Hello! I'm posting a day early because I will have no writing time tomorrow.
Guest reviews:
Snowy: I am enjoying cliffhangers ^_^ I'm glad you liked it, and also glad there is nothing you could find to criticize, even if I am very critical of my own work.
Thank you also to Species Unknown and Waaaaaaah for their amazing reviews :)
Disclaimer: I do not own this, and unfortunately all of my imagination is being used to fuel NaNoWriMo.
Chapter 37
Martin grimaced as Skipper jerked his shoulder back into place. Being tortured for information that they didn't really have was taxing. Keyla was getting increasingly furious. Whenever Martin and Skipper were tortured he would be taken out of the pen and placed with the other slaves, where he was entirely helpless.
The only good thing about the situation was that it allowed them to communicate with the other slaves.
They spent the few hours of rest they had to try and heal themselves to the best of their limited abilities. It wasn't much, but there were some injuries that they could easily heal.
Keyla was currently in the act of tearing off bits of his tunic to make bandages. It wasn't the most ideal fabric, but it would work.
"Honestly I don't think they realize that we really don't know the answers to their questions." Martin said tensely, massaging his paws. "I haven't been here for many seasons, and Skip, you've never been here at all."
Skipper nodded grimly, tying one of the bandages onto one of his back paws. "Aye mate, I don't think the questions are all that clever. This warlord, Raxil or whatever 'is name is, he isn't that smart."
Keyla sighed. "I've been wondering about that. At first his actions seemed focused, but the longer he stays here, the worse they get. He doesn't seem to know what he's doing. I almost wonder if he wasn't the one leading the horde at all."
Martin jumped slightly, and his eyes widened, staring towards Raxil's tent as a white fox slipped out of the opening. "That's because he wasn't leading the horde." He breathed.
Within only a few minutes Keyla, Skipper, and Martin were in deep discussion.
~~O~~
Krinch smiled wickedly as Raxil's body shook with the effort of standing. The warlord had gotten considerably weaker over the past day, and he wasn't happy about it. He'd demanded that Krinch check all of his food for poison, taking a bite, drinking a sip, and then waiting for several heartbeats. The only flaw in the plan was that Krinch was the one poisoning him.
~~O~~
Fuffle could barely keep his eyes off the sword. It was a magnificent, yet only vaguely familiar weapon.
It belonged in the paws of a warrior, one who had held it for countless seasons, and the squirrel who held it now obviously wasn't used to it. She seemed uncomfortable with it's weight, and had already offered it to the mouse Gonff. He refused, although Fuffle wasn't sure why. He was obviously far more familiar with the weapon than the squirrel. She sat a little away from the feast that had sprung out of nowhere, listening to a poem that Celandine and Kastern had made.
"The vermin horde, it came to raze,
The valley of Noonvale's quiet glades,
But who did come to win the fight?
To crush the warlord fox's might?
Who's sword so bright and paw so strong,
Did come again once gone so long?
Who's flag we once again will fly?
Fur and Freedom! will be our cry!
That warrior oh so brave and bold,
Our hero from those days of old,
A friend who said he wouldn't return,
Now here he comes, let vermin burn!
He brings his friends, his warrior band,
And begins already his master plan.
So we shall fight so we may stay,
And bring back Noonvale's happy days."
Fuffle moved uncertainly and sat next to the squirrel. She had a thoughtful look on her face as she gazed at Celandine and Kastern, bowing with pleased looks on their faces at the applause, then sitting next to Rowanoak and Ballaw.
"Did you know Martin, back then?" She asked suddenly, turning to face Fuffle.
He started slightly. He hadn't been sure if she knew he was there. "Aye. I was young, but I remember him. I remember all the times he was punished when we were all slaves. I admired him, but I was just a young one then. Too young to fight, too young to really realize what was going on. He's the reason I taught myself to fight. Not many creatures in Noonvale learned. We've always been a peaceful place."
Fuffle looked down at his clenched paws. It was true he was an anomaly in Noonvale. He'd been born while his parents were slaves at Marshank, and was raised during the battle that led to the escape and defeat of that same fortress. He'd seen the sword of Martin a few times before.
So when Groot and Purslane had chosen to go to Noonvale, where they could live in peace, Fuffle couldn't help but do whatever he could to learn to fight.
He felt a soft paw on his own, and looked up to see the squirrel smiling at him. He noticed for the first time that she was missing an ear, and that a delicate gold circlet was placed on her head. "I'm Lady Amber of Mossflower." She said quietly. "I may not have started towards Noonvale with the intention to end a war, but I will do what I can."
Fuffle smiled. "I'm Fuffle of Noonvale. Thank you for coming."
Amber blinked slightly, and frowned. "Fuffle? What sort of warriors name is that? We need to get you a nickname."
Fuffle grinned, and so did Amber. She stood lightly, using her tail as balance. "So, what should it be? Remember, this name will most likely be remembered in Noonvale's history, so choose wisely young one." Amber said cheerfully.
Fuffle thought for a moment, and then it came to him. "I think I'll honor one of our fallen from the last war I know of. He was a warrior, and a friend of Martin's, and he has been remembered by many. Maybe I'll be able to bring his name more joy, and less grief when we remember his sacrifice.
"Call me Felldoh."
I really hope you enjoyed my poem/song/thing. And I hope you're ok with Fuffle taking on Feldoh's name, because . . . . .
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