The North Mountains

The small fox was wearing a gray woolen cloak that fit him perfectly (given to him by a shrew), and a green tunic to match his eyes. A leather pouch strapped over his shoulder held a few books. Mervo huddled in the cloak, his already-near-white fur specked with snow. His paws sunk a decimeter in the white powder. He huddled right behind his father, who also wore a gray cloak (slightly too small), and just in front of his mother, who was wearing a green cloak she carried with her at all times. Rivertunnel was in front, the brawny otter dressed in a brown cloak that matched his heavy fur.

Erzvin was the one that noticed the shrews and goats climbing the mountain after them. "They're tracking us," he had said. "I'm worried about those goats, they look ready to kill. Though, of course, they always look ready to kill. Hmmm... we're trapped up here, not sure what we'll do if they're after our blood."

Rivertunnel replied, more confident than he felt. "I'll vouch for ye, don't worry."

Still, they picked up their pace, and Mervo tired quicker. It was worse when Rivertunnel announced:

"We're out o' food. Water, too, but I suppose we could eat snow. Suppose that'll make us colder, though... We could go back an' eat one o' those crows ye injured, Erzvin– kidding, kidding. Wonder wot we'll do. I heard o' eagles an' falcons up here, the good type. Maybe we could light a fire on the top o' the mountain, an' one will come an' whisk us away..."

He waved his paw at this, fanning the visible breath he exhaled.

Zeela frowned. "Those goats are moving quickly. Looks like those hooves they have are coming in handy. And all that fur probably keeps them warm.

Rivertunnel looked down. "D'ye reckon we should wait fer 'em? I don't fancy our position."

Erzvin looked down, his eyes widening. "Judging by the look on Arro's face, I don't think so! Run!"

oooooooooooo

Disregarding the shrews, Arro and his goats had began easily scaling the mountain on all fours with their strong hooves, catching on any lift they could get. Standing on rock ledges, they leaped up the rocky face, their axes and Grippers slung over those backs.

"C'mon, me braw laddies! Hawaaaaaaaaaay! Vermin are never to be trusted!"

Urthaxe the goat stood next to him, saying, "I thought I saw a glimpse of the otter. Mebbe–?"

"Either yer no' seein' right or those vermin have him tricked proper. Let's go!"

"I saw an inscription, said an obituary to that mole–"

"Climb!"

oooooooooooo

"Go! Go! I heard them use their battlecry!" called Erzvin, running as fast as he could in the deep snow, Mervo behind him, doing the best he could to keep up.

The four travelers ran through the snow, sending the white powder everywhere, but the goats were quickly gaining on them.

Rivertunnel called, "We're almost at the top! I don't see anything to make a fire... I dunno wot we could do..."

"Just run!" urged Erzvin.

The mountain peak was only ten meters off, but the goats were only fifteen. And even still, they knew little of if they were going to find any thing useful on the peak.

Rivertunnel slipped to the back of the ranks. The foxes look concerned, but the otter gave a quick explanation. "I'd be the firs' they'd reach, an' they won't hurt me. Go on."

Mervo was gasping for breath, hardly being able to run. His father turned, looking concerned, and he quickly and untruthfully said, "I'm... fine."

But as they came close to reaching the peak and the goats came close to reaching them, he collapsed in the snow. Zeela quickly ran and felt his forehead. "Oooh... We need to keep him warm."

Erzvin didn't hesitate; he took off his cloak and covered in the young fox. He slowly began shivering, but didn't complain. Mervo was blinking and shivering, his teeth chattering. Zeela was pulling some herbs from a leather pouch.

"We can't use Ashwagandha– needs some warm water or milk. Here, just a pinch: black pepper. Warming." She pulled a pinch of something dark and put it between Mervo's fangs.

The young fox shivered, and some of his life seemed to return– his face was certainly less pale. "Thank... you, mother." He struggled and eventually got back up, leaning against the rock face, shivering. After a few seconds, Erzvin took his cloak back.

Rivertunnel ran up to them. "The goats! We're not going to make it, the rate they're running..."

Mervo frowned. "My... fault."

Erzvin shook his head. "It's these infernal– Arro!"

The big goat was standing before them, hastily blocked by Rivertunnel. He had his Grippers on, and was holding his battle-axe. "Vermin!" he shouted. "The day fer yer reckoning has cumm!"

Rivertunnel blocked him. "No! They're good!"

Arro growled, and lifted his axe up, preparing to charge. Immediately the otter threw his axe, the shaft locking with Arro's.

The goat growled. "Ye believe 'em? After they killed the mole? If yer no' fer us yer agin' us! C'mon Urthaxe!"

"HOW DARE YOU!" shrieked Zeela, the parental nature she had moments ago when caring for Mervo gone. "BUNGLE GAVE HIS LIFE, AN YOU SAY WE KILLED HIM! YOU SAY WE'RE VILLAINS? LOOK A YOURSELF!"

Arro roared, and swung his axe, Rivertunnel's blade clattering against the wall and the otter was swung to the side. "Call me a villain, fox? Do you?"

He raised his axe, but Rivertunnel had jumped on his back just as Urthaxe arrived, and tried to pull the otter off.

Urthaxe called, "Mebbe we should here 'em out?" He was silenced as Arro turned his head in a glare.

Just then Rivertunnel shouted on top of his lungs. The voice was louder then any could imagine, and stronger. It called, "MACPHEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAARSOOOOOOOOOOOME!"

It was so loud that Urthaxe instinctually dropped the otter as more goats came. Arro gave a yelp of pain and dropped his axe on the snow, his ears were right next to the otter's mouth.

The foxes had covered their ears without realizing. As he lowered his paws, noticing the confused look on Rivertunnel's face, he breathed one word. "Martin."

Arro then growled but did not lift his axe. Instead, he was muttering, "Macphearsome... Macphearsome..."

Then came a piercing screech, followed by another call, though not as loud. "MACPHEEEEEEEEEEEAAAARSOOOOOOOME!"

Then in flew a great, magnificent golden eagle. He cried, "Caw! Ah'm the Wild Prince Alec MacPhearsome, son o' the Wild King Bloodwing MacPhearsome! One has called fer our noble help, and we have come!"

Arro immediately raised his hooves. "Ah'm sorry! Ah didn't know they followed ye! Ah thought they were vermin!"

Landing on the peak, Prince Alec called, "Vermin? Where? Ah see! Foxes, prepare–"

"No!" called Rivertunnel. "We're good! Just... a little misunderstanding."

Alec lifted his beak. "Ah've never heard o' good vermin, otter! Ridiculous!"

Arro then held his Grippers up. "Och, 'tis mah fault. Ah thought as ye did, but the otter vouched fer them, he called ye."

Rivertunnel growled. "Vouchin' didn't convince ye before, ye horned lump. But yes, those vermin are good."

Alec did not convinced. He fluttered down to them. Glaring at the otter, he said, "Wot've ye cumm fer. Ye have no' accent!"

Rivertunnel smiled. "The fox can explain it best. The youngest."

Disbelieving, Alec turned and glared at the frightened Mervo.

"Well, wee laddie, wot have ye to say?"

Stammering, Mervo explained Arbor's scroll, into Kotir and the Abbey's fall, Arbor's ghost and the Flower's of Icetor, Hodbar, Balefur, and the mountain climb.

The golden eagle looked at him, his face unreadable, then at last he said, "Laddie, it looks like yer goin' to the court of the Wild King Bloodwing MacPhearsome!"