Part One The Last Days Of Summer
Chapter Two
Back at Ari's village the otters were just rising from slumber and beginning their daily routines. Suddenly a piercing scream gathered them in front of the house formerly belonging to Jen. A young ottermaid had gone in to find blood splattered across the floor around the corpse of a large male otter. Jen's son, Aren, sat on a chair in shock, holding a bloodied dagger, staring into the corpse's vacant eyes, mirroring the look. Skipper muscled his way through the crowd with his wife and children clinging onto his tail. Some-where in the background an otter threw up at the sight. Children were hurried away as Skipper looked over the corpse and looked up glaring at Aren
"Who did this Aren? Who killed Ojal" He shook the otter roughly but got no response. Skipper checked around the small home and came back to Aren. "It was her, wasn't it, the little half-breed!" Skipper cursed softly bringing his fist down on the table hard enough to crack it.
"What are ye talkin' about Skip?" A short, young otter asked confused as two others laid a sheet over the slain otter before them.
"Ari, I didn't think the vermin in 'er would come out after all this time, but . . ." Skipper brought his fist down once again breaking the table through. He glared around the room, taking the scene in at a glance.
"What do ye mean Skip?"
"We kept it secret, Ojal and I. Ari was his daughter, not some otter I found. I'm sure you remember that ferret from seasons ago we held 'cause we thought she was a scout for a horde." Skipper's voice cracked.
"What does that have to . . ." An old ottermaid began.
"That was her mother." Skipper cut her off. The crowd broke in murmurs and gasps at this unexpected reply.
"How?" The question was asked repeatedly, but Skipper quieted the crowd.
"It doesn't matter how anymore, but I swear that she will atone for her crimes." With that Skipper stormed out of the home leaving Aren still staring at the corpse of his father as a drop of blood dripped from the keen edge of the blade he held. Oblivious, he was led outside by one of his friends slowly to a fire where the entire village sat in a bitter silence broken only by scattered whispers and the silent drop of the dagger into the sand as Aren went limp into the blissful realm of unconsciousness.
Later when the sun rose high into the sky, beating down on the unprotected fur of the otters, Aren awoke to find himself in bed being tended to by a pretty ottermaid named Anna. Although she thought him uncon-scious she had been talking to him through the morning as she tended to him.
". . . Never would have thought she could do such a thing, she's only half ferret anyway. I feel so confused and . . . Oh. You're awake." She dabbed at his forehead with a cool towel as she sat by his side. "Are you okay?"
"What happened?" He asked rubbing sleep from his eyes, his back cracked slightly as he tried to sit up, but was pressed back down by the ottermaid.
"Your father was murdered. Skipper thinks it was Ari. I don't know what to think. Did you know?" She spoke so fast her words were barely coherent. Her thoughts were scattered, and she had trouble putting anything into words. She'd been a good friend with Ari after all.
"That she's only half otter, yeah I knew. Where is she?"
"Gone. They found tracks leading into the woods going southeast, but nothing else really." She answered and looked towards the woods. The bed sat outside in fresh air so she had an unobstructed view of the nearby forest as well as the oceanfront.
"Where's Skipper?"
"Hunting for her, he said something about her atoning for her crimes." At this statement Aren shot up straight in bed and looked around.
"When?" He asked as he grabbed the maid forcefully.
"A little after sunrise when we found yore dad. He took a dozen of our trackers, too." Anna told him, struggling in his strong grip.
"I have to go, thank you." He said softly and ran off to his house. When he came back he had a small sack and a pair of twin daggers, one splashed with blood.
"Aren, where are you going?" Anna called after him. As he moved towards the woods, he stopped for a moment to speak.
"I have to find her first Anna, she's innocent." With that he broke into a run and disappeared quickly into the densely packed forest. "I'm not." He whispered to himself as he ran faster through the woods dodging through trees and bushes, going southeast.
"I knew it!" Anna told herself excitedly and looked into the woods. "But, then who did it." Confused, she looked over at the small group of otters burying their fallen comrade. She looked back to the forest to find no trace of Aren, only the slight swaying of trees in the light summer breeze.
