Life update: My car died. Here's the next chapter.
There was a chill in the air as she looked up at the stars, the small hole in the top of the large tent restricting her vision to only a small patch of the night sky. She shivered, bringing her legs up closer to her chest, the chain shackled to her ankle dragging in the dirt as she did. She was trying to get to bed much earlier than usual, even opting to miss dinner in favor of sleep, which was what she would normally try not to do. With being a slave, food was a necessity to your survival.
But, as it turns out, she had to get up early tomorrow for a meeting with the leader. The leader of the band of vermin was a rather polite and sophisticated like fox named Falstar, who was almost always up at the crack of dawn, and she wanted to make sure to meet him as he exited his tent. This meeting would change her life as a slave forever, and she sure as hell didn't want to muck it up.
Lylla had grown up in an abbey her entire life. They were some of the best years of her life- the food during the mid-october feast, running through the cool dew covered grass during spring, and most of all swimming around in the pond behind the dormatories.
Now, as she lay here with one ankle shackling her to the confines of a tent, she was starting to regret not stealing a kitchen knife before she had left. She was also starting to miss the comforts of Redwall as she lay in the dirt, but she quickly shoved those thoughts out of her mind. She had lived her entire life in that abbey, and she wanted out after nineteen years of it.
Of course, being capture by a slaver after three days outside the abbey and then being purchased by mercenaries the same day weren't exactly part of the plan.
"Ey otter!" She rolled her eyes as she heard the gruff voice of the fat rat that had been assigned with watching her, who was named Dran. He was a jackass, but thankfully he wasn't too abusive towards her, which usually allowed her to stay relatively unharmed while under his watch. She remained silent and still, hoping that the rat would get the message that she was asleep and leave her alone for the night. Unfortunately she heard a low growl and then a loud holler from the rat. "EY! WAKE UP!"
Pounding a fist into the cold damp dirt she stood up, hollering back,
"What?!" The rat simply sneered at the irate otter, crossing his arms over his chest and staring her down with his own glare. There was a moment of tension between the two, before he jabbed a thumb past his shoulder, stating, "Dinner's ready."
The otter didn't reply, she only gave the rat an annoyed glare before she kicked her right foot out, jingling the chain attached to her ankle. The rat rolled his eyes with a tired snort before ducking into the tent, joining the otter as she crossed her arms and snorted. Kneeling down so that he was eye level with her, he quickly fished the key out a leather satchel he had strapped to his belt.
"Alright." The otter watched as the rat turned the key, an audible click being heard before it fell to the dirt. She rubbed the sore ankle, a sigh of relief coming from her lips, before the rat snapped his fingers to gain her attention. "You know how it is, you run, and we-"
"Yeah, yeah! You'll shoot!" The otter dismissed the rats threat with a wave of her paw as he started to pull a hand crossbow out of its holster, walking out of the tent with an irate, but cocky air about her. The rats hand left the grip of the crossbow, and smirking he exited the tent. As he saw her make her way down the dirt path that sat between the two rows of tents, he called to her coyly,
"A month with us and yer already a cocky little shit eh?" Following the otter as she left the circle of tents that surrounded a large bonfire, the rat spat to the side, before stopping behind the otter as she stood outside the crowd of feasting vermin. Placing his hand on her shoulder he smirked. "I thought all you southerner's were supposed to be a bunch o' cry babies n' cowards! S'pecially you youngin's!"
Not to his surprise the otter flipped him off, before turning back around and disappearing into the crowd, the natural energy and quickness of her species causing the rat to lose sight of her in an instant. He put his hands on his hips and frowned, before muttering to himself,
"Damned woodlanders."
...
Pushing and shoving her way past the mass of taller and stronger vermin, Lylla hoping she'd be able to get to the feast table either before or after a certain flirtatious ferret, whom she was not in the mood to deal with. Shoving through a group of six seemingly identical black ermine, their fur shining with a sleek shimmer in the light of the fire, she was able to see an open path to the feast table.
