Chapter Nine
"Creekstaaaaaarr! Lurranaaaa! Portreeeeed!"
The three war cries mingled together as the vast quantity of otters rode in log boats, steered by the infamous Log-a-Log Dippler and his crew. And, as the three cries echoed throughout the riverbank and woodland, another cry, one known throughout the land, resonated along with the others.
Creekstar, Lurrana, Portred, and their fighters were literally at the sight of the battle to come. Silenced by a sudden thud not too far in the distance, the shrews and otters stopped at the riverbank and got out of the log boats. Luna, one of the scouts (as stated earlier), nearly fell on her tail as something big dropped from the trees, almost landing on top of her.
"Yaaaaaa—mmmfff!" she screamed, being abruptly silenced as a paw clamped her mouth shut.
"Shhh! Don't go off yellin' round these parts. Hi, Creekstar, Portred, Lurrana. 'Ow's it goin'?" The paw freed Luna and allowed her speech.
It was Runn, who had dropped from the rowan tree above to greet his brothers, sister, and their fighters, along with the unexpected shrews.
"Brother!" the three holt leaders exclaimed gleefully, squeezing the youngest of the four in a tight hug.
"Ow! Leggo o' me, yeh bullies!" Runn yelped pleadingly.
They all let go, and Creekstar, the eldest, held his brother at paw's length. "Well, lookit yeh! All growed up an' ev'rythin'! Slap me tail, wot are they feedin' yeh at the Abbey? Them bricks they used t'make it?"
Lurrana, the second eldest, slapped her brother heartily on the back. "Well, yeh liddle rogue, we missed yeh dearly. Looks like yer still that liddle power'ouse even without our 'elp. Heh, yeh still single? Luna missed yeh too."
Runn yelped again, this time in surprise that the otter he had silenced only a moment before was actually Luna.
"Wot're yeh doin' 'ere, Luna?" Runn demanded. "Aren't yeh too young t'fight?"
"No," the female otter said sweetly.
"Lurrana, why'd yeh bring 'er? 'Sides, I've met a nice otter, fearless too. She carries a cool bone-'andled sword and is accurate with javelin, bow 'n' arrers, an' sling 'n' stones."
Luna hesitated. "Y-you mean yeh met 'nother otter?"
"Aye, shipmate, so git off me tail. Sorry, Luna, but things 'appen an' that's that."
Portred, sensing an argument about to break out, changed the subject. "So, liddle bro, wot's all the fuss 'bout? Why bring us down 'ere where 'tis crawlin' with vermin?"
"Coz I 'ave a feelin' yon vermin are ready to attack, no matter wot stands in their way," Runn replied darkly. He motioned for everyone to follow, saying, "C'mon. I'd like yeh t' meet some new friends o' mine."
"So, wot's 'appened so far, Nik?"
The squirrel rapidly climbed down from the lark oak tree at their campsite, the sword of Martin strapped to his back. He brushed bark from his tail as he reported to Runn.
"Sarrico's gone for 'a walk', as he put it. Dunno what he's up to, but Painttail has a hunch that 'tis not good. Everybeast ought to stay at camp." Then he noticed the vast amount of otters and shrews that had arrived. "So, they came, eh? And old Log-a-Log and the Guosim too, seems." The squirrel then sighed. "Like I said, we ought to stay here so we don't get slain afore the fighting begins."
"I'm not stayin' round 'ere, twiddlin' me paws and list'nin' t'the birds, Nik," a voice growled from above in the same oak tree Nik had been sitting in.
"Well, you might as well, Storm, lest you want to die. Old Rugval will skin you alive if he finds out Rudderwake's child still lives."
"Oh, let 'im try, Niklur, let 'im try."
Creekstar peered through the leafy foliage. "'Nother friend o' yores, bro?"
"Aye, 'tis Stormpaw Swiftwater, last o' Holt Rudderwake," Runn retorted, walking off to tell Painttail to fix a meal for the new arrivals.
"That's my line, Runn!" Stormpaw chided jokingly.
"I wanted t'beat yeh to it."
A meal was served to those hungry enough to eat a second breakfast or an early lunch. Introductions were made, and Nik, Painttail, and Runn explained everything to the newcomers.
