(Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall nor any places or characters found in the
Redwall series, they are copyright Brian Jacques. Author's Note: This is
the second version of this story, the original can be found in chapter
two.)
~The Shadow's Smile~
A cold wind blew through the trees, their branches rattled under the winter storm's wrath. Snowflakes blew downward from the heavens, burying the earth beneath a layer of ice. The blizzard had come, its fury was upon the lands, sending all creatures fleeing for their homes, leaving the northlands a barren desert of white, only a single beast daring to brace the sands of ice. The winds tore at the creature, freezing him to the bone, sending him to all fours at times, his mind wavering between the conscious and unconscious realms. Still he persevered, ignoring the painful stinging of his frostbitten limbs as he plunged through the snows, following a trail only he knew, every movement of his body sending shockwaves of pain through him. Then, finally, it was too much for the creature, his step faltered and he tumbled forward into the white expanse, his mind sinking into the world of dreams and nightmares.
The creature found himself there once again, always the same dream, the same sequence of nightmarish remembrances as the days before, his mind taunting him with the past. Spectral images flooding his thoughts, blurred images of happy times and places lifting him, only for them to fade away into the darkness, leaving him there alone in the shadows. The otter found himself before the cave that he had called home for so much of his life, the normal feelings of comfort and safety replaced by the fear of what was to come. Crimson hued snowflakes falling softly on his shoulders, his home had been tainted. It was the early winter, the snows had just begun to fall and the creatures of the north had just begun to close their homes up for the winter season.
He had been returning from a hunt, the last one there would be for quite a while, his pack laden with fruits, fish and any other food he found in the woods. The otter stood there, at the threshold of his home, bent under the weight of his pack, staring down in the darkness, feelings of fear growing as he stepped into the rocks. He walked along slowly, his eyes watching the movements of every shadow, his ears alert for any sound, but finding none. The cave was eerily silent. The torches that lit the way with their flickering glow seemed to be darker then usual, the winding corridors colder, menacing. Then the otter heard it, soft sounds cutting through the frigid air, a baby's cry and a mother's scream.
Heart pounding in his chest the otter ran along through the darkened network of caves, chasing the sounds as the fears pursued him from behind. The child's cries a constant reminder of what was to come, the screams of its mother tearing at him as he ran, their constant wails echoing through the corridors. He let his catch fall to the ground, drawing a blade from his belt as he ran, his legs pumping furiously. The cave before him seemed to distort and bend in impossible ways. The normally gray stone now crimson hued. His breath came in ragged gasps as he propelled himself down the darkened corridors of his memory. Suddenly he stopped short, just past the entrance to what had been his home, the sum of all his fears now realized.
Pain and anger coloring his vision, he stared downward at the horrid image. The screams and cries had stopped with the realization, leaving the caves silent and eerie as he stared down at it, the fallen cradle. The white sheets stained red, wrapped around what had been all of his joy. He fell to his knees, unable to comprehend, cold, lifeless eyes staring back at him. His wife's bright green eyes dulled in death, her expression one of terror and fear, lying on their bed in a pool of still warm blood flowing from the gaping wound in her chest.
Closing his eyes, unable to bear the sights of the past, he heard it. The soft sound of some creatures' breath, the killer was behind him. Whirling around to face it, he found a blur and then he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his shoulder. He found himself knocked headfirst into the wall; his blade knocked away, a bloodied hook piercing his shoulder. The killer twisted the hook cruelly, eliciting a cry of pain from the otter, turning his vision red. Suddenly the killer let him drop to the floor, the otter glanced up to find that the killer was a shadow, its smile standing out from the darkness, cold blue eyes piercing the otter's own.
"Yer a murderin', scum." The shadow whispered, its cruel grin growing wider at the words, its bright blue eyes cutting through the darkness. The otter found himself staring at the shadow. As it disappeared he swore that he would kill the murderer if it were the last thing he did. With that the world faded into the blackness.
"Tarn..." Out of the shadows he heard a soft melodious voice calling his name, the darkness began to part, the light at the end of the tunnel. A light shining through the haze of his mind, he found himself wandering the black fog, something pushing him on to find the voice. Then he found himself at a ledge, standing beside a figure he could not see, staring down into a dark chasm.
