Examining yourself in the mirror, you don't know what to think. Blood pulses in your throat from nervousness, causing whiskers on either side of your pointed snout to flex. Amber furred with a white band around your middle, and a long, pink, worm-like tail sticking out the blankets, you stare. You stare some more. Open your mouth, see the sharp teeth inside, the little tongue. Pull faces, watching the reflection mimic every one.
That's me. That's actually me. I'm a rat? A jolt courses through, a sick, anxious feeling in the pit of your stomach. I look like the pet rat I had from when I was seven.
Shaking, you hand the mirror back to Sister Buttercup. "Thank you." Your voice sounds strange in your own throat, higher pitched from the shock.
"Are you alright?" Sister Buttercup tries a look of concern, but distaste shows on her slender mouse features.
"I'm in Redwall ..." You give yourself a quick pinch, just to make sure you were not dreaming. Redwall. Your favorite series of books, an Abbey set in the middle of Mossflower Woods, a sanctuary to woodland animals. If this was a dream, it was wonderful.
I'm in Redwall, and I'm a rat. Instantly, your stomach plummets again. A rat. A vermin. A member of the bad species, hated by the peaceful dwelling inhabitants of Redwall. Small wonder, when rats enjoyed plunder, murder, and conflict.
Then you smile.
You always used to think it was a shame, how the bad ones were always bad, and the good ones always good. Blaggut was always your favorite rat character in the books, the only decent one in the whole series, but only because he was too stupid to truly be bad.
You still feel like yourself.
Maybe you could be the first good female rat. Sister Buttercup asks again if you're okay.
"I hope so. Thank you for accepting me into your Abbey." You smile, making it as gentle as you can, lips closed. Your sharp teeth might otherwise alarm the tiny mouse in front. "I know what I look like."
"Hmm." Sister Buttercup nods, terse. "There's soup on the way, if you're hungry. And Martin would like to see you later, once you're recovered. Do you remember him, from earlier? He helped you."
You nod, suppressing the squeal on your lips. Martin the freaking Warrior? Oh hell yes.
"I see you do." Sister Buttercup smiles, seeing some of your enthusiasm. The infirmary door opens, and a squirrel wearing a brown habit steps in, a steaming bowl of stew clutched between their paws.
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