1 Mystery Beast
Fort Ruddler Mission
It was a brisk day in late January when the hare's body was found. Last week's snow still clung stubbornly to the ground, aided by chilly winter winds, though it was nowhere near as pristine and white as it had been. Yet dirt and mud and pawprints were not the only vandals of the once perfect surface. The snow was also stained by the hours-old blood of the mauled hare.
A scout had stumbled upon the body and had immediately reported it, as was her duty, although nausea gripped her stomach and sorrow shadowed her heart. Drill Sergeant Sandfur Dunerunner was both saddened and angered over the loss of a fortbeast, but almost overriding those emotions was grim satisfaction. Creatures had been disappearing overnight, but this was the first body that had been found. The hare suspected the various disappearances and the body were linked by the same culprit. Now that there were clues, the trail of the mystery beast could be followed…and the Drill Sergeant knew just the beasts for the task.
Riala Goldentail received the mission scroll at noon, just as she was rising from her seat at the crowded mess hall. She broke the seal with the casual manner of one who has done so many times before, and then unrolled it, gold-brown eyes quickly skimming the message. As she reached the end of the short message, the red-brown squirrel paused and read it again, but more slowly.
Colonel Riala Goldentail:
Fort Ruddler beasts have been disappearing overnight. Today a hare's body was found in a ditch, covered in huge claw marks and bite wounds. I believe the incidents are linked, but this is the first body we've found. Your mission is to track this "mystery beast" and stop it from killing again. I have assigned Brigadier General Mackbry Taffellappen and Major Teltol Riverbucki to work on this mission with you. Meet them at the west gate. The hare is in the ditch near that wall. A funeral will be held after your examination.
-Drill Sergeant Sandfur Dunerunner
Mackbry and Teltoli were waiting for her at the western gate. Both hares watched as she approached, expectant expressions on their faces. Riala paused, one scarred paw resting on the latch of the gate, rust-gold tail flicking in irritation. "What is it?" she asked finally, after the waiting silence stretched on, unbroken only by the whistling gale.
"Wot, no complaint 'bout workin' best alone, Riala-me-Goldentail?" the older hare commented, brows rising in surprise.
The squirrel's gold-brown eyes turned to the western gate, looking beyond the wooden door to the body she knew lay behind it. "If this 'mystery beast' is what I think it is, Mackbry," she said quietly, face grim, "then I won't be able to kill it on my own."
The two hares exchanged uncertain glances. This wasn't like Riala. Normally she was fiercely independent, eyes shadowed with inner thoughts and dark memories, face expressionless as stone and voice devoid of emotion. Hatred lurked beneath her tone now, and gleamed red in a gold- brown gaze grown intense with the prospect of the hunt.
"Let's go," the squirrel said, voice still quiet with a deadly cold more frigid than the winter wind. She opened the gate and stepped outside, followed closely by Mackbry and Teltoli.
The sight of the hare was enough to bring bile to the throat of even the most hardened warrior. Long lacerations had turned once-brown fur to red, exposing shredded muscle and white bone. The ground was ripped to the earth, and what snow was not melted by the heat of the now-cool body had been turned a dark pink. The hare's stomach had been torn opened and emptied of its contents, some of which had been partially devoured.
Even Riala's normally stony face had given way to brief horror and disgust, but it quickly passed. Her expression turned grim as she pushed repulsion aside and crouched beside the corpse, gold-brown eyes intently scrutinizing the deep claw marks. "Mackbry," she called, "Teltoli. Come look at this."
The two hares had been examining the ground, torn by the fight between hare and beast. It was much less gut-wrenching than to read the story of the star-crossed battle in the body of the hare, but just as important. Yet at the squirrel's call, they walked over to the corpse and looked at the gashes her paw traced on the lacerated hide. "What do you think made these?"
Teltoli's nose twitched, sorting past the scent of blood and death to the musky stench that was most certainly not hare. "Ferret?" he said doubtfully. "But no ferret 'as claws that large. I'd say weasel by th' smell, but y'see, there's not a weasel chap livin' with claws like that, nor teeth."
"Badger'd be big enough, but th' claws're all wrong," Mack added. "So're th' teeth, doncherknow. Mebbe if ferrets got that big, an' I wouldn't want ter fight a ferret that big and savage-like!"
