A/N: This is a segment of a roleplaying thread at Fort Ruddler's RPG boards. This one is a huge IC mission roleplayed out by many different players. I haven't edited anything (spelling, grammar, tense, post order, etc) yet, and I might not get around to it for a while simply because this is such a long thread. I hoe you can still follow it.
The only character I wrote the part of was Riala, although NPCs such as Loam and the hedgehog tribe and the leveret were written mostly by me, occasionally by other people. Also, mid-plot, Moontouch and Brooke left Fort Ruddler and didn't get the chance to post as their characters before leaving. Wayside Patrol – Day 1 – Afternoon
Morning grows older, advancing close to noontide with the sun well
on its way to its peak in the sky. It's the cold sun of the north, giving off
little enough heat even in the mid-spring, when more southern lands would be
enjoying a pleasantly mild warmth. Instead, a slight breeze stirs the chilled
air, sweeping it into the faces of the patrollers.
The advance
scouting party, still consisting of Mackbry, Rook, Brooke, and Kalen, reaches a
small stream just as the sun reaches its apex, silently signalling the change
in scouting teams. The brook is scarcely deserving of the name, not nearly
large enough to be marked on the map carried by most of the fortbeasts on the
mission. The sparse brush of this northern plain has taken advantage of the
unfrozen water, gathering thickly about the muddy banks. Tracks can be seen
clearly in the soft earth: the usual array of bird tracks alongside other
tracks... four-clawed pawmarks, smaller than a hare's but larger than a
mouse's.
The bushes rustle
slightly behind the scouting team, and four well-aimed projectiles fly through
the air, accompanied by a quickly-stifled giggle. The distinctly wet splat
as the missiles land mark them clearly as... mudballs?!
"I say, seems we're not the only beasts out here, eh wot?
Squirrel tracks mayhap, what do y'think Rook?" Mack stared down at
four-clawed tracks that lay before the scouting team. Certainly he was no
expert tracker, but seasons of traveling teaches a good many things to a beast.
"Hmm, well,
the next team should be along in some time, pr'aps one of the lads in that team
twill know what they are." Mack fell silent as the rustling of bushes
behind him caught his attention, likely the next team he thought to himself.
The gray hare began turning to his right to greet what he thought to be the new
team that was to relieve them.
"Very good,
hope one of you c-" Splat! The mudball took Mack fully by surprise as
it slammed into the hare's lower right jaw, shaking him and almost throwing him
off balance. Mack stumbled backward and opened his mouth to shout out
something, but mud filled it instead. He coughed and sputtered, desperately
trying to blow mud from his nose and spit it out of his mouth.
As soon as both
nose and mouth were at least parcially free of mud, Mack's instincts took over. "Rook!" The
elderly hare lept towards Brooke and Kalen, unsure as to how the young one
would handle such a situation. "Brooke, get Kalen under cover! Rook,
c'mon, watch their backs!"
Mack turned
his back towards Brooke and Kalen and raised his spear into a fighter's stance
as he glanced sharply in the direction the mudballs had been thrown from.
Mudballs may have been the only thing that was to come their way, but one could
not be sure.
Himself having taken the oppurtunity to catch his vagrant breath,
Rook was alerted to the presence of several mischevious intruders by the
distinct sound of bankmud hitting the grassy earth with sound, unpleasent
splatters. One of the offending objects hit quite near to his left foot,
dotting his leg with tiny flecks of moist sand and soil. With Mack's voice
rising steadily in his erect ears, Rook drew forth his glinting steel blades
and held them at ready, backing towards the stream with a crossed scowl on his
scarred face
"For the
sake of whomever is tossing these, they'd best retreat before finding more mud
becomes the least of their worries. How are you doing there, Mackbry? I saw you
eat one."
Breathing heavily under the heat from the suns rays Brooke and
Kalen are coming up to the other part of their team when all of a sudden Brooke
gets hit by a mudball *SMACK!* right in the left cheek. She hears Mack and Rook
trying to make them aware of the incoming fire but she was a little late in the
ducking, but manages to cover Kalen up with her body. Although Mack was
standing in front of Brooke and Kalen another one sneakes by the elder Hare and
slams right into her right ribcage, her muscles tightening up with the stinging
that accompanied the blow. She tries to look over the brook to see if she could
get a glimse of the culprit, but had little success since she was still
shielding Kalen from the air-born mud missiles.
