Part Six
MIDNIGHT
Chapter I
Blackstrike gently stoked the campfire as she fought to keep warm. The day had come and gone with still no sign of Ghost or Amethyst. The two had patiently waited for any news from either. So far, their waiting seemed to be in vain, and as night drew on, and the with the moon now hanging directly overhead, they quickly lost all hopes of hearing from Ghost until tomorrow.
"I still think he's got himself caught by those killers."
Blackstrike glared at the hare. "Quit bein' so pessimistic, Arkain. Thoughts like that are th' last thing I want t' hear right now. I think Ghost's fine and he'll be back tomorrow."
Arkain shook his head and stretched out on the ground. "Well, I'll let y' be as hopeful as y' like. Just tell me one thing."
"Yes?"
"Who gets first watch t'night?"
Blackstrike chuckled and shrugged. "Well, seein' how yore already down for th' night, I guess I'll take it."
"Clever gel. Have fun, I'm gonna catch up on a little sleep." Arkain gave her a lopsided grin as he closed his eyes. He was soon dozing quietly beside the fire.
Blackstrike shook her head at the sight and wondered how she would entertain herself for the entire duration of her watch. Not thinking of any ideas, she idly stoked the fire and leaned back against a tree to watch it burn. She was suddenly struck with an intense weariness, and felt her eyes droop. She shook herself back to wakefulness and stared at the fire once more. Something was different about it, but she could not tell what it was. Had she caught herself earlier, she would have realised she was dreaming, and that she had fallen asleep by the fire.
Solace yawned and leaned heavily against a staff she had made from a fallen tree branch. Mantis had been leading them all day, and the forest seemed to be never-ending. Now, still out of sight of the gates of Loamhedge, it seemed as though they would never find the abbey.
"How much further?" Solace yawned again and tried to shake the sleep away before it claimed her.
Mantis shook his head and looked back. "Not far. I'm positive it is just nearby here."
Montel leaned his axe against a tree and stretched. "Well, I'm tired. I'm not sure I'll make it if we go any further."
Lady Flynt, too tired for words, just nodded and yawned.
Solace saw her and chuckled. "She took th' words right out o' m'mouth." She rubbed her weary eyelids and sniffed. A scent caught her nose and she sniffed again. "Anyone else catch wind o' this?"
Mantis frowned and smelled the air. "Fire. I know that smell."
Montel raised his axe. "Where's it coming from?"
Solace pointed. "Over there, I think. Should we check it out?"
"Always worth a try, besides, we're far away enough from my horde that I don't think it's them." Mantis unsheathed a dagger and took a step forward. "All the same, I'll check it out and let you know if it's safe."
Mantis stepped forward, dagger held ready in case he ran into some scouts from Bloodslayers. The fire was near, but there was no sign of anybeast in the vicinity. Confidant, yet still cautious, Mantis pushed into the clearing.
Curled up beside the fire, fast asleep, was an all black hare. Leaning against a nearby tree was the otter who he quickly recognised as Blackstrike. The camp looked safe, but there was something nagging him in the back of his mind. Without moving, he scanned the surrounding trees and shadows. Something flashed and caught his eye before it vanished into the darkness. Mantis quickly darted across the clearing and looked for any signs that someone had been there, but found only empty space. Whatever had been there was gone.
Silently, he crept back towards the rest of his group and called them, still keeping an eye on the sleeping camp. His shout roused the hare, who sat bolt upright upon spotting the assassin, and let out a loud cry. Blackstrike, alerted by the hare's cry, jumped to her feet and looked around for the eminent danger. Upon spotting Mantis, with his dagger drawn, she growled and reached for her own dagger.
"Stand down, don't attack, he's with us!" Montel charged through the trees and placed himself between Mantis and the two others. "He's a friend."
"Easy to say if ya don't know 'im." Blackstrike took a step forward. "Do they know who y' are, Mantis?"
"Y'mean that he's a bally assassin?" Solace jumped into the clearing. "He told us, all about Scarstripe an' th' rest o 'th' horde an' such."
Lady Flynt was the last to arrive, dragging her bow behind her, too tired to carry it. "Hello all. Can we spend the night here?" She looked at Mantis, then at Blackstrike, who both had their weapons drawn. "Did I miss somethin'?"
Solace chuckled. "No, not much, find a spot t' sleep. We'll tell y'all 'bout it in th' mornin'."
Lady Flynt nodded and trudged past everyone. Finding a spot near the fire, she curled up and was soon asleep.
Arkain nodded to the sleeping squirrel. "Well, guess we ought t' keep things down. Don't want t' wake 'er."
Solace looked at the black hare. "Hullo. I didn't see y'there. M'name's Solace, from Eagle Watch."
Blackstrike straightened up and sheathed her dagger. "Eagle Watch?" She shot a glance at Arkain. "Wait'll Ghost gets back, he'd probably like t' see ye all again."
Montel grinned. "You know Ghost?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Small world. What's he doing out and about lately?"
Arkain sighed. "One o' our abbey members was captured. He's gone off t' scout th' slaver's camp." He shook his head. "We haven't seen hide nor hair o' him since this mornin'."
Mantis frowned. "I wonder why we didn't pass him, if we were both going opposite ways. I could have told him easily about your friend. Scarstripe had her take Blackstrike's place as his own personal servant."
Blackstrike groaned and sat down by the fire. "How're we going t' get her out o' there?"
Montel crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby tree. "Well, did Ghost say he was coming back?"
Arkain nodded. "He said he was gonna try t' get back by nightfall, but..." he gestured to the camp. "He's not back yet."
Solace shrugged and bounded up to the fire, glad to have a source of heat for the first time since what seemed like an eternity ago. "Well, Ghost's a fellow who's got a good head on his neck. He'll be back, an' with a plan too."
Montel nodded. "Well, I'm going to sleep. Let me know if anything happens, I'll probably sleep through it." He sat back against the tree he had been leaning on and was soon fast asleep.
Blackstrike yawned. "Wow, guess I dozed off. Arkain, do ye want me t' keep on th' watch?"
Arkain shook his head. "Nah, I'll take it."
Mantis glanced around the camp. His presence had been forgotten in the excitement that had risen. He liked it that way, it gave him the feeling of standing alone, which he had grown accustomed to as a result of his trade. Now, however, he was a part of this particular group, and isolating himself from it would not be the wisest course of action. He stepped forward.
"Blackstrike, I thought I saw something in the camp when I arrived, but when I went to check it out, it was gone. By your leave I would like to scout the area."
Blackstrike stared at the assassin, not sure whether or not to trust him. "Alright," she said, reluctantly. "Scout the area. Report back t' Arkain."
