Oh gawd. I'm sorry for the long pause in updates. I wanted to post it up on my 18th b-day, but it's a week late. :(
Really, college is kicking my ass right now and stuff. Remember back in Throw Down Your Guise when I said that I need some stress in order to write well? Well, stop wishing me stress or this overload is going to kill me! XP
And I'm really really sorry if I'm really behind on Review Replies and actual reviews for stories. I will get back to them all. I promise.
Special thanks to those who reviewed: Fwirl of Redwall, Siran 744, Quavera Tava, Jarrtail, DGShadowChocolate, Reader, Shards-of-Airan, Sanfrasm, and logan Clark.
Anyways, this chapter was kinda fun to write. And when I say that, you know I'm sadistic. :P So, now we have some interesting things happening here, though I'm sure what comes is something you guys have all been waiting for. Enjoy. :)
Disclaimer: Violence (you should seriously know this by now!)
True Loyalty
(Seriously, if it wasn't for the sake of consistency, you know I would be forsaking this to be 'Chapter 54' XP)
Clove squealed in fright, too terrified to struggle against her captor as he carried her under an arm. Suddenly he stopped, grabbing her with both paws and flipping her on her back so that she was staring at the sky. The rabbit gasped, looking down to see that she was dangling high over the wall.
"W-wait! Pl-"
The paws that supported her back left her and she plummeted to the ground. She screamed, curling up as she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the big Thud! that would silence everything else.
"Ugh!" Her eyes sprang open as she felt something slap her torso. She panted, trying to roll to her stomach before something yelled in her ear. Somebeast grabbed her arm and dragged her to the side and off the suspended net that caught her fall. And littered around the area were a bunch of corpses with crooked bodies, their eyes bulging in fright. Again, she was bundled under an arm and being carried off. She stared ahead in terror, watching as a screaming Dibbun landed in the net, his limbs flailing about before another shady beast grabbed him and carried him off.
"Wait!" she pleaded. "Please Master, let Clove go. Please!" But if the vermin even heard her, he didn't show it. The rabbit sobbed, kicking feebly as her fingers tried to pry his arms off her waist, but it was no use. If anything, he squeezed harder, his claws digging into her ribs as a warning. She stopped immediately after that, not wanting to anger him any more.
"Keetch," she whimpered, trying to grasp her surroundings despite her obstructive ears that flopped against her face.
Fwap!
Everything seemed to go far worse after that. The vermin grunted, stumbling head-over-heels, taking her along for the ride before crashing right on top of her.
"Oof!" She panted, recovering her breath as she waited for her captor to pick himself up and drag her along. She would've stayed there, waiting for the distant screams and battle cries to stop, but she was sure the vermin's heavy bulk would crush her before any of that would happen. Bustled and bruised as she was, Clove managed to wriggle her way from under the carcass, breathing deeply as she freed her head.
She didn't get a long time to congratulate herself for her accomplishment before something tugged harshly at her ears, yanking upwards as if she was some weed. The Dibbun cried out, reaching her arms up and clawing at whatever she could. She heard an annoyed grunt as her claws caught fur and cloth, and then she felt something hard crash against her cheek. She gasped, blinking past the flashing stars, as she went limp as a rag doll, allowing her new Master to drag her by the ears.
Clove could barely feel it, the tug on those delicate ears as her knees scraped uselessly against the muddy earth. She felt dizzy and sick- like she was going to retch. It was dark and she tried to tilt her head to see, but everything felt like a daze. This helplessness- it felt so much like that times that Grack got cross with her and held a cloth against her face, refusing to let go no matter how hard the child struggled and screamed. But every time Clove's struggles became too weak and she was sure she was going to die, Grack would release her, allowing her to cough and sputter on the ground.
But Old Grack died, her mind sounded. Why is Clove still being hurted?
She remembered the very last time Grack did that to her.
---
She was pushed up against the craggy cave walls, mewling piteously and making promises of improvement before Grack stifled her mouth with a decaying rag. Her eyes watered as her gag reflex started, and she kicked and squirmed. She shook her head no, looking pleadingly at Grack's cruel eyes before shutting her eyes again. Old Grack had been angrier than usual nowadays and Slave didn't mean to break the pot of milkweed sap. She really didn't. She gripped her Master's wrist, trying to pry it off her face, but the vixen slammed her head hard against the wall. For some reason she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her Master might not even let go.
