Snake Slayer

Author note: Looking over the reviews, I see a lot of good tips that I will take to heart to improve this fic. On that note, I do know that the beginning half of this fan fiction may not be on par with the half that I am writing now; I have realized, and I ask that you observe, the fact that my writing has improved and changed over time. I started this thing several years ago, and a lot has happened in between then to shape my style.

Right now, I'm at a cross roads. I realize certain mistakes like places where Nate is out of character, or places that can be better written in past chapters. The question is; do I really want to go back and change them? As of right now, I'm not sure. Sure I can go back and change them, but would I consequently affect the plot? Could I mess up something I'm trying to set up? Not to mention the fact that it would stall the current forward progress of the story itself. Thus, I have resolved to wait until it is finished to make any alterations. Maybe I'll do a re-write or second draft, using tricks that I know now and holding the continuity of the story together better (currently, I'm trying to make Nate the non-challant, slightly withdrawn and hard character I tried to play him off as in the first place, which contrasts showing him out and out as a bit of a softie on the inside, something I accidentally let off a bit too early than I would have cared for). Or maybe not. Perhaps (not to gloat) I'll find a way to make the "flaws" with OOCs in the earlier part of the stories work. I might finish this and be done to it, so I can look at it and see how far I've come from where I started and how much I was able to improve upon a design that I am rather proud of. Only time will tell. All that I ask of you is to bear with me and not expect a re-write right away, if any at all. But I promise now to make the chapters I write the best that I can. I write for fun, and that's primarily why I am writing this story; to entertain both you, dear readers, and myself.

Cold, rushing water around his ankles. The mouth of the adder above. And stabbing pain in his shoulders.

He tried to wheel around but couldn't, the fangs of his enemy were burrowed inside of his shoulder blades. Even now, what had to be at least three minutes after first impact, they were injecting their life taking elixir into his blood. He felt his soul slipping from him, could feel the warmth of his spirit exiting his body as Ron shouted through it all, the walls of the mouth acting like an echo tunnel.

"NATE! NATE! NATHAAAAAAAN!"

The venomous pinions exited his back, hurting more than they did on their entrance, while at the same time the muscular lengths of the adder curled around him, cradling his legs and abdomen, supporting it and thrusting him deeper into the digestive chasm.

"NATHAN!"

The feeling of water was gone now. He was caught hanging in mid air.

"NATHAAAAAN!"

Ron's screams were muffled by the flesh of the snake as he painfully slid deeper. His swords were gone now.

"NATHAN!"

The maw of the serpent snapped shut behind, like a door. He could actually hear the percussion of the shutting timbers. Pinned down, weak from venom, weaponless and now sliding to his doom. And Ron was still shouting…

"Nathan?"

Blackness. But not death. At least, he didn't think it was. Right now, he felt like complete hell. You were supposed to feel…weightless when you were dead, right?

"Nathan? Nate?"

That pesky voice again, paging him. It wasn't Ron anymore. The voice didn't have that irritating superior whine in it. No, this one was higher-pitched, feminine. Definitely not Ron. Unless Ron had a bizarre accident? Nate had told him not to test his potions on himself…

"Excuse me, mister Snake Slayer?"

"Mister Snake Slayer?". Now that most certainly wasn't Ron. He wasn't sure who was calling to him now, but he wanted it to stop so he could get some sleep.

The jibes for attention were soon followed by a poking in his left side. Nate's eyes snapped open and instantly recoiled due to the great light that tried to force its way into his pupils. He could feel…wait, he could feel! The ferret felt extreme rapture erupt inside of his core. He could feel his body! It wasn't dead! His arm twitched and the joy grew. He could move! Nate again tried to pull back the curtain from his eyes and look upon his surroundings. He lifted his eyelids again, slowly.

He wasn't inside the digestive tract of an adder, not unless it had swallowed an entire infirmary. Bright light was still dripping down upon him from an uncovered window set into the top far wall from his bed, but it was bearable now. It had been a dream, had to be. Partially a flash back to the incident at the stream and partially a flash back to what had transpired the previous night, but still just a nightmare! He breathed a sigh of relief and was content…until his happiness was washed away by a frustrating and slightly alarming thought: "Where are my glasses?!" he rudely snapped.

The one who had woken him appeared to be another faceless citizen of the village; nothing singularly unique about her. As such, Nate didn't recognize her. She blinked for a moment, not expecting his frustration.

She didn't expect his next retort, either, "Are you having trouble with your ears? I asked you where my glasses were." he was louder this time.

"Oh," the maid squeaked and then ran off like a child.

"Tsk" Typical. Even in a sick bed they reacted like he was some sort of monster, completely alien to them. And if not that, the gawked at him with something close to awe. He was the new town tourist attraction. The ferret turned to his right slowly only to find more evidence to that fact. Great, another group of onlookers.