"Aye, th' scent be much laike ferret, weasel, an' badger," Riala said grimly, earning a sharp glance from the two hares. Her northern accent only became noticeable under stress, although it was now barely stronger than normal. What she saw in the claw marks and bite wounds had upset her where not much else could. "Many has been the time I saw marks such as these… but I dinna see such savagery as this." One paw motioned towards the half-eaten entrails shriveled on the blood-stained earth. Riala took in a deep breath, calming herself, and her accent softened. "T'was when I was on the trail of Nightdeath Longclaws that I found bodies like this one."
Shock was clear on the gray-whiskered face of Mackbry, mingled with concern. Tel's face showed only confusion. The younger hare had never heard Riala's tale, and the name she uttered meant nothing to him. "Nightdeath Longclaws?" he asked Mack in an undertone.
The older hare sighed, eyes saddened. "A wolverine rotter," he replied in the same low voice. "He killed 'er pater. She hates the species more'n anythin'." He walked up to the squirrel silently and laid a compassionate paw on her shoulder. Her muscles grew as taut as a coiled spring beneath a touch that was meant as support. Mack shook his head and pulled his paw away. "Ever goin' t'let go of y'r hate, Riala?"
One paw coiled into a white-knuckled fist, and the squirrel rose to her footpaws. She stared in the direction the trail led, every muscle tensed with anger. "Dinnae talk o' what ye canna understand, longears," she told the hare quietly, but her voice was icy with cold fury.
It was Teltoli who broke the tense silence, his voice sounding out of place among the howl of the wind. "I say, chap an' chappess, we goin' ter stand about doin' nothin' but arguin' or go after th' wolverine rotter?"
Riala nodded minutely, almost imperceptibly. She lowered herself to a partial crouch over the snow, following the trail on the ground. It was not difficult to find, not for as experienced a tracker as the squirrel. Flecks of blood stained the ground, and the occasional partial paw print with the distinctive claws of a wolverine marked the ground. Here and there, the faded scent of the large mustelid reached her questing nose. Occasional strands of dark brown fur had been shed, caught brush and sapling branches. Scuffed earth and snow, overturned leaves- all these proclaimed the wolverine's passing to anyone who knew how to read them.
The two hares hastened to catch up with Riala, who continued to track silently. Teltoli watched her progress for several yards before finally speaking. "Y'cant hate all wolverines for th' wrongs of one, y'know."
"Three," the squirrel said, not looking up from the ground.
The hare paused, somewhat confused. "Wot's that?"
"I've met three wolverines," she explained, voice as hard and cold as the ice that hung from the trees. "One killed my father, and now that one's dead by my paw. Another nearly killed a badger friend of mine, but the badger killed her in the end. The third…" A shadow flitted across Riala's normally expressionless visage- pain and unhealed grief and something indefinable. Then her eyes grew cold and her face again became stone. "I killed that one, too."
Teltoli frowned, not convinced. "From wot I've seen, there's bad apples in every race, an' bloomin' nice 'uns as well. Y've just 'ad th' bad fortune of meetin' only th' rotters."
She laughed, a harsh sound that caused both Mackbry and Teltoli to stare at her, the fur rising on their necks at the chilling, soulless sound. "Till somebeast proves me wrong, I'll believe what experience teaches. I've never met a wolverine that could be trusted, nor…" The squirrel halted in mid-scentence, nose twitching, tufted ears pricked. Both hares followed her example, wrinkling their sensitive noses in distance as they caught a whiff of the strong scent on the wind.
"Phew, wot a smell!" Mackbry said in a low tone.
"Aye," Riala agreed quietly. "It's close."
Tel's ears stood straight up, quivering with alertness. "Listen!"
All three woodlanders listened carefully, and then gazed at each other with grim faces. Above the wail of the winter wind could be heard growled mutterings in the toothy accents of a predator.
It was the wolverine. They could tell that at once as they followed the voice, for the musky scent of mustelid never faded. It became only stronger as they moved closer, and when it was almost unbearable, they were near enough to understand the words that never seemed to fall silent.
