It was a foggy morning over the marshes to the North of Mossflower. The wetlands had grown over the seasons into a wide plain dotted with water holes, muddy embankments and islands covered in scrub and reeds. It would be an impressive sight, but a thick morning mist hung over the marshes. The sun was a mere white circle in the fog.
A lone figure stood in the marsh. He was a scrawny ferret, up to his ankles in water besides a wet earthy bank. He held a spear upright, a damp brown cloak fastened around his neck. His gaze was blank, bored and uninterested by the misty waters. His chipped ears did not even twitch at the sound of paws squelching through the mud to meet him.
"Oi. Sed. It's the mornin' watch." A weasel materialised out of the gloom, coming to stand besides the ferret. He stuck his spear down into the mud besides Sed's. The weasel wore a similar brown cloak, which hung loose about his starved body.
"Mornin', is it, Det?" Sed enquired hoarsely.
"They said the sun was up," Det replied in a passive tone.
"Where?"
"The usual spot. Can't you see it?"
"I'll go blind."
"Ah." The two stood silently, listening to the quiet dripping of the moist reeds overhanging the embankment.
"Shall I relieve you?" Det asked casually.
"Not your business," Sed snapped.
"Of duty, Sed."
"I'll stay 'ere. The mud 'elps my paws."
"It's muddy inside, you know."
"Too many pebbles inside."
"What's wrong with your paws anyway?"
"A delicate an' precarious condition of sensitive paws," Sed enunciated, getting his tongue slowly around the long words. Det paused.
"Sed, I was told to relieve you."
"Of duty?"
"Of duty," Det confirmed.
"By who?"
"Them. Inside."
"The big one? The stoat?"
"Aye, 'im. Others, too."
"Vermin?" Sed asked distastefully.
"Disgustin' vermin," Det replied, spitting into the swamp.
"Positively revoltin'." Sed lingered in silence.
"Are they not dreams, then?" He proposed timidly.
"Are what?"
"That maligned stoat an' his 'ideous followers!"
"They're real enough," Det shrugged.
"I haven't seen 'em since… yesterday. Where did I see 'em?"
"In a dream?" Det suggested.
"No! The fort. The wooden fort with red paint across the gates. That stinkin' vermin infested pit of sludge," Sed hissed.
"The one behind us?" Det looked at Sed. The ferret looked back at the weasel.
"There is a red painted sludge pit behind us?" Sed queried, raising his fuzzy eyebrows.
"I don't know."
"Well, look behind you, Det."
"I'm too scared, Sed," Det quavered, his eyes staring into Sed's.
"One of us has to look."
"You do it."
"I'm rooted to this spot in abject 'orror, my dear Det."
"So… we both look. Together."
"As one?"
"As one!"
"Like comrades facin' down the enemy?"
"The very image of heroes!" Det exclaimed. Sed contemplated Det's idea. He nodded, satisfied.
"You are a brave weasel, Det. On three."
"On three," Det nodded.
"One. Two. Three!' Both beasts spun around, water rushing past their legs. They froze in silence. They saw nothing but a muddy bank and mist.
"It's gone," Sed theorised.
"Gone? I just came from there."
"So you claim. I didn't see you come out of no fort."
"I remember it."
"I remember the sun. It isn't here this mornin' either, Det."
"The fog."
"The what?"
"The fog must be blockin' our view, Sed." Sed sniffed.
"The mist, I prefer to call it," he corrected.
"Well?"
"It's an interestin' possibility." The two beasts turned back to staring blankly over the water. There was silence.
"Sed?"
"Aye, my dear Det?"
"You know what that stoat's name is?"
"Brandtooth? Threetail?" Sed guessed wildly.
"Thricebrand," Det gently reminded the ferret.
"So?"
"So, if you don't know 'im, why you followin' 'is orders?"
"Thricebrand 'as orders for me?"
"Not as such at this particular juncture in time," Det said, trying to use as many big words as his friend.
"What are you talkin' about then?"
"Why are you guardin' 'is fort?"
"The existence of said structure is still in debate, Det," Sed growled.
"Oi! All I'm sayin' is, what're you doin' 'ere if you don't like 'im?" Det asked gently.
"The marsh does me good."
"Lovely location."
"Foul dump of mush," Sed contradicted flatly.
"You could leave."
"Are you tellin' me to leave 'ome, Det?" Sed barked angrily. The weasel stood back, raising his paws apologetically.
"No! I'm sorry, Sed." Sed shifted uncomfortably. There was a pause.
"I'm sorry too, Det. That was an overreaction."
"It's only natural."
"Still. On my part, I should 'ave better controlled my emotions. I just couldn't bear leavin'. Where would I go?"
"South?" Det suggested.
"Is that the better direction?"
"It's a fair choice. Better than East."
"What's your predisposition against East?"
"Marshank."
"Marshank?"
"Ugly ruin," Det said darkly.
"Whose ruin?"
"I don't know. They say it's cursed though. Any vermin what enters it dies."
"They again? The stoat? Thrice…"
"Thricebrand. Aye, that lot say it's cursed."
"'An' you 'ad the honour of actually seein' Marshank?"
"No."
"You know some beast who 'as?"
"Not as such."
"So 'ow do they know about a curse?"
"They might 'ave visited. I don't guard them all day."
"I think there's a logical flaw in your theory, my dear Det," Sed announced to the reeds.
"Sed, I don't know logic."
"You see, Det," Sed pressed on, "in order for vermin to become acquainted with the nature of this curse, they would 'ave 'ad to 'ave died in order to produce satisfactory results. Therefore, no vermin can ever prove your theory."
"Unless it was a test carried out by woodlanders," Det offered. Sed gave him a long, hard look.
"Very good, Det." The two paused, staring at each other.
"Your face is puffy, Det."
"Sorry, I must 'ave let some beast punch it again, Sed."
"You've got to stand up to 'em."
"They give me food."
"Aye, me as well. Bread an' ale."
"Nonsense. Cheese an' water." Sed looked at the weasel in alarm.
"Moist cheese? In the marshes?"
"It keeps mostly dry."
"It's poisonous. Don't eat it."
"Cheese is poison?"
"Moist cheese. Every beast knows that."
"Perhaps I want to be poisoned?"
"I won't let you, Det. We're goin' to die of worms, just like any other decent ferret."
"I'm a weasel, Sed."
"You're an honourary ferret."
"I love bein' honourary, Sed."
"I know. I'm too kind." The two friends smiled at each other. There was quiet. Det turned his head to gaze out over the pond.