*Owch, mate that
hurt. Me heard the rustling of them ther' bushes but I just figured that it was
just you two beasts out scoutin'.*
The hare instintivly moved back as Shara whipped around, a blade
appearing in her paw. Not wanting to startle her further, Tel held out his paws
in front of his body, showing he was not armed. He smiled winningly, hoping to
put his new partner at ease.
I say, no need
tah be alarmed miss! Tis only me, yer new partner.
* The hare
stepped forward, once Shara had realised Tel meant no harm. He took a quick
liking to the otter as she spoke casually after shaking paws. *
Well, no
"marm" then eh wot! I tend tah call all beasts o the female
persuasion by that term...old an young...
*Tel grins
slyly.*
Guess I'll have
tah stop that habit wot! I'll call yah Shara then, an yah kin call me Tel, er'
Tello, er any variation o that name...
*The hare's jovial
speech trailed off as he placed a paw to his brow, straining to peer into the
distance. He could barly make out a ridge before a supposed river bank...and
almost make out the sounds of stuggle coming from that area.*
I say, whot deh
yah suppose is going on ovah there Shara?
The fox trots alongside the other beasts watching the younger
beasts excitedly talk. The spring air carries the scents and sound of beasts
laughing, it could give them away.
...thier
shouts could give this group away, but what am I to say? I was young once
too...
The fox winced as
one of the male otters, the one called Tann collided with an oak tree. He
rushed over to the fallen otter and helped him up, his face showing concern as
he joked.
"Be careful.
You don't want to end up with an ugly face like me!"
Moontouch grins broadly and she giggles. She rumbles in her
bag again for another one of the scones she had swiped and she offers one to
Kuja.*
Poor Kuja!
Complainin' he's got an ugly face! Would Kuja like a nice scone? I got them
from the kitchen this mornin'. Me and Tann have already sampled some.
She waves the
scone under Kuja's nose, grinning broadly and eyes twinkling. While holding the
scone toward Kuja with one paw, she uses her other one to try and organize the
rest of her stuff which she had hastily stuffed into the bag that morning.
Tann's eyes light up when the friendly fox rushes to help him up. Taking the Kuja's paw offered to get up he said," Thankee, bu' ah dunno if ah'll ever have a face a ugly a yours." he joked, his eyes twinkling with merriment. Looking at the fox, he noticed a kind of air around him, almost like a mercenary air. Funny...
Another belatedly smothered giggle sounds from the bushes as Mack gets a mudball right in the face, and the bushes rustle as the culprit tries to make his escape. Sunlight gleams on mud-brown quills as the creature passes through a slight gap in the brush. A hedgehog, and only the one. From the quick glimpse the scouting party gets of the mudballer, they can probably see that he's no adult- a child, yet. He picks up speed as if sensing he's been seen, the leaves rustling against each other with the jostling of his unskilled passage.
Riala's rust-gold tail flicks in vague annoyance as Kuja
completely ignores her. She'd have to assume he heard what she said, then - she
certainly wasn't going to chase after the fox to tell him of the change in
teams. She turns her attention back to the trail, taking silent note of some
things that she'd have to suggest for the patrols that would probably follow
this initial one. Fewer creatures, for one... a group of four would probably do
quite nicely for a single patrol team. No helping this one's size, though -
they need all the creatures for the building of waystations...
Tufted red-brown
ears flick forward at the sounds of a disturbance ahead on the trail, barely
audible above the chatter of the patrollers. The scouting team, in some sort of
trouble? That's the first thing that goes through Riala's mind, and she
quickens her pace. Better not to rush onto the scene, but she needed to get to
where she could observe and then decide what action was needed. She dashes up a
stunted tree to better see over the brush, but all she sees from her vantage
point is the four scouts, splattered with mud. Gold-brown eyes dart to the side
as she half-sees, half-senses movement, and sights a young russet-brown
hedgehog racing through the dubious cover of the brush.
In response to Tel's question, Shara squints ahead at
hearing the noise, then moves further up, saying
"I'm not
sure, seems like some sort of-"
Shara breaks
off in startlement as a mudball out of nowhere sails and hits her in the eye.