Mantis bowed and left. Blackstrike stared after him as sleep started to take hold of her once more. Without warning, she was soon dozing along with the others, leaving Solace and Arkain as the only two awake to watch the camp. Solace gazed into the fire, faintly aware that Arkain was watching her.
"Y' never fully introduced y'self t' me." She idly tossed a dried leaf into the fire.
Arkain chuckled. "Forgive me, m'name's Arkain, from Loamhedge away yonder."
Solace looked over at him, smiling. "Nice t' meet y', Arkain."
"An' a pleasure t' meet y' as well, Solace." He sat down by the fire. "Care t' share th' watch?"
"For as long as I can. I might doze off, halfway through it, though."
The two shared a smile as the camp fell under the spell of silence.
Chapter II
Trent stood under a tree, hidden by the dark cloak he wore, which blended in with the night's shadows. Though he could not see them, the rest of the Foxtribe was patiently waiting for his order. With a suddenness that had caught Trent off guard, Scarstripe ordered a morning advance on Loamhedge, forcing operation Torch to run tonight, or never.
"Blythe, are you ready?"
"Always." Came the whispered reply.
"Remember, ring around the cart, save two barrels.' Trent adjusted the cloak he was wearing and stepped towards the cart laden with the firebombs. He reached out and stroked one of the large clay jars. "We're going to have a party tonight." He raised a paw and gave the rest of Foxtribe a wave. Torch was now underway.
From the dark shadows of the wood, the entire tribe appeared and moved toward the cart. Four set about removing the two jars that were to be set aside, while others discussed in silence the plan that would make Torch an event to remember. Trent, Khale, and two other young foxes gathered by the gap that had been left by the two removed jars. Trent placed a paw on the old fox's shoulder.
"Khale, are you ready?"
Khale grinned. "Of course. You just keep to your side of it, and everything will be fine. I was outsmarting vermin and woodlanders long before you even saw light of day." He patted a thin, long bladed dagger that was sheathed at his side. "I enjoy seeing if my wits are what they used to be."
Khale climbed up into the wagon and shuffled two jars from the centre of the wagon out to the edge, filling the empty space and giving the illusion that the wagon was still full. With a wave to his comrades, he ducked out of view, and a tarp was thrown over the jars. A swift wave to the rest of Foxtribe saw them vanish without a trace. Trent nodded to the two foxes at his side, and they started leading the wagon towards the store tent where the rest of the barrels were kept. The wagon rattled and bounced along until a curious weasel stopped them.
"Where're ye goin' whi'this?"
Trent stepped forward. "Orders from Scarstripe. Since we are moving out tomorrow to attack Loamhedge, he wanted the war wagon fully loaded and ready."
The weasel recognised Trent and his authority, but was still suspicious about the wagon. "Why's th' wagon covered? Ye hidin' summthin'?"
Trent grinned slyly. "You're a smart one. The wagon is covered to hide the firebombs. We wouldn't want the mice at Loamhedge to see our strongest weapon before it is used. They might think of a way to defend against it."
The weasel drew up a side of the heavy canvas and nodded, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied that everything was fine, he grinned at the foxes. "Ahright. Can't be too careful, y'know. Spies ev'rywhere."
"You are doing a superb job. Keep it up. Scarstripe will hear of your dedication from me." He motioned his foxes and the wagon onward, giving the weasel a brisk salute. "Carry on as you were, soldier."
The weasel saluted back, beaming with pride.
Once the wagon was safely inside the tent, and they were out of view, the four foxes shared in a light laugh.
"You should have promoted him on the spot, Trent." Khale pulled the canvas back and stood, leaning on the barrels. "It would have made his day."
Trent chuckled and winked at him. "Some day, Cyclops, I might think like you, and then I will be complete. Is everything in order?"
A thin, cruel grin formed on Khale's features, and he nodded slowly. "I'll start the party, you can keep it going once I am clear."
"Good luck, comrade." Trent nodded to the other two. "Lets go get ready. Come on."
Khale watched them leave the tent before he jumped out of the wagon. One by one, all of the jars in the tent had holes drilled into them by his dagger, their contents left to soak into the dirt ground. One jar, Khale left unmarred, and worked at spreading the oil along the base of the tent. Once everything was in place and to his liking, he stepped out of the tent and waved down a nearby weasel.
"Ho there, lad. Care to give me a hand?"
"What ye need?" The weasel ambled over, gripping a spear tightly in one paw. "An' where're th' other two?"
"They left to fetch something. I need a hand, lad. My old eye is playing a few tricks on me, and telling me that somebeast is moving about in the tent. Mind bringing a torch and giving me a light?"
The weasel hesitantly walked over to a watchfire and prepared a torch. "I don't remember seein' ye wi'th' others."
Khale chuckled. "Well, you know us foxes, we all look the same. That light ready yet?"
"Jus' a moment." The weasel held the torch aloft. "Why ye be wantin' fire in there anyway? Ye know that's full o' those firebombs."
"I'll take my chances. Come on now, bring that torch and help me look."
The weasel shook his head, annoyed, but stepped through the flaps and into the tent. Khale closed his eyes as a black arrow breezed past him. There was a soft cry from inside the tent as the weasel was struck in the back, and the torch fell to the oil dampened ground.
Khale's artful skill at lining the tent with oil worked like a charm. The flames spread to the oil soaked base, forming a wall of fire that would hamper any efforts to enter the tent. Before long, the tent was a raging bonfire in the middle of the camp. Without a word, Khale slipped away from the scene, heading for the outlying forest and his fellow comrades in Foxtribe.
Scarstripe hissed softly as he heard the commotion outside his tent. Something had happened, he could tell. Something so devastating that his own troops feared informing him. He pushed himself out of his chair and crossed to the flaps of his tent, passing the mousemaid who was sleeping, curled up in one corner of the tent. With a growl, he violently tore back the tent flap, and his eyes immediately locked onto the towering inferno in the centre of his camp. His eyes narrowed until they were only dark slits, and he ran his tongue over his teeth.
"Trent, this means war."
Letting the flap fall back into place, he stormed to his desk and shoved the maps and charts of Loamhedge aside. He had a new enemy, and nothing was going to keep him from striking back. The Bloodslayers could practise their swordplay on the Foxtribe, and bolster their moral with a victory. Loamhedge could wait. After all, the abbey was not in any danger of leaving.
Chapter III
Ghost awoke to the dawn, the morning sun filtering down through the trees to strike the small camp. Myriad was already awake and stirring the ashes of the burnt out campfire. When she heard him, she nodded.
"Good mornin'. Sleep well?"
Ghost grumbled as he sat up. "I was supposed to be back at my camp last night."