"…harrre… ferrrret… mouse… My subjects! See my thick coat… my long claws… sharrrp, they arre. Not enough subjects… I become hungggry, and thirrrsty! Subjects serrrve me well, then… but subjects too few! Must have morrre subjects… morrre mousse, ferrretses, harrreses… squirrrrelses, badgerrrses, birrrdses… weaselses… foxes… rrratses… My subjects! My loyal subjects… all forrr me, with me… I, Emprrress Laein! See me, subjects…"
It continued in this vein for some time, never ceasing nor pausing. Slowly, silently, the three companions came into sight of the wolverine- and barely held back cries of shock and disgust and revulsion. Before the two hares and the squirrel was a strange scene, so unusual as to be otherworldly. A female wolverine, large even for her species, lounged on the uncured furs of various species- squirrels, hares, rats, ferrets, foxes, stoats, mice, shrews, moles… Bound and in wooden cages was a hare, a mouse, and a ferret, each with mixed emotion of fear, hate, and anger on their faces, as well as irritation bordering on insanity – possibly due to the crazed wolverine's unceasing monologue. The wolverine herself was unkempt; her long claws dyed red with old blood, her snout stained the same color. She combed the furs beneath her constantly, obsessively, continuing to rant.
The three woodlanders pulled back, out of sight of "Empress Laein." Teltoli cast a wary glance in the direction of the crazed mustelid. "I say," he commented in a low tone, "if that long-clawed rotter isn't mad, I jolly well think I am!"
"She's insane, all right… and that makes things much more difficult." Riala pronounced every s as a soft th, as the hissing syllable carried more clearly than any other whispered sound. "The only reason I was able to kill the Longclaws was because I'd trailed him for so long- I knew his fighting perhaps better than he himself. And even then he nearly killed me… Another almost killed a badger because the badger didn't know the wolverine's fighting style. A third…" Again that same hesitation from her earlier listing of wolverines she'd encountered. "That one was already wounded by a… companion of mine." She shook her head, dismissing her lapse. "Wolverines are fast and strong, and an insane one would also be unpredictable. Her claws and fangs are as deadly as our own weapons. If we met her in combat, we would not come away unscathed- if we came away at all."
Mackbry looked unconvinced. "But there're three of us… Not even a wolverine chappess can be that strong!"
The squirrel shrugged. "More fighters have died against a badger in bloodwrath. I'm not saying we wouldn't be able to win- I'm just saying that it would be costly. If there's a better way, I'd rather do that."
The older hare nodded agreement. "Got t'agree with y'there, m'gel."
Tel's eyes narrowed speculatively as he looked back to wear the wolverine still ranted. "So wot've we got that th' 'empress' don't?" After a brief second, not waiting for a reply, he continued. "Workin' minds is wot!"
"True," Riala agreed, listening again to the half-growled monologue.
"…must have morrre subjects…"
Mackbry noted the calculating light in the squirrel's gold-brown eyes, and his own gray ones widened. "I say, treejumper! Y'aren't thinkin' wot I bally well think y'are, are you? Bit risky, wot?"
"And when have hares ever feared risk?" she returned lightly.
"So we just walk up t'this Laein chappess an' say we've come t'serve 'er?"
"Hopefully she'll have a dagger in her gut by then," Riala said, grim anticipation in her voice.
"I say!" Mack exclaimed, startled, "a bit underhanded, wot?"
"Honor gets you killed," the squirrel said flatly, once again all ice and business. "It's all well and good when you're up against honorable beasts, but when the foebeast has no honor is deadly."
"But if y'toss away honor, how c'n…"
Riala cut the hare off mid-sentence. "The philosophy debate can keep until later, Mackbry. We need to act soon, before the 'empress' gets hungry and decides another of her subjects should make the ultimate sacrifice."
"I don't like th' flippin' plan anymore'n y'do, Mack, but we don't have much of a bally chance, doncherknow," Teltoli said, glancing up at Riala as he spoke. "Th' treejumper chappess'll try it alone no matter wot we say or do."
The older hare sighed and nodded reluctant consent. "Lead on, then, Riala," he told the squirrel, and the three woodlanders headed into the wolverine's clearing.