"What are you all looking at?" his venom increased tremendously. "Never seen a half-dead ferret before?"

They all dissipated quickly, leaving him (somewhat) alone. Nate looked around, still squinting; where the hell was that stupid mouse with his glasses!? An average-size infirmary. It looked like it was a barn in a previous life. Chances are it was. The villagers probably needn't house many sick or wounded before this war. Just like they didn't need to have fences before all this.

It had probably changed the villagers just as it had changed the architecture of the place. After all, it would explain why everybeast stared at him so much. Of course, they might just be being their usual "woodlander" selves, hating "vermin" like good little beasties are supposed to. They all made him sick to his stomach-

"Nate?"

Accept one…

"Beatrix?"

The mouse came closer. She looked concerned. Good. Nate was growing tired of the worried, suspicious and curious expressions plastered on every other beast's faces whenever he was up and about, or in this case down and not so much about.

"James is alright." she said, trying to console him.

It had the opposite effect. "Oh…right…I had a bad feeling you'd say that…" he murmured.

Regardless, Beatrix kept on. "Calista said…" the maid stopped, having trouble getting the right words out. "Calista…said that…you…kicked him?"

A blank look from Nate, which prompted one from Beatrix.

"So?"

"So…did you?"

"Well, yeah…" he shrugged

"Nathan!" she snapped, surprised.

"What, didn't you want to kick him?"

"Yes…no…wait, Nathan, why did you…?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Do I really need a reason to kick him?"

Nathan ceased, Beatrix looking to explode and all. Time to back off a bit. It was obvious that she needed an explanation Why her of all people, Nathan didn't know…

"He was bein' a right blimey idiot! The twerp nearly got 'imself killed by the snake that nearly did me in. If I hadn't done something, he'd have been chomped."

The heel of her palm dug into her forehead. He really didn't get it, did he?

"But did you have to kick him?"

Nate thought for a minute. "Well…I did. Personally think it released a bit of tension."

Beatrix didn't counter. Instead, she let lose with a bunch of random words and incomplete sentences (chief among them "You…I can't…impossible…"), spun around quicker than a top and then left in a literal huff; Nathan heard the exhalation from a good ten feet away.

Hm…touchy!

Women! Always touchy. Always so touchy about certain things, you couldn't get away with the slightest bit if it was against her "principles". He felt a bit bad for thinking about Beatrix like that, but something else was at the forefront of his mind, a question; Why does she care?

James was arrogant, overconfident and a braggart to boot. The village Head Warrior obviously couldn't stand him and Nate could tell that others had a hard time putting up with him, the way their faces soured just a bit whenever he started bragging about being the best and all. Beatrix herself hadn't spoken of her sibling in such high esteem, so why? Why care so much for a person you detest?

He knew. It hit him harder than the injuries he had sustained from the previous fight when he realized he knew.

Because they're brother and sister, that's why. Family is about love, no matter how much of a cod the other guy is. You're still connected.

Still connected to her brother. Jerk or not, Beatrix didn't realize how lucky she was to still be connected.

"Nathan?" Intruder number two (or possibly four if you counted the mouse maid and the onlookers from before) was none other than Ron. The fox looked like he hadn't slept in days. He probably hadn't; Ron had been known to have acute insomnia in situations like this, what with new places and things to study, not to mention worrying over weather your friend was just a corpse or still in good health after a tussle with a constrictor.

"Ron, what ya want?" he hadn't meant to sound rude. Still did, anyway.

Ron cleared his throat. "They have told me that you encountered a… 'constrictor'? Obviously now deceased, right?"

"Right-oo!" the ferret faked a happy expression.

"Haven't seen one of those in awhile!" the lupine chuckled, reminiscing. "I do remember the last time, when you tripped and nearly…"

"Died?" Nate helped.

"No-no…just, got yourself a bit scuffed is all. Wasn't there a-"

"Hostage that time? Yeah, you could call it that. Weren't easy but it was pretty darn thrillin' rushing in on 'ol scales and fangs, swipin' his lunch and killin' him and all. Gets the blood pumping, near death experiences do."

"Yes, quite…" the fox tittered, clearly clueless as to what his companion meant. Nathan read something else in his face, something deeper. His eyelids furrowed just a tiny bit, just so that the smallest fraction of a stress-line formed dead center on his forehead. His teeth were biting back words. What did he-

"So…they tell me that you'll…be fine in a day or two?" he wasn't sure.

Nathan nodded and sat up. "Yeah," he shrugged, "Bit of a shame. Can't stand bein' out of action that long. But you know those doctor types."

Obviously Ron did. He was one!

