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Chapter 24. Two's Company

by Aya

"And then she had me thrown out. For the fifth time."

"Five times, eh? Now I think, with a little change of focus, that's five times you could have really had a good night's rest. Why worry about one tough nut in a tree full of fresh fruit?"

Aya could just hear the wink that Shelton gave Cecil as he spoke.

"And what would a stoat know about trees and nuts?" she called back over her shoulder with a snort for emphasis.

"Well, not as much as you," Shelton replied affably, "though what I do know I may have learned from a lady squirrel or two."

"What... eww!" Aya said, shaking her head to clear away the mental images beginning to form.

Males.

"Really? I hardly dare to ask," Cecil said, frank curiosity in his tone.

"Well, there was one occasion, in a town up north; I stole an invitation to the party of a fabulously wealthy hostess who inadvertently seated me next to her own sister..."

"I don't believe this!" Aya exclaimed, attempting to interrupt the anecdote in time to preserve her sanity. "Have you two really forgotten why we're here? Fireworks? Explosions? A murder?"

Cecil's eyes hooded, a gloom visibly descending on his formerly cheerful countenance. Shelton, however, was unabashed.

"It's all wrapped into one adventure, after all; what's the harm in sharing a bit of good advice learned from experience?"

"I don't care about your adventures," Aya retorted, "and I certainly don't care about your 'good advice.' I care about one thing and one thing only right now: catching up to those blasted disappearing actors and bringing them back for my reward!"

There was a short, strained silence, awkwardly broken by Cecil's voice.

"So, what happened next, Shelton?"

The friendly chit-chat between Cecil and Shelton was getting on Aya's nerves, but at least Cecil had ceased staring at her as if she were a specter from Vulpuz. After a couple of hours of tramping through the woods, in fact, she was surprised to realize she'd blocked the inane chatter so effectively that she hadn't noticed it had stopped. Risking a glance over her shoulder, the squirrel saw Shelton trudging along with a downcast, thoughtful expression, and Cecil…

"Tree!" she snapped, stopping his forward impetus just short of a springy young ash sapling. The bard blinked, thanked her, and then resumed his poring over a piece of parchment, thoughtfully nibbling on a quill pen. Aya rolled her eyes and continued along the path of least resistance that she knew must eventually lead them to the lake. If the three of them needed fresh drinking water, then certainly the troupe would as well. If she could cut through the woods fast enough….

"Hmm, this song is just begging to be written," a voice from behind her mused aloud, "but I simply cannot think of a good rhyme for this line."

"Really? You need that right now?" Shelton asked, stopping and raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure I could help, what's the line?"

"Well, it just needs to end in a rhyme for 'said,'" Cecil replied, "but I've already used several good words."

"How about 'dead?'" Aya said sarcastically, rounding on them and running a paw over the hilt of the knife in her belt.

"Oh, that's perfect, Miss Aya!" Cecil said happily, jotting it down with his nose nearly on the parchment in the fading evening light. "Thank you, that will do wonderfully."

Aya gaped for a second. There was simply nothing to say to someone so dense, and the stoat's soft snicker did not help.

"We'd better make camp," she finally managed to say. "It's too dark to see where we're going. Don't expect me to tuck you in!"

Aya woke early the next morning, her limbs slightly stiff from the cool dampness lingering under the trees. She snorted when she saw the two males still sound asleep

"I must be getting soft at the Abbey. But logs have nothing on those snoring lumps! I bet they don't even have any food for breakfast. Serves them right."

A few minutes of prowling around the campsite provided the materials Aya needed. Squatting on her haunches, the squirrel applied a few deft strokes to her flint block with the back of her knife and let the sparks alight on the papery wrapping from a shedding birch. A few more tries and a strengthening tendril of smoke rewarded her efforts. A minute or two of tending, and a nice little fire was crackling in the dry oak twigs she'd gathered.

Aya next took a thick, rectangular strip of birch bark and pinch-curled into a rough bowl, then pegged it with a twig. The squirrel took a pouch from her rucksack and poured some of its contents into the bowl. After some hesitation, she poured another portion, then a third. Grumbling slightly to herself, she emptied the contents of her canteen into the bowl and stirred the thickening acorn porridge over the low flame.

"If they pass out, it'll just slow me down on the chase. And I do need the extra paws… why'd there have to be so many bloody actors?"

That was the trade-off, of course. Aya would have much preferred to not have to share the (substantial) reward; it would allow her to set up her own bakery in any town she desired, and maybe even have a separate house to live in. But she'd seen the number of performers and noted the wiry strength of the hare, and had to admit that the prospect of "convincing" them to return to Redwall was a daunting solo task.