The long-clawed predator looked up sharply as the hares and the squirrel walked casually into the clearing. The wolverine tensed, staring from woodlander to woodlander with the deep, unreasoning suspicion of the insane. "Harrreses… squirrrrell… Why here?"
Teltoli took the question as an invitation to speak, spinning the deception in fine hare fashion. "I say, y'wouldn't be th' famous an' esteemed Empress Laein, would you?"
Though still suspicious, the wolverine seemed to relax slightly at the compliment. "The Emprrress is beforrre you," she informed them, her usual growl becoming almost a purr. "She wonderrrs why you come, forrr most would fearrr her disapprrroval too much to pay herrr homaggge."
"Ach, yet the desire tae see the face o' the Empress Laein be greater than th' fear o' her ire," Riala said, bowing low, though her accent betrayed her taut nerves. They were walking a dangerous line, one on which a single misstep would be death. "Her beauty do be legendary, ye kin."
The self-styled empress preened at the flattery. "And is she as beautiful as rrrumor tells?"
"Aye, an' more," Mackbry replied, joining the act. "Th' red face paint's a jolly good touch, wot!"
As the wolverine continued to preen self-consciously, Riala spoke with a calculating gleam in her gold-brown eyes. "An' I heard tell o' another rumor," she said, watching the "empress" carefully. "Many is the beast what claims th' fur o' th' bonnie empress be coarse as wire, though it be pleasin' tae th' eye."
Laein's eyes flashed angrily, and she was on her footpaws in one impossibly fast motion. "My furrr is soft as velvvvet! Who insulted the Emprrress? That one is a deadbeast!"
"T'was a spikedog fool what told me of this falsehood," the squirrel replied, making sure to keep her tone passive, "an' what do a spinehide ken o' soft fur? I shall return an' tell yon spikedog he spoke wrongly. Although…" Her face took on a troubled expression, seemingly alien on the scarred, normally immobile features.
"What is wrrrong?" the wolverine growled. "You will tell all of my soft furrr, and my legggend will gggrow!"
"Aye, Empress, but I be a terrible liar," Riala returned. "If I am asked, 'how do ye ken th' fur o' the Empress?' and I reply, 'I have felt its softness,' naught will be believed."
"Easy to rrremedy," the "Empress" scoffed. "Come and touch my furrr! Then let all know its softness!"
Slowly, so as not to startle the crazed wolverine into violence, the squirrel walked up to her. She placed one paw on the mustelid's heart, and brought her other paw up in one quick movement. Laein saw the flash of sunlit steel too late. The dagger ripped through her stomach and then was driven upwards by a scarred paw to pierce the wolverine's heart. But insanity had not slowed the self-styled Empress' paw. She caught the squirrel in a deadly embrace, long blood-stained claws digging into Riala's back while her muscles clenched in an attempt to break the squirrel's spine. Her strength, however, was ebbing as quickly as her life.
"I am… the Emprrress…" Laein choked out, a futile denial of the inevitable.
"Aye…" Riala hissed between teeth gritted against the pain of the wolverine's claws. "Empress o' hellgates, now… Empress o' bone… an' dead!" She twisted the dagger ruthlessly, and the insane wolverine's red-brown eyes clouded over in death.
The squirrel grimaced, tugging her weapon free and painfully rising. The dead wolverine's claws pulled free from her back, causing spots of darkness to dance across her vision. She turned slowly towards Mackbry and Teltoli, who were staring at her in concern. "I'm fine," she rasped. "Let's burn the body and the furs and release the woodlanders."
Both hares ignored her words, instead approaching her in a few quick strides. "Bad form t'lie, doncher know," Mack scolded her mildly.
"Oh, I say!" Tel's eyes widened as he caught sight of the dark stains on the squirrel's back. "I don't believe that's from th' wolverine rotter, wot!"
Riala swayed on her footpaws, blackness creeping over her vision. "Told you… wolverines… not…" But the darkness was quicker than speech, and it enveloped her senses in thickest night before she could finish.
To Drill Sergeant Sandfur:
2 The hare, ferret, and mouse were released from their cages and helped to carry Colonel Riala Goldentail to Fort Ruddler's infirmary. They are settling into fort life with relative ease. The Infirmary healer reports that Colonel Goldentail's wounds are healing well, and that she should be able to return to active duty within the season.