With a muffled oath, Shara wipes of the mud to see a hedgehod, a young 'un no
less!, running of and chuckling to itself. Her eyes narrow and Shara mutters
"Oh no you
don't!"
Picking up
some mud from the streambed, Shara forms a little ball with the mud and sets it
flying toward the creature. The mud hits the headhog right on the head with a
sickening splat causing the hedgehog to stumble and slow down a bit. Shara
gracefully dives into the stream and comes up on the other side with extra
mudball in her paw, just in case, and her clothes sopping wet. Shara looks down
at her clothes with a faint hint of distain, then looks around for the
hedgehog, who was just a small distance from her. With a few easy strides,
Shara jogs up to the youngster and casually addresses him saying,
"I say, no
need to be a'throwing mudballs herebouts."
The youngster
throws a quick glance at her and keeps running, his eyes wide with excitement
at this 'new game.' Shara's brow furrows in annoyance and she quickly grabs the
young 'un's tunic, forcing him to a halt, stating,
"Kindly
explain yerself."
The hedgehog
begins to squirm in response, and Shara, not having much experience with
younsters and seeing Brooke, yells in a slightly confused voice as the hedgehog
squirms free and continues to run onward,
"Brooke?!
He's headed your way!"
Brooke is still crouched down covering Kalen with her slender
body, but she hears the stiffled giggle and through a slight break in the brush
witnesses the spikey quills of what looked to be a young menacing Hedgehog.
Quickly she ties her skirt to one side of her thigh and pulls her dagger out in
case she comes in contact with other hostile beasts. Taking off like an arrow
shot from a bow she darts across the stream. Brooke is quick and agile so she
assumed that it would be best for her to be the one to grab the perpetrator.
Running through the bushes, some of them prickely, Brooke gets quite a few
scrapes along the way. But finally after dodging hanging boughs from trees and
fallen dead ones she manages to reach out with her paws to snatch the little
beast by the scruff of his shirt collar. She then walks him back to Rook and
Mack to see what they wanted to do with him.
*Sorry guys
didn't want to be a damsel in distress, got ta' pull me own weight in this here
unit ya' know. So this is the culprit, what do ya' want to do with him?*
Standing there waiting
for them to decide what to do she slides her dagger back into it's sheath and
then rubs what seemed like sweat on her cheek bone. Looking at her paw painted
with blood she kneels down to the stream and shakes the red liquid off with a
quick swish back and forth.
Lupin reaches the near front of the patrol just in time to see several mudballs go flying, some splattering on various other creatures. She whips out her sling, loaded with a small pebble, in case of any real danger, but relaxes as the sound of dibbunish giggling comes from the bushes. Lupin stands ready to help in case Brooke and Shara need any help securing the miscreant, and waits for Riala to decide if he needs punishment.
Though fleeting, Rook could tell by the a mere glimpse of thin quill
and brown fur that this was the work of a child, one who seemed to enjoy both
dirt and trouble. Set to take off in pursuit of the small beast, Rook had only
moved several steps before a surprised squeak echoed back through the forest's
fringe. Brooke emerged, followed by other members of the party. In tow was the
culprit, a dibbun hedgehog complete with the telltale mud all over his paws.
With deft, seamless movement, Rook slid both his daggers back to their sheaths
and stepped forward, his usual monotone taking on an agitated life of it's own
"So, it's
just a babe that keeps us at bay with mud, hm? I wonder how he'd like the same
treatment."
The young hedgehog squirms in Brooke's grasp, both annoyance and
indignation on his cinnamon-furred face. "Lemme go!" he growls with
all the ferocioty a near-dibbun hedgehog can muster. "I be Loam Urthspike,
th' gurtest wurrior that ever lived! I'll thwack ye wif more muddyballs, an'
worse! Lemme go, ye gurt watermutt!"
He glares at
Rook, mud-splattered snout twitching furiously. "An' I'm notta 'fraida ye,
neither! Doan' like riverdogs, they smell! Phoo! I'm all muddylike now as 'tis,
notta 'fraida muddyballs like yebeasts!" He chortles abruptly, quite
pleased with himself. "S'funny though! Ye lookin' 'round like I's
vermintypes're somethin'! Heehee! An' th' rabbitbeast wif his face all
muddy!" He grinned insolently at Mackbry, not the least bit apologetic.
