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Chapter 52. Arms Wide Open

by Aya

The sharp tang of combustion filled Aya's nostrils still, causing her to choke and cough as she rose unsteadily to a standing position with an assisting paw from Cecil. She blinked, trying to erase the images that felt seared into her senses.
A trail of smoke careening skyward.
Shelton, teetering on the edge of the hole.
An explosion of searing light, green flashes startlingly vivid amidst the crushing weight of darkness descending unnaturally.
And then, silence.
Stillness.
Dust.

Aya coughed until she retched, trying frantically to clear the clinging particles from her airways as she took stock of the situation.

He fell in. Of all the bloody luck...

"We've got to get down fast," Aya muttered for Cecil's benefit, "but quietly. They might be right under us, and Shelton's fall might have alerted them."

"I understand," Cecil whispered back, "I'll look for some vines."

The two squirrels managed to locate an oak tree twined about with thick-stemmed ivy. A few tugs, a deft cut or two, and the ivy tendrils were free. The operation took longer than Aya had hoped, but it was the only way to ensure a steady descent.

"I'll go first, Miss Aya," Cecil said, grasping the vine as Aya finished tying it off to a sturdy oak. "Who knows what we will encounter down there?"

"Volunteering to take the first punch, are you?" Aya replied. "Alright then, it's your own head. Just be quick about it."

Aya waited until Cecil's head had disappeared below ground-level before turning, gripping the vine, and descending tail-first into the waiting gloom. Carefully she picked her way down the talus, playing out the slack with her paws as she peered backwards over her shoulder. It soon proved an exercise in futility, as the inky darkness prevented her even from seeing Cecil's form silhouetted against the gloom below. Her footpaws slid gently on the soft soil, occasionally sending a rock rolling. The only smells were the lingering odor of the starburst and the mouldy scent of disturbed earth. From below, Aya could hear Cecil humming ever so softly.

The vine snapped.

Flailing wildly in a vain attempt to regain her balance, Aya spun and toppled down the slope.

Tongue in, shut teeth! Arms out, paws grabbing, bend legs slightly!

Aya barely had time to start implementing the ingrained precautions in case of a fall from a tree when she thudded into Cecil, the impact knocking the wind out of both of them. They fell together, lost in the darkness, until an abrupt shift in the direction of the slope sent them rolling a few feet on what had to be the floor of the cavern. Aya curled up and shielded her head as best she could against the rush of stones and earth rolling down behind her, wincing and yelping in pain as they pinged off her shoulders and skull.

"Are you unharmed, Miss Aya?"

Aya briefly considered answering Cecil's inquiry in a way that would involve inarticulate sounds, but decided against it on the principle that it hurt too much to move fast right then.

"I'll live," she replied as she slowly unburied herself from the light covering of debris that had rained down upon her. "Can you see anything?"

"No, it's too dark, but there seems to be slightly less darkness in one direction," Cecil responded.

Aya heard a slight twang as he removed a rock from the sound bowl of his lute, helping her locate him in relation to her current position. After closing her eyes for a few moments she opened them again, and could just make out the direction Cecil must be referring to. She unfastened her sling from her belt and slipped a rock in, ready for what might come

"Let's get on with it, then. We've got to catch up."

A few minutes of careful treading over rocks and past debris brought ever-increasing levels of light. As they traveled closer, the light was revealed as emanating from large flabby-looking mushrooms lining the passageway that led away from the cavern their descent had placed them in. As they got closer, Aya investigated one of the fungus growths out of pure culinary interest, but a sniff and a pinch revealed there was little to no edible value to these particular wonders of mycology. Picking them also seemed to negate whatever light-giving value they had. Aya shrugged and moved on.

The passageway continued an inestimable distance, the mushrooms providing plenty of light to see by. Aya felt her bruised shoulders threatening to cramp from the strain of being constantly on alert, but the raging headache that accompanied the bruises prevented any notion of relaxation. Besides, there was something wrong with the smell coming from up ahead. Too metallic, too much tang.

It smelled like blood had been spilled.

Aya broke into a slightly faster lope, wincing as she did. Cecil matched her pace, only to stop abruptly at the tableau laid out before them. Aya stood still as well, shock splashed across her face.

So much blood...

Rat, mole, stoat... it was almost difficult to tell which body was which as they lay sprawled in the rictus of death, the blood-soaked ground providing mute testament to the brutality and finality of their wounds. Aya felt the bile rising in her throat, only to have it retreat in the rising tide of anger that overtook her.

"It's Shelton," Cecil said, his voice shaking slightly. "He's dead."

Aya walked over and dropped to a knee next to the stoat's body, willing her paw to stop trembling as she closed the sightless eyes that stared with fixed intensity at a point far, far off in the distance.

I don't know why you came with us, but you didn't deserve this, stoat.

"We don't have time to bury him," Aya said as she stood upright once more, "the blood is barely dry. We have to continue on."

Cecil seemed unable to tear his gaze from the stoat's body, his paws working convulsively as he muttered to himself too quietly for Aya to hear.

"Cecil."

Aya stooped and grabbed a spear that was not encumbered with a body around it before turning and narrowing her eyes at the bard.

"We have to go. There's already been one murder; now they have Shelton's blood on their heads as well."

Mutely, the male squirrel turned away from the scene of the massacre. Aya nodded, then replaced her sling in her belt and hefted the spear. The two took off down the tunnels once more, choosing the path that showed clearly the unmistakable print of a hare's footpaw.

What happened back there? Dead rats and a dead mole, and Shelton... and none of the troupe dead.

It almost made her pause, this sudden show of martial prowess on the part of the troupe. Was it really the best plan of attack, to rush in and attempt to apprehend a group of suspected and now-proven killers with only herself and Cecil to rely on?

I can't give up now. It's just not right... the bloody Abbess is dead, Shelton's dead, and they've got to pay! And I'm so close to getting my shop -

Aya shook her head to ward away day-dreams of days spent baking and cooking in the safety and comfort of her own shop. The wince of pain that accompanied the motion served to focus her even more firmly on the task at hand: taking the fleeing actors by surprise.

Just need to keep them on the edge, not give them a chance to get around us...

Her swiveling ears caught the sound of muffled voices up ahead. With a paw to her lips, Aya gestured to Cecil to draw his dagger -Knife, whatever!- and rigged a stone into her sling before settling the spear into a comfortable but adaptable hold in her off-paw.

Her heart started beating faster in her chest, and she felt her ears pulsing in time with the beat as her breathing grew more shallow. Now was the time to fight for what she wanted. A few more steps, and the troupe was visible around a slight turn in the tunnels. They didn't appear to be taking any notice of what was behind them. That was about to change.

"Hold there, you lot!" the squirrel shouted as she launched the rock at what she hoped was the hedgepig's head. She looped the sling around her wrist and grasped the spear in both paws.

"Paws where I can see them!"