Fort Ruddler Mission
It was a brisk day in late January when the hare's body was found. Last week's snow still clung stubbornly to the ground, aided by chilly winter winds, though it was nowhere near as pristine and white as it had been. Yet dirt and mud and pawprints were not the only vandals of the once perfect surface. The snow was also stained by the hours-old blood of the mauled hare.
A scout had stumbled upon the body and had immediately reported it, as was her duty, although nausea gripped her stomach and sorrow shadowed her heart. Drill Sergeant Sandfur Dunerunner was both saddened and angered over the loss of a fortbeast, but almost overriding those emotions was grim satisfaction. Creatures had been disappearing overnight, but this was the first body that had been found. The hare suspected the various disappearances and the body were linked by the same culprit. Now that there were clues, the trail of the mystery beast could be followed…and the Drill Sergeant knew just the beasts for the task.
Riala Goldentail received the mission scroll at noon, just as she was rising from her seat at the crowded mess hall. She broke the seal with the casual manner of one who has done so many times before, and then unrolled it, gold-brown eyes quickly skimming the message. As she reached the end of the short message, the red-brown squirrel paused and read it again, but more slowly.
Colonel Riala Goldentail:
Fort Ruddler beasts have been disappearing overnight. Today a hare's body was found in a ditch, covered in huge claw marks and bite wounds. I believe the incidents are linked, but this is the first body we've found. Your mission is to track this "mystery beast" and stop it from killing again. I have assigned Brigadier General Mackbry Taffellappen and Major Teltol Riverbucki to work on this mission with you. Meet them at the west gate. The hare is in the ditch near that wall. A funeral will be held after your examination.
-Drill Sergeant Sandfur Dunerunner
Mackbry and Teltoli were waiting for her at the western gate. Both hares watched as she approached, expectant expressions on their faces. Riala paused, one scarred paw resting on the latch of the gate, rust-gold tail flicking in irritation. "What is it?" she asked finally, after the waiting silence stretched on, unbroken only by the whistling gale.
"Wot, no complaint 'bout workin' best alone, Riala-me-Goldentail?" the older hare commented, brows rising in surprise.
The squirrel's gold-brown eyes turned to the western gate, looking beyond the wooden door to the body she knew lay behind it. "If this 'mystery beast' is what I think it is, Mackbry," she said quietly, face grim, "then I won't be able to kill it on my own."
The two hares exchanged uncertain glances. This wasn't like Riala. Normally she was fiercely independent, eyes shadowed with inner thoughts and dark memories, face expressionless as stone and voice devoid of emotion. Hatred lurked beneath her tone now, and gleamed red in a gold- brown gaze grown intense with the prospect of the hunt.
"Let's go," the squirrel said, voice still quiet with a deadly cold more frigid than the winter wind. She opened the gate and stepped outside, followed closely by Mackbry and Teltoli.
The sight of the hare was enough to bring bile to the throat of even the most hardened warrior. Long lacerations had turned once-brown fur to red, exposing shredded muscle and white bone. The ground was ripped to the earth, and what snow was not melted by the heat of the now-cool body had been turned a dark pink. The hare's stomach had been torn opened and emptied of its contents, some of which had been partially devoured.
Even Riala's normally stony face had given way to brief horror and disgust, but it quickly passed. Her expression turned grim as she pushed repulsion aside and crouched beside the corpse, gold-brown eyes intently scrutinizing the deep claw marks. "Mackbry," she called, "Teltoli. Come look at this."
The two hares had been examining the ground, torn by the fight between hare and beast. It was much less gut-wrenching than to read the story of the star-crossed battle in the body of the hare, but just as important. Yet at the squirrel's call, they walked over to the corpse and looked at the gashes her paw traced on the lacerated hide. "What do you think made these?"
Teltoli's nose twitched, sorting past the scent of blood and death to the musky stench that was most certainly not hare. "Ferret?" he said doubtfully. "But no ferret 'as claws that large. I'd say weasel by th' smell, but y'see, there's not a weasel chap livin' with claws like that, nor teeth."
"Badger'd be big enough, but th' claws're all wrong," Mack added. "So're th' teeth, doncherknow. Mebbe if ferrets got that big, an' I wouldn't want ter fight a ferret that big and savage-like!"
