The Pit

[Minerva]

?...and they all lived happily ever after. The end.?

Flickering candles danced dimly in the darkness of the nursery, and the pine marten sighed as he closed his book. He limped towards the bookshelf and put it away, listening to the snoring of his young charges as they slept soundly in their beds.

In the corner of the room, Minerva sat next to Fable?s and hummed the tune to one of Komi?s songs as she stroked her daughter?s head. The young one?s chest rose and fell with each of her gentle breaths as she slumbered peacefully.

Curiously, Minerva looked towards the hunchbacked marten as he retrieved a stray doll from the floor and slipped it gently into the arms of an unconscious hogbabe.

"You know, it's a shame..." Marik looked towards her with a slight smile, but kept his voice low. "They always fall asleep before I finish. They never get to hear the end."

Despite herself, Minerva matched the marten's smile and nodded in agreement. "Aye, it was a good story."

"Oh?" Marik raised a brow. "And what makes you say that? I started long before you got here. In fact, you hardly heard anything but the last few pages."

"I heard enough. I heard the end." Still stroking the young one's head, Minerva's paw touched the iron around Fable's neck. "All good stories have happy endings."

Orange candlelight gleamed off their collars. "Aye." Though his statement sounded somber, Marik's gaze remained hopeful as he watched the mother and daughter. "But even a sad story can have its happy moments. You're the Monster of Mossflower, right? My mum says you're one of Nire's favorites. You must have impressed him if he's letting you come to the nursery. He's never rewarded a beast like that before."

Minerva only nodded. She couldn't dare disagree openly with the marten, but the otterwife knew the real truth. From the moment guards were sent for her, Nire's intentions were clear. Seeing the nursery, seeing Fable, was no reward. It was a reminder.

Fable stirred in her sleep, as if from one of her nightmares, and Minerva withdrew her paw. A moment later, the young one settled. Soundly. Safely.

"Has she been good for ye?" the otter asked.

Marik brightened. "Fable? Oh, of course. A little scared at first, just like any of the rest, but she's no trouble at all. Stays quiet most of the time." At a curious look from Minerva, the pine marten adjusted himself. "She's just a little shy and had a spot of trouble making friends. It was like she didn't know how to talk to anybeast her age."

Minerva looked down at her child. "Aye, we lived alone out in Mossflower, so there weren't any other young 'uns nearby, obviously."

Marik nodded. "She's gotten better though, and now that she's made a few, she seems to be happier here. Well... not here, but you know what I mean. It's good she's made friends. Being alone in a place like this..."

The marten sighed.

"In a deep, dark pit like the Crater, sometimes we need other beasts to remind us to look up, to remind us that we can still climb out. Otherwise, what will we do but wallow in the dark?"

Minerva was taken aback by the marten's words. For a beast so young, Marik spoke with wisdom beyond his years. No doubt that taking care of these children in the Crater had forced him to grow up fast. And he was right.

It had been Adeen who had given her the courage to climb. Loose stone crumbled beneath her paws, but a lifeline held snug around her ankle. She and Komi pressed on until they found Silas and Kali, new footholds, new friends. All the while, FTN waited above to help pull them out.

But, with every inch scaled, the top of the pit grew further and further away. Adeen was dead. Jossia threatened Komi and Aldridge. And then finally...

"You?re going to help me snuff out this rebellion once and for all... Do that, and you will be rewarded.?

And Minerva fell back down into the dark.

A soft knock came from the two guards posted in the hall outside, and the otterwife knew her visit was over. "Will ye tell her that I came?" she asked.

Marik nodded. "It'd be cruel of me otherwise. Though I think she'll be upset when she finds out she missed you. There are banners with your sigil on them down the hall and, nearly every day, she insists I walk with her so she can see it. She knows you're fighting for her."

But what if she couldn't save her? Or rather, what if she dragged everybeast down into the pit with her to do it?

As if he read her thoughts, Marik said, "There's hope in this place yet for a happy ending. Even here in the nursery, I hear whispers of brave beasts wanting to rebel. All we can do is hold onto that hope."

The otterwife's chest tightened at the marten's words and a sullen "aye," was all she could muster in response. "Thank you, for what ye do here. Not just for Fable, but everybeast. My daughter sometimes has nightmares, but ye've helped her rest easy."