"Kaia..." He whispered, staring down into the pit, wanting more then anything to look up and find the creature he knew was beside him. He could feel her there. He knew that she was there with him once again.
"It tis not to be Tarn." Another voice echoed in the chasm and suddenly Tarn found himself wrapped in fog, trapped within its grasp and then, with a loud crack the cliff gave way and he found himself falling into the dark abyss, staring up into her cold eyes.
~~~~~~
Slowly the dream faded away into nothingness, leaving Tarn alone in the dark, drifting slowly from the realm of dreams into conscious world, watching as blurred figures danced at the corners of his vision. He tried to cling to the dream, but he was torn from sleep and plunged back into reality. The pain was his first sign, a burning all over his body, he found himself shaking heavily, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Mar!" A feminine voice echoed in Tarn's half-conscious mind. He felt a pair of paws on his shoulders, trying to hold him still.
"What is it, Mira?" Another voice asked. Tarn could hear them more clearly now as the numbness faded, the pain flooding back in, but still the otter couldn't make anything out of blurs that passed through his vision.
"That otter jus' woke up!" The first voice, a creature named Mira he assumed. Tarn blinked tiredly as he tried to rise, but he found no strength to do so, he was struggling just to breath.
"Ain't in too good of shape is he?" The other voice asked from somewhere to the otter's right.
"Nope, but I don't think he's goin' to have ta lose anythin'." She replied. "Lucky ye found 'im out there when ye did, otherwise frostbite would have set in..." She trailed off into silence, falling away from Tarn's view, being replaced by a much larger blur that held something in its paws that Tarn couldn't quite make out, some sort of cup.
"Here mate, drink this up, it'll help ye get better..." Mar said, speaking as if the otter were a simple child, but there was nothing Tarn could do about it. He nodded his consent weakly for whatever his savoir had in mind. He then found himself being force fed some sort of foul-tasting brew. The otter tried to protest, but the potion went to work right away and he found the world growing dark, reality growing distant once again.
Once more he found himself in the caves of his home, chasing the shadows of the past. The rocky tunnels curved this way and that in seemingly random patterns as he chased the fleeting image of the killer, the horrid shadow creature as voices echoed through the maze-like construct of his mind. The child's cries echoed monotonously, a constant reminder of the past horrors. He could hear the cries of a mother as she watched her life stripped away, tossed into the hungry shadows.
"Murderer...." That single word echoed through his mind, taunting him as the fleeting shadows did, as fast as he went he could never catch up. It was always one step ahead. He found the questions popping up in his mind, all of the 'what ifs' torturing him, tearing the otter down from the inside, but he fought on.
"Murderer...." The echo came again, louder this time, from behind. Tarn glanced back for a moment to find nothingness, an absolute darkness that threatened to swallow him up. He kept running, no longer certain as to if he was the predator or the prey in his mind.
"Murderer...." Suddenly a rock leapt up from the cave floor, snagging his foot paw and bringing the otter to the ground. The wind knocked out of him, he lay there for a moment, trying to collect himself before he struggled up to find, standing there in front of him, a beautiful otter.
"Kaia..." He whispered, reaching out with a paw, trying to touch her, but she backed away from his touch, shaking her head slowly at him.
"Murderer..." She whispered, disappearing into the darkness.
"Wait!" Tarn cried out as reality came back once again and the otter found himself in the conscious realm once more. He bolted straight up in bed, panting heavily, his heart pounding within his chest.
"Ah, so yer up, eh?" A friendly voice asked. Glancing over, Tarn found an otter like himself sitting down in a chair, a book in his paws.
"Yeah, I s'pose that I am." Tarn answered as his heart slowed to a normal pace.
"I take it that ye didn't sleep well?" The otter, the one called Mar, asked with a strange sort of smile, setting his book down on a wooden end table.
"No, s'pose I didn't." Tarn replied simply.
"So what were ye doin' out in a storm like that?" Mar asked stabbing a thumb in the direction of a small window on the other side of the room where they could see the snow-covered landscape glistening in the new mornings' sun.