"Well, look at th' bright side: we know where yer mouse friend is."
Ghost fell back to the ground, exhausted from the long hike. The trip to the Bloodslayer's campsite had been longer than anticipated, and the overnight stop had become required when both of them were too tired to move on.
"Well, I just hope Blackstrike and Arkain don't wander off to look for me."
Myriad stopped stirring the dead ashes and walked over to Ghost. "Come on, now. Quit lyin' about an' get up. We'll be back by noon time." She offered a paw to pull him to his feet.
Ghost accepted the offered paw and was soon standing unsteadily on his feet. "Alright, lets go. I'm anxious to get back." He glanced over his shoulder.
"She'll be alright, Ghost. Scarstripe's not too keen on losin' his help." Myriad motioned him to move on. "We've got places t' be, lets get goin'."
Ghost nodded, though her comment did nothing to assuage the fears and worry he had for Amethyst's condition. He led on in silence, not fully paying attention to his surroundings. He was not aware of his state of mind until Myriad cleared her throat and caught his attention. He was immediately pulled from his distracted state.
"Are ye even watchin' where yer goin'?"
Ghost nodded, glancing about to make sure he had not missed something. "Of course. Why?"
"Because, lest m'nose is mistakin' me, there's fire off that way." She pointed towards the unmistakable scent of burning wood.
"Oh." Ghost stared absently in the direction of the smell. "Well, I was preoccupied. Sorry. Thanks for letting me know."
Myriad gave him a smug smile. "Well, least I could do. Beats wanderin' aimlessly through th' forest."
"For once, I couldn't agree with you more." He pushed through the branches and bush and started for the fire. "Come on, then. Maybe we went further last night than we're giving ourselves credit for."
"Why do ye think they like ferrets as scouts?" Myriad chuckled and followed him. "I knew one that claimed he could scout all o' Mossflower inside a week."
Ghost rolled his eyes. "I'd like to meet him."
"Good luck. He vanished durin' a scoutin' mission." Myriad laughed and jogged up alongside him. "Tell me 'bout th' abbey. Is it all that nice?"
Ghost thought for a moment. "For the most part, yes. I never got used to it, though. The beasts are nice, and are focused on the wellbeing of others. It was just hard for me to adjust, coming out of losing my friends and all."
Myriad grinned. "Well, y've got me t' keep ye company, now, if that's any consolation."
"I'm sure it is." He returned her grin.
"Well, ye don't know me, then." Myriad chuckled and threw her arm around his shoulders. "F'ever."
The grin suddenly faded from Ghost's face and his mood turned cold. He stopped walking and stared forward at the ground. Myriad suddenly withdrew her arm; afraid she had done something wrong.
"Sorry, somethin' I did?"
Ghost shook his head. "No."
Myriad thought he was going to say something more, but he remained silent. In the span of a few moments, he had gone from grinning at a joke, to silent and almost hostile. Her mood shifted with his, and she distanced herself slightly from the withdrawn ferret. They moved on towards the fire in silence.
Lady Flynt yawned as she stoked the fire back to life, all the while complaining to an unsympathetic Montel about lack of sleep. The badger listened, half interested in what she had to say, and more focused on the day at hand.
"I'd bet I only slept four hours last night, not nearly 'nough after that long hike."
Montel nodded. "I wonder where Mantis went. He's not back yet." He shook his head. "No sense worrying about him, I'm guessing he can take care of himself."
"An' just look at these bags under m'eyes! I could store a day's worth of water in them."
"How far do you reckon it to Loamhedge from here?"
Lady Flynt shoved him. "Are you even listenin' t' me? Cold-hearted brute." She yawned and stuck her tongue out at him.
Montel acted as though he had not noticed, and fought back a grin. "Maybe we should wake the others. It's about time for breakfast."
"You're incorrigible."
"So I am, but at least I can get by on four hours of sleep." He grinned and stood up. "Come on, everybody, time to greet the new day."
His call roused the rest of the camp, and amidst the morning yawns plans were discussed for breakfast. A heated debate took place between Solace and Arkain, Solace wanting apple oatcakes and Arkain insisting on red currant scones. The argument was put to rest by Blackstrike, who claimed both were worth making. Satisfied, both hares grinned at each other and sat back, waiting for breakfast to be served. Montel and Lady Flynt rolled their eyes while Blackstrike set about heating the fire.
"Blackstrike, how far is it to Loamhedge from here?"
Blackstrike answered Montel without looking up from her task. "Not far. Ye could make it inside of a day."
"Here's a question," Solace started. "How long till Ghost shows up?"
"Can't answer that'ne, I'm afraid. Th' chap runs on his own time. He never told us when he'd get back." Arkain nudged Solace only to receive a shove back. "Y' can't treat a fellow hare like that!" He shoved her back.
"I'll do whatever I well please t', y' snivelin' scone scoffer." She shoved him back, sending him sprawling on the ground.
Amidst the laughter of the rest of the group, Arkain jumped to his feet and tackled Solace. The two wrestled until Solace had the black hare pinned on the ground. She grinned and laughed.
"Ha! Bet y' didn't know who y' were messin' with."
"Yes, Arkain. Seems you underestimated our Long Patrol hare."
All eyes turned, stunned into silence by the new voice. Solace, Montel, and Lady Flynt were too shocked to move. Ghost stood on the edge of the camp, leaning against a tree with an amused look on his face. With him were Mantis and Myriad. Mantis stepped forward to make the almost unneeded introductions.
"I found these two wandering towards our camp. Everyone here knows Ghost, it seems, and on my right is Myriad." He looked back at the two ferrets. "Seems we arrived in time for the party."
Blackstrike raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And just what party would that be?"
Ghost, still leaning against the tree, grinned at the remaining members of Eagle Watch. "A reunion. Come, let's get back to Loamhedge, there are a few things I need to discuss with everyone."
Chapter IV
Darkbane almost panicked at the scene before him. Unease had set in when he could find no trace of Myriad or Ghost the morning before, and apprehension gripped him upon the arrival of Mantis and the others. Now, with Ghost and Myriad reappearing, together, he was behind on his job of watching the two ferrets. In the time that had passed, any amount of information could have been exchanged between them, and if anything vital was shared, Darkbane's head was on the executioner's block.
Out of all of the arrivals, it was Mantis' that frightened him the most. The assassin was never a part of the plan that Trent had so carefully laid out, and Scarstripe had never informed him that Mantis would even be in the area. A vague suspicion came over him, and he wondered if Scarstripe and Trent had sent Mantis in as backup. The thought made him growl to himself.