Meanwhile, Ari walked through the woods. She had never been out into the forests alone before. Her ears perked up at every sound; she had picked up her pace wishing to be someplace where she would be safe. She was rather nervous and luckily the fear gave her the energy to go a long while before she collapsed on a fallen tree that blocked her path. It lay in the middle of a small meadow with several stumps ringing around it. Some beast had taken the trees for a home she presumed. Ari set out what was left of the supplies she had hurriedly grabbed from her home before running.
She could still remember the previous night in her mind, blood dripped off the dagger blade onto the floor, her father lay dead on the floor, his face forever locked in a drunken stupor. She crawled from beneath the beaten blanket that had been her protection. Mere minutes later she was on the run, away into the unknown forests, away from her home. She wished for her brother, he'd always been a pillar of happiness in her life, just him and her scarce friends.
Even with the other otter's not knowing she was a half-breed, she had been treated differently by the Holt and viewed by them as a very peculiar otter. Not so much her appearance, but in her mannerisms. She showed some characteristics that were considered vermin like. Just little things like growls, squeaks and such. She was also quick to anger, which although this was considered a vermin trait, her father had been burdened with it as well, especially while intoxicated.
She sat upon the fallen giant of a tree, thinking about it all. As memories flashed through her head, she tried to focus on the happier memories, Aren and her, while suppressing the unhappy image of he father. She tried to force herself to remember nothing at all munching away on an apple that was long past its prime. She threw away the core and drank deeply from an already half-empty canteen of water nearly draining it.
Her thirst quenched the hungry growls of her stomach, which had begun making itself known to the maid. She hopped off the log and walked on, munching on a piece of slightly stale bread, the hungry growls drowning out the memories. Unknown to her a shadow stalked her from the trees, a watchful set of eyes always on her as she walked on paws. On her stomach, she suddenly stopped. Glancing up to the trees she found nothing. In the foliage she found nothing as well until in the corner of her eye the glint of steel caught her attention.
Cautiously she strode towards it, hands on the small quarterstaff that was her only protection. She pushed through the foliage to find an unwatched pack lying on the ground, a polished sword leaning against it gleaming in the high sun of noon. She knelt by the pack, searching for signs of life, touching it she felt the warmth of the former owner of it, she lifted the sword up to inspect it. Suddenly a rustle in the bushes told her she was most definitely not alone. She dropped the sword in surprise as she felt herself being slammed against a tree and held with force.
"Put it down Vermin!" A voice hissed as a dagger's keen blade dug into the shallow of her back, she could feel the hot breath of her attacker. A brown furred paw grabbed her staff and threw it backwards with a quick movement. "What are you doin' here?" The same voice demanded, digging the blade in further. She remained silent, frustrating the unknown attacker. She peered backwards trying to catch a glimpse of him, she only saw brown furred edges of a beast that she guessed was a squirrel.
"Can't you speak?!" He screamed at her and with a growl of frustration the dagger was removed from her back a second before the handle came down with a sickening crack upon her skull, she crumpled in a motionless heap. The last thing she saw before the black, emptiness of unconsciousness took her was the strong form of an angry looking squirrel with sword drawn and at the ready.
Darkness had fallen over the forest, and the moonlight couldn't make its way through the thick canopy of trees above the small camp in which Ari was bound to a tree. The squirrel that had captured her was a young, brown- furred squirrel who had lived among battles as shown by his scarred features. A small campfire burned at the center of his camp. He sat by the fire watching the bound ferret. As he saw her, he sat sharpening a blade, every so often taking a drink, his eyes always on the ferret.
Out in the darkness of the forest another set of eyes watched him, a short dagger gleamed in the firelight, The squirrel couldn't see the other beast as he was a at his back, at least he didn't notice until sharp steel cut into his neck lightly. A pair of strong arms held him, the blade keeping him silent as a low, husky voice spoke into the frightened squirrel's ears.