"I was hunting..." Tarn answered, narrowing his eyes a little, hatred plainly showing in his eyes.
"In a storm like that?" Mar asked, a surprised look gracing his features.
"Where are my things?" Tarn changed the subject quickly to avoid giving the otter any further information. Mar pointed over to a large oak desk upon which Tarn's heavy cloak had been placed, his weapons on top of it.
"I hope ye ain't plannin' on goin' back out."
"What does it matter to you?" Tarn muttered in response, struggling to rise from the bed.
"There ain't no way you'd make it out there like that!" The otter cried, rising from his chair.
"I have to, an' ye ain't goin' ta stop me." Tarn growled, finally rising to his foot paws, pain shooting up through his legs as he did so.
"Very well, but at least give me the truth." The healer demanded as he steadied Tarn with a strong paw.
"I'm hunting a murderer an' 'is tracks out there are washing 'way as we speak." Tarn replied, pushing away the otter's arm, stumbling towards the table.
"Y'know I could try an help you?"
"I don't need your help nor do I want it. The scum is mine." Leaning on the table heavily Tarn examined his blade, testing its keen edge.
"Well, since I suppose I ain't goin' ta be getting' through to you I may as well help, eh?" Mar moved towards a large armoire that stood next to the bed, removing a small metal flask before moving to Tarn's side. "Here, take this." Tarn simply nodded in response, taking the flask in his paw, examining it.
"What's this?"
"It's the only reason you're still alive now."
"Is that so?" Tarn muttered before downing the potion in a single gulp, shuddering at the familiar taste, as he stepped towards the door.
"This way." Mar said, beckoning for Tarn to follow. They wound through a complex series of tunnels and passages, much like Tarn's home, but it was of a different shade. "Exit's jus' through the great cavern." As Mar spoke the cave opened up into a great cavern, lit up brightly by a giant fire at the center, around it hundreds of different kinds of beasts sat around the flames enjoying themselves. The caverns cheery atmosphere was wasted on Tarn though. He simply waited there for Mar to lead the way, glancing around the huge cave, but not truly seeing any of it.
"Where is it?" Tarn asked, his voice emotionless, his eyes appearing dull and gray as he glanced around the cavern.
"It's straight for . . . " Mar began, but he was quickly silenced by a paw.
"Wait, who's that?" Tarn demanded, pointing towards a tall, dark furred otter with bright blue eyes that stood at the outskirts of the crowds, watching everything with a cold, indifferent glare.
"Which?" Mar asked, a little confused.
"That otter o'er there, standin' by the wall." Tarn replied, moving a few paces towards the strangely familiar otter.
"Him? I think that's one of the beasts we rescued from the storm. Came in around the same time as you I think . . ." Mar answered, a little surprised at the question. "Do you know him?"
"Yes, I do believe so." Tarn growled, drawing his knife from his cloak in preparation as he made his way through the crowd.
"Hey! Wait up!" Mar called as he attempted to catch up to Tarn before he lost him.
"Damn . . ." Tarn cursed softly as he spotted the blue-eyed otter moving from where he had been leaning against the cavern wall. The otter had spotted Tarn, his cold eyes drawn by Mar's cry. "Ye ain't goin' ta get away from me that easily, scum . . ." Tarn hissed as he dodged through the crowd towards the exit and finally into the blizzard once more, the winds howling and snow falling as Tarn stumbled through the powerful gusts, but even with all of that the otter moved quickly, following the killer's fresh tracks.
~~~~~
Nearly an hour had passed and Tarn's pace had been slowed nearly to a crawl, but still he plunged onwards through banks of snow. He was no longer following tracks; he was following instinct, following the feelings, the hatred. The thirst for revenge, a thirst for the killer's blood. Then, suddenly the world seemed to stop, the snowfalls lightening until they were no more, the winds weakened to a light breeze and Tarn stopped in his tracks, frozen by instinct. The killer was near.
"Why are ye following me?" A voice asked, coming from behind.
"Not sure yet." Tarn replied, turning around to find the blue-eyed otter standing there, just a few paces behind him, seemingly unfazed by the blizzard they had both been through. "I'm hunting for a killer."