"Mantis, by th' end o' this assignment, only one o' us is returnin' back t' Scarstripe alive. Mark m' words."
Darkbane adjusted his black robe and watched the group strike the camp. He would, of course, follow them as far as he could, but he would need to exercise extreme caution. Two of the beasts were highly skilled assassins, and, assuming neither knew of his presence, both would be wise to his actions if they caught wind of him. It was a high risk he would have to take if he wished to gain favour with his commander; a risk he accepted without question.
Scarstripe sat in his chair at his chart table, glaring at his captains who were gathered inside his tent. The air was thick with tension, and stuffy from numbers, as the tent was holding more than it had been meant to accommodate. Only one captain was missing, Trent; his presence was no longer desired by the weasel commander.
Huddled in a far corner, out of the way and unnoticed by the rest, was Amethyst. She busied herself with nothing, trying to appear inconspicuous, lest she attract the unwanted attention of the easily angered Scarstripe. The night before, she had narrowly averted a beating simply because of his rage at Trent's betrayal. With a quick and cautious mind, she talked him down until his mind was no longer blinded by his rage. He wasted no time in hatching a plan, and even gave her a rough outline of what he planned on doing.
"I trust you all know about the Foxtribe's sudden and unwarranted betrayal, so I will spare you the details. What I will inform you of is a sudden change in our plans. Foxtribe is now our enemy, and while they share the woods, we cannot think of controlling them from our future stronghold. We are now at war with the villainous scum; a war that can only be won by the complete, immediate, and utter annihilation of the Foxtribe and its traitorous leader. That fox thought he could win one over on me, but he never had the misfortune of dealing with me before now. My orders are simple for now and they are to kill any fox on sight, no exceptions will be made. A group of our finest will be put together to hunt the tribe down and kill all save their leader, who I want brought before me to be dealt with. Captains and comrades in arms, I want you to select the group. Two score of the best hunters we have. Is that understood?"
There was a chorus of nods and the captains were dismissed. Scarstripe smiled from his seat at Amethyst.
"What think you about this sudden, new development, mousemaid?"
Amethyst eyed him coldly. "The sooner you die, the better."
Scarstripe stared at her, a pensive look on his face. Oddly enough, he did not turn on her in anger. Instead, he stood and walked over to her. Giving her a deceptively warm smile and pat on the head, he chuckled. "You will soon learn to respect me, and you might even find yourself liking me."
"Blackstrike never did," she retorted.
"Ah, but Blackstrike will die, and soon." He grinned coldly at her.
Amethyst stared at him in disbelief. Had she not been consciously aware of her chains, she would have struck out at him. Knowing that such an attempt was futile, however, she bowed her head submissively. "Of course, sire."
"That's better. See you are already getting used to it. Keep it up."
Scarstripe chuckled and walked back to the chart table, where he busied himself with a large map of the surrounding area. The map was inaccurate, but it showed enough of the primary details to be reliable. He drew a dagger and pinned the map to the table, driving the blade where Loamhedge was marked on the map.
"Rest easy, mousemaid. If all goes as planned, you will be sleeping in your old home, and my new stronghold."
Chapter V
Trent was enjoying himself, and basking in both the morning sun and Foxtribe's recent victory. All around him, his comrades were gathered and shouting jovially about the daring, almost heroic efforts put forth by Khale. The older fox just nodded, winked his one eye, and insisted that it was nothing more than seasons of experience in the field. This only caused another round of cheers and jokes.
Trent sat back and let the rest carry on. He was content to watch and plan their next move. He had no doubts that Scarstripe would now wage war on his Tribe, and if they were not careful, trouble would catch them napping. The Bloodslayers were skilled and deadly, and their command was anything but trivial. Nonetheless, Trent still held true to his old saying. No one could outfox a fox, and the game was in his favour in more than one way. Ever since Scarstripe had allowed him to give a few commands, he had exercised his own plans and cunning strategies. Ghost, who had slipped the Foxtribe's blades a while back, was now in the process of being eliminated, and after dealing a devastating blow to the Bloodslayers, Foxtribe was ready to pick off the horde at will.
Trent glanced at the two firebombs he had stolen during operation Torch. In spite of his unwillingness to use fire, he realised the potential of the two jars, and intended to use them to their fullest. Plans had already crossed his mind, and now he just needed to sort them out and chose the best.
"Trent, come on and join in!"
The invitation had pulled Trent from his train of thought. With a shrug, he jumped up and walked towards the group. "Alright, what's on for entertainment?"
"It was my choice, lad." Khale smiled mischievously at his commander. "I chose you."
Trent laughed and shook his head. "Well, you'd best cover your ears then. I'm not much for entertaining."
"Sure you are, lad," Khale said. "I've known you since you were a little whelp. I know what you can and can't do."
He leaned over and whispered something into Trent's ear. The younger fox stood up straight and glared at Khale after hearing what it was. He shook his head resolutely.
"I'm not going to do that."
"Why not?" Khale shoved him, challenging him to fulfil the request. "I'll bet you're too much of a coward to."
Trent hung his head and grumbled something to himself. "Alright," he said at last. "I've got a little something, and since it was our dear fiend, Khale, who requested it, I'll do it."
There was a round of murmuring and chuckles as Trent drew his rapier and leaned against it, digging its tip into the ground for support. He hesitated momentarily and took in a deep breath before starting his song.
"Ne'er afore as I ever seen,
Foxes th' likes o' this afore.
All o' them wi'th' red coats sheen,
An' eyes like th' clouds in a deadly storm."
This was said by a corsair rat,
Who chanced to tangle with the lively crew,
Of the Foxtribe that roams o'er hill and flat,
Feared by squirrel, weasel, stoat and shrew.
"They wandered by night, an' travelled by day,
Till our unfortunate camp they found.
Now we're without our dear ol' leader,
An' th' entire crew's livin' underground."
There was roaring laughter as Trent bowed, his song complete. One of the younger foxes came in dressed as a corsair and, in a melodramatic fashion, challenged Trent to a duel with a fallen branch as his weapon. Trent accepted, raising his rapier to his brow in salute. The two sparred until the branch had broken, and Trent had the fox pinned to the ground. The tribe cheered him on, and he drove the rapier through the ground near the fox's stomach. The fox made a show of over exaggerated death throes as Trent bowed to the loud cheering and laughter. When the noise had settled down some, he pulled the younger fox to his feet and retrieved his rapier.
"My Foxtribe and dearest comrades, lets make our song and show be foretellers of the coming victory against Scarstripe. Should that cowardly weasel show his worthless snout around here, we'll be ready. Are you with me?"
The band of foxes cheered loudly and raised their blades skyward. They were Foxtribe, and nothing could stop them.