Slave pushed up from the wall, trying her hardest to break free, but her strength was quickly giving out by the second. She was sure her lungs were shriveling as they screamed for air.
"What are you doing? Stop! You're really killing it."
"Don't tell me what to do, Apprentice," Grack snapped, ignoring the slave's feeble attempts to pry her paw off her snout.
"No point in killing her."
"She needs to learn her lesson, yes?" the vixen rasped. "She needs to know that I can take her life away if I please." There was a pause in the argument, and the cloth was ripped away from her face. The slave dropped to the ground, crying and retching as the argument continued above her.
"I'm the next seer," the younger fox said, dropping the snatched rag to the ground. "If we lose her blood, it's all over. We need her alive for the ritual of bones and we can't do anything risky like that."
"Who says it needs to be fresh blood? We could hang the useless thing upside down, slit its throat, and drain it all, yes?" the Master cackled. The rabbit paled at that statement, whimpering her worries.
"But Master..."
"Shut up!" the apprentice commanded, before Grack landed a swift kick to her stomach. Slave did as he said, cringing back as Grack hobbled off.
"'Think yer getting soft," she muttered under her breath as she traveled to the deeper recesses of the cave.
"You are being crazier by the day," Apprentice muttered to himself. Slave exhaled, glad that the old crone was gone. The Dibbun grasped the wall, pulling herself up to her shaky knees as she continued to cough and rub her sore throat.
"You'll live." She froze in place before the Apprentice stalked off, leaving her alone. For whatever reason she couldn't understand, she wanted to follow him, though she wasn't sure if he'd like that. She waited in the dark, pondering her feelings before she came to a conclusion: he made the pain stop. She was safe with him.
---
Keetch isn't here, said the scared voice in her head. He isn't here to make the pain stop.
The rabbit blinked the tears out of her eyes, reaching up to the paws that were tearing her ears out of her head.
"Clove's ears... Please..." she mumbled, but he twisted her ears for silence as he trudged on. Clove took the pain quietly after that, willing herself to stop whimpering in case he got angry. Suddenly that claws around her ears unraveled, throwing her onto the earth with a thud. She cried out in alarm, cringing back before he would grab her by the ears again, but he was already gone- probably to pick up another hostage. She kept her head down in a submissive position as she shuffled back, bumping into something soft in the process. Past the throb of her ears, she didn't notice the terrified whimperings.
All the captives were huddled together, some of them comforting one another and the others shivering and wailing while the captors kept their sharp weapons trained on their prisoners. Clove clung onto a sleeve, pressing it against her face as she pressed herself closer into the group, hoping to sneak to the middle and hide there. Where's Keetch? Clove wants Keetch and Tarka.
She clung hopelessly to the huddle, still settled on the outer portion before she gathered enough courage to look around. She was cautious at first, looking down in case of eye contact, and she kept herself in a prostrate position, just in case.
There were all sorts of beasts she'd never seen before. Some were mice with bigger, naked, scaly tails. Some were like the otters, but with smaller tails that were black at the end. And then there were foxes. Clove nearly smiled at her good fortune. Foxes! Like Keetch! But they were all scarred and they spoke in the most snappish and snarling ways that all thoughts of approaching them were wiped out of her options. Certainly this was not a good time to appeal to them.
"ENOUGH!" somebeast called out. Everything stopped, and Clove realized that there were no more captives being dropped into the panicked mass.
"Thank goodness," somebeast beside her breathed. "The abbey still stands."
"You lot, sort'em out!" Immediately, the new Masters closed in on the group, each of them grabbing a beast and forcing them to stand as they looked them up and down. Clove could only watch and stare as they contemplated each woodlander, ordering them to go in different places. Eventually, there was a pattern that nobeast could ignore. All the sickly or injured beasts were ordered to one corner, separated from those that were perfectly healthy. If anything, it seemed that the injured beasts were wounded recently- probably on the fall to the net. She shuddered, imagining landing on her face and snapping her neck.