"Like I said. Hope hasn't abandoned this place yet," Marik replied. "Don't let it abandon you."

If the pine marten knew her conflict, she wondered what he might say instead. Would he judge her? Would he call her title fitting? Minerva looked towards him, meeting the eyes of a young beast who genuinely wanted to help. He didn't demand anything from her. He didn't ask for money.

She wondered if his words would change at all.

Another knock came from outside, and babes stirred slightly in their beds. "You should go, before I have to start another story for these rascals," Marik said. "I'll watch over her for you, don't worry."

Minerva nodded her thanks and kissed her daughter lightly on the head. "Marik, may I ask ye somethin' before I go?"

"Of course."

"If somethin' were t' happen t' me..." she said, "will ye keep that banner hangin' for 'er?"

"I will."

"Thank you."

The otterwife turned to look at her daughter a last time. Love. Sadness. Guilt. Longing. Tears welled in her eyes as a wave of emotion flooded through her.

"I love ye. Remember that, please," she whispered beneath her breath. Pushing open the door she let the guards lead her back to the dark pits of the Drag.

~~~?~~~

Silas and Komi were waiting for her when she returned.

"How is she?" Komi asked as Minerva sat beside them.

A small torch was mounted on the wall of the cave they commandeered, and Minerva watched as the warm, flickering orange light battled with the cold, dark blue from the rest of the Drag. "She's doin' well," she said. "She hasn't been hurt at least. When I got there, she was sound asleep. I didn't want t' wake her up."

Silas nodded. "That's good. At the very least, I'm happy you were able to see her. I was never able to visit mine in the prison, no matter how much I begged."

"Aye, I am too," Minerva said, her voice betraying the yearning she had to be back at her daughter's side. The otterwife wiped her tattered sleeve across her eyes.

The torch crackled above them as Minerva thought about the letters Silas carried. For seasons, they must have been the only way he had been able to talk with his loved ones. The nights alone, the longing to hear their voices. Minerva touched a claw to her fishhook. She understood the feeling well.

"Silas," Minerva said, "I'm gonna be truthful. I've never heard of a rat who was a farmer, let alone one with a family." The otterwife paused there, waiting to see if she had offended him, but Silas didn't change his expression. "I'd like t' learn what they were like. Will ye tell me? What were their names?"

Silas paused for a moment in consideration, and even Komi turned her ear towards the rat, but, instead of answering directly, he suddenly knelt forward. Like a farmer's plough, he traced a claw through the dirt and carved symbols- no, letters- into it.

In the few days that had passed since Minerva asked to be taught, the rat was nearly always busy studying with Jace for his monster battles, but, he didn't waste any free opportunities for a new reading lesson. The otterwife furrowed her brow, realizing that these were likely the names she asked for. Silas smiled slyly and beckoned her to give her best attempt.

Minerva sighed and leaned forward to study the letters. Imagining the alphabet that the rat showed her, the otterwife tried to recall the sounds each letter made. Something was off though and made that difficult. The first letters of each name were different than any Silas showed her before.

She noted this fact and Komi snickered. Minerva narrowed her gaze at the stoat as Silas explained. "No, you've seen those letters before. They're just capitalized."

"Capita-what?"

Instead of explaining, Silas poised a question. "Let's say I was writing about a jubilee I'd attended, as in... a celebration or a festival." He pointed to the first name. "How would you know that's what I was writing about, and not my wife, Jubilee?"

"Capital letters," Komi answered for him.

"Let her try to answer," Silas chided the stoat. "But yes, you're right. A capital letter is used to mark the beginning of a sentence or, in this case, the importance of a beast, a place, or a thing. Everybeast has a capital letter at the start of their names."

Minerva nodded in a tentative understanding. "And what letters are these?"

"J for Jubilee, and then A and H for my two children," Silas said, pointing to them respectively. "Now, what are their names?"

Minerva repeated the letters in her head and reminded herself of their sounds. A minute passed before she looked tentatively towards her teacher. "Arr...thur? He...die?"

"Heidi," he corrected. "She was my youngest and a right pawful. Impatient, boisterous, but sweet, all the same. Those are the right words to describe her, I think. She liked to terrorize her brother, but she made up for it with how loving she was. She'd hug you as tight as she did her dolls if she could."