"Not much. 'As anythin' drastic 'appened that Sarrico did?" Portred asked, slurping up a bowl of hotroot soup.
Stormpaw stood up suddenly. "'Course there was, Portred! He mercilessly slaughtered me family at Ruddaring isle! That's a good 'nough reason fer me t'go an' slay the lot o' 'em, even if'n I'm killed in the process!"
"Easy now, m'gel, wot!" Painttail exclaimed, trying to calm the vicious otter down. He saw the hint of redness in her eyes, and, knowing instinctively the Bloodwrath would possess his friend, he switched to another topic. "We all know wot 'appened, Storm, but let's not rush in an' bang our blinkin' 'eads agin the tree trunks. Now, who wants more 'otroot soup an' shrewbread, thanks t'our delightfully jolly ole thingummybob cooks."
"Thing a what?" Log-a-Log asked, a bit defensively.
"Er, er, the bally Guosim, o' course. No need t'git yer fur flyin', ole scamp."
"Ole scamp yerself, yeh long-eared barrelbelly!"
Iceblade grinned. "Not th'first time 'e's been called that, y'know. Tigerlily'd be fretting 'erself o'er me whilst lookin' after th'liddle uns. Hah, I miss 'er rose'ip tea an' redcurrant tarts—they were th'best I've tasted. Ever."
"Mum and Dad would be helping keep the south wall up," Nik added, expressing his and Kippit's thoughts. "Foremole'd be digging, and ole blind Badgermum Cregga would be feeling her way around the Abbey, helping Brother Lanno cook pies and flans and trifles and—"
"Easy, ole chap, yer makin' me 'ungry, wot wot!" Painttail exclaimed. Then, in a quieter tone, he murmured, "Then agin, I miss Rayna an' 'er continuous blinkin' bird babble. Ah, I'd give anythin' t'be back 'ome."
There were murmurs of agreement among some of the creatures around the fire. Only Stormpaw sat silently, glaring at the fire, her paws gripping the handle of her sword firmly.
"Wot's the matter with you, matey?" a shrew named Niggon asked.
"I'd give anythin' t'be back with me family," Stormpaw whispered. "O' course I can't, though; they're dead. Mum an' Dad were great warriors, aye, they were. I was so liddle an' so curious o' the outside world, but me parents an' family denied my goin' out an' travelling. I stayed at Ruddaring fer literally all me life. Then…it all vanished. Hah, Mum would take me out t'the shore o' the isle and teach me 'ow t'shoot a bow an' arrow properly. Granpa, he was a peace-lovin' un, an' I learned the ways o' a calm life from 'im. I don't think I'm much of a pacifist, bein' so bloodthirsty an' all. Revenge was the on'y thing in me mind fer days, and it will be till Sarrico lies dead." As she spoke the last few lines, Stormpaw turned to Painttail. The hare nodded sadly; he had been the one who had witnessed the otter's true warrior spirit, along with Lunkin and Maybell.
"Revenge. A wunnerful an' deadly thing at th'same time," Iceblade commented, testing the blade of his battleax.
A silence enshrouded the campsite as everybeast thought of their homes, whether it was gone from them or not. The silence, though, was interrupted when a booming voice from the beach called out:
"Oy, Your Highness, lookit! Sarrico's back, the one-eared stoat. And lookit—he's brought company."
Log-a-Log, Nik, and some others rushed over to a large fallen oak tree. Peering over the edge, they watched as Rugval Sarrico proudly strolled towards the black vixen sitting with her family around a fire. The stoat was flanked by a gang of strangebeasts. All were weasels, painted various shades of green with plant dyes. Spears and swords were held in their paws, and the ones in the back were hauling a young bankvole roughly.
"Ow!" the babe screeched. "Leggo of me, you wretched vermin!"
Sarrico smiled as cheerfully as he could without looking menacing and greeted the vixen. "Why, g'day, Majesty, 'ow is ev'rythin'?"
Nerygia snarled. "What are you up to now, stoat?"