The feast table was a set of two large, heavy oak tables, with the two ends of them simply put side by side to make one large table. The tables, which were beautifully crafted and polished wooden decorations that originally sat in a squirrel lords throne room, were covered in slashes and dents from years of use. According to what Lylla had been told they had been "given" to them by the squirrel king as payment for their services. On the table sat five roast wood pigeons, all cooked to a beautiful golden brown color, that shimmered with the grease and were speckled with seasonings. Just looking at it made the otter's mouth water as she got closer, but her eyes were quickly torn from the beautiful sight when two foxes suddenly stepped out in front of her.
"What's this Gregar?" One fox, slightly taller and stronger looking than the second, asked as he looked down at her. The other fox, who had a chip in his left ear, scoffed before saying,
"I dunno Jeffa, but it looks like a slave who thinks she's fit tah eat with us!" The two of them crossed their arms before grinning simultaneously at her.
She grinned back, before frowning as she snapped,
"Will you two idiots frick off so I can eat?" The two of them shook their heads before Jeffa suddenly right hooked her in the gut. Gasping as the hit knocked the air from her lungs, she fell to her knees, tears welling up in her eyes before a spasm of coughs erupted from her. Laughing Grega grabbed her by the head with one hand. Lifting her up so she was eye level with him, he sneered,
"Jus' makin' sure you know yer place s' all!" The fox pulled her close to his chest before tossing her to the side, and Lylla found herself face planting into the stomach of Dran before falling down at his bare feet. Dran, who had been trying to find her since she had sped off to the feast table, looked down at her and sighed in disappointment.
"Lylla yer' a dumbass." Lylla had started to get her coughing to calm down when the large strong hand of Dran extended down to help her. The large rat had to bend down as he lifted her back onto her feet, and as he brushed off the dust from the stained green cloak she wore he shook his head. "Ya can't go snappin' at everyone in the camp, I thought you would ave' learned this by now!"
The otter simply coughed in reply, sucking in a large gulp of air as she recovered, and Dran patted her on the back, before he heard a scoff from one of the two foxes.
"Dran when er' you gonna learn?" The rat narrowed his eyes at Gregar as he sneered, "That cocky little snipe is nothing but a waste of our food!"
The rat watched the two foxes as they bumped fists before turning their backs to them, and looking down he saw Lylla make a move to retaliate. He quickly gripped her shoulder, holding her back as she snarled,
"Fuckin' ASSHOLES!" She swung her fists in the air in vain as the two foxes looked back at her and laughed, before they disappeared back into the crowd of vermin. Dran knelt down as her eyes began to get glassy with tears, and still gripping her shoulder said,
"How many times do I have to tell you, you're a slave, and that's all yer ever be to them!"
"Yeah and I thought I made it clear when we first met." The otter wiped a tear that had escaped her eyes, before she shoved the rats hand away from her. "I wasn't going to let anyone walk all over me, even if I am a slave!"
He watched the otter as she trudged on to the feast table, and sighing again he couldn't help but smile at her. It took only a month but Dran could see she had adapted quickly to this life, and that meant she had a strong will. If she wasn't otter he'd gladly call her his daughter, but, what was he to do? She was an otter from Redwall and he was nothing but a lowly rat mercenary!
Shrugging the rat walked off towards a bench that sat near the bonfire, the thought of Lylla being his daughter shoved back in favor of more pressing matters. Like what kind of grogg he wanted to drink tonight. Yeah, that was way more pressing, he thought in to himself in a vain.
...
Lylla gripped the dull and dented grey plate, the fork she shoved into the back pocket of her baggy shorts, licking her lips in anticipation as she hurried up to the feast table. The glorious and shimmering roasted pigeon sitting before her seemed to beckon to her nose with its tentalizing aroma, so much so she could have sworn her feet were levitating. This was all it took these days to lift her spirits.
But then, he showed up.