Tann's conversation with Kuja is cut short when he hears the sounds of a scuffle further down. Running to the scene of the crime, he sees Brooke holding a mud encrusted hedgehog. The hog has much to say and he is impressed by his impudence. He folds his paws into a cross and watched on, his face breaking into a thin grin. Still grinning, he laughed out loud when the hog said his comment to Mack. He tried to stifle it, but it came out sure enough. He looked apologetically at Mackbry and said," Sorry, mate." Still grinning, he tried hard not to laugh at the mud covered faces of his friends.
Mack squinted towards the young hedgehog with annoyance as
Brooke brought the runaway dibbun to bay. Loam's insestant giggles did little
to improve his mood.
"Well, will
y'look at that." Mack said with a sarcastically bored tone, wiping mud
off on the back of his paw. As if trying to clean his paw, the hare shook his
paw, a sizable glob of mud landing on the hedeghog's snout. "My my,
dreadfully sorry m'bucko, but they do say He who digs a hole for his brother
will fall into it." He said with a shrug.
However, he was
but a dibbun and Mack was not a beast to stay angry. The elderly hare reached
forward to pat Rook on the back. "Aye, I'd not be one t'argue, Rook
m'boyo, but youn' 'uns will be youn' 'uns. Now mister," Mack said as he
stared down at Loam over the top of his small, round glasses, "mind
explainin' yerself? Or do I need t'leave you alone with my friend here?"
Nearing the end of his notoriously short rope, Rook snorted at the
notion that he smelled of anything more then otter. His tail tip fidgeted,
revealing hidden fury and tension. Though, Rook still was capable of rational
thought, which brought an idea into his head. Moving swiftly past Mackbry, he
bent his knees to kneel while the youngster continued his struggles against
Brooke's firm pawhold
"So, you
like mud, huh? Well, little chum, I happen to like clean things. Therefore,
you'll be getting a bath if that hare turns you over to me. How would you liked
your ears scrubbed?"
Walking in silence for what seemed like eons, the serene
surroundings were abrubtly destroyed by a bombardment of mudballs, one of which
struck her in the side, spattering her black cloak with dark and wet mud.
Stiffening, she heard small squeals close by, and the small mouse sauntered
over, dirt dripping off of her old cloak. She listened in the background of
things as the little hedgehog babe was interrigated as gently as possible.
Brooke held the dibbun firmly by the paw, though he struggled gallently,
shouting insults to the surrounding beasts. The mouse was taken aback at the
young one's arrogence, and his idle threats to break free. Rook bent near to
murmer something to the little one, his face screwed up in frustration. The
albino watched in curious silence, studying the babe carefuly from beneith her
shadowed veil. What a bold brat, to be sure, she thought as she watched
the hedgepig stare fearlessly at the strong otter before him. When she could
stand the curiosity no more, she dared to venture into the conversation, her
cloak still dripping with mud. Leaning down next to Rook, the albino mouse
stared with cold, rose-coloured eyes at the young one with her pale face still
shrouded in shadows, her hood drawn. Giving the babe a stern look, she gazes at
the fearless creature, impressed at his boldness.*
"You've got
a mighty strong arm there, young 'un," she says, her voice gruff and
grating. "But it tain't nice to be tossing mud at travelers."
Brown-black eyes hold annoyance as Mack splatters Loam with mud.
He shakes his head vigorously, sending the mud flying off his long snout and hitting
anybeast nearby. "Hmph!" he grumbles in response to the hare's words.
"Ye came t'my stream, didn'tcha? S'my stream, not yours! Wotcha
doin' 'ere anyhow?"
The hedgehog
stares insolently at Rook as the otter crouches in front of him. But his expression
changes remarkably at the fortbeast's threat. "YAAAAAAGH!" he yells,
backpedalling into Brooke and inadvertantly writhing free of her grip.
"Don' wanna ba'f! I likes bein' muddy! Stay 'way from me!" His
muddy footpaws pound the grass as he runs right up the trail- and smacks into
Moonrose.
Loam shakes his
head as if to clear it and looks up at the albino mouse, eyes widening at the
sight of her unusual coloring. "Ye're a... a rose-eye!" he gasps,
almost reverently. "'Ow's there a rose-eye mouse??"
