Tseeeer. Tseeeeer.

The horrible sound of onyx grinding on stone came from within the tent. The frantic stoat captain was in the process of tearing a barkcloth bag to shreds between his paws, waiting to be called in.

Tseeeer. Tseeeer.

Rumors flew around the whole vermin inhabitance of the world of this creature that he was about to face. That she was cruel beyond all measure yet cared for her daughter like a woodlander. That her cutlass had been forged from onyx, with topazes stolen from the heart of a northern mountain embedded in the hilt. That she had, in her vast travels, gathered more vermin than anybeast had ever seen, always known by their black and yellow bandanas. That nobeast had ever heard her real and true voice because it was as inconstant as a fox.

Tseeeeer. Tseeeeeer.

And he, Fangtear, had to give her bad news. He laughed gratingly at the pure irony of his luck. He had finished with the bag and had reached up to his already tattered ear when the grinding stopped. A high, gentle voice came from within.

"Come in, Fangtear. Please report."

He gulped, but then relaxed. Nobeast with such a beautiful voice could be cruel as all that. The stoat swaggered in hastily and bowed low until he saw a black blade gesture upward. The sight that met his eyes was unlike any he had seen before. There was a tall, slender female ferret standing before him, with seemingly black eyes and fur, with large yellow spots all over her body. She wore a crude vest of old leather and a pair of pants made from the same leather. Even though she was built rather delicately, she radiated a sense of power and confidence.

"Milady...the scouts have returned."

She tested the cutlass blade with one paw. "And?"

"There is good news and bad," he mumbled, fiddling with his bandana. "We have discovered a colony of crows a few days' walk to the East."

"Good, good." Suddenly, her eyes glowed with a fire exactly like a coal.
"And what of the bad news?"

His scrawny throat bulged as he gulped. "Y-yes...milady..."

"Well, what is it?"

"W-w-we...t-tried to overcome them...give them a ch- a chance to surrender, b-b-but they dropped stones on our heads, and we lost a number in the s-scuffle...milady." He added hastily.

"I see. Well, how many lost?"

"O-only twenty-three out of a band of one hundred, milady."

"Hmm. I see." She turned her gaze back to her cutlass and polished it furiously.

"S-so, you aren't angry?"

"Merely disappointed, captain. A group of fine vermin such as I sent with you...how did you manage to lose twenty-three?"

There was no response. Through Fangtear's head ran embarrassing scenes of hordebeasts running amok after the first stone was cast. He couldn't get away from this.

"I see. Well, I must say, I truly am disappointed. Now I must find twenty-three other creatures who are as good as the twenty-three lost through your blundering troop."

"So...there will be no punishment?"

"How do you like my cutlass? I've just sharpened it, you know."

"Have you, milady?"

"Indeed I have. Would you like to see it?" She held it out in her left paw.

Stupidly, he reached out a paw to touch it.

"I do love breaking in a new edge." There was a flash of topaz and onyx.

The last thing Fangtear heard was "Twenty-four."