MIDNIGHT
Chapter I
Blackstrike gently stoked the campfire as she fought to keep warm. The day had come and gone with still no sign of Ghost or Amethyst. The two had patiently waited for any news from either. So far, their waiting seemed to be in vain, and as night drew on, and the with the moon now hanging directly overhead, they quickly lost all hopes of hearing from Ghost until tomorrow.
"I still think he's got himself caught by those killers."
Blackstrike glared at the hare. "Quit bein' so pessimistic, Arkain. Thoughts like that are th' last thing I want t' hear right now. I think Ghost's fine and he'll be back tomorrow."
Arkain shook his head and stretched out on the ground. "Well, I'll let y' be as hopeful as y' like. Just tell me one thing."
"Yes?"
"Who gets first watch t'night?"
Blackstrike chuckled and shrugged. "Well, seein' how yore already down for th' night, I guess I'll take it."
"Clever gel. Have fun, I'm gonna catch up on a little sleep." Arkain gave her a lopsided grin as he closed his eyes. He was soon dozing quietly beside the fire.
Blackstrike shook her head at the sight and wondered how she would entertain herself for the entire duration of her watch. Not thinking of any ideas, she idly stoked the fire and leaned back against a tree to watch it burn. She was suddenly struck with an intense weariness, and felt her eyes droop. She shook herself back to wakefulness and stared at the fire once more. Something was different about it, but she could not tell what it was. Had she caught herself earlier, she would have realised she was dreaming, and that she had fallen asleep by the fire.
Solace yawned and leaned heavily against a staff she had made from a fallen tree branch. Mantis had been leading them all day, and the forest seemed to be never-ending. Now, still out of sight of the gates of Loamhedge, it seemed as though they would never find the abbey.
"How much further?" Solace yawned again and tried to shake the sleep away before it claimed her.
Mantis shook his head and looked back. "Not far. I'm positive it is just nearby here."
Montel leaned his axe against a tree and stretched. "Well, I'm tired. I'm not sure I'll make it if we go any further."
Lady Flynt, too tired for words, just nodded and yawned.
Solace saw her and chuckled. "She took th' words right out o' m'mouth." She rubbed her weary eyelids and sniffed. A scent caught her nose and she sniffed again. "Anyone else catch wind o' this?"
Mantis frowned and smelled the air. "Fire. I know that smell."
Montel raised his axe. "Where's it coming from?"
Solace pointed. "Over there, I think. Should we check it out?"
"Always worth a try, besides, we're far away enough from my horde that I don't think it's them." Mantis unsheathed a dagger and took a step forward. "All the same, I'll check it out and let you know if it's safe."
Mantis stepped forward, dagger held ready in case he ran into some scouts from Bloodslayers. The fire was near, but there was no sign of anybeast in the vicinity. Confidant, yet still cautious, Mantis pushed into the clearing.
Curled up beside the fire, fast asleep, was an all black hare. Leaning against a nearby tree was the otter who he quickly recognised as Blackstrike. The camp looked safe, but there was something nagging him in the back of his mind. Without moving, he scanned the surrounding trees and shadows. Something flashed and caught his eye before it vanished into the darkness. Mantis quickly darted across the clearing and looked for any signs that someone had been there, but found only empty space. Whatever had been there was gone.
Silently, he crept back towards the rest of his group and called them, still keeping an eye on the sleeping camp. His shout roused the hare, who sat bolt upright upon spotting the assassin, and let out a loud cry. Blackstrike, alerted by the hare's cry, jumped to her feet and looked around for the eminent danger. Upon spotting Mantis, with his dagger drawn, she growled and reached for her own dagger.
"Stand down, don't attack, he's with us!" Montel charged through the trees and placed himself between Mantis and the two others. "He's a friend."
"Easy to say if ya don't know 'im." Blackstrike took a step forward. "Do they know who y' are, Mantis?"
"Y'mean that he's a bally assassin?" Solace jumped into the clearing. "He told us, all about Scarstripe an' th' rest o 'th' horde an' such."
Lady Flynt was the last to arrive, dragging her bow behind her, too tired to carry it. "Hello all. Can we spend the night here?" She looked at Mantis, then at Blackstrike, who both had their weapons drawn. "Did I miss somethin'?"
Solace chuckled. "No, not much, find a spot t' sleep. We'll tell y'all 'bout it in th' mornin'."
Lady Flynt nodded and trudged past everyone. Finding a spot near the fire, she curled up and was soon asleep.
Arkain nodded to the sleeping squirrel. "Well, guess we ought t' keep things down. Don't want t' wake 'er."
Solace looked at the black hare. "Hullo. I didn't see y'there. M'name's Solace, from Eagle Watch."
Blackstrike straightened up and sheathed her dagger. "Eagle Watch?" She shot a glance at Arkain. "Wait'll Ghost gets back, he'd probably like t' see ye all again."
Montel grinned. "You know Ghost?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Small world. What's he doing out and about lately?"
Arkain sighed. "One o' our abbey members was captured. He's gone off t' scout th' slaver's camp." He shook his head. "We haven't seen hide nor hair o' him since this mornin'."
Mantis frowned. "I wonder why we didn't pass him, if we were both going opposite ways. I could have told him easily about your friend. Scarstripe had her take Blackstrike's place as his own personal servant."
Blackstrike groaned and sat down by the fire. "How're we going t' get her out o' there?"
Montel crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby tree. "Well, did Ghost say he was coming back?"
Arkain nodded. "He said he was gonna try t' get back by nightfall, but..." he gestured to the camp. "He's not back yet."
Solace shrugged and bounded up to the fire, glad to have a source of heat for the first time since what seemed like an eternity ago. "Well, Ghost's a fellow who's got a good head on his neck. He'll be back, an' with a plan too."
Montel nodded. "Well, I'm going to sleep. Let me know if anything happens, I'll probably sleep through it." He sat back against the tree he had been leaning on and was soon fast asleep.
Blackstrike yawned. "Wow, guess I dozed off. Arkain, do ye want me t' keep on th' watch?"
Arkain shook his head. "Nah, I'll take it."
Mantis glanced around the camp. His presence had been forgotten in the excitement that had risen. He liked it that way, it gave him the feeling of standing alone, which he had grown accustomed to as a result of his trade. Now, however, he was a part of this particular group, and isolating himself from it would not be the wisest course of action. He stepped forward.
"Blackstrike, I thought I saw something in the camp when I arrived, but when I went to check it out, it was gone. By your leave I would like to scout the area."
Blackstrike stared at the assassin, not sure whether or not to trust him. "Alright," she said, reluctantly. "Scout the area. Report back t' Arkain."