"Cowards!" Clove looked at the protester. It was so odd. She almost couldn't recognize Skipper by the way he was kneeling, blood scabbing his face and his eye swelled. "Vermin! Taking the weak and killing them while they remain helpless! Gimme a weapon and I'll fight you right now if you have the gu-oof!" Some of the captives wailed shrilly as he slumped back down, hanging his head and panting from the harsh kick to the ribs.
"You! Up!" She looked up to meet the eyes of a brown fox before looking down again, doing exactly as she was told.
"Yes Master," she squeaked. He grabbed her shoulder, gripping it tight as he checked her teeth. She looked at him, noting the way he frowned when he pinched her arm, a tiny bit of flesh between her fingers. "Skinny," he grunted, as he looked her up and down- contemplating her fate. "No broken bones. Healthy 'nough." She was waved off to the healthy pile before the next prisoner was hauled up. Clove sighed with relief as she sat down with the living pile, though the rest didn't seem as content. They were crying still, begging with the guards not to harm the others. It was useless, though. Clove knew what was going to happen.
The dawn had already come. Damage was done. Casualties were high. Skipper was taken. Jolin was snatched away. Brook was gone. Gone. Even when he looked at his still parents in their coffins, Rosco had never felt so alone.
"It's all my fault," he said wearily, cupping his head in his paws. "I should've been there to protect them. I should've been with my uncle to stop 'em. I should've fought harder when they burst in."
"Hey Rosco," Melo put a paw on his shoulder. "It's going to be alright. We'll strike a deal. We'll get them back."
"How?" The otter waved his paws in the air, motioning at all the moaning beasts in the crammed Infirmary. "We don't have th'means to create an offensive or anythin' like that."
"One on one battle." The words popped out of the mouth like air. "I'll battle them one on one. Winner take all."
"Melo, get your head out of the clouds," Rosco scolded, slamming a paw against the mattress. "This is not one of those stories. You're still a kid!" The mouse blinked before turning his head and looking to the ground. "This is not one of those problems that's easily fixed, dammit!" Melo didn't know what to say. He'd never seen him this angry. Never snapped at him before.
"I'm going out to the dawn watch," he mumbled before trudging off. "I hope you get better."
Rosco didn't say anything at that. He had other things to think about now.
Why didn't they take him? Why was it that he was strong enough to save himself and only himself? He placed a paw on his side, feeling where the blood seeped into his bandage. If he'd been more careful, that wouldn't have happened and he would've had the strength to at least save her. Brook was right there. She was right in front of him and he let them take her away.
"How are you Rosco?" asked a tired voice. He looked up, the results of long, sleepless nights etched onto Mirril's face.
"Done better," he muttered, hanging his head.
"It's not your fault," she sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Melo keeps telling me how you and Tarka keep beating yourselves over this. That mouse does the same exact thing as you two, but it's truly not your fault. We can't blame ourselves when we know we didn't do anything intentionally. If anything, it's those vermin. No point in torturing ourselves- it isn't healthy."
"Then what should I do?" he asked, hanging his head over the matter.
"Rest up. Get better. You can't help anybeast while in bed."
"And I can't help anybeast when I'm alive and perfectly healthy either."
She put her paw on his. "And one of these days, Rosco, you're going to do something to save them all. You'll see. One of these days we're going to make it through. And when that happens, Jolin and Brook would be there, running to your arms while Skipper tells you how proud he is."
Rosco looked down, smiling sheepishly at the image. "It's funny. Whenever I got into trouble, Jolin would sigh and say 'Now Rosco, what would you ever do without me? You're hopeless," he said in a falsetto imitation. He laughed dryly at the humor, tears glistening in his eyes. "What am I going to do without them?"
Mirril smiled. She would've given more encouragement if somebeast hadn't cleared his throat for attention. "Aherm!" They turned to see Baron, dressed in his full regalia and adjusting his somewhat-soiled neckerchief. "I'm sorry if this doesn't seem to be the right moment, but may I please borrow Miss Mirril for a moment?"
"Well..." she began, folding her paws together. "I'm quite busy at the moment and I have some important matters to discuss with Rosco so..."
"Ah." His back straightened sharply as he tilted his nose upwards, feigning a smile. "I see. Well, then I suppose I should get this over with quickly, must I?" He pulled a single ring out of his pocket, holding it between his thumb and a claw.
"Here you are," he smiled. "As payment for your services as a healer." He touched what was left of his ear, wincing at the memory.