The rat smiled slightly at the thought before continuing.

"Arthur- though we called him Artie- was the oldest. He was a good kid. Always eager to help others. Inquisitive and curious. He wanted to learn about everything. I'd like to think he'd have grown to be a scholar or a teacher.

"And Jubilee... I didn't deserve her. She saw beauty all around, even in the darkest of places. She was my life." Silas paused there, closing his eyes, recalling some distant memory. "Now, why don't we swap stories? This time it's your turn to write the names of your family and tell me about them."

Minerva was taken aback by the rat's proposal. "There's really only Fable," she said.

"Yes, but it takes two beasts to make a child," Silas said. "I've told you about mine. Tell me about yours."

Minerva paused, recalling the letters to Fable's name as she wrote it into the dirt. Her paw hovered over the ground when she got to the second name, her fishhook weighing heavily around her neck as she thought hard about the beast it belonged to. It was a name she had spoken thousands of times, yet the syllables always tasted sweet on her tongue.

One by one the letters came to her, and she inscribed them carefully into the dirt, until the name was written next to Fable's.

Orran.

"We met in the summer while I was on a patrol for Holt Summerdale," Minerva began her story. "I was followin' the stream when I heard a whistlin', so I decided t' follow it. I was expectin' some vermin, young as I was, but it was him instead. He was sittin' under a tree without a bloody care, whistlin' his tune as he cast a fishin' line into the water. He didn't see me when I approached, but I didn't scare him either. I remember he made some crack that 'instead o' fish, he had caught a beauty that day.' Smooth talker, that one, otherwise I wouldn't've stayed.

"He was no warrior. Just some vagrant travellin' wherever the wind took him. He had seen places I had never even heard of, talked t' strange, interestin' creatures, and he told me about all of it. He was on his way north then, he told me, but, the next day, I found him there under that tree again, still castin' his line. Day after day, he was there, and, day after day, I was, too. We talked, we sang, we danced, we swam, we fell in love. And then he was quiet. Orran got on one knee, grinned like the rogue he was, held out his favorite fishhook, and broke the silence by askin' me for my paw. After all that time, what could ye say t' that but 'yes?'"

Minerva hesitated before continuing.

"Together we started t' forge our life together. Like before, Orran wanted us t' travel north, but I had never stepped foot out of Mossflower before, let alone my holt. I was scared t' say the least, so he proposed we stay for just a few seasons. We found a little farm out near Redwall and decided t' work it until I got my bearings. The first few seasons worked out well. We had our disagreements sometimes- I wanted a baby. He wasn't sure about the idea- but we were still madly in love. But he hated standin' still, so by the fourth season, he was ready for us t' leave. I didn't want to. I told him I was comfortable on the farm... with just the three of us. I remember his face when I told him that. I was expectin' a smile, a gasp, somethin'. What I got was a look of dread.

"He stayed at the farm, but we started arguin' more than we were talkin'. Like before, he wanted t' leave. And the baby? Well, Orran didn't think he was cut out t' be a father. He tried though. When Fable was born, he was good to her. He was a good father, even if he thought he wasn't. But his eyes were still fixed north. She was close t' turnin' three when suddenly he told me he was leavin'. We argued again, sayin' the same things we had said a thousand times before and, then, he left. And Fable and I stayed.

"We were selfish. We wanted somethin', and didn't care if the other suffered as a result. And now Fable's all I have left," she finished. Minerva felt tears spilling from her eyes, but it wasn't just from Orran. It was from everything. Fable, the Crater, Nire, Marik, Adeen. Two beasts stared back at her in sympathy, the two beasts she knew she had to betray.

"I'm sorry, Minerva," Silas said. "I didn't mean to upset you like this."

Minerva scrubbed at her face as she shook her head. "No, but can I ask ye somethin', Silas?" The otterwife cried. It was a question she already knew the answer to, an answer she needed to hear. "If you were in my boots, if it was yer children in this damned place. Would ye do the same as I have?"

"If any one of my children were still alive, and, Fates forbid, being kept in this place, you can bet I would do whatever I had to to get them out," Silas answered. The rat placed a tender paw on her shoulder.

"Thank you."

The torch above Minerva began to dwindle, and blue overtook orange as their cave darkened.

