Chapter 9

Atheria watched the sun rise higher into the sky. She was getting more anxious the longer they waited. They had stayed with Trout's holt for over a week ever since pirates had found their previous camping spot. Trout wisely decided to stay hidden until the vermin left the area. She was relieved some gut instinct told her to pack up every thing and leave no trace for them to follow.

She had to admit, Trout was an excellent strategist. His well-conceived plan to leave Kamwe was a good one. It was risky but if properly executed, the otter calculated they would be out to sea by tomorrow afternoon. She was also puzzled by her dream she had the second night they were with the otters in their home. The handsome mouse in armor sitting on the cliffs was definitely from the Mainland. She had never seen the likes of him on the islands.

"Ocean sunrises take yer breath away, don't they milady?" Trout's rugged voice broke into her thoughts.

"Yes, they are wonderful." She stood up and brushed herself off. "Are we ready?"

"Just about. The boyos are bringin' 'Starfish'. We'd best get back in the cavern and 'old a last council of war and haul the supplies aboard before we 'ead over to the Big Island this evenin'."

Brome stood on the sandy beach, discouraged. Laurel's tracks had led the searchers down to the sea but quickly vanished. They had returned to the spot countless times for nearly a week, but weren't able to find any trace of her. He stared out to sea at the rolling blue waves. It was a beautiful sight.

Too beautiful, he thought gloomily. Even Ballaw, who was a skilled tracker, couldn't pick up Laurel's trail.

As he looked begrudgingly out to sea, something on the horizon caught his eye. Curious, he waded out into the shallows, wondering if he was seeing things.

"'ere maister Brome. Wot um think o'this?" Grumm's rustic voice pulled him away and he quickly forgot about it in concern for his daughter.

"What did you find old friend?" Brome asked him anxiously. Grumm opened his claws and Brome stared at the tiny object. "A bead?"

The mole pointed with his digging claws where the cliffs veered toward the sea. "Pallum an' Ballaw foinded some more."

The hare and the hedgehog were down on all fours, near a big rock.

Brome ran up to them. "What did you find?"

"Some bloomin' beads it looks like." Ballaw held out his paw for Brome to see.

"Too nice lookin' to be from our gel. They almost look like ones Celandine used to sew onto her costumes."

"There's a strange scent coming from this rock too." Pallum reported. "It makes me eyes burn."

Brome groaned. "It's been nearly a week and we're no closer to finding my daughter!" He tossed the bead away and turned back to the sea.

The Noonvalers gazed after their Chieftain sadly as he made his way to the tideline to join Keyla and Rowanoak.

"Poor old chap. I hate to admit it old hog me lad but, our little mousey gel's trail seems to have disappeared into thin air."

Pallum nodded regretfully.

Brome kicked a seashell into the water and watched the waves carry it out to sea. "Just some dress beads, nothing more. If she had been here, she was either taken into the trees or maybe taken by pirates. The trail's gone cold."

When there was no answer from his friends, he looked up questioningly. They were both staring out to sea, looking grim.

"What's wrong?"

Keyla pointed. "There's a ship comin' this way. That black flag looks like it might be corsairs."

Brome, despite his fears for his daughter, waved to his creatures on the beach. "We need to get back to Noonvale. Quickly!"

"What's the matter, ol' chief? Got yer tail in a knot?"

Rowanoak grabbed Ballaw's head and steered it seaward. His ears stood straight with surprise. "Great seasons, old gel! That looks like trouble!"

"Aye." Rowanoak replied sarcastically and followed Brome and the others while Ballaw and Keyla brought up the rear, covering their tracks.

Verang scanned the beaches with his spyglass, trembling with anticipation. Stoneclaw leaned on the side, staring dully at it. He'd seen it before. It didn't impress him.

The stoat had paid him well but the journey to the Mainland was uneventful. The mercenary fox longed for action and a chance to rake his claws into the flesh of helpless victims. But he was apprehensive. The last time he set foot here ended in disaster.

"You haven't disappointed me, Stoneclaw." The Vile One dropped the glass from his eye and crossed his arms. "Noonvale is almost within my grasp."

"Congratulations." The fox replied flatly. "I don't suppose you have a plan brewin' in that head of yours?"

Verang didn't like the lack of respect the fox had shown him. But he knew better than to enforce it. The fox was a deadly, calculated killer.

"Partially, but I want to hear some ideas from you too. After all, you're the expert here and know the lay of the land." Verang replied. A little flattery never hurt, the stoat thought to himself.

Stoneclaw gave him a malicious smile. He was on to Verang's game. The stoat thought he could outsmart him. Well, good. Let him think that.

Trout's ship was beautiful. Atheria stood on the quarterdeck so she could see it all. Otters were everywhere, hauling supplies aboard, checking the sails, swimming around the hull to make sure all was well before they began the perilous voyage. But the warrior maiden was still frustrated with the holt leader.

Trout still wouldn't tell her what else he had planned for later that evening. And it included her. She looked at the sun. It was just barely past noon.

"Don't get yer tail in a twist, yer Majesty." Quincy told her as he walked up the stairs with a bundle of thick woven ropes made from dried kelp.

"I know, Quincy. I'm just worried about Noonvale. Verang is there by now. Its only a week's journey to the Mainland."

Quincy sighed. "I know. We just 'ave t'ope fer the best."

"You're right, my friend." She leaned on the rail. Suddenly remembering her dream, she turned to Quincy.

"You don't happen to know what Martin the Warrior looks like, do you?"

The question caught the otter off guard. "Uh… no, why d'you ask?"

"Just… curious." She decided now was not the time to be talking about her dreams. She felt her face grow warm with embarrassment.

"I was just a kit when he was there. I don't amember too much 'bout 'im." Quincy scratched his head. Then he turned and grinned. "I do recall me old ma Marigold tellin' us she would never fergit his eyes. They were like a grey winter sky reflectin' the sea. Ain't that poetic?"

Atheria smiled. "Funny how eyes are how we remember others."

"Not me ma. I remember 'er always on me dad's rudder 'bout somethin' or other."

"Are you two gonna gossip all day or 'elp us get this ship in order?" Trout stood at the bottom of the stairs, paws akimbo.

"We're comin' you old fishface, keep yer tattoos on." Quincy growled. Atheria couldn't help but smile at the two brothers as they walked away, squabbling.

She followed, thinking about the mouse in her dream. His eyes had been a pale grey. It fit Quincy's description. She was sure that it was Martin she had seen.