"Aye, th' scent be much laike ferret, weasel, an' badger," Riala said grimly, earning a sharp glance from the two hares. Her northern accent only became noticeable under stress, although it was now barely stronger than normal. What she saw in the claw marks and bite wounds had upset her where not much else could. "Many has been the time I saw marks such as these… but I dinna see such savagery as this." One paw motioned towards the half-eaten entrails shriveled on the blood-stained earth. Riala took in a deep breath, calming herself, and her accent softened. "T'was when I was on the trail of Nightdeath Longclaws that I found bodies like this one."
Shock was clear on the gray-whiskered face of Mackbry, mingled with concern. Tel's face showed only confusion. The younger hare had never heard Riala's tale, and the name she uttered meant nothing to him. "Nightdeath Longclaws?" he asked Mack in an undertone.
The older hare sighed, eyes saddened. "A wolverine rotter," he replied in the same low voice. "He killed 'er pater. She hates the species more'n anythin'." He walked up to the squirrel silently and laid a compassionate paw on her shoulder. Her muscles grew as taut as a coiled spring beneath a touch that was meant as support. Mack shook his head and pulled his paw away. "Ever goin' t'let go of y'r hate, Riala?"
One paw coiled into a white-knuckled fist, and the squirrel rose to her footpaws. She stared in the direction the trail led, every muscle tensed with anger. "Dinnae talk o' what ye canna understand, longears," she told the hare quietly, but her voice was icy with cold fury.
It was Teltoli who broke the tense silence, his voice sounding out of place among the howl of the wind. "I say, chap an' chappess, we goin' ter stand about doin' nothin' but arguin' or go after th' wolverine rotter?"
Riala nodded minutely, almost imperceptibly. She lowered herself to a partial crouch over the snow, following the trail on the ground. It was not difficult to find, not for as experienced a tracker as the squirrel. Flecks of blood stained the ground, and the occasional partial paw print with the distinctive claws of a wolverine marked the ground. Here and there, the faded scent of the large mustelid reached her questing nose. Occasional strands of dark brown fur had been shed, caught brush and sapling branches. Scuffed earth and snow, overturned leaves- all these proclaimed the wolverine's passing to anyone who knew how to read them.
The two hares hastened to catch up with Riala, who continued to track silently. Teltoli watched her progress for several yards before finally speaking. "Y'cant hate all wolverines for th' wrongs of one, y'know."
"Three," the squirrel said, not looking up from the ground.
The hare paused, somewhat confused. "Wot's that?"
"I've met three wolverines," she explained, voice as hard and cold as the ice that hung from the trees. "One killed my father, and now that one's dead by my paw. Another nearly killed a badger friend of mine, but the badger killed her in the end. The third…" A shadow flitted across Riala's normally expressionless visage- pain and unhealed grief and something indefinable. Then her eyes grew cold and her face again became stone. "I killed that one, too."
Teltoli frowned, not convinced. "From wot I've seen, there's bad apples in every race, an' bloomin' nice 'uns as well. Y've just 'ad th' bad fortune of meetin' only th' rotters."
She laughed, a harsh sound that caused both Mackbry and Teltoli to stare at her, the fur rising on their necks at the chilling, soulless sound. "Till somebeast proves me wrong, I'll believe what experience teaches. I've never met a wolverine that could be trusted, nor…" The squirrel halted in mid-scentence, nose twitching, tufted ears pricked. Both hares followed her example, wrinkling their sensitive noses in distance as they caught a whiff of the strong scent on the wind.
"Phew, wot a smell!" Mackbry said in a low tone.
"Aye," Riala agreed quietly. "It's close."
Tel's ears stood straight up, quivering with alertness. "Listen!"
All three woodlanders listened carefully, and then gazed at each other with grim faces. Above the wail of the winter wind could be heard growled mutterings in the toothy accents of a predator.
It was the wolverine. They could tell that at once as they followed the voice, for the musky scent of mustelid never faded. It became only stronger as they moved closer, and when it was almost unbearable, they were near enough to understand the words that never seemed to fall silent.