Mantis bowed and left. Blackstrike stared after him as sleep started to take hold of her once more. Without warning, she was soon dozing along with the others, leaving Solace and Arkain as the only two awake to watch the camp. Solace gazed into the fire, faintly aware that Arkain was watching her.
"Y' never fully introduced y'self t' me." She idly tossed a dried leaf into the fire.
Arkain chuckled. "Forgive me, m'name's Arkain, from Loamhedge away yonder."
Solace looked over at him, smiling. "Nice t' meet y', Arkain."
"An' a pleasure t' meet y' as well, Solace." He sat down by the fire. "Care t' share th' watch?"
"For as long as I can. I might doze off, halfway through it, though."
The two shared a smile as the camp fell under the spell of silence.
Chapter II
Trent stood under a tree, hidden by the dark cloak he wore, which blended in with the night's shadows. Though he could not see them, the rest of the Foxtribe was patiently waiting for his order. With a suddenness that had caught Trent off guard, Scarstripe ordered a morning advance on Loamhedge, forcing operation Torch to run tonight, or never.
"Blythe, are you ready?"
"Always." Came the whispered reply.
"Remember, ring around the cart, save two barrels.' Trent adjusted the cloak he was wearing and stepped towards the cart laden with the firebombs. He reached out and stroked one of the large clay jars. "We're going to have a party tonight." He raised a paw and gave the rest of Foxtribe a wave. Torch was now underway.
From the dark shadows of the wood, the entire tribe appeared and moved toward the cart. Four set about removing the two jars that were to be set aside, while others discussed in silence the plan that would make Torch an event to remember. Trent, Khale, and two other young foxes gathered by the gap that had been left by the two removed jars. Trent placed a paw on the old fox's shoulder.
"Khale, are you ready?"
Khale grinned. "Of course. You just keep to your side of it, and everything will be fine. I was outsmarting vermin and woodlanders long before you even saw light of day." He patted a thin, long bladed dagger that was sheathed at his side. "I enjoy seeing if my wits are what they used to be."
Khale climbed up into the wagon and shuffled two jars from the centre of the wagon out to the edge, filling the empty space and giving the illusion that the wagon was still full. With a wave to his comrades, he ducked out of view, and a tarp was thrown over the jars. A swift wave to the rest of Foxtribe saw them vanish without a trace. Trent nodded to the two foxes at his side, and they started leading the wagon towards the store tent where the rest of the barrels were kept. The wagon rattled and bounced along until a curious weasel stopped them.
"Where're ye goin' whi'this?"
Trent stepped forward. "Orders from Scarstripe. Since we are moving out tomorrow to attack Loamhedge, he wanted the war wagon fully loaded and ready."
The weasel recognised Trent and his authority, but was still suspicious about the wagon. "Why's th' wagon covered? Ye hidin' summthin'?"
Trent grinned slyly. "You're a smart one. The wagon is covered to hide the firebombs. We wouldn't want the mice at Loamhedge to see our strongest weapon before it is used. They might think of a way to defend against it."
The weasel drew up a side of the heavy canvas and nodded, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied that everything was fine, he grinned at the foxes. "Ahright. Can't be too careful, y'know. Spies ev'rywhere."
"You are doing a superb job. Keep it up. Scarstripe will hear of your dedication from me." He motioned his foxes and the wagon onward, giving the weasel a brisk salute. "Carry on as you were, soldier."
The weasel saluted back, beaming with pride.
Once the wagon was safely inside the tent, and they were out of view, the four foxes shared in a light laugh.
"You should have promoted him on the spot, Trent." Khale pulled the canvas back and stood, leaning on the barrels. "It would have made his day."
Trent chuckled and winked at him. "Some day, Cyclops, I might think like you, and then I will be complete. Is everything in order?"
A thin, cruel grin formed on Khale's features, and he nodded slowly. "I'll start the party, you can keep it going once I am clear."
"Good luck, comrade." Trent nodded to the other two. "Lets go get ready. Come on."
Khale watched them leave the tent before he jumped out of the wagon. One by one, all of the jars in the tent had holes drilled into them by his dagger, their contents left to soak into the dirt ground. One jar, Khale left unmarred, and worked at spreading the oil along the base of the tent. Once everything was in place and to his liking, he stepped out of the tent and waved down a nearby weasel.
"Ho there, lad. Care to give me a hand?"
"What ye need?" The weasel ambled over, gripping a spear tightly in one paw. "An' where're th' other two?"
"They left to fetch something. I need a hand, lad. My old eye is playing a few tricks on me, and telling me that somebeast is moving about in the tent. Mind bringing a torch and giving me a light?"
The weasel hesitantly walked over to a watchfire and prepared a torch. "I don't remember seein' ye wi'th' others."
Khale chuckled. "Well, you know us foxes, we all look the same. That light ready yet?"
"Jus' a moment." The weasel held the torch aloft. "Why ye be wantin' fire in there anyway? Ye know that's full o' those firebombs."
"I'll take my chances. Come on now, bring that torch and help me look."
The weasel shook his head, annoyed, but stepped through the flaps and into the tent. Khale closed his eyes as a black arrow breezed past him. There was a soft cry from inside the tent as the weasel was struck in the back, and the torch fell to the oil dampened ground.
Khale's artful skill at lining the tent with oil worked like a charm. The flames spread to the oil soaked base, forming a wall of fire that would hamper any efforts to enter the tent. Before long, the tent was a raging bonfire in the middle of the camp. Without a word, Khale slipped away from the scene, heading for the outlying forest and his fellow comrades in Foxtribe.
Scarstripe hissed softly as he heard the commotion outside his tent. Something had happened, he could tell. Something so devastating that his own troops feared informing him. He pushed himself out of his chair and crossed to the flaps of his tent, passing the mousemaid who was sleeping, curled up in one corner of the tent. With a growl, he violently tore back the tent flap, and his eyes immediately locked onto the towering inferno in the centre of his camp. His eyes narrowed until they were only dark slits, and he ran his tongue over his teeth.
"Trent, this means war."
Letting the flap fall back into place, he stormed to his desk and shoved the maps and charts of Loamhedge aside. He had a new enemy, and nothing was going to keep him from striking back. The Bloodslayers could practise their swordplay on the Foxtribe, and bolster their moral with a victory. Loamhedge could wait. After all, the abbey was not in any danger of leaving.
Chapter III
Ghost awoke to the dawn, the morning sun filtering down through the trees to strike the small camp. Myriad was already awake and stirring the ashes of the burnt out campfire. When she heard him, she nodded.
"Good mornin'. Sleep well?"
Ghost grumbled as he sat up. "I was supposed to be back at my camp last night."
