritatingly around her legs, but she kept on, short hair flying behind her and catching momentarily around branches and twigs.

The first obstacle was a fallen log; Sally used the pole to propel herself over it. She landed on the other side with a thud, and vaulted forward again.

Here large boulders and trees blocked the path, and she slid under branches, dodging others, while weaving between the rocks. A few good swings of the trusty staff cleared the rest of the path, and Sally ran through a small meadow, paws tearing through the thick grasses.

She let out a sudden squeak as dress, paws, and grass tangled together, and she collapsed in a heap. Sally groaned, before rolling onto her back, panting slightly.

Spirals of white cloud raced across the sky, and as she watched them, she laughed breathlessly. The morning was slowly growing warm, and Sally remained in the deep grasses for a few moments, watching the clouds.

Cirrus, it seemed. As she sat up, a strange chill slid down her back, making her shudder.

The meadow seemed. Sally scrambled to her paws, grabbing her staff.

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The creature standing in the trees moved toward her. It was sinewy, ebony black with large, silky ears. A fox. He towered over Sally, pale, orangey eyes glimmering in the light, and he drew a long knife.

A cold wash of fear made the young mouse tremble and take a step back.

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Who are you? Sally dodged to the side, and she felt the rush of air across her cheek. She was forced to drop into a crouch as her attacker recovered almost instantly and slashed at her again.

She threw herself away from the fox, whipping the pole around to face him. Sally ducked away, turning and bolting. Too silent.

A heavy paw grabbed her shoulder, shoving her forward. Her chin slammed into the ground moments later, though the grass acted as a bit of a cushion.

She jerked herself onto her side, to see the black fox staring at her with emotionless eyes. He reached down in one swift movement, grabbing her right paw and yanking it so hard there was a jolting sensation in her wrist.

The fur swirled oddly across her palm, making the vague shape of a feather.

A hiss split the air, and Sally gasped in a breath as her attacker stumbled back with a short yelp. She forced her eyes open, to see him gripping an arrow shaft that protruded from his side.

He staggered back, growling low in his throat as another arrow sank into his left shoulder. Sally dragged herself in the opposite direction of the black fox, but fell back into the grass with a cry as she tried putting weight on her right paw.

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She struggled upright again, just in time to see her would-be killer stagger off into the woods. Sally slowly sat up, careful to support herself with her left paw.

Aside from the patches of flattened grass, the meadow looked the same as it always did. But where had those arrows come from? Who had shot them?

A few minutes passed, but nothing changed. Then Dancer walked out of the woods, a little grass hanging from her mouth. The horse hurried over to her, sniffing her all over.

What happened?

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Who did this? Do you feel dizzy? No, just that vixen selling wares … a couple years ago I think. Wait, a fox did this? Dancer drew back instantly.

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Get on my back. The one what?

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What could possibly make her a target for such an attack? She barely left Evenglade … how could she really be that special?

And why was the fox looking for her feather-mark?

She stumbled along, casting plenty of glances behind her. A few beasts were moving around the town now, and they stopped to cast odd glances at her.

Some looked a little worried, but none did anything. Dancer grumbled under her breath.

All she could think of was the fox leaping out of the shadow of a building and stabbing her. She made it home however, and Dancer stomped a hoof on the porch, a sound that reverberated through the whole house.

Her little brother opened the door, wild red hair spiking everywhere as usual. There was a flash of red fur, and a short mouse slid to a stop beside Sally, grabbing her.

What happen this time?

Did you fall out of a tree again? Sally sighed and fell silent as her sister dragged her into the house, where her mother joined them, fussing.

Sally gave up trying to understand the two, as they were talking over one another. Her father stood from his spot at the table, concern in his eyes, but also irritation.

Are any bones broken this time?

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You said there was a fox? She shook her head, suppressing a shiver.

I just tripped and took a nasty fall. Thankfully, her father looked exasperated instead of noticing. And more importantly, you should be spending your time learning something useful, instead of traipsing about injuring yourself constantly.

Seconds later, her mother and Rose dragged her up the stairs to the second floor, intent on fussing. Sally found herself in bed, wrist back in joint and dully aching.

Neither said a word for a few moments, before the older, russet furred mouse shook her head.

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Do leave them be. I hope you learned a lesson from this. As the older mouse left, Sally frowned deeply, before drawing her covers up to her chin and staring about the room in silence.

Every dark shadow and unexplained noise instantly made her expect to see the black fox standing behind her, knife poised to strike.

Almost reluctantly she walked the short distance to the building for the two horses of Evenglade.

Still, she wanted to see Dancer. She felt as though the fox would jump out at her, and flinched as there was a rustle, accompanied by Dancer as the horse leapt at her instead.

I was worried.

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