Mask died for something he believed in and his brother avenged him---but did he ever weep for him?
Skip stood before the grave of his dead bother, killed during the rescue of Gingivere, Ferdy and Coggs. "T'ain't the same widout you, mate." Of course there was no answer. The big otter sighed and hunkered down by his brother. "Ye know messmate, things have changed now Tsarmina's gone. We is all working on buildin' an abbey where beasts can live in peace. You'd've loved it. Spike an' Posie are gettin' big. They keep asking to see you. If you didn't mind I might bring 'em here when they're old 'nuff." The Mask was silent as ever. Warthorn found his thoughts wandering back down times long road.
"Mama, Mama, dere be's a baskit in da stweem."
A tiny otterbabe tugged his mother's skirt as she was hanging laundry out to dry. "A basket in the stream? What in the seasons are you talking about?" The homely creature followed her offspring the small river running past their camp. A basket of reeds floated by, sinking slowly.
She waded into the water to intercept the containers path don to the sea and pushed it to the river bank. Her small child helped by pulling it the last few paces. He removed the lid and starred at the gray lump of fur inside. "MA, der's a dead lidde h'otter in de baskit."
Desperate to save the pup's life, Sage pounded the gray otter kit's chest. Water bubbled out of its mouth and trickled into the river. It coughed once and began to struggle and cry out "Mama, war did ya go? I stayed put like ya tol' me to. Daddy put me down the wiva'. Mommy what did I do wong? Who war dose mean varmen, why dey wanna hurt us? Momma, war are ya?"
Sage pulled her shawl off her shoulders and wrapped the babe tightly, carrying it to her home. The Brown otter pup followed, sucking his paw. Day in and day out Sage cared for the water logged babe. He cried out with fear often and was delirious much of the time. One day though, he stopped calling to his family. The day he looked at his saviors with clear eyes, Sage knew he had no memory of whoever his family had been.
Slap! "Riverwyte! You should know better than to scare Glenna like that. You have a nose for making trouble. Go outside and don't come back in until you can listen to reason and say yore sorry." The gray otter, only about half grown ran from the small hut. "I hate you, why do you always treat me like I'm different?"
Angry tears streamed through his fur as he chucked rocks to the bottom of the river. His brother, Warthorn came up to him and placed a comforting paw on his shoulder. "You okay?"
"No, I'm not. Mommy and Daddy like you better than me. I'm going to run away to somewhere where there are otters that look like me and don't judge me because I have funny eyes." The gray pelted youth had never known why he called his parents Mommy and Daddy instead of mama, papa or Ma and Pa.
"Don't go, we all like you here. Yore special in yore own way. We're yore family here." Riverwyte looked at his brother, a fine lump of an otter. He on the other paw was thin and pale---unhealthy looking. Either way, he knew he couldn't leave, where would he go? "I guess yore right, I'll stay."Even so, the pale otter could not help think his family hid something from him.
"That reminds me, mate," Warthorn returned to the present, tears wetting his fur, "you'll never guess what I am." Silence... "I'm a dad now. This little lump of a thing showed up in camp one day an' I took him in. He kinda reminds me of you, he loves te play hide'n seek and dress up. He love te hear stories about ye. When ye were killed the crew an' me saved all yore things. The liddle tyke has the time of his life with al yore fake tails, teeth, whiskers an' all that. He tol' me te say 'ello te ye when I came by."
The Skipper got up to leave, "See ye 'round matey."
In memory of The Mask.
Rest In Peace Riverwyte, we won't forget you!