Part One: The Army
Chapter Three: Harcut
Swike sat beside a dying fire, brandishing two dice as if she'd been born with them in her paw.
"Come on Harcut, matey, let's see 'ow lucky ya are," said the weasel sitting on the other side of the fire.
Swike flicked the dice in a throw which imitated the way she'd seen other beasts gamble. They bounced on the ground before settling down. A two and a three.
"Hah, not too lucky," said the searat next to her, collecting the dice into his paw. "Aahhgh!" He quickly dropped the dice and stuffed his paw into his mouth. "Wa didja do tha' fo'?" he said around his paw. Swike cleaned her knife off on the ground before stuffing it back in her belt, leaving a red stain in the dirt.
"Ya said we'd ge' two throws." Swike picked up the dice.
"Yah, but y' didn't hav' ta do thart," he complained.
"Oh, be quiet, Blackgut. I barely even nicked ya." Swike tossed the dice again. A one and a two.
"Too bad mate," said the weasel. "Throw 'em o'er 'ere Blacky."
"H'am not touchin' 'em," Blackgut took his paw from his mouth. "You ain't got a bindin' cloth, do ya Scimo?"
"Course not. What would I do wiv it?"
"Ya'd give it ta me. I needs one." Blackgut cradled his paw in the front of his shirt, adding blood to the dirt already covering it.
"Shove it," said Swike, picking up the dice and throwing them across the fire to Scimo. He caught them expertly and began to shake them up in his paw before casting them on the ground before him. A three and a four. Scimo flashed a grin at the two rats.
"I won. Fork it o'er." He held out a paw to them. Swike scowled, but brought forth two copper coins. Scimo snatched them up and then turned to Blackgut. "You rolled too, Blacky. Pay up."
"Not 'less you gets me a bindin' cloth."
"I already told ya. I don't got one. Now giv me mah winins!"
Blackgut, still cradling his paw, set his shoulders in defiance. "No!"
"Why you!" Scimo leapt over the small fire onto Blackgut, who began crying out like a madbeast.
"Gerroff, gerroff me! Owwow, wha'd I do to you? Ow, me paw! You've killed it."
Swike pushed Scimo off Blackgut, hissing at them. "Be quiet! We'll get caught. Do ya want the cap'ns seein' this?"
The two vermin quieted down immediately, staring around to see if they'd attracted attention.
"Yeah, 'Arcut's right Scimo. Don' wanna make too much noise."
Scimo knocked Blackgut on the back of the head. "Oh yeah? You was the one makin' all the noise. An' ya still owe me. Pay up!" The weasel held his paw in Blackgut's face, waving it for emphasis.
Sniffing loudly, Blackgut placed a few coins into Scimo's paw. He stowed them away somewhere and began to jingle the dice around in his paw.
"Up fer another round?" he asked.
"I couldn't, cause me throwin' paw is ruined!" snapped Blackgut, giving Swike a harsh look. Swike grabbed for his bloody paw, ripped off a section of his sleeve, and began scrubbing off the blood forcefully.
"Ow! Stoppit, y' crazy rat! What're y' doin'?" bellowed Blackgut.
"There," said Swike, letting go of his paw. "See. It's only a scratch."
Blackgut looked down at his paw to see that Swike was right. In a whining voice, he said, "Still, y' didn' hav ter do that 'Arcut."
Swike shrugged unconcernedly. She watched Scimo rolling the dice around in his paw for a while, a blank look forming on her face.
"Hey Harcut," said Scimo. Swike met his eyes. "Where're ya from anyway?"
"Aroun'," she said, shrugging. Her eyes flashed in the direction of the center of the camp. "Whatder ya make of Koron?"
Scimo stopped playing with the dice and set them down. Blackgut looked up from the paw he was trying to wrap up with the torn bit of his sleeve. Swike raised her eyebrows at their sudden change in attitude. "Bad?" she asked. Blackgut went shifty-eyed and began licking his lips nervously. Scimo glanced quickly over his shoulder before leaning forward secretively.
"There's somethin' ... odd about 'im. We're not sure what."
"I don' understand."
Blackgut whimpered slightly, earning himself a smart punch by Scimo. "Be quiet!" he spat at the rat. Turning back to Swike, he said, "D' ya know 'ow long we've been 'ere, Harcut?"
"What? Y'mean in this camp?"
"Yeah. Any idea 'ow long?"
Swike let her eyes drift over the camp, surveying the tents. How long had they been there? Her eyes alighted on a tent nearby. A vine was growing beside it and had wrapped itself around a pole. In surprise, Swike realized that the vine had already grown halfway up the pole. Surely it couldn't do that in only half a season. Had they been here longer?
"How long?" she asked.
"Goin' on three seasons. Now, what kinda army is that?" Scimo sat back, crossing his arms.
"Is tha' all?" Swike asked in surprise. "No action and ya think the warlord's odd?"
"He's been plannin' somethin' big. It's suicide!" said Blackgut quickly. Scimo hit him hard in the nose, causing it to bleed profusely.
"Shut up!" said Scimo. "We's not supposed to know, ya idiot!"
"What d'ya know?" said Swike, pushing between them forcefully and then looking from one to the other. Blackgut held both of his paws up to his snout, a bloody mess. Scimo angrily spat on the ground, looking as if he wanted to kill Blackgut.
"O'erheard it," he said, turning to look at Swike. "Why're ya so interested Harcut?"
"Cause I don't got to stick 'round if'n somethin's up."
Blackgut gasped. "Desert?" he asked in alarm.
"Wouldn't be the firs' time," said Swike, shrugging.
Blackgut's eyes got wide. Apparently, the idea of deserting an army wasn't just an everyday thing with him. He looked terrified at the very thought. "'Arcut, mate, y' better not." was all he said.
Swike rolled her eyes. "Don' tell me, I'll get punished if I try an' run away." She sighed loudly. "Already heard tha' one. Lis'n, all ya gots to do is pretend t'go out scoutin'. Then ya just leave. Nothin' to it."
Blackgut continued to stare at her, openmouthed. Scimo began shaking his head. "You've walked into th' wrong camp, Harcut. Maybe ya haven't seen 'im yet, but there's this assassin, name o' Raynat. 'E could track a moth o'er a mountain. 'E jus' sneaks up outa nowhere an' takes ya out. Naw, you're stuck wiv us, mate."