"I'm... sorry," she replied with a half-smile. "I'm flattered, really. But I don't take payments. Here at the abbey, helping others is its own reward." The uppity mouse made a face at that, and though he recovered from that in almost an instant, it was something neither she nor Rosco missed.
"But I assure you, madam, that this ring is pure silver. Yes, it doesn't look like much, but it's far worth more than anything else you've got here. You might as well have it."
Mirril scoffed, scowling at the mercenary before a thought struck her mind. "Mister Baron," she smiled, "how much jewels and wealth do you have in your possession?"
The mouse's eyes shifted nervously between both Redwallers, wondering what to make of this. "I... don't think that I should give you that kind of information, miss. My possession is my own, and it is against all rules of hospitality to-"
She stood up briskly, eyes focused and shoulders squared.
"Now wait just a second!" Baron blocked her path. "You have no right to search my things and take them from me."
"You have no right to stay here without contributing anything," she snapped back. "Now step aside."
"Mirril-" Rosco said, before being cut off by the astounded mouse.
"But this is an abbey!" he sputtered. "The rules-"
"Guards!" she called, sidestepping him. He grabbed her wrist, pulling it upwards as she cried out and struggled.
"You lying little tart," he growled, all civility gone from his tone. "I am kind enough to compensate for your time helping these pathetic, doomed wretches and this is how you act? To try to take everything I've worked my whole life on?"
"No no no," she said quickly, wincing as he squeezed harder at her wrist. "It's not like that at all."
"Hey!" Powerful paws grabbed him by the shoulder and attempted to swing him around. Baron went with the direction, wheeling to the right and pounding the otter with a swift left hook. Rosco let go, tilting his shoulders to land another blow, but the mouse beat him to it with an upward thrust to the chin. The injured beast stumbled backwards, his back colliding with a table before he stabilized himself. Obviously, this mouse was used to brawls and fights. Dressed in those fancy, frilly clothes, it was easy to misjudge.
"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Mirril screamed, grabbing at the mouse's coat in case he decided to charge.
"What's going on here?!" the guards demanded, running into the crowded Infirmary. Instantly, even the injured began to crawl out of their beds, anger and concern written all over their faces. Naturally, Baron hadn't hit it off well with anybeast since his initial appearance.
"Now let's not be rash," Baron warned, putting a paw on the hilt of his rapier. Mirril backed away instantly, staring at him with fear before running to Rosco, who kept a paw pressed over his reopened wound. "I was simply giving Miss Mirril some payment for her care, and without so much as a by-your-leave, she was planning to root through my belongings for more."
"No I wasn't!" she objected, her voice quivering. "It's not for me. It's to save someone. It's to save the others from last night."
"I beg your pardon?!"
"I... I have a plan," she said, pursing her lips.
The maids and children sat in the center of the group while the males watched over them protectively from the outer ring. There was not much protecting they could do, but it felt safer. Only, Jolin would've felt safer if Skipper wasn't separated from them all, beaten senseless and tied to a tree far from their area. The vermin were watchful- especially whenever anybeast tried to shift closer to the otter chieftain. More than once, they cracked a whip on her for trying to talk to him.
"Poor dears," Brook cooed, brushing the fur of the sleeping Dibbuns on her lap. And much to Jolin's annoyance, both the rabbit and squirrel seemed perfectly content. Completely unfair, how they are just fine and the rest of us are miserable. She cast a look to the smaller group huddled close by. And them... how miserable they must feel.
She blinked back the tears, resting her chin on her knees as she contemplated their fate. They would be taken for slaves, wouldn't they? She had heard stories- terrible, terrible stories of the whippings and deprivation- of plagues sweeping across the population, ruthless slaughter... She buried her face in her arms.
"All right, you lot! UP!" The ottermaid looked up as the prisoners shifted obediently. The commanding rat turned around to face the other group, "And you, too! Move yourselves!" And then to Jolin's horror, he strode right up to her unconscious uncle.
"Look at you," he sneered. "Great leader of otters. Hah!" He inhaled deeply, spitting a concoction of phlegm and saliva at the otter's face before turning around. "I want everybeast up to the treeline on the double! There's going to be a show today!" The vermin gave a volley of cheers for that, but all the ottermaid could think about was how much she hated them. How dare they? How dare they make a mockery of her uncle. If he were untied and in normal condition, he could beat all of them one on one- no! Three on one!