"Well, look at th' bright side: we know where yer mouse friend is."
Ghost fell back to the ground, exhausted from the long hike. The trip to the Bloodslayer's campsite had been longer than anticipated, and the overnight stop had become required when both of them were too tired to move on.
"Well, I just hope Blackstrike and Arkain don't wander off to look for me."
Myriad stopped stirring the dead ashes and walked over to Ghost. "Come on, now. Quit lyin' about an' get up. We'll be back by noon time." She offered a paw to pull him to his feet.
Ghost accepted the offered paw and was soon standing unsteadily on his feet. "Alright, lets go. I'm anxious to get back." He glanced over his shoulder.
"She'll be alright, Ghost. Scarstripe's not too keen on losin' his help." Myriad motioned him to move on. "We've got places t' be, lets get goin'."
Ghost nodded, though her comment did nothing to assuage the fears and worry he had for Amethyst's condition. He led on in silence, not fully paying attention to his surroundings. He was not aware of his state of mind until Myriad cleared her throat and caught his attention. He was immediately pulled from his distracted state.
"Are ye even watchin' where yer goin'?"
Ghost nodded, glancing about to make sure he had not missed something. "Of course. Why?"
"Because, lest m'nose is mistakin' me, there's fire off that way." She pointed towards the unmistakable scent of burning wood.
"Oh." Ghost stared absently in the direction of the smell. "Well, I was preoccupied. Sorry. Thanks for letting me know."
Myriad gave him a smug smile. "Well, least I could do. Beats wanderin' aimlessly through th' forest."
"For once, I couldn't agree with you more." He pushed through the branches and bush and started for the fire. "Come on, then. Maybe we went further last night than we're giving ourselves credit for."
"Why do ye think they like ferrets as scouts?" Myriad chuckled and followed him. "I knew one that claimed he could scout all o' Mossflower inside a week."
Ghost rolled his eyes. "I'd like to meet him."
"Good luck. He vanished durin' a scoutin' mission." Myriad laughed and jogged up alongside him. "Tell me 'bout th' abbey. Is it all that nice?"
Ghost thought for a moment. "For the most part, yes. I never got used to it, though. The beasts are nice, and are focused on the wellbeing of others. It was just hard for me to adjust, coming out of losing my friends and all."
Myriad grinned. "Well, y've got me t' keep ye company, now, if that's any consolation."
"I'm sure it is." He returned her grin.
"Well, ye don't know me, then." Myriad chuckled and threw her arm around his shoulders. "F'ever."
The grin suddenly faded from Ghost's face and his mood turned cold. He stopped walking and stared forward at the ground. Myriad suddenly withdrew her arm; afraid she had done something wrong.
"Sorry, somethin' I did?"
Ghost shook his head. "No."
Myriad thought he was going to say something more, but he remained silent. In the span of a few moments, he had gone from grinning at a joke, to silent and almost hostile. Her mood shifted with his, and she distanced herself slightly from the withdrawn ferret. They moved on towards the fire in silence.
Lady Flynt yawned as she stoked the fire back to life, all the while complaining to an unsympathetic Montel about lack of sleep. The badger listened, half interested in what she had to say, and more focused on the day at hand.
"I'd bet I only slept four hours last night, not nearly 'nough after that long hike."
Montel nodded. "I wonder where Mantis went. He's not back yet." He shook his head. "No sense worrying about him, I'm guessing he can take care of himself."
"An' just look at these bags under m'eyes! I could store a day's worth of water in them."
"How far do you reckon it to Loamhedge from here?"
Lady Flynt shoved him. "Are you even listenin' t' me? Cold-hearted brute." She yawned and stuck her tongue out at him.
Montel acted as though he had not noticed, and fought back a grin. "Maybe we should wake the others. It's about time for breakfast."
"You're incorrigible."
"So I am, but at least I can get by on four hours of sleep." He grinned and stood up. "Come on, everybody, time to greet the new day."
His call roused the rest of the camp, and amidst the morning yawns plans were discussed for breakfast. A heated debate took place between Solace and Arkain, Solace wanting apple oatcakes and Arkain insisting on red currant scones. The argument was put to rest by Blackstrike, who claimed both were worth making. Satisfied, both hares grinned at each other and sat back, waiting for breakfast to be served. Montel and Lady Flynt rolled their eyes while Blackstrike set about heating the fire.
"Blackstrike, how far is it to Loamhedge from here?"
Blackstrike answered Montel without looking up from her task. "Not far. Ye could make it inside of a day."
"Here's a question," Solace started. "How long till Ghost shows up?"
"Can't answer that'ne, I'm afraid. Th' chap runs on his own time. He never told us when he'd get back." Arkain nudged Solace only to receive a shove back. "Y' can't treat a fellow hare like that!" He shoved her back.
"I'll do whatever I well please t', y' snivelin' scone scoffer." She shoved him back, sending him sprawling on the ground.
Amidst the laughter of the rest of the group, Arkain jumped to his feet and tackled Solace. The two wrestled until Solace had the black hare pinned on the ground. She grinned and laughed.
"Ha! Bet y' didn't know who y' were messin' with."
"Yes, Arkain. Seems you underestimated our Long Patrol hare."
All eyes turned, stunned into silence by the new voice. Solace, Montel, and Lady Flynt were too shocked to move. Ghost stood on the edge of the camp, leaning against a tree with an amused look on his face. With him were Mantis and Myriad. Mantis stepped forward to make the almost unneeded introductions.
"I found these two wandering towards our camp. Everyone here knows Ghost, it seems, and on my right is Myriad." He looked back at the two ferrets. "Seems we arrived in time for the party."
Blackstrike raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And just what party would that be?"
Ghost, still leaning against the tree, grinned at the remaining members of Eagle Watch. "A reunion. Come, let's get back to Loamhedge, there are a few things I need to discuss with everyone."
Chapter IV
Darkbane almost panicked at the scene before him. Unease had set in when he could find no trace of Myriad or Ghost the morning before, and apprehension gripped him upon the arrival of Mantis and the others. Now, with Ghost and Myriad reappearing, together, he was behind on his job of watching the two ferrets. In the time that had passed, any amount of information could have been exchanged between them, and if anything vital was shared, Darkbane's head was on the executioner's block.
Out of all of the arrivals, it was Mantis' that frightened him the most. The assassin was never a part of the plan that Trent had so carefully laid out, and Scarstripe had never informed him that Mantis would even be in the area. A vague suspicion came over him, and he wondered if Scarstripe and Trent had sent Mantis in as backup. The thought made him growl to himself.