He was a slender ferret, who stood only a foot taller than her, with brown fur covering an area around his eyes and his hands. She wasn't sure about his feet, because he always wore large boots with his long green pants tucked into them. The ferret gave her a warm smile as he leaned back against the table, tugging at his vest in a suave manner as he cooed,
"Why hello my beautiful otter!" Her smile of giddy anticipation completely shattered, the otter stared at him with bored expression across her face as he continued to flirt in a sickeningly soft voice. "How is my sleek and shining goddess doing on such a star filled night?"
She watched his eyebrows bounce up and down. Wow she felt like gagging. The ferret, named Filtch, was a flirtatious vermin whom she had met a week after she had been purchased by the band of mercenaries. It was when she was still new, so her life was a lot worse from what it was currently.
Back then she was constantly tossed around from owner to owner, with the leader of the band having purchased her as a servant for them all, and most of them weren't too fond of otters. The majority of the ones she'd work for would more often than not give her a long and drawn out explanation of why her species were so hated- most of them she was sure were exaggerated, because they tended to get dark pretty quickly. Like they were trying to scare her into submission or something. Back then her head was still filled with the fairy tail, happy-go-lucky stories from redwall, where her along with the other dibbuns were spared most of the gritty details.
And to tell you the truth, she didn't mind being a slave all the much to these rough vermin. Most of the stories redwall told were of vermin always being either murderous blood thirsty scum bags or of horrible and cruel slavers- they never really told too much about the ones who sat in between those lines. These were mercenaries, who worked for money and worked an honest living on it. Lylla could respect that...
It just so happened that at least half of the band were usually on the receiving end of an otter's javelin in their earlier years.
So her usual tasks around the camp were either washing clothes, picking up after a feast, delivering drinks and food to tents, and the occassional boot shining for the leader. In those days she would regularly get abused by certain beasts who wished to take out their anger and frustration on her species, but now she actually thanked them. It was what made her stronger. Sure she cried and wished to be saved by some noble warrior from her imagination, but she knew deep down that wouldn't happen.
Filtch had approached her right after she had been tripped with a freshly polished pair of boots for Falstar, and had fallen face first into a mud puddle. He had helped her back onto her feet, asking,
"Oh my poor otter, are you well?" She had been, at first, taken back by the kind voice. It wasn't that she was abused by everyone, no, there were a few gentle vermin like Dran she had worked for. But it was the way he worded his sentences that caught her ear. It almost reminded her of a hare or a mouse from Redwall.
She had nodded, said it was nothing, and was on her way back to where she had gotten the boot polish. Little did she know that that was the start of the month long pilgrimage of the ferrets attempts to woo her.
Now Lylla was wishing for one of the vermin to drive a dagger through the top of her skull as the ferret sat next to her. Like, any moment just stop behind her as their passing by and just DO IT. Because now the ferret presented her with a shining quartz rock, his eyes sleepily staring at her as he said,
"I found this quartz, just for you..." She quickly got up from her seat and hurriedly walked to the other side of the bonfire, finding a seat in between two huge stoats, having to squeeze in between the two to sit down. She muttered a quick apology as the two of them looked down at her, watching as she wiggled her hips from side to side to squeeze in, the two of them puzzled as to why she'd sit in such a spot.
"S-sorry. It's Filtch." They both made a "oh" face as they understood her predicament. It wasn't a secret that Filtch had a thing for otters. The two scootched over to the sides to give her more space, making it so they only sat half way on the bench, and smiling great-fully she thanked them. "Thanks guys."
The two nodded before continuing with their meal, and as Lylla looked down at her food she saw the white belly of Filtch behind her plate. She groaned as the ferret extended the quartz towards her, and she reluctantly took it.
"Fine. I'll take your stupid rock." He gave her a broad smile before he said,
"Anything for you, my love." Now Lylla was certain she was going to puke all over her wood pigeon.
And here we have chapter 3, and to be honest I was going to make Lylla's slave life a living hell as it's usually described in the original books- with the vermin being abusive assholes and having no redeemable qualities- but for this I thought I'd switch it up.
Anyways, please read and review!