Oh Uncle Raller. She wanted to run up to him right now and hug him- tell him that everything was going to be okay and that she was sorry for fighting with him before. It hurt her, to see someone with so much respect and pride become reduced to this. He was the most wretched- most pitiful of them all. It was all her fault. If only she hadn't been caught, maybe he wouldn't be stuck in this mess. And maybe he wouldn't try to challenge them as Skipper. Everything went so wrong.
"Move it!" the rat ordered, kicking a poor otter to the ground. Jolin shuddered as he turned around, pacing to and fro, looking the group up and down with piercing dark eyes. "Now, which one of you is Jolin, eh? Jolin, anybeast?" She stiffened, trying to shrink away. How did they know my name? Why do they want me?! It couldn't have been good news. The 'show' they mentioned and cheered for, it had to be something terribly bloody. And the fact that they wanted everybeast to travel back towards Redwall? It wasn't a good sign either.
But then she remembered the way Skipper called her name before he was singled out. It was so obvious now. They wanted to break him. It was common knowledge that vermin would do this thing- kill a beast's family to mess with him- to see him cry and beg for their lives. And it will all start with me.
She shivered, not knowing what to do.
"Oh? No Jolin?" The rat gave a toothy, yellow grin. "Well, then I guess we're just gonna take one of you at random." He grabbed a young ottermaid, digging his cruel claws into her arm as she cried out. Jolin's eyes widened as she gripped her paws together. She knew she was supposed to raise her paw or step forward, but she just couldn't. Doing so would be her death warrant. No. No. I... I have to. I have to be brave. She bit her lip, slowly dislodging her trembling paws from each other as she willed herself to raise it high.
"Jolin? You sure?" the vermin crowed. "No Jolin?"
"I'm Jolin."
The ottermaid gasped, looking at the mid-raised paw and then back at her captors. Somebeast moved through the group, and Jolin lowered her arm. No.
"You don't have to do this," she whispered urgently, grabbing onto Brook's paw. "Please. It's me they want."
"I have to do this," she said briskly. "Take care of Rosco for me. I love him." She pulled her arm free, leaving her husband's ring in Jolin's paw. No. No. Brook, please. Not you too. Not for me too. Both you and Skipper...
Brook separated herself from the prisoners, looking at the rat straight in the eye. "L-let her go. Please." He grunted smugly, shoving the hostage back to where she came from. "Good. Rope 'er up, boys!"
---
Brook was led in front of the other prisoners, a leash leading from her tethered paws and into the hold of a weasel that seemed overly fond of tripping. She clenched her fists, ignoring the irritating mud that plastered her fur. She only hoped that they would be reaching Redwall soon. At least by then, she would be able to see it one last time. And poor Jolin and the children... they would live such a wretched life as slaves. Yes, perhaps they would be better off ending their lives now instead of prolonging their suffering in chains, but if there was any hope of victory- any hope at all, then they had to keep on living. They had to.
It's the least I can do, Rosco. I'm sorry, but you love your sister. It's my own choice. She's like a little sister to me too.
Skipper stumbled up front, face down in the mud while the vermin laughed and jeered. One even had the gall to run up and tread on him.
"Leave him alone!" she flared. If there's anything good out of being executed, you don't have to worry about risking your life anymore. "Leave him alone, cowards!" She didn't have any time to react before a vermin gripped her head and flung it downwards and onto his raised knee. She gasped as she thudded to the ground, blood pouring out of her nose. Paws approached her and she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Leave her," the rat commanded. "We need her alive, don't we? C'mon. Get 'er up."
She was dragged forwards by her rope, forced to stand or go through the indignity of having her belly drag against the mud. She staggered onwards, staring down her throbbing nose and at the trail of blood that dotted her path.
Time went still as she trudged on. She remembered her loving parents that passed away and how Rosco tried to comfort her, even when she yelled at him and told him he'd never know what it felt like. Well, it was foolish, that. He came to know the feeling eventually, and he didn't even snap when she paid him back with a hug. She would miss seeing him smile and hearing his voice. She would miss holding him and talking to him. She would miss all the beasts she'd ever known.