"But it does make a good amount of sense." Ron answered. "I've never known you to be kept down by a simple thing, but you were nearly…"

"Killed?" he suggested. Talking about his own death didn't affect him. It did affect Ron.

"Yes…quite…"

He was still holding something. His fists were beginning to clench, as if physically holding to the escaping thought until it finally slipped. His tension subsided. Ron took a deep breath, then another. One, two, three…

"Nathan, there's something I have to tell you- show you, rather. I'd…I'd found it in that journal you had brought in to me. I was going to show it to you, but I though, well…"

Ron took the slip of paper from out his pocket and tossed it over upon Nathan's lap. He couldn't even look at the ferret.

Nate was staring right at Ron, not the note. This was important, had to be. Ron didn't keep secrets. Nate wasn't even sure if he wanted to see what it was. He turned back to the letter, staring at it as if he would combust if he saw what was on it. Slowly, the ferret reached over and picked up the tiny slip. Ron's words rang in his ears as he took his first glance.

"Now you have to understand, I kept it secret for a good reason. I didn't want you to get worked up and distracted and angry and you remember last time something like this…" the words spilled out of his mouth, a torrent of phrases. The fox couldn't get them out fast enough.

Nate had tuned him out. He was staring, blank faced, at the parchment. His fingers quivered. The note shook, echoing it's crackling throughout the infirmary. Nathan's emotions heightened the noise. To him it sounded like a fire, a raging, out of control blaze, the sounds of the flames filling his ears, sharing their hate with him. Nathan unconsciously crumbled the note and tossed it.

The image was fresh in his mind. How could he forget it. Even before he'd seen the paper, before he'd gotten here, before he'd taken on his career as a snake slayer for hire, he knew the shape. Like a demon dream it had come back. On the parchment, scrawled in black ink, was a peculiar symbol that the journal's owner had replicated, after he had seen it numerous times throughout his prison; a snake's head, with a whip coiled about it. Just like the medallion.

Nate turned, mechanical, towards Ron. It startled the fox.

"How long did they say it'd take me to recover?"

His companion shrugged. "I'm not sure. I believe they said a few days. I know they said that it would be at least a day before you would be able to walk once more."

The ferret struggled to the end of his bed, thrusting off the covers to reveal that he was still clothed in his shorts and belt. Every muscle on his torso, arms, legs and then some tensed as he threw himself from the bed, shaking like an old beast upon landing. Nate remained cautious. First one foot, then the other. Bit by bit, he made his way over to the approaching nurse and snatched back his glasses. He made his way to the door like this, retrieving his swords from a cabinet as well. Nate's foot cracked against the door, throwing it open with timbers shuddering.

He turned to Ron and shouted back, "Tell them their diagnosis was wrong!"

His breathing became ragged. Nathan was surprised at this. He'd made a good twenty meters before he began to pant, which was far, far, lower than his record at tip-top shape. Keeping in mind he was injured, though, he was impressed.

But the thought of his progress didn't linger long. It soon was preceded by the though of his goal: Snake Charmer. He had searched all his life for the fiend, taking on every job that came his way and hoping that it would lead him to his goal, to end his vendetta. Jake was gone. The Charmer was the reason. The adder had eaten him, but the adder was just the puppet. Nate had his eyes on the puppeteer.

The gates soon went from looming in the distance to three inches from his face. With nobeast about to assist, it would be hard opening them. The ferret lifted his forward leg and thrust the ball of his footpaw through the wood, thrusting more forcefully than he had at the infirmary door. Hard to open the gates, but not by much.

Three more kicks and there was a gaping hole his size in the village fortification. He must have raised quite the racket. All around him, Nate could hear the inhabitants shouting, some closing in upon him, probably to take him back to his hospital bed and stop him from causing more damage to their protection. He turned around, surveying the crowd, counting them at a score and a half in pursuit. He looked back at the gaping hole. He'd damaged the gate sizably, probably enough to make it dangerous. But right now, that wasn't at the forefront of his thoughts.

Gotta get out, gotta go out there, gotta run, gotta find him.

The ferret leapt through the hole. He felt a painful tug as his body received exit wounds from the jagged edges of the lumber. The warrior let out but a snarl to acknowledge his injuries, and then all but ignored them. They were nothing. Paper cuts, nothing more.

Gotta get out…

He was full out now, running like a madbeast. His feet beat like the pulse of a drum, thump-thump-thump-ing on the dry leaves, keeping tempo with the wind, the sky. Everything was blurred and tinged black from beyond those glasses, their all encompassing lenses allowing no light in. Content distracted him from his hate for a moment. He liked that. Keep the dark in, stave the light out. His loathing returned, the pleasant feeling quickly leaving him like a waking dream.