"Feel lucky vermin?"
Chapter Two
Back at Ari's village the otters were just rising from slumber and beginning their daily routines. Suddenly a piercing scream gathered them in front of the house formerly belonging to Jen. A young ottermaid had gone in to find blood splattered across the floor around the corpse of a large male otter. Jen's son, Aren, sat on a chair in shock, holding a bloodied dagger, staring into the corpse's vacant eyes, mirroring the look. Skipper muscled his way through the crowd with his wife and children clinging onto his tail. Some-where in the background an otter threw up at the sight. Children were hurried away as Skipper looked over the corpse and looked up glaring at Aren
"Who did this Aren? Who killed Ojal" He shook the otter roughly but got no response. Skipper checked around the small home and came back to Aren. "It was her, wasn't it, the little half-breed!" Skipper cursed softly bringing his fist down on the table hard enough to crack it.
"What are ye talkin' about Skip?" A short, young otter asked confused as two others laid a sheet over the slain otter before them.
"Ari, I didn't think the vermin in 'er would come out after all this time, but . . ." Skipper brought his fist down once again breaking the table through. He glared around the room, taking the scene in at a glance.
"What do ye mean Skip?"
"We kept it secret, Ojal and I. Ari was his daughter, not some otter I found. I'm sure you remember that ferret from seasons ago we held 'cause we thought she was a scout for a horde." Skipper's voice cracked.
"What does that have to . . ." An old ottermaid began.
"That was her mother." Skipper cut her off. The crowd broke in murmurs and gasps at this unexpected reply.
"How?" The question was asked repeatedly, but Skipper quieted the crowd.
"It doesn't matter how anymore, but I swear that she will atone for her crimes." With that Skipper stormed out of the home leaving Aren still staring at the corpse of his father as a drop of blood dripped from the keen edge of the blade he held. Oblivious, he was led outside by one of his friends slowly to a fire where the entire village sat in a bitter silence broken only by scattered whispers and the silent drop of the dagger into the sand as Aren went limp into the blissful realm of unconsciousness.
Later when the sun rose high into the sky, beating down on the unprotected fur of the otters, Aren awoke to find himself in bed being tended to by a pretty ottermaid named Anna. Although she thought him uncon-scious she had been talking to him through the morning as she tended to him.
". . . Never would have thought she could do such a thing, she's only half ferret anyway. I feel so confused and . . . Oh. You're awake." She dabbed at his forehead with a cool towel as she sat by his side. "Are you okay?"
"What happened?" He asked rubbing sleep from his eyes, his back cracked slightly as he tried to sit up, but was pressed back down by the ottermaid.
"Your father was murdered. Skipper thinks it was Ari. I don't know what to think. Did you know?" She spoke so fast her words were barely coherent. Her thoughts were scattered, and she had trouble putting anything into words. She'd been a good friend with Ari after all.
"That she's only half otter, yeah I knew. Where is she?"
"Gone. They found tracks leading into the woods going southeast, but nothing else really." She answered and looked towards the woods. The bed sat outside in fresh air so she had an unobstructed view of the nearby forest as well as the oceanfront.
"Where's Skipper?"
"Hunting for her, he said something about her atoning for her crimes." At this statement Aren shot up straight in bed and looked around.
"When?" He asked as he grabbed the maid forcefully.
"A little after sunrise when we found yore dad. He took a dozen of our trackers, too." Anna told him, struggling in his strong grip.
"I have to go, thank you." He said softly and ran off to his house. When he came back he had a small sack and a pair of twin daggers, one splashed with blood.
"Aren, where are you going?" Anna called after him. As he moved towards the woods, he stopped for a moment to speak.
"I have to find her first Anna, she's innocent." With that he broke into a run and disappeared quickly into the densely packed forest. "I'm not." He whispered to himself as he ran faster through the woods dodging through trees and bushes, going southeast.
"I knew it!" Anna told herself excitedly and looked into the woods. "But, then who did it." Confused, she looked over at the small group of otters burying their fallen comrade. She looked back to the forest to find no trace of Aren, only the slight swaying of trees in the light summer breeze.