"…harrre… ferrrret… mouse… My subjects! See my thick coat… my long claws… sharrrp, they arre. Not enough subjects… I become hungggry, and thirrrsty! Subjects serrrve me well, then… but subjects too few! Must have morrre subjects… morrre mousse, ferrretses, harrreses… squirrrrelses, badgerrrses, birrrdses… weaselses… foxes… rrratses… My subjects! My loyal subjects… all forrr me, with me… I, Emprrress Laein! See me, subjects…"
It continued in this vein for some time, never ceasing nor pausing. Slowly, silently, the three companions came into sight of the wolverine- and barely held back cries of shock and disgust and revulsion. Before the two hares and the squirrel was a strange scene, so unusual as to be otherworldly. A female wolverine, large even for her species, lounged on the uncured furs of various species- squirrels, hares, rats, ferrets, foxes, stoats, mice, shrews, moles… Bound and in wooden cages was a hare, a mouse, and a ferret, each with mixed emotion of fear, hate, and anger on their faces, as well as irritation bordering on insanity – possibly due to the crazed wolverine's unceasing monologue. The wolverine herself was unkempt; her long claws dyed red with old blood, her snout stained the same color. She combed the furs beneath her constantly, obsessively, continuing to rant.
The three woodlanders pulled back, out of sight of "Empress Laein." Teltoli cast a wary glance in the direction of the crazed mustelid. "I say," he commented in a low tone, "if that long-clawed rotter isn't mad, I jolly well think I am!"
"She's insane, all right… and that makes things much more difficult." Riala pronounced every s as a soft th, as the hissing syllable carried more clearly than any other whispered sound. "The only reason I was able to kill the Longclaws was because I'd trailed him for so long- I knew his fighting perhaps better than he himself. And even then he nearly killed me… Another almost killed a badger because the badger didn't know the wolverine's fighting style. A third…" Again that same hesitation from her earlier listing of wolverines she'd encountered. "That one was already wounded by a… companion of mine." She shook her head, dismissing her lapse. "Wolverines are fast and strong, and an insane one would also be unpredictable. Her claws and fangs are as deadly as our own weapons. If we met her in combat, we would not come away unscathed- if we came away at all."
Mackbry looked unconvinced. "But there're three of us… Not even a wolverine chappess can be that strong!"
The squirrel shrugged. "More fighters have died against a badger in bloodwrath. I'm not saying we wouldn't be able to win- I'm just saying that it would be costly. If there's a better way, I'd rather do that."
The older hare nodded agreement. "Got t'agree with y'there, m'gel."
Tel's eyes narrowed speculatively as he looked back to wear the wolverine still ranted. "So wot've we got that th' 'empress' don't?" After a brief second, not waiting for a reply, he continued. "Workin' minds is wot!"
"True," Riala agreed, listening again to the half-growled monologue.
"…must have morrre subjects…"
Mackbry noted the calculating light in the squirrel's gold-brown eyes, and his own gray ones widened. "I say, treejumper! Y'aren't thinkin' wot I bally well think y'are, are you? Bit risky, wot?"
"And when have hares ever feared risk?" she returned lightly.
"So we just walk up t'this Laein chappess an' say we've come t'serve 'er?"
"Hopefully she'll have a dagger in her gut by then," Riala said, grim anticipation in her voice.
"I say!" Mack exclaimed, startled, "a bit underhanded, wot?"
"Honor gets you killed," the squirrel said flatly, once again all ice and business. "It's all well and good when you're up against honorable beasts, but when the foebeast has no honor is deadly."
"But if y'toss away honor, how c'n…"
Riala cut the hare off mid-sentence. "The philosophy debate can keep until later, Mackbry. We need to act soon, before the 'empress' gets hungry and decides another of her subjects should make the ultimate sacrifice."
"I don't like th' flippin' plan anymore'n y'do, Mack, but we don't have much of a bally chance, doncherknow," Teltoli said, glancing up at Riala as he spoke. "Th' treejumper chappess'll try it alone no matter wot we say or do."
The older hare sighed and nodded reluctant consent. "Lead on, then, Riala," he told the squirrel, and the three woodlanders headed into the wolverine's clearing.