Gotta go out there…

He was out there. It felt like he was as far from the village as he could manage, but still his feet plodded on. No matter how hard his lungs resisted, his limbs still fought back and continued their motion. The ferret looked around. He didn't know where he was going, but he was sure of where he wanted to go.

Gotta run…

Run. That was all that was on his mind, apart from the burning. Spite and a need to run pumped through his veins. He was no longer Nate, nor Nathan, nor The Snake Slayer. Now, he was just a running, furious ferret.

Gotta find him…

How? His body asked, but his brain didn't answer, even as his frame was failing to live up to his desires. He continued to move. The running ferret noticed that the scenery began to blur less. He could actually see the lines, the separation from things now. The breeze had left him. Sprint became jog became lope became gait. He was losing speed, but not losing fuel.

Gotta…find…him

His consciousness began to go beyond the aches and pains in his muscles. His mind was on a higher plane, unaware of the stress he was putting on his mortal coil. The running ferret didn't even feel it as his knees gave way, the fibers of his muscles failing him. He believed himself to be still running, repeating his mantra over and over again in his head.

Gotta get out, gotta go out there, gotta run, gotta find him…

His heartbeat slowed. The ferret was unconsciously resting as his mind raced.

Gotta find him…

The running-now-fallen ferret's eyes began to close, but he wouldn't let them. He realized he'd stopped running. The least he could do was stay awake and concentrate.

Find him…find him and…

In his thoughts, he had already arrived at his goal. He had run. He had gotten away. He had gotten out there. He had found him. Now he knew what he had to do to finish the job. What pained him more than anything was that at the core, he knew he couldn't do it; it wasn't real.

Find him…and Kill him…

Figures that he wouldn't catch a break. He surveyed his progress amidst the panting; far from the village but no where near his goal, and why should it be any different? Did he know his goal? Did he know where he was going? Nate almost hated himself for giving into his feelings, letting them take over. Without a plan or some semblance of strategy, you were dead. He hadn't even bothered to try to think on his feet. The blasted, idiot ferret had just dashed off, eyes strictly on the prize but unaware of the dangers around him.

He had almost taken a vacation. The thought returned to him. Nate had almost taken a vacation, but no, he had to help a pitiful damsel in distress! Time off from work really sounded good now.

His ears perked up. Footsteps. One of the woodlanders had gained on him. Nate had figured as much, not that he would be missed but because he had broken their gate. No doubt they'd want him to pay for it. He "humph"ed. A shame he was near broke at the moment.

What he didn't expect was who would be standing there, their shadow overlapping his frame. The ferret turned.

"Are you alright?" piped a voice quiet and unsure. Calista.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just felt like taking a nap in the dirt is all."

Hesitantly, she helped him up. The squirrel didn't say anything but it was clear that she wanted to. The words welled up inside but none of them were sufficient enough.

"You sort of freaked out back there."

"Yeah, I'm lithe to do that when I don't get my beauty sleep."

She laughed a bit. Even her laugh was hesitant. Uncertainty bubbled off of her like heat from a flame. She was wrapped in it. And Nate couldn't understand why.

"Hey," the worn out looking ferret nudged her. She almost fell over a bit form the shove. "Cheer up!"

She giggled again and stopped. Calista wanted to laugh. But like so many things, she didn't carry through with it. Not enough determination. Not enough assuredness.

Her shoulder felt stiff. Nate released it and recoiled. He didn't know why he had touched her. Must have been a reflex.

For awhile, neither of them said anything. It was just as well to Nate, who was accustomed to silence, but Calista didn't like it. She kept shifting her weight in that awkward way the body tries to speak when the mouth cannot. The ferret let out an exhalation midway between a laugh and a sigh. A worn out snake slayer and a worried warrior must make quite a picture standing out her in the middle of the woods, although there were none around to see it. Eh, it'd just look boring anyhow.

"So, where to?" he asked and again, Calista didn't reply outright.

"Err…back to the village, I think."

"Well, do you?" he probed.

"Do I what?" Clearly she wasn't taking the hint.

"Do you know or don't you? It's not a hard question to ask." The ferret crossed his arms as he ascended his soap box. "You either do or you don't. There is no hesitation in combat or you're dead. If you think that way about everything else, you're better off. So do you or don't you?"

She took it in for a moment, the sponge of her mind soaking up what he had said, making sense of it all. Calista nodded, finally. "Yes…we should go back to the village now."

Nate certainly looked satisfied. "Good. Now, lead the way, fearless leader."

She actually laughed this time without holding back. It was a beautiful sound that felt like warm sun on cool fur. At that, Nate gave one of his rare smiles. This could be the beginning of a beautiful…nah, that sounded too cliché. None the less, the two "beautiful friends" made their way back to the village, no doubt now populated by very irate villagers. At least it's not all bad, he reflected. The snake slayer looked at Calista, and smiled. Not bad at all…