She looked up, breaking out of her daze to realize that the others had stopped behind her and that she was practically at Redwall's gates. She was there, standing all alone with the vermin that tugged mercilessly at her rope. The place never seemed so big or intimidating.
Brook looked up, relieved to be staring at the confused eyes of the one she loved.
"We made the deal," the weasel announced. "Abbess Linette spoke to Captain Havik over neutral ground. One chest full of treasure for five hostages. You have the loot?"
"That's one ottermaid right there, liar!" Meles growled, gripping the wall as if she intended to break it.
"You get the others once we know you're tellin' the truth," the weasel snarled back. "Now are ye goin' to give up the loot or not?"
A hostage trade?! Oh Jolin... I didn't know. I was going to die for you. I'll get to lie back in a soft bed while you wallow in that misery.
"Fine," replied the abbess, motioning at some others close by. Slowly, a large laundry basket was lowered by rope, a small chest of wedged inside it. The vermin nodded, tugging her along as he opened the chest and inspected their payment. Brook nearly gasped at the sight of all those riches and rubies and gold coins. Just where did Redwall get all this? The chest was brimming full of it.
The weasel placed an experimental paw in their loot, eyes shining as the jewels and gold trickled through his claws like water. But then he frowned. Something was amiss. A cackling growl emanated from his throat as he toppled everything down, all that treasure clinking together as it fell to the ground, revealing worthless, iron silverware below the thin layer of riches.
Everybeast held their breath.
"Thought you could pull a fast one on us, yeah?" The weasel grabbed her shoulder and tugged her backwards so that her back collided with his chest. "No deal."
"Brook!"
Something ripped at her throat and she could feel the slippery blood trickling down her neck. She gasped for air, only to choke on blood as it bubbled up her throat. The ottermaid dropped to the ground, thrashing as she gripped at her throat, staring ahead as an arrowhead sprouted out of the weasel's chest. He fell to the ground right next to her, clinging on for dear life.
Rosco...
"Brook! Brook! NO!"
Rosco... I'm sorry you had to see this. I love you. I would've loved to spend my last breath by your side. She attempted to gulp at air one last time, but the everything was fading to black. At least... I got to see your face... one last time.
"NO! BROOK!" Rosco crumpled to his knees. "Please don't die, Brook. No. NO." She was right there, so close to the gates, and he couldn't stop them. He was too late. He tried. He tried and hoped so hard. He was a coward for not being there at the other side of the gate, for not stopping them when they took her... and she had been so brave, taking Jolin's place. No. This has to be a dream! A nightmare. Not her. Anything but that. Anyone! Why wasn't it me? She was so much stronger than me, so why did she die? He would never see her smile again or hear her laugh. He would never be with her again.
The abbess shouted over the clamor of screams and fury. "You monster! How dare you! How dare you, you blaggards!"
"You went back on your deal," the rat's voice boomed. "It's only fair we went back on ours. So..." he signaled to his army and some hostages were shoved forward, a haggard yet familiar otter bearing the front.
"Now I have a deal. You open the gates right now, we enslave you all, and you'll all still be alive OR, you refuse and we kill 'em. Your choice." Rosco looked up from the floor, clenching his jaws as he furiously brushed the tears out of his eyes. Two groups of prisoners were out in the field, one of them sitting and huddled together on the side while the other was surrounded and outnumbered by a group of happy, armed vermin. Even worse was that they were out of range for the archers.
"I've been waiting to do this since Day One," the rat announced proudly, circling the kneeling lone otter. "Know who this is?" He grabbed the prisoner by the headfur, yanking it up. "No? Your old pal, Skipper o'course!"
A horrified silence followed.
"And who's the new Skipper now, I wonder, eh?" Havik continued. "I want him to make the final call."
"Go jump in a river and boil your empty head, vermin!" Meles shouted, baring her fangs.
"But there has to be a son or brother, hasn't there?" the rat continued, torturing Rosco with every single syllable. "I won't do it until a fellow otter makes the call. Open the doors or let them die. Your choice. So who? Show yourself, Skipper."
Rosco shook his head, clenching his fists as everybeast stared at him.
"No such thing," Linette snapped back, motioning an archer to fire. Even though the arrow embedded itself in the dirt a distance away from the rat, it still made its point.
