The arrow flew through the air, soaring towards its target on a deadly mission, to kill the unsuspecting otter. With its sharpened steel tip and oak shaft, the arrow is a deadly assassin in the air, and has brought death to many beasts. Raining from the sky in a massive horde intent on taking out groups, or sailing as one to strike a fatal blow into a beast, the arrow is the weapon of choice for many, and it usually never fails.
And this arrow would of struck the skipper in the back and out his heart if it weren't for a sudden gust of wind, making the arrow veer off its course by only a fraction, and the arrow sped onwards, slamming into the otters back.
The skipper let out a loud bark of shock as the arrow slammed into his spine, a sudden wave of pain engulfing his entire body, and he then he felt wind rushing past his face, and he looked down and saw the ground rushing up to strike him in the face.
Bushbranch Treeleaper watched as his friend toppled off the abbey walls, the arrow still embedded in his back, to the grounds below. And for a second, he really didn't know what happened. He simply stood there, the only sound he could hear was his own frightened breathing. By the time he snapped out of it the abbot was off the abbey walls and running across the parade grounds and towards Cavern Hole, yelling for help.
The squirrel was about to go down and help the otter when he saw two beasts, one a fox with a bow slung across his back, and the other a weasel with a curved rusty dagger. The two were running from the wood lands and towards the otter, intent on slaying him! Thinking fast the squirrel grabbed the sling he had wrapped about his waist and picked up a loose stone.
Gungrath and Trodd watched as the otter tumbled off the wall and landed on the opposite side, and they snickered as they heard the frightened yells of some beast, and both fox and weasel nodded to each other in satisfaction. The weasel cursed to himself as he saw the otter move his head slightly, and turned to his friend.
"Dammit Gungrath! I thought you had em'!" The fox, Gungrath, slung his bow across his back and spat at his weasel companion.
"It was deh wind! Deh wind blew er' off course!" The weasel, Trodd, simply sneered at the archer.
"Yeah! Blame it on deh wind!" The weasel growled as he heard a faint moan from the otter. "Well, lets finish im' off."
His friend chuckled darkly and got up, stretching his back, which made several popping and cracking sounds.
"Aaaah... nothin' better than the sound of screaming in the mornin' right?" His companion laughed out loud and pulled out a curved, rusty dagger, smiling deviously.
"I get the first stab mate!" And the weasel rushed out into the open, and the fox followed in his footsteps, smiling at his friends cheerful attitude.
The weasel was only a few feet away from the otter, his dagger raised, when a stone slammed into his skull, slaying him on the spot. The fox's eyes filled with tears as he watched his friend fall to the ground, and he dodged to the side as another stone flew towards him, harmlessly flying onwards and thudding into the ground. Rolling back onto his feet he snatched his bow from his back and selected an arrow from the quiver. He had just pulled it back when a red feathered arrow flew from the abbey and struck him in the heart. He gasped, stumbling back, and fell to the ground next to his companion. Looking over at his slain friend, he coughed up blood and smiled at him.
"R-right behind you..." The fox's head slumped forward and his eyes clouded over as he muttered one last word. "...mate."
Bushbranch sat there in a horrified trance, watching from the wall tops as the abbey dwellers along with a badger rushed out with a stretcher, and Rathpaw gentley placed him on the stretcher, and they carefully carried him behind the walls. Bushbranch still stared at the spot where the otter had landed, a small pool of blood on the ground, and shook with fear. Looking over at the abbey ground he saw the skipper carried over to Cavern Hole and rushed inside. The squirrel was about to rush down the walls when he spotted a small skinny beast, with brown fur and a hooded cloak, sneaking out the west wicker gate.
Rinner had just gotten the gate unlocked when he heard the whistle of some beasts above, and his head snapped up and he saw Bushbranch the squirrel, peering down at him.
"Uuh, er, I was just- um..." The weasel tried to explain what he was doing, but the squirrel stopped him mid sentence.
"Eh! Don't wanna here it you weasely little mite! Just go rescue yer girl!"
"Hey! I wasn't-" The weasel tried to defend himself, but he was stopped by the squirrel in mid sentence again.
"Ah! Then answer me this!" The weasel calmed down and nodded to the squirrel, who continued. "Why do you have the Sword of Martin strapped to yer waist?"
The weasel really couldn't defend himself now. Rinner simply stared at the ground and answered rather embarrassed,
"I was goin' to save Rudder, Ok?" The squirrel smiled at the weasel. "You better not rat me out!" The weasel snapped at the squirrel, who held out his paws innocently, exclaiming,
"Who me? I'm not a rat mate, I'm a squirrel! Now get out a here and save yer girl mate!" The weasel smiled at the squirrel and nodded, then scanning his enviorment, he ran off into Mossflower. The squirrel watched the weasel as he disappeared, then turned back to the abbey, his face getting grim again as he thought of Bardwin. Sighing the squirrel walked down to the abbey grounds...
And I give you chapter 26!