Riala had left her perch in the tree once she'd seen that the
hedgehog was caught and her aid wasn't needed. She had bounded up the trail
with the curious gait of squirrels, standing nearby and watching with
amusement. The squirrel had never really liked dibbuns all that much,
preferring to watch them rather than try to keep them in paw, but she couldn't
help but give this cinnamon-quilled hedgehog a grudging respect. They were
going to have to keep moving, however, and- Wait...
Riala pulls out
her notes for the mission, seeing that there was a hedgehog tribe one or two
days' hike up the trail. What was this little one doing so far from his tribe,
if indeed that was his tribe...? Well, that question could wait a few moments.
She wants to watch a while longer before confronting the hedgehog child...
The mouse lowered her face to hide the amusement in her
rose-coloured eyes at the young ones wide-eyed curiousity. Maybe she could hold
his attention long enough to get some real information out of him... that is,
if she had any persuation skills whatsoever... Never the talking type, the
albino simply shrugged and lowered her hood so that the hedgehog babe could get
a better look. This should hold his attention... she thinks. Trying her
best to appear calmer and friendlier, she gave the babe a glimmer of a smile
and spoke as gently as she could*
"Y'say this
stream is yours?" The mouse asks nonchalontly, her grammer slipping into a
more comfortable slang. "Where are your folks, young 'un?"
"Um..." Loam looks away from those eerie ruby eyes as Moonrose questiones him gently. He's not s'posed to lie to a 'rose-eye'; his tribe's legends state that they can sense lies. Certainly his tribe's rose-eye seems to. But he doesn't want to answer her. "M'tribe... um... They's that way." He points down the trail with a grubby cinnamon-furred paw, and then his mouth shuts with a firm click and he stares at the ground, determined not to say any more than that.
The mouse leans back to study the dibbun's face for a moment, as
if debating whether he's telling the truth. With an inaudible sigh, she draws
her hood back over her face and turns back to the hedgehog, trying to catch his
gaze and hoping that the coldness in her eyes had somehow been lessened. The
albino noticed that his jaw was locked tight, so she decided not to press him
any more on the location of his family.*
"Hmm."
She murmurs to herself before continuing in the same soft-spoken voice as
before. "Well, young 'un, that still doesn't explain why you were chuckin'
mud at us innocent travelers. In my opinion, y' just might owe a few of these
beasties an' apology b'fore we letcha go..."
Loam glares sullenly at the group of travelers.
"M'sorry," he mutters finally, sounding not at all apologetic.
Abruptly his snout twitches and he turns, seemingly for the first time noticing
the haversacks carried by several creatures. "Ye've got vittles?" he
says, trying to sound casual, but not doing a very good job of covering up the
fact that he's hungry... especially as his stomach makes a very suspicious
rumbling sound.
Riala's mouth
twitches in a vague hint of a smile at the sound. She's almost certain that the
hedgehog's tribe is the one down the trail. Probably this little one is a
runaway, wanting to not have to go to bed on time or take a bath... The scarred
squirrel kneels down to Loam's level and takes an oatcake from her harversack,
waving it before him. "Aye, we've food enough," she says with her
lilting, near-imperceptible northern accent, "but what makes you think we'll
give food to beasts that attack us with mudballs? Hm?"
He scuffs the
dirt with one muddy footpaw. "'m sorry," he says again, sounding much
more sincere this time. "Won't do it again." He pauses, considering.
"If'n I comes with ye, c'n I have food?"
The grin on
Riala's red-brown face is more apparent this time. She turns to the rest of the
patrol. "What do you think?" she asks conversationally. "Should
we let the hedgehog come along?"
Tann grinned and winked at Riala. Walking up to her, he patted the scarred squirrel's shoulder saying," Riala, I vote we atke the liddle terror along with us so 'e can git back to his family. What do the rest of ya say?"
Cinder followed Tann up ahead, where the scouting party was
attacked. He watched the confrontation, off to the side, his thoughts drifting
back to his own dibbunhood, and the trouble he got into himself. Hearing the sincere
apology, he broke out of his daze and laughed,
"An apology
for food 'eh, I wish I got off that easy when I was his age!" He said as
he walked up beside Tann. "I guess there's no real harm done though, but
then again, I'm not the one wearing the mud tunic! What da'ya think Mack and
Rook?"