"Ah . . .now I remember ye. How's yore wife?" The otter asked with a cruel grin, removing a large dagger from its sheath as they spoke. Tarn growled in response, taking a few steps forwards holding his knife out in front.
"Make a move, scum." Tarn spat the words out, his eyes burning with rage, with a barely contained bloodlust as the two combatants began to circle one another.
"Die!" The killer cried out as he made his move, a crazy smile upon his face as he lunged at Tarn, dagger sent in a horizontal arc. Tarn jumped back, taking advantage of the other otter's position, slicing a clean line across he killer's abdomen. The killer winced in pain, but did not slow his assault, digging a bloodied hook into Tarn's shoulder, throwing him to ground. Tarn hesitated for a second, the pain of the wound giving the killer all the time he needed. Tarn found a dagger stabbed deep into his stomach, a fatal wound. The killer threw himself back, watching as Tarn struggling to his paws, a hook through his shoulder, clutching at the dagger as blood began to pour out around the steel.
"Bastard . . ." He cursed. Stumbling towards the otter and with what was left of him, he ripped the dagger from his stomach and plunged it deep into the other otter's chest, piercing its heart. Both of them collapsed to the ground, the killer was dead and Tarn's vision had begun to fade. Then, once again, he found himself at the edge of the cliff, staring down.
He was searching for something, but found only darkness there. Then Tarn felt a paw on his shoulder and turning he found a pair of bright green eyes staring out from beneath a hood. It was a shadow, dressed in a great, flowing cloak, which seemed to float in the darkness, seemingly made of the darkness. Tarn stared into death's eyes; they weren't the cold eyes he had thought they would be, they seemed almost welcoming. The shadow waved a paw to his right to reveal large gates, forged of black steel, they sat open, a voice beckoning Tarn towards them.
As if in a trance, Tarn moved towards the gate and through the threshold. He knew what awaited him there, the dark forest, within it his family awaited, his existence. With a strange sort of smile the otter disappeared into the darkness and the gates slammed home, barring all entry. Before them stood the shadow, the guardian of the gates, and upon its face was a smile.
~The Shadow's Smile~
A cold wind blew through the trees, their branches rattled under the winter storm's wrath. Snowflakes blew downward from the heavens, burying the earth beneath a layer of ice. The blizzard had come, its fury was upon the lands, sending all creatures fleeing for their homes, leaving the northlands a barren desert of white, only a single beast daring to brace the sands of ice. The winds tore at the creature, freezing him to the bone, sending him to all fours at times, his mind wavering between the conscious and unconscious realms. Still he persevered, ignoring the painful stinging of his frostbitten limbs as he plunged through the snows, following a trail only he knew, every movement of his body sending shockwaves of pain through him. Then, finally, it was too much for the creature, his step faltered and he tumbled forward into the white expanse, his mind sinking into the world of dreams and nightmares.
The creature found himself there once again, always the same dream, the same sequence of nightmarish remembrances as the days before, his mind taunting him with the past. Spectral images flooding his thoughts, blurred images of happy times and places lifting him, only for them to fade away into the darkness, leaving him there alone in the shadows. The otter found himself before the cave that he had called home for so much of his life, the normal feelings of comfort and safety replaced by the fear of what was to come. Crimson hued snowflakes falling softly on his shoulders, his home had been tainted. It was the early winter, the snows had just begun to fall and the creatures of the north had just begun to close their homes up for the winter season.
He had been returning from a hunt, the last one there would be for quite a while, his pack laden with fruits, fish and any other food he found in the woods. The otter stood there, at the threshold of his home, bent under the weight of his pack, staring down in the darkness, feelings of fear growing as he stepped into the rocks. He walked along slowly, his eyes watching the movements of every shadow, his ears alert for any sound, but finding none. The cave was eerily silent. The torches that lit the way with their flickering glow seemed to be darker then usual, the winding corridors colder, menacing. Then the otter heard it, soft sounds cutting through the frigid air, a baby's cry and a mother's scream.