"Mantis, by th' end o' this assignment, only one o' us is returnin' back t' Scarstripe alive. Mark m' words."
Darkbane adjusted his black robe and watched the group strike the camp. He would, of course, follow them as far as he could, but he would need to exercise extreme caution. Two of the beasts were highly skilled assassins, and, assuming neither knew of his presence, both would be wise to his actions if they caught wind of him. It was a high risk he would have to take if he wished to gain favour with his commander; a risk he accepted without question.
Scarstripe sat in his chair at his chart table, glaring at his captains who were gathered inside his tent. The air was thick with tension, and stuffy from numbers, as the tent was holding more than it had been meant to accommodate. Only one captain was missing, Trent; his presence was no longer desired by the weasel commander.
Huddled in a far corner, out of the way and unnoticed by the rest, was Amethyst. She busied herself with nothing, trying to appear inconspicuous, lest she attract the unwanted attention of the easily angered Scarstripe. The night before, she had narrowly averted a beating simply because of his rage at Trent's betrayal. With a quick and cautious mind, she talked him down until his mind was no longer blinded by his rage. He wasted no time in hatching a plan, and even gave her a rough outline of what he planned on doing.
"I trust you all know about the Foxtribe's sudden and unwarranted betrayal, so I will spare you the details. What I will inform you of is a sudden change in our plans. Foxtribe is now our enemy, and while they share the woods, we cannot think of controlling them from our future stronghold. We are now at war with the villainous scum; a war that can only be won by the complete, immediate, and utter annihilation of the Foxtribe and its traitorous leader. That fox thought he could win one over on me, but he never had the misfortune of dealing with me before now. My orders are simple for now and they are to kill any fox on sight, no exceptions will be made. A group of our finest will be put together to hunt the tribe down and kill all save their leader, who I want brought before me to be dealt with. Captains and comrades in arms, I want you to select the group. Two score of the best hunters we have. Is that understood?"
There was a chorus of nods and the captains were dismissed. Scarstripe smiled from his seat at Amethyst.
"What think you about this sudden, new development, mousemaid?"
Amethyst eyed him coldly. "The sooner you die, the better."
Scarstripe stared at her, a pensive look on his face. Oddly enough, he did not turn on her in anger. Instead, he stood and walked over to her. Giving her a deceptively warm smile and pat on the head, he chuckled. "You will soon learn to respect me, and you might even find yourself liking me."
"Blackstrike never did," she retorted.
"Ah, but Blackstrike will die, and soon." He grinned coldly at her.
Amethyst stared at him in disbelief. Had she not been consciously aware of her chains, she would have struck out at him. Knowing that such an attempt was futile, however, she bowed her head submissively. "Of course, sire."
"That's better. See you are already getting used to it. Keep it up."
Scarstripe chuckled and walked back to the chart table, where he busied himself with a large map of the surrounding area. The map was inaccurate, but it showed enough of the primary details to be reliable. He drew a dagger and pinned the map to the table, driving the blade where Loamhedge was marked on the map.
"Rest easy, mousemaid. If all goes as planned, you will be sleeping in your old home, and my new stronghold."
Chapter V
Trent was enjoying himself, and basking in both the morning sun and Foxtribe's recent victory. All around him, his comrades were gathered and shouting jovially about the daring, almost heroic efforts put forth by Khale. The older fox just nodded, winked his one eye, and insisted that it was nothing more than seasons of experience in the field. This only caused another round of cheers and jokes.
Trent sat back and let the rest carry on. He was content to watch and plan their next move. He had no doubts that Scarstripe would now wage war on his Tribe, and if they were not careful, trouble would catch them napping. The Bloodslayers were skilled and deadly, and their command was anything but trivial. Nonetheless, Trent still held true to his old saying. No one could outfox a fox, and the game was in his favour in more than one way. Ever since Scarstripe had allowed him to give a few commands, he had exercised his own plans and cunning strategies. Ghost, who had slipped the Foxtribe's blades a while back, was now in the process of being eliminated, and after dealing a devastating blow to the Bloodslayers, Foxtribe was ready to pick off the horde at will.
Trent glanced at the two firebombs he had stolen during operation Torch. In spite of his unwillingness to use fire, he realised the potential of the two jars, and intended to use them to their fullest. Plans had already crossed his mind, and now he just needed to sort them out and chose the best.
"Trent, come on and join in!"
The invitation had pulled Trent from his train of thought. With a shrug, he jumped up and walked towards the group. "Alright, what's on for entertainment?"
"It was my choice, lad." Khale smiled mischievously at his commander. "I chose you."
Trent laughed and shook his head. "Well, you'd best cover your ears then. I'm not much for entertaining."
"Sure you are, lad," Khale said. "I've known you since you were a little whelp. I know what you can and can't do."
He leaned over and whispered something into Trent's ear. The younger fox stood up straight and glared at Khale after hearing what it was. He shook his head resolutely.
"I'm not going to do that."
"Why not?" Khale shoved him, challenging him to fulfil the request. "I'll bet you're too much of a coward to."
Trent hung his head and grumbled something to himself. "Alright," he said at last. "I've got a little something, and since it was our dear fiend, Khale, who requested it, I'll do it."
There was a round of murmuring and chuckles as Trent drew his rapier and leaned against it, digging its tip into the ground for support. He hesitated momentarily and took in a deep breath before starting his song.
"Ne'er afore as I ever seen,
Foxes th' likes o' this afore.
All o' them wi'th' red coats sheen,
An' eyes like th' clouds in a deadly storm."
This was said by a corsair rat,
Who chanced to tangle with the lively crew,
Of the Foxtribe that roams o'er hill and flat,
Feared by squirrel, weasel, stoat and shrew.
"They wandered by night, an' travelled by day,
Till our unfortunate camp they found.
Now we're without our dear ol' leader,
An' th' entire crew's livin' underground."
There was roaring laughter as Trent bowed, his song complete. One of the younger foxes came in dressed as a corsair and, in a melodramatic fashion, challenged Trent to a duel with a fallen branch as his weapon. Trent accepted, raising his rapier to his brow in salute. The two sparred until the branch had broken, and Trent had the fox pinned to the ground. The tribe cheered him on, and he drove the rapier through the ground near the fox's stomach. The fox made a show of over exaggerated death throes as Trent bowed to the loud cheering and laughter. When the noise had settled down some, he pulled the younger fox to his feet and retrieved his rapier.
"My Foxtribe and dearest comrades, lets make our song and show be foretellers of the coming victory against Scarstripe. Should that cowardly weasel show his worthless snout around here, we'll be ready. Are you with me?"
The band of foxes cheered loudly and raised their blades skyward. They were Foxtribe, and nothing could stop them.