Meanwhile, Ari walked through the woods. She had never been out into the forests alone before. Her ears perked up at every sound; she had picked up her pace wishing to be someplace where she would be safe. She was rather nervous and luckily the fear gave her the energy to go a long while before she collapsed on a fallen tree that blocked her path. It lay in the middle of a small meadow with several stumps ringing around it. Some beast had taken the trees for a home she presumed. Ari set out what was left of the supplies she had hurriedly grabbed from her home before running.
She could still remember the previous night in her mind, blood dripped off the dagger blade onto the floor, her father lay dead on the floor, his face forever locked in a drunken stupor. She crawled from beneath the beaten blanket that had been her protection. Mere minutes later she was on the run, away into the unknown forests, away from her home. She wished for her brother, he'd always been a pillar of happiness in her life, just him and her scarce friends.
Even with the other otter's not knowing she was a half-breed, she had been treated differently by the Holt and viewed by them as a very peculiar otter. Not so much her appearance, but in her mannerisms. She showed some characteristics that were considered vermin like. Just little things like growls, squeaks and such. She was also quick to anger, which although this was considered a vermin trait, her father had been burdened with it as well, especially while intoxicated.
She sat upon the fallen giant of a tree, thinking about it all. As memories flashed through her head, she tried to focus on the happier memories, Aren and her, while suppressing the unhappy image of he father. She tried to force herself to remember nothing at all munching away on an apple that was long past its prime. She threw away the core and drank deeply from an already half-empty canteen of water nearly draining it.
Her thirst quenched the hungry growls of her stomach, which had begun making itself known to the maid. She hopped off the log and walked on, munching on a piece of slightly stale bread, the hungry growls drowning out the memories. Unknown to her a shadow stalked her from the trees, a watchful set of eyes always on her as she walked on paws. On her stomach, she suddenly stopped. Glancing up to the trees she found nothing. In the foliage she found nothing as well until in the corner of her eye the glint of steel caught her attention.
Cautiously she strode towards it, hands on the small quarterstaff that was her only protection. She pushed through the foliage to find an unwatched pack lying on the ground, a polished sword leaning against it gleaming in the high sun of noon. She knelt by the pack, searching for signs of life, touching it she felt the warmth of the former owner of it, she lifted the sword up to inspect it. Suddenly a rustle in the bushes told her she was most definitely not alone. She dropped the sword in surprise as she felt herself being slammed against a tree and held with force.
"Put it down Vermin!" A voice hissed as a dagger's keen blade dug into the shallow of her back, she could feel the hot breath of her attacker. A brown furred paw grabbed her staff and threw it backwards with a quick movement. "What are you doin' here?" The same voice demanded, digging the blade in further. She remained silent, frustrating the unknown attacker. She peered backwards trying to catch a glimpse of him, she only saw brown furred edges of a beast that she guessed was a squirrel.
"Can't you speak?!" He screamed at her and with a growl of frustration the dagger was removed from her back a second before the handle came down with a sickening crack upon her skull, she crumpled in a motionless heap. The last thing she saw before the black, emptiness of unconsciousness took her was the strong form of an angry looking squirrel with sword drawn and at the ready.
Darkness had fallen over the forest, and the moonlight couldn't make its way through the thick canopy of trees above the small camp in which Ari was bound to a tree. The squirrel that had captured her was a young, brown- furred squirrel who had lived among battles as shown by his scarred features. A small campfire burned at the center of his camp. He sat by the fire watching the bound ferret. As he saw her, he sat sharpening a blade, every so often taking a drink, his eyes always on the ferret.
Out in the darkness of the forest another set of eyes watched him, a short dagger gleamed in the firelight, The squirrel couldn't see the other beast as he was a at his back, at least he didn't notice until sharp steel cut into his neck lightly. A pair of strong arms held him, the blade keeping him silent as a low, husky voice spoke into the frightened squirrel's ears.
"Feel lucky vermin?"