"As yew c'n see, I've got meself a new 'orde." At the wave of his paw, scores of weasels, ferrets, and rats emerged from the bushes and trees (thankfully not near Nik and his friends). "I promised these Flitchaye an' other savages slayin' an' plunder throughout Mossflow'r woods if they join me. An' we even started by burnin' down a small village. Not a lot o' goods, but we captured the liddle uns, slew the old an' adult uns, and are plannin' t'start a slavin' operation. An' we've got a few liddle uns t'start with. This 'ere crybaby is on'y un o' the ten."
Vulpes loathed the stoat as much as her mother did, and as he spoke about enslavement, she hated him even more (if that's even possible).
"You fleabitten mangy-furred one-eared louse-infested frogwhalloper!" the pure white vixen practically shrieked. "You don't deserve to live, let alone go around destroying this and that! The true conquerers are the foxes of the Xerogia tribes!"
In the shade of the forest, Nik, Painttail, Log-a-Log, Runn, Stormpaw, Lieutenant Tammo, Creekstar, Lurrana, and Portred watched the event on the beach. All with grim faces, each was thinking the same thing: rescue the little vole.
"Flitchaye," Nik growled, the fur on the nape of his neck standing on end.
"Flitchaye?" Stormpaw wondered. "Wot are Flitcheye?"
"Them blighters 'ave lived in Mossflow'r fer many, many seasons," Tammo replied in a whisper. "They've been 'ere since Martin the jolly Warrior's day, m'gel. Savage beasts, they are, wot wot. Though, they don't come down this far south."
"Well, we can't—an' won't—let some painted hooligans drag a pore baby vole round like that." Stormpaw slowly stood up, making sure the occupants on the beach couldn't see her.
"Slow down, Storm," Nik warned. "If we go charging at them like that, they'll slay the lot of us. We need to plan out our attack."
Stormpaw growled in defeat at Nik's logical reasoning. "Fine. Do what yeh wish, Nik, but 'morrow at dawn, I'm goin' out an' pickin' some Flitcheye nonsense out o' Mossflow'r."
"You'd be killed!" Lurrana quietly exclaimed in surprise at the young otter's determination.
"Killed or not, I'm goin' in at dawn. Nobeast's gonna stop me, an' I'll be thankful fer any 'elp, but if'n there's a chance t'slay Sarrico, then on'y I will do it." With those words, Stormpaw turned and headed back to camp.
In a low whisper, Portred whispered to Runn, "Now I see why yeh like 'er."
* * *
Sssssss…thunk!
An arrow shot through the dim morning light and hit its target in the side of the neck.
Ssssss…thunk!
Another arrow came after the first one, zipped through one of the larger fires, and hit another weasel in the chest, the wooden shaft burning crazily.
Ssssss…thunk!
A third arrow buried itself in a rat's gizzard, but the rat was too deep in sleep to realize the agonizing pain that he had just been hit with.
A volley of arrows rained upon the sleeping camp, taking out weasel, rat, ferret, and fox alike. Though where the ex-corsair stoat was, Stormpaw didn't know.
Stormpaw, using all her cunning and agility, found the large wooden crate that held the ten baby slaves. Using her sword, she pried open the lid. The little creatures had been awakened by the creaking wood, and all looked up fearfully at the female otter.
All but one.
He was a small vole, not much older or smaller than Filian. The bankvole wrinkled his nose and bared his teeth, raising his manacled paws up defensively.
"Go 'way, weasel!" the vole hissed. "Marrik not 'fraid o' weasels! Ya donn scare me, even wiv ya big sword."
Stormpaw was impatient that morning. "Hush now, yeh liddle brat, an' don't try anythin' stupid. I'm an otter, messmate, an' I'm proud t'be un. C'mon, bring yore friends. Nik will scream 'is 'ead off at me if'n I get captured, so let's go!"
Two-by-two, Stormpaw sliced through the manacles and lifted the ten babes out of the box, replaced the lid, and hurried them along into the safety of the forest. One quick look back at the silent beach and the number of those slain by her arrows confirmed the otter's thoughts. Smiling grimly, she led the band of young creatures towards safety.
Sarrico was sitting up a tree and had witnessed everything. Though not sure it was all true due to lack of sleep and the dim light, he was sure about one thing: somebeast was here.
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Author's Note: Doesn't it seem that Runn's kinda scared of Luna? I don't know why I did that…
