Captain Rakiir: The Life of a Goodbeast Fox

A Redwall fanfiction by Ranuu

Disclaimer: I don't own the Redwall series. Don't think that I do; direct all hailing, bowing down, etc. on that subject to Brian Jacques. Rakiir and other characters mentioned are either creations of me or are from Corsairs of the Black Flag.

Setting: Early afternoon, Baro.

A fox, gray with age, sat in a large chair in the middle of a large room. Around him were many signs of luxury; a large stone fireplace at the wall, an extremely elegant rapier in a box hanging over it. The building itself was elegant, the carpets made of fine velvet and exquisite wall-hangings, portraits of famous war-heroes and the like. He even wears gentlemens' clothing. Over his torso is a dark violet tunic and coat. His pants matched and trailed down to fancy, custom-made slippers. Small children gathered around him and stared in awe as he spoke; his stories were famous for leagues in all directions.

"Is everybody ready? This story shall take quite a while. Yes? Good. I have came here to tell you the story of a brave beast. In his lifetime, he was many things: a warrior, a sailor, he even became a captain in the Satilian navy. But, as all good tales do, we shall start at the beginning..."

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Setting: Late evening, Mossflower Forest.

Two foxes sat around a fire in the middle of a large wooded area. One, the male, was a reddish-blonde, and wore rags; showing that he was not too well off. The clothing mayhave, at one point, been a war uniform for some army, but stray branches and thorns had long since erased any evidence of such. His mate, a completely blonde vixen, sat on a log, nursing a small kit. The kit, whom they had named Ironfang, let out an uncomfortable moan, and the vixen quickly comforted him. She smiled at the babe, who was falling asleep slowly. She then looked up at the male, Deathclaw, and spoke in a soft voice.

"The baby won't last long on what we have. He's already starving, as are you and I. We must find somebody to help us."

Deathclaw turned and glared at her. He knew this; she had brought it up every day. He knew how they would soon die out here alone. Why did the master send them out here? They were but scouts in his horde, sent out here to find and spy on the fabled abbey. The family had gotten lost and were stranded in Mossflower.

"Aye, we'll all die if th' master doesn' show up soon. Shut yer mouth, we don' need ter hear it any mor' then we 'ave ter."

"I'm just concerned for Ironfang, as you should be."

Suddenly, there was a rustle in the bushes, and Deathclaw unsheathed his sword; what beast would be out at this time of night? The fox walked over to bushes and yelled in what he hoped was an intimidating voice.

"Whoever be there, show yer face now! Deathclaw doesn't 'ave time ter chase down his pr-"

He was suddenly dragged into the bushes by two otters. One covered his mouth, wincing when he bit his palm, and the other quickly slashed the fox's throat with his dagger, killing him. Deathpaw's mate laid the kit down on the ground softly then padded after Deathclaw.

"What happened? Where are you?"

Not paying attention to where she was walking, the vixen quickly tripped over something warm and wet. She looked down; it was her mate. A scream escaped her lips and she ran back to the camp, hoping that Ironfang was still okay. The two otters awaited her as she showed up. One of them said.

"Surrender now, vixen. We promise not to harm you nor your kit if you agree to leave Mossflower and never come back."

But he never got to finish his sentence, for she, in a frenzy, attacked the pair. She didn't have a weapon, but scratched and bit, trying to protect her child. She slashed one of the otters down the face, which would leave a permanent scar. In the rage that comes from injury, the otter stabbed with his spear, catching her through the stomach. A gasp was heard, and she collapsed, convulsing in the pain of a slow death. The other otter, knowing it would be impossible to save her now, stabbed her through the head, killing her instantly. The scarred otter then picked up Ironfang.

"What should we do with the kit, mate?"

"Let's take 'im ter the Abbey. Abbot Song will know what to do with him."