Dandin and Mariel lingered uncertainly around the small cottage.  They were perplexed by Softbrush’s abrupt manner.
     “Dandin, come look at this,” Mariel said from behind the cottage.  He followed her voice and found her standing by a tablet of stone that was leaning against a tree.  Small purple flowers proliferated on the grave, and the name Longbrush was inscribed in painstaking detail on the stone slab.  The two mice stood respectfully and silently by for a few moments.
     Suddenly, Softbrush dashed around the cabin, brandishing a pike.  “Hey!  Get away from there!” she shouted.
     Dandin’s sword flashed into readiness, and soon he and the young vixen were face to face, weapons locked against each other.
     “This is my home.  Leave,” Softbrush snarled.
     “We don’t want to fight with you.  But we need your help,” Dandin said firmly.  “Our Abbot is dying.”
     Softbrush frowned and lowered her eyes and her weapon.  “I can’t help you.”
     “Surely Longbrush instructed you in the ways of a healer,” Mariel interjected.
     The fox drove her pike into the ground beside her and sighed.  “She tried.”
     “Then you do know some things,” Mariel said.
     “Yes,” Softbrush said reluctantly.  “But I’m not any good at it.”  She kicked despondently at the dusty ground.
     “Anything would be useful.  Our Abbot is running out of time,” Dandin said.
     “I can’t,” she said again.
     “Why not?” Dandin asked in frustration.
     Softbrush glanced self-consciously at her mother’s grave.  “I...” she began hesitantly.  “I just can’t do it.  Not anymore.  Not again.”
     “What do you mean 'not again’?” Mariel pressed.
     Softbrush’s black eyes glistened with unreleased tears.  She frowned even more deeply and blurted, “I couldn’t save my mother, and I can’t save your Abbot!”  She turned and ran back into the cottage, leaving her pike and two startled mice behind.

    Dandin and Mariel ran after Softbrush, but the door slammed in their faces again.  Dandin
pounded on the door and called, “Please, Softbrush!  I’m sorry about your mother, but another sick creature needs your help now!  You’re our Abbot’s last hope!”
     “I can’t!” came the vixen’s anguished voice.  “I watched my mother die, and there was nothing I could do!  I won’t do it again!”
     Mariel gave it a try.  “We know how hard that must have been.  We’ve watched comrades die, too.  But just because you couldn’t help Longbrush doesn’t mean you can’t help Saxtus!  Think of how good you’ll feel after saving him.”
     Dandin jumped in before Softbrush had a chance to protest again.  “If your mother taught you healing skills, then she must also have taught you that healers are sworn to help all ailing creatures.  Would your mother have wanted you to let Saxtus die?”
     “No,” said Softbrush through tears.
     “Then come with us to Redwall.  Please, Softbrush.  We need you,” Dandin said.
     There was a long period of silence, and the warriormice began to think Softbrush was planning on completely ignoring them.
     Then the door opened and a solemn fox emerged with a bag slung over her shoulder.  She stood straight and swished her tail restlessly.  “Let’s go,” she said quietly.
     Dandin and Mariel’s faces brightened.  Softbrush wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but at least she was consenting to help them.
     Dandin clasped the young vixen’s paws in his.  “Thank you, Softbrush.  You won’t regret this.”
     She forced a small smile.  “I hope not,” she said with a nervous sigh.