~~~?~~~

When Minerva woke, the first thing she did was approach Kentrith Hapley and demand she meet with her sponsor. Lady Eve was part of FTN, she knew, and if the otterwife was to play her part for Nire, she knew she needed to join as well.

Hours later, beasts were sent to fetch her and Minerva was taken to a small pub on the Crater's first floor. The otterwife took a seat in a quiet corner away from the rowdier patrons and waited, passing the time by trying to read the different fliers and signs scattered about the place, until, finally, Lady Eve appeared in the doorway.

Lady Eve paused for only a moment before noticing the otter and grinning with delight. Like a bird, the vixen seemed to glide everywhere she went with a sort of carefree style of grace. Dignified but clumsy, she held her head high as she tripped over a bar stool and fell to the floor.

It was an act of course, Minerva knew. Her footpaw hadn't even touched the stool. Like the two sides of the coin she gave her, Lady Eveneda Persa was not just the clumsy fool she pretended to be. No, her real self, the one that was a member of FTN, would show today.

"Oho! If it isn't the Monster of Mossflower!" Lady Eve cooed when she reached the table. She took Minerva's paw and clasped it tightly between the both of hers as she shook it furiously. "It's wonderful to see you again, truly. I must say, I have simply been waiting with bated breath for your next battle." The vixen's eyes fluttered over the empty seat next to the otterwife. "And where is your partner?"

Minerva had considered bringing Komi, but knew it could very well be a death sentence for her. If Nire truly wanted to destroy FTN, it was possible he wouldn't show mercy to any of its members, slave or not. "She couldn't make it," the otterwife answered simply.

The vixen slid into the seat across from Minerva. "Ah, a shame, truly and indubitably. I did quite enjoy her battle with the scor-"

"I know who you are."

Lady Eve paused. "Yes... well, many beasts do. I am Lady Eveneda Persa-"

Minerva interrupted once more. "No. Don't act dumb. Ye know what I mean. Ye're wearin' all that like a mask, but I know yer name. I know who you are."

The vixen cocked an eyebrow before smiling at her. "Talk quieter. We are not the only beasts with ears." Lady Eve's movements remained fake and exaggerated, but her tone was now cold and intelligent. "What do you know?"

Minerva kept her voice in whispers. "Ye're a member of FTN. Ye're tryin' t' bring an end t' this place and save the slaves inside." The otterwife narrowed her gaze. "And you had the bloody nerve t' try and get me t' join, knowin' full well Nire has a dagger at my daughter's neck. What if that cat had found that letter or those coins? You could have gotten her killed!"

"And, yet, here you are," Lady Eve stated matter-of-factly. "Why talk to a supposed member of FTN if you have no interest in joining? Surely, you didn't call this meeting just so you could yell at me?"

"No," Minerva said, fighting back all her fears and hesitation, "I do want t' join."

"OHOHOHOOO!"  Lady Eve's chortling nearly shook the pub, and all beasts turned towards them. Only moments passed before the patrons rolled their eyes and turned back to their own business. "I really must commend your bravery. It's very rare parents ever wish to join FTN, especially with Nire holding their children hostage. To tell you the truth, we need that kind of bravery, now more than ever."

Minerva's chest tightened with guilt as she asked, "why?"

"Because you were wrong. I am not a member of FTN," the vixen answered. "I am one of the leaders of FTN."

Minerva struggled to keep her eyes from widening. "And what does that mean?"

"Well, being a figurehead means there are certain fiscal responsibilities that I must ensure are taken care of to keep everything running... and well..." Lady Eve trailed off for a moment. "...for seasons now, we've been trying to take down this place, but Nire has beaten us back every time. Each failed attempt is more money I have to spend to start another one, and, well... I'm close to running out. I've had to bring in help, and even then, it still might not be enough. This could very well be our last try."

Lady Eve's words hung in the air and remorse once more clawed at Minerva's insides. She had hoped that, maybe, even if she did what Nire asked, that FTN could still possibly regroup a season or two later and succeed, but even that was now impossible. By saving Fable, the Crater could possibly stand forever.

In the darkness of the pit, Minerva wallowed. And it was in darkness that Monsters resided.

"What do I need t' do?"