The long-clawed predator looked up sharply as the hares and the squirrel walked casually into the clearing. The wolverine tensed, staring from woodlander to woodlander with the deep, unreasoning suspicion of the insane. "Harrreses… squirrrrell… Why here?"
Teltoli took the question as an invitation to speak, spinning the deception in fine hare fashion. "I say, y'wouldn't be th' famous an' esteemed Empress Laein, would you?"
Though still suspicious, the wolverine seemed to relax slightly at the compliment. "The Emprrress is beforrre you," she informed them, her usual growl becoming almost a purr. "She wonderrrs why you come, forrr most would fearrr her disapprrroval too much to pay herrr homaggge."
"Ach, yet the desire tae see the face o' the Empress Laein be greater than th' fear o' her ire," Riala said, bowing low, though her accent betrayed her taut nerves. They were walking a dangerous line, one on which a single misstep would be death. "Her beauty do be legendary, ye kin."
The self-styled empress preened at the flattery. "And is she as beautiful as rrrumor tells?"
"Aye, an' more," Mackbry replied, joining the act. "Th' red face paint's a jolly good touch, wot!"
As the wolverine continued to preen self-consciously, Riala spoke with a calculating gleam in her gold-brown eyes. "An' I heard tell o' another rumor," she said, watching the "empress" carefully. "Many is the beast what claims th' fur o' th' bonnie empress be coarse as wire, though it be pleasin' tae th' eye."
Laein's eyes flashed angrily, and she was on her footpaws in one impossibly fast motion. "My furrr is soft as velvvvet! Who insulted the Emprrress? That one is a deadbeast!"
"T'was a spikedog fool what told me of this falsehood," the squirrel replied, making sure to keep her tone passive, "an' what do a spinehide ken o' soft fur? I shall return an' tell yon spikedog he spoke wrongly. Although…" Her face took on a troubled expression, seemingly alien on the scarred, normally immobile features.
"What is wrrrong?" the wolverine growled. "You will tell all of my soft furrr, and my legggend will gggrow!"
"Aye, Empress, but I be a terrible liar," Riala returned. "If I am asked, 'how do ye ken th' fur o' the Empress?' and I reply, 'I have felt its softness,' naught will be believed."
"Easy to rrremedy," the "Empress" scoffed. "Come and touch my furrr! Then let all know its softness!"
Slowly, so as not to startle the crazed wolverine into violence, the squirrel walked up to her. She placed one paw on the mustelid's heart, and brought her other paw up in one quick movement. Laein saw the flash of sunlit steel too late. The dagger ripped through her stomach and then was driven upwards by a scarred paw to pierce the wolverine's heart. But insanity had not slowed the self-styled Empress' paw. She caught the squirrel in a deadly embrace, long blood-stained claws digging into Riala's back while her muscles clenched in an attempt to break the squirrel's spine. Her strength, however, was ebbing as quickly as her life.
"I am… the Emprrress…" Laein choked out, a futile denial of the inevitable.
"Aye…" Riala hissed between teeth gritted against the pain of the wolverine's claws. "Empress o' hellgates, now… Empress o' bone… an' dead!" She twisted the dagger ruthlessly, and the insane wolverine's red-brown eyes clouded over in death.
The squirrel grimaced, tugging her weapon free and painfully rising. The dead wolverine's claws pulled free from her back, causing spots of darkness to dance across her vision. She turned slowly towards Mackbry and Teltoli, who were staring at her in concern. "I'm fine," she rasped. "Let's burn the body and the furs and release the woodlanders."
Both hares ignored her words, instead approaching her in a few quick strides. "Bad form t'lie, doncher know," Mack scolded her mildly.
"Oh, I say!" Tel's eyes widened as he caught sight of the dark stains on the squirrel's back. "I don't believe that's from th' wolverine rotter, wot!"
Riala swayed on her footpaws, blackness creeping over her vision. "Told you… wolverines… not…" But the darkness was quicker than speech, and it enveloped her senses in thickest night before she could finish.
To Drill Sergeant Sandfur:
2 The hare, ferret, and mouse were released from their cages and helped to carry Colonel Riala Goldentail to Fort Ruddler's infirmary. They are settling into fort life with relative ease. The Infirmary healer reports that Colonel Goldentail's wounds are healing well, and that she should be able to return to active duty within the season.