"And then there's that hedgehog. Skipper said he was a tough customer. Well, that'll make my day that much more interesting when I finally lay eyes on him. We've got to hurry if we're going to catch them, though!"

The porridge was steaming by now, so Aya gingerly left the bowl propped between some roots while she doused the fire with damp dirt. When she was sure the embers were dead, the squirrel wiped her paws on her tunic and turned her attention to her slumbering companions.

"Wake up! Food's hot!" she barked.

The two leapt upright, the stoat narrowly edging out the squirrel in terms of self-composure. Aya smirked at the downcast look Cecil wore upon observing the breakfast bowl she'd retrieved.

"Miss Aya," the bard began, "I would never disparage your cooking abilities, but would you be so kind as to explain exactly what that dish is? And thank you."

"Acorn porridge, and it's the best you're going to get while that troupe's ahead of us," Aya replied while shoveling wooden spoonfuls of porridge into her mouth. Finishing her third of the bowl, the russet squirrel held it out to Shelton, who took it gingerly.

"I need to find fresh water," Aya said as she wiped her spoon on a leaf and replaced it in her pack. "Follow my trail when you're done."

Aya took off at a gentle loping pace, a smile twitching on her muzzle after she glanced back and saw the two males eyeing each other warily over the bowl of partially-eaten porridge.

The lush stillness of the forest abruptly gave way to gently lapping water and thick, cold mud as the trio reached the shores of the lake. A faint smell of decay arose from the shoreline where reeds and cattails created stagnant pools. Small ripples and a few thrashing, bubbly splashes hinted at life (and death) taking place beneath the cerulean lake waters in defiance of the fading grip of winter. A few chunks of ice bobbed near the efflux from the river, a remnant of colder climes closer to the stream's source.

Aya blinked in the newly-unfiltered sunlight but waded into the icy water, her teeth chattering slightly as she filled her canteen with water from a small eddy. Hopping back to shore, the red shook herself off and then stood stock still, her ears swiveling as distant sounds coalesced into shouting voices. Shading her eyes, she peered upstream, and then scampered up into a tree for a better view.

"Hoy, Shelton! Feather-head!" she called down to the two, who were just breaking through the underbrush to the shoreline, "There's a cart coming down the river!"

And it's those blasted actors, I'll wager anything. If they manage to kill themselves before I can claim my reward...

The fragile vessel was buffeted mercilessly against the rocks scattered about the mouth of the river, the panicked cries of its occupants growing more audible by the second. Even as Aya and her companions loped along the lake shore on an intercept course, the ice-raft crested a small waterfall and seemed to settle, still spinning, in a calmer path -but one leading directly to the mouth of a whirlpool just downstream. They could now make out the figures on the cart-the hare clinging to the front of the cart, the hedgehog

"There's no way that cart will survive! We've got to get 'em out before they drown or freeze!" Aya gasped out before breaking into an all-out run.

"Get rope, cords, belts, anything you can!" Shelton hollered, slowing but already rooting in his pack. Cecil followed his advice and removed his belt and vest. Aya shrugged off her pack and undid her belt and sling, whipping them together in a quick knot and tossing one end to Shelton while quickly affixing the other to her ankle.

"Anchor me!" she yelled to him. Any further preparations were preempted by the ear-splitting crack of wood stressed beyond its limits, the victim of one of the most vital and yet most deadly substances in existence. The cart disappeared briefly below the water before bursting to the surface in shards, its occupants were flung into the ice-strewn waters in all directions. Large and small beasts alike, they clung to what fragments of wood they could find within reach of their flailing paws, fighting against the insidious tug of a slow, agonizing death.

The shock of jumping head-first into the frigid water was so violent that, for a moment, Aya could not tell which way was up. Her lungs burned in defiance of the cold surrounding her, but her thick fur temporarily prevented the deadly chill from reaching to her bones. A tug at her ankle, and Aya had her bearings again. Surfacing, she swam as quickly as she was able in a direction downstream of the whirlpool, aiming to snag any survivors too weak to make it on their own.

With my luck I'll end up with the hedgepig, of course.

In the water ahead, Aya saw a beast floundering for purchase on a wheel formerly attached to the cart. The wheel slipped away, and with a shuddering cry the hapless victim disappeared beneath the waves. With a muttered "damn!" Aya inhaled deeply and dove. Below the surface, the water was a thick shade of blue, filled with rocks and silt that pinged against her fur. She could barely see in the murky filtered light, but a stream of bubbles was enough of an indicator. Her searching paws met flailing ones, and the drowning creature instinctively wrist-locked and held on for dear life. With her own lungs burning for air, Aya let out a gasp and kicked with all her might in the same direction as the resulting bubbles headed.

Air. I need air!