Heart pounding in his chest the otter ran along through the darkened network of caves, chasing the sounds as the fears pursued him from behind. The child's cries a constant reminder of what was to come, the screams of its mother tearing at him as he ran, their constant wails echoing through the corridors. He let his catch fall to the ground, drawing a blade from his belt as he ran, his legs pumping furiously. The cave before him seemed to distort and bend in impossible ways. The normally gray stone now crimson hued. His breath came in ragged gasps as he propelled himself down the darkened corridors of his memory. Suddenly he stopped short, just past the entrance to what had been his home, the sum of all his fears now realized.
Pain and anger coloring his vision, he stared downward at the horrid image. The screams and cries had stopped with the realization, leaving the caves silent and eerie as he stared down at it, the fallen cradle. The white sheets stained red, wrapped around what had been all of his joy. He fell to his knees, unable to comprehend, cold, lifeless eyes staring back at him. His wife's bright green eyes dulled in death, her expression one of terror and fear, lying on their bed in a pool of still warm blood flowing from the gaping wound in her chest.
Closing his eyes, unable to bear the sights of the past, he heard it. The soft sound of some creatures' breath, the killer was behind him. Whirling around to face it, he found a blur and then he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his shoulder. He found himself knocked headfirst into the wall; his blade knocked away, a bloodied hook piercing his shoulder. The killer twisted the hook cruelly, eliciting a cry of pain from the otter, turning his vision red. Suddenly the killer let him drop to the floor, the otter glanced up to find that the killer was a shadow, its smile standing out from the darkness, cold blue eyes piercing the otter's own.
"Yer a murderin', scum." The shadow whispered, its cruel grin growing wider at the words, its bright blue eyes cutting through the darkness. The otter found himself staring at the shadow. As it disappeared he swore that he would kill the murderer if it were the last thing he did. With that the world faded into the blackness.
"Tarn..." Out of the shadows he heard a soft melodious voice calling his name, the darkness began to part, the light at the end of the tunnel. A light shining through the haze of his mind, he found himself wandering the black fog, something pushing him on to find the voice. Then he found himself at a ledge, standing beside a figure he could not see, staring down into a dark chasm.
"Kaia..." He whispered, staring down into the pit, wanting more then anything to look up and find the creature he knew was beside him. He could feel her there. He knew that she was there with him once again.
"It tis not to be Tarn." Another voice echoed in the chasm and suddenly Tarn found himself wrapped in fog, trapped within its grasp and then, with a loud crack the cliff gave way and he found himself falling into the dark abyss, staring up into her cold eyes.
~~~~~~
Slowly the dream faded away into nothingness, leaving Tarn alone in the dark, drifting slowly from the realm of dreams into conscious world, watching as blurred figures danced at the corners of his vision. He tried to cling to the dream, but he was torn from sleep and plunged back into reality. The pain was his first sign, a burning all over his body, he found himself shaking heavily, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Mar!" A feminine voice echoed in Tarn's half-conscious mind. He felt a pair of paws on his shoulders, trying to hold him still.
"What is it, Mira?" Another voice asked. Tarn could hear them more clearly now as the numbness faded, the pain flooding back in, but still the otter couldn't make anything out of blurs that passed through his vision.
"That otter jus' woke up!" The first voice, a creature named Mira he assumed. Tarn blinked tiredly as he tried to rise, but he found no strength to do so, he was struggling just to breath.
"Ain't in too good of shape is he?" The other voice asked from somewhere to the otter's right.
"Nope, but I don't think he's goin' to have ta lose anythin'." She replied. "Lucky ye found 'im out there when ye did, otherwise frostbite would have set in..." She trailed off into silence, falling away from Tarn's view, being replaced by a much larger blur that held something in its paws that Tarn couldn't quite make out, some sort of cup.
"Here mate, drink this up, it'll help ye get better..." Mar said, speaking as if the otter were a simple child, but there was nothing Tarn could do about it. He nodded his consent weakly for whatever his savoir had in mind. He then found himself being force fed some sort of foul-tasting brew. The otter tried to protest, but the potion went to work right away and he found the world growing dark, reality growing distant once again.