"C'mon," the vermin jeered, backed by his comrades. "We wanna see what this great woodlander loyalty was all about. Give us an otter to make the call."
"I'm the next Skipper, you bastards," Rosco yelled. "I'll fight you. If it's a duel you want, I'll fight you for every single life you have. Fight me if you have the spine!"
"Not what I'm looking for, otter. What I want is your answer. Open the gates... or kill them. It's your choice. Their blood is in your paws now, Skipper."
Uncle Raller... Rosco glanced at the abbess, wishing for her wisdom, wishing she could tell him she had a plan up her sleeves. There had to be a way to fix this. She would never let them into the abbey; it would spell doom for them all. But she would never let the others be harmed, would she?
But she didn't even look him in the eye. The hare only shook her head and his heart shattered. First Brook and now Skipper... and I'm not even sure Jolin's going to die.
"We refuse," Meles boomed, the regret tainting the heat in her voice.
"What loyalty," Havik cackled, pulling out a cruel blade. "What loyalty, eh boys? The abbey over family. That's where the new Skipper's loyalty lies now."
He yanked Raller's headfur, stretching his neck to make one clean cut. There wasn't a scream. Rosco couldn't hear any gargling like the what he heard from Brook. His uncle hit the floor, convulsing in a pool of his own blood.
---
The first thing Raller was aware of was the pain flaring up in his throat. The next thing he knew, he was coughing on his own blood, gasping for air as his back stretched out on the ground. He stared blankly at the brilliant blue sky, trying his best to drink the air as his lungs cried out in pain. He struggled, mouth agape in a silent scream as confusion took over. Everything was wrong. Screaming, wailing, spurts of red liquid, deep-throated laughter. All these sounds, floating right above his head as his struggles got weaker and weaker, his strength dying with his racing heartbeat.
"Raller." A familiar, willowy voice called out to him. "Raller..." There was a flash of light and suddenly, he was sitting on the riverbank, cooling his footpaws in the sluggish water. He blinked owlishly, turning his head with confusion.
"W-where..." It was his favorite spot, the place he and Aver used to meet each other. She was buried here, and even after her passing he came to visit and talk to her. It carried such fond memories.
"Raller. It's me." He turned his head again, a familiar face materializing out of the air right next to him.
"A-aver?" It'd been so long, and yet she looked exactly as he remembered her. She smiled tiredly and held his paw in hers. Skipper shuddered, suddenly realizing how cold she was. He looked at her, his countenance strewed with questions before she spoke.
"We're dead, Raller." The news dropped to his stomach like a stone.
"Dead?" He reached up to his neck, the memory seeping through.
"I'm taking you with me. We have to go."
"But... what about Jolin... Rosco and Tarka?" he voiced. "They need me."
"Raller, there's nothing we can do for them," she reasoned. "Once you're dead, you're dead."
"No..." he shook his head. "No. They need me. I need to see them through this."
"You'll watch them from the Dark Forest."
"No!" he snapped desperately. "I need to be there so that they know I'm with them. They need to know that I am watching them."
"But you can't."
"WHY not?"
"You just can't," she replied, her grey eyes shining with sympathy. He missed those eyes. "You don't have what Martin has... that thing that Keetch has right now."
"Keetch," Skipper snorted, giving the water a furious kick. "That traitor?"
"He's going to do good in this world... and in the next generation."
"He's evil."
"He's not."
Skipper jerked his footpaws out of the water, scooting back as he stared at her with disbelief. "Aver... how can you say that? Don't y'remember what they did to you? Those vermin... they were horrible. They... I watched from behind the trees..." His vision blurred with tears. He had hidden this pain from everybeast else, but she was here now. She was back with him and she could hold him as he opened up.
"We were young and we were in love. I came to propose to you, right here," he pointed straight down at the ground to make his point. "I came, and I saw your body, stab wound at your belly. You were dead, but they did the most defiling things to it..." He rubbed the tears off his face, not daring to look her in the eye. No. He was too ashamed.
"So sick... And all I could do," he continued, his voice growing heavy with every breath, "was watch. I was so scared. I was all alone and I couldn't- couldn't find the courage to defend your body and avenge you. Bye the time I came back with others, they were gone and you... I could barely recognize your face, Aver."