He threw a smile
towards them both, hoping to smooth over his jab at their misfortune.
The tall lithe fox laughs at Tann's statement. The fur around his
peircing eyes crease in laughter. His ears flick around, and all laughter
subsides. His eyes narrow as he places a paw on his brow and looks ahead.
Poorly muffled
laughter reached his sensitive ears, and Tann had obviously seen the culprit as
he hastily tore off towards what from his distance appeared to be a hedgehog.
The fox, took no
haste in arriviing on the scene knowing that hedgehogs were friendly beasts,
and would not harm another goodbeast.
...young
hedgehog. Methinks that he is a runaway, he looks like a tribal beast...
The afternoon sun
filtered in from the treetops creating soft grey shadows of the leaves above.
His right ebony paw strayed slowly to his travelling sack. He stealthily undid
the strap, and pulled out his grey cloak. Being good with disguises, the clever
fox mischeviously poked the long thorns from a nearby thorn bush through the
heavy burlap fibers.
He then pulled
out a long strand of grass, and tied his red brushlike tail back so it was
hidden out of veiw. He slinked over to the river, and plastered bank mud onto
his paws, making him look like an aged hedgehog.
He then walked
slowly into the midst of the patrol playing his part well. He squatted in front
of the young dibbun, his eyes flashing from beneath the hood. He looked into
the hedgehog's eyes almost like he was reading the young one's mind while at
the same time smiling.
"Hullo der
child. Are ya one o' yon patroller beasties, or is ya one o' dem tribesbeasties?"
"Aye, why not?" Mack bent down to the young
hedgehog's level and smiled at the dibbun.
"'Pology
excepted m'laddo. An' food y'get if'n you take us t'yer tribe, rightyo?" As
if to prove a point, Mack pulled from his tunic pocket a few slightly crushed,
but just as sweet, candied chestnuts. Just as he reached out to hand the sweets
to Loam, a rustling of bushes stayed his paw.
An elderly
hedeghog ambled into the small clearing and began speaking in a heavy accent
hedeghogs are often accustomed to. Mack stared suspiciously at the elder. Very
skinny chap, Mack thought silently to himself, and very short spikes.
But Mack said not
a word, waiting for some sort of explanation from the hedgehog.
Riala laughs dryly as everybeast speaks their thoughts on what to
do with the little hedgehog. "Looks like you're coming with us," she
tells him. "'Ere." She tosses the oatcake to Loam, who catches it and
scarfs it down in record time.
The
cinnamon-furred hedgehog munches contendedly on the oatcake, looking resigned
as he hears the talk about bringing him back to his tribe. "Yah,
yah..." he sighs past a full mouth. "I'll bring ye t'my tribe. T'was
fun not 'aving bafs'r bedtimes though..."
He looks
curiously at the "hedgehog elder", brown-black eyes holding a glimmer
of suspicion at the "hedgehog's" sudden appearance. "'M a
tribebeast," he says cautiously, but proudly. Then his long snout
twitched, sensitive nose taking in the smells around the "hedgehog."
"An' ye smell funny, Elder..."
Rook was the only beast amongst the congregation of travelers who had yet to voice an opinion on whether Loam should be allowed to assimilate into their ranks. Yet, Rook dared not to speak, and instead, resigned himself to crouch by the stream which they would eventually have to cross. That was, if the others could pull themselves away from feeding the nut-furred menaced such valuable viands as those that constituted their rations. Bitter to the taste, his malice would percolate and seep from the fur, for the fates knew he had enough to drown the hedgehog in.
Lupin also stands silent as the conversation goes on. She is not very outgoing around creatures she doesn't know, and her comrades seemed to be handling the situation quite well. Not to mention handling unruly young creatures had never really been her strong point. Lupin watches carefully as a beast who looks like an elderly hedgehog comes up, but looks twice and finds that he somehow he doesn't look entirely quite right. She also picks up that Rook is at least still slightly annoyed, but keeps her mouth shut.
The little rouge's not getting any of my vittles... runs
through the albino's mind as the hedgepig-babe is offered food for his
leadership to his tribe. What a foolish thing to do, putting the travelers in
the mud-covered paws of a dibbun. But Riala seemed to know what she was doing,
so the mouse did not question her.