Once more he found himself in the caves of his home, chasing the shadows of the past. The rocky tunnels curved this way and that in seemingly random patterns as he chased the fleeting image of the killer, the horrid shadow creature as voices echoed through the maze-like construct of his mind. The child's cries echoed monotonously, a constant reminder of the past horrors. He could hear the cries of a mother as she watched her life stripped away, tossed into the hungry shadows.
"Murderer...." That single word echoed through his mind, taunting him as the fleeting shadows did, as fast as he went he could never catch up. It was always one step ahead. He found the questions popping up in his mind, all of the 'what ifs' torturing him, tearing the otter down from the inside, but he fought on.
"Murderer...." The echo came again, louder this time, from behind. Tarn glanced back for a moment to find nothingness, an absolute darkness that threatened to swallow him up. He kept running, no longer certain as to if he was the predator or the prey in his mind.
"Murderer...." Suddenly a rock leapt up from the cave floor, snagging his foot paw and bringing the otter to the ground. The wind knocked out of him, he lay there for a moment, trying to collect himself before he struggled up to find, standing there in front of him, a beautiful otter.
"Kaia..." He whispered, reaching out with a paw, trying to touch her, but she backed away from his touch, shaking her head slowly at him.
"Murderer..." She whispered, disappearing into the darkness.
"Wait!" Tarn cried out as reality came back once again and the otter found himself in the conscious realm once more. He bolted straight up in bed, panting heavily, his heart pounding within his chest.
"Ah, so yer up, eh?" A friendly voice asked. Glancing over, Tarn found an otter like himself sitting down in a chair, a book in his paws.
"Yeah, I s'pose that I am." Tarn answered as his heart slowed to a normal pace.
"I take it that ye didn't sleep well?" The otter, the one called Mar, asked with a strange sort of smile, setting his book down on a wooden end table.
"No, s'pose I didn't." Tarn replied simply.
"So what were ye doin' out in a storm like that?" Mar asked stabbing a thumb in the direction of a small window on the other side of the room where they could see the snow-covered landscape glistening in the new mornings' sun.
"I was hunting..." Tarn answered, narrowing his eyes a little, hatred plainly showing in his eyes.
"In a storm like that?" Mar asked, a surprised look gracing his features.
"Where are my things?" Tarn changed the subject quickly to avoid giving the otter any further information. Mar pointed over to a large oak desk upon which Tarn's heavy cloak had been placed, his weapons on top of it.
"I hope ye ain't plannin' on goin' back out."
"What does it matter to you?" Tarn muttered in response, struggling to rise from the bed.
"There ain't no way you'd make it out there like that!" The otter cried, rising from his chair.
"I have to, an' ye ain't goin' ta stop me." Tarn growled, finally rising to his foot paws, pain shooting up through his legs as he did so.
"Very well, but at least give me the truth." The healer demanded as he steadied Tarn with a strong paw.
"I'm hunting a murderer an' 'is tracks out there are washing 'way as we speak." Tarn replied, pushing away the otter's arm, stumbling towards the table.
"Y'know I could try an help you?"
"I don't need your help nor do I want it. The scum is mine." Leaning on the table heavily Tarn examined his blade, testing its keen edge.
"Well, since I suppose I ain't goin' ta be getting' through to you I may as well help, eh?" Mar moved towards a large armoire that stood next to the bed, removing a small metal flask before moving to Tarn's side. "Here, take this." Tarn simply nodded in response, taking the flask in his paw, examining it.
"What's this?"
"It's the only reason you're still alive now."
"Is that so?" Tarn muttered before downing the potion in a single gulp, shuddering at the familiar taste, as he stepped towards the door.
"This way." Mar said, beckoning for Tarn to follow. They wound through a complex series of tunnels and passages, much like Tarn's home, but it was of a different shade. "Exit's jus' through the great cavern." As Mar spoke the cave opened up into a great cavern, lit up brightly by a giant fire at the center, around it hundreds of different kinds of beasts sat around the flames enjoying themselves. The caverns cheery atmosphere was wasted on Tarn though. He simply waited there for Mar to lead the way, glancing around the huge cave, but not truly seeing any of it.