She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Instead, the ottermaid reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and although cold, the memories flooded in and wrapped him in a warmth that he could barely remember.
"I tried... I tried so hard to find them- to make them pay for what they did." All those vermin he'd passed, the travelers barely got a scream in before he'd gutted them. For the tribes and colonies, he'd shown no mercy either, killing every fighter and burning down the homes, mothers and children still inside- he didn't have to see their faces that way. "I traveled all over Mossflower lookin' for them, but I could never ever find them. I couldn't stop until I found them."
"But you did, Raller, she sniffled, tears falling on his shoulder as he embraced her. "You killed them not long after my death, but you couldn't see it. You couldn't stop. It wasn't just them you were angry about. You were angry with yourself, you hated your mistake and you took it out on others that had nothing to do with it. You were in so much pain and there was no way for me to tell you to stop."
"I... killed them?" The sounds of screaming children flooded his ears, the image of crows feasting on bodies, charred remains of villages, tethering bodies to stones and tossing them into a river. And this whole time, his mad search was accomplished?
"Raller, you have to let your hatred go. The fact that you never talked to anybeast about it once the deed was done shows that some part of you know that it was wrong."
"Most of them deserved it. In fact, they all deserved it."
"You didn't give them a chance."
"How could I, after all the generations of suffering? After seeing what they did to you... I had nightmares about it- still do."
"What you did was out of protection and out of rage, both at the same time, Raller. You can't justify that rage on somebeast else- nor can you kill for no reason. Don't you see? Cubs died- survivors remembered, and now they'll remember you the same way you remembered my killers. You can't fight this way."
"But..." The words struck him like an arrow, and now her tears were twisting the shaft into his heart. "I..." The screamings and wailings echoed in his head, all the soot stifling his breathing, the restlessness in himself every night after a kill. He'd never felt happy about it. Never felt satisfied. Never ever. He'd cried the first time he'd taken a life, but the sensation became numbed. He didn't care anymore. He just killed out of her memory and anger at her death, but after that, there was emptiness- like he'd done nothing.
"I didn't know," he choked out, resting his head on her shoulder. To do all that, and then come home and hug Jolin, play with Rosco, tuck Tarka into bed... what was he doing? What was he pursuing? And all those children he'd killed? Their eyes haunted him now. They didn't deserve to die. They didn't get a chance in life. Each time he killed one, he pictured his family waiting for him back home. She was right. Some part of him knew it was wrong, but he went on with it anyways. He had cut down so many innocent lives.
He said nothing, but the way he clenched his teeth said everything.
"It's alright," she hushed. "It's all over. You're at peace now." She let go of him, standing up and offering a paw. Slowly, their place dissolved to nothingness, leaving them in a dark, blank space with a light up ahead.
"Let's go to the Dark Forest," she said warmly. "Everyone's waiting."
"But... what about the holt? Jolin's with those vermin, Tarka and Rosco are all alone, Brink is out there, Brook is..."
"Dead," she finished. "She died just before you."
Silence.
"But Rosco..." He buried his face in his paws. "Oh no... no. Not him. Not him too. It happened to him too."
"Raller," Aver comforted, placing a gentle paw on his cheek. "You tried your best. You can't do everything. The most you can do now, is to come with me. Come with me and watch he and the others grow into such strong and loving creatures. Watch them have children and live happy lives as they grow old with their friends and family. Listen to them as they speak warmly about your memories. You need to be there for them, whether they know it or not."
He hesitated, slowly reaching his paw forward until it met hers. The light ahead had never looked so bright.
I hope you are all happy at this point. I felt for Skipper so much... but the people have spoken. They wanted him dead. *sigh* And as for those vermin doing the 'most defiling' thing, just use her imagination. If you think the worst you can do to a dead body would be to cut it up, maybe. Draw mustaches with magic marker? Sure. But just remember: If anything terribly disturbing comes across your mind, it's your fault for thinking about it, since I was completely vague. :) (just please don't share your thoughts on the reviews... you'll scar people, I think)
And what is up with me and all these failed marriages in my stories?! This must be a deep psychological thing that's going on within my subconscious. Hm. I'll have to look up on that to make sure that I won't have an emotional/mental break-down if I ever get a proposal... :/