Refined
disc-shaped ears laying back, the mouse inhales the strange-beast's scent,
finding it definatly unlike that of a normal hedgehogs. The newly arived
hedgepig Elder was giving her a very accute scence of danger. She draws back
warily. Pink nose quivering, she bows her head and draws her hood, once again
hiding her moon-pale face. Strangers... she didn't trust them, unless they
earned her trust. Reverence must be earned, she thinks to herself, hoping to
somewhat dissapear amongst the small crowds of beasts. Though her gut instinct
was to point through the stranger's disguise, she instead waited for the
"hedgehog" to dig himself a hole. Watching and waiting, the young
mouse listens to their conversation, hovering like a ghastly phantom awaiting
it's hapless victem to take the inevitable wrong turn into its icy embrace.
Tel had, unlike his usual self, remained quite thorugh most
of the ordeal with the hedghog babe. Being one who greatly appreiciated the
company of a young one, the kindly hare wished to wait till matters were
settled as to what to do with the hog beofre he conversed with him. The hare
stood in hock high tall grass growing near the waters edge. Standing on tip
paws, and shading his brow from the setting sun, the hare's eyes reflected red
gold light as he scanned out over the horizon beyond the strwam. As was his
custom for this time of day, Tel began to think of food. He thought silently for
a moment and headed slwoly over to where his partner was standing. He came up
next to the otter, clearing his throat softly to note his approach. He did not
with to take Shara by surprise as he had when he spoke with her days hence.*
I say Shara, looks
to be that you an' I have cooking duty tonight wot! Mayhap we should she bout
mixin up some vittles. Couldn't hurt much teh have the babe stay fer one meal,
an think it's bout time our comrades had some tuck...whot deh yah think?
*Tel glanced
quickly over to Riala as he waited for a response from Shara, wondering wether
the squirrel would think it was a good idea to cook at this time.
Tufted ears prick up as Teltoli mentions cooking, and Riala glances
at the sky. The sun is past its zenith but by no means close to the horizon
yet. "We've lost enough time already," the squirrel says
apologetically to the hare. "Lunch can be eaten on the go... we'll stop at
sunset for dinner."
She glances down
at the schedule and raises her voice to reach to the entire patrol. "Team
2, you've got scouting duty. SilverRose and Landin, take the left; Teltoli and
Shara, you've got the right. We've got to make up for some lost time, so let's
go along at a little faster clip, shall we?"
Riala sets off at
a quick walk, somewhat slower than she might have if the hedgehog youngster
hadn't been coming along. She knows the trail ahead from careful study of maps;
she also knows that a semi-nomadic hedgehog tribe makes camp during the spring
not far up the trail. Likely, that's Loam's tribe... but an offer of food in
pretended exchange for guidance would keep the young hedgehog with them. The
Northlands are a dangerous place for younglings...
Her well-trained
nose twitches as she passes the "hedgehog elder", and a slight
amusement sparks in gold-brown eyes. "You may as well give it up,"
she murmurs, almost inaudibly, as she passes him. "I doubt anybeast's
completely fooled..."
Loam stares about
at the bustle around him of the patrol setting off on the trail. As the
"hedgehog" still hasn't answered him, he shrugs and waves farewell
with a muddy paw and jogs to Moonrose's side. The little cinnamon-furred
youngster seems to have latched onto the albino mouse as a companion for some
reason... "What ye out 'ere f'r, anyhow?" he asks, curious.
The elderly hedgehog gave no reply to all the inquires,
rousing Mack's suspisions even more. But Riala seemed to have whispered to him
as she passed by, and that was enough for the hare.
Mack jogged until
he was level with Rook and kept pace with the otter. "Well
Rook, I've a bit t'eat in my haversack, want a bite fer lunch, m'boyo? Tis what
partners be fer, eh wot? B'lieve, if I'm not mistaken, that there be a small
flagon of strawberry fizz too, course more cider than fizz," he said
with a wink as Rook knew his like for cider, "but there be fizz all
the more."
This supposed elder emoted strangely, and this put an agitated
Rook even further on edge. Again, he started to doubt the sensibility of his
desicion to take time away from his beloved salt spray and salubrious ocean
lullaby. Hares were made for patrols, but not otters as his footpaws were
beginning to teach him. Rook never comprehended why Ariel would wear boots to
dull the feeling of a gangplank beneath her. Certaintly, he