"Where is it?" Tarn asked, his voice emotionless, his eyes appearing dull and gray as he glanced around the cavern.
"It's straight for . . . " Mar began, but he was quickly silenced by a paw.
"Wait, who's that?" Tarn demanded, pointing towards a tall, dark furred otter with bright blue eyes that stood at the outskirts of the crowds, watching everything with a cold, indifferent glare.
"Which?" Mar asked, a little confused.
"That otter o'er there, standin' by the wall." Tarn replied, moving a few paces towards the strangely familiar otter.
"Him? I think that's one of the beasts we rescued from the storm. Came in around the same time as you I think . . ." Mar answered, a little surprised at the question. "Do you know him?"
"Yes, I do believe so." Tarn growled, drawing his knife from his cloak in preparation as he made his way through the crowd.
"Hey! Wait up!" Mar called as he attempted to catch up to Tarn before he lost him.
"Damn . . ." Tarn cursed softly as he spotted the blue-eyed otter moving from where he had been leaning against the cavern wall. The otter had spotted Tarn, his cold eyes drawn by Mar's cry. "Ye ain't goin' ta get away from me that easily, scum . . ." Tarn hissed as he dodged through the crowd towards the exit and finally into the blizzard once more, the winds howling and snow falling as Tarn stumbled through the powerful gusts, but even with all of that the otter moved quickly, following the killer's fresh tracks.
~~~~~
Nearly an hour had passed and Tarn's pace had been slowed nearly to a crawl, but still he plunged onwards through banks of snow. He was no longer following tracks; he was following instinct, following the feelings, the hatred. The thirst for revenge, a thirst for the killer's blood. Then, suddenly the world seemed to stop, the snowfalls lightening until they were no more, the winds weakened to a light breeze and Tarn stopped in his tracks, frozen by instinct. The killer was near.
"Why are ye following me?" A voice asked, coming from behind.
"Not sure yet." Tarn replied, turning around to find the blue-eyed otter standing there, just a few paces behind him, seemingly unfazed by the blizzard they had both been through. "I'm hunting for a killer."
"Ah . . .now I remember ye. How's yore wife?" The otter asked with a cruel grin, removing a large dagger from its sheath as they spoke. Tarn growled in response, taking a few steps forwards holding his knife out in front.
"Make a move, scum." Tarn spat the words out, his eyes burning with rage, with a barely contained bloodlust as the two combatants began to circle one another.
"Die!" The killer cried out as he made his move, a crazy smile upon his face as he lunged at Tarn, dagger sent in a horizontal arc. Tarn jumped back, taking advantage of the other otter's position, slicing a clean line across he killer's abdomen. The killer winced in pain, but did not slow his assault, digging a bloodied hook into Tarn's shoulder, throwing him to ground. Tarn hesitated for a second, the pain of the wound giving the killer all the time he needed. Tarn found a dagger stabbed deep into his stomach, a fatal wound. The killer threw himself back, watching as Tarn struggling to his paws, a hook through his shoulder, clutching at the dagger as blood began to pour out around the steel.
"Bastard . . ." He cursed. Stumbling towards the otter and with what was left of him, he ripped the dagger from his stomach and plunged it deep into the other otter's chest, piercing its heart. Both of them collapsed to the ground, the killer was dead and Tarn's vision had begun to fade. Then, once again, he found himself at the edge of the cliff, staring down.
He was searching for something, but found only darkness there. Then Tarn felt a paw on his shoulder and turning he found a pair of bright green eyes staring out from beneath a hood. It was a shadow, dressed in a great, flowing cloak, which seemed to float in the darkness, seemingly made of the darkness. Tarn stared into death's eyes; they weren't the cold eyes he had thought they would be, they seemed almost welcoming. The shadow waved a paw to his right to reveal large gates, forged of black steel, they sat open, a voice beckoning Tarn towards them.
As if in a trance, Tarn moved towards the gate and through the threshold. He knew what awaited him there, the dark forest, within it his family awaited, his existence. With a strange sort of smile the otter disappeared into the darkness and the gates slammed home, barring all entry. Before them stood the shadow, the guardian of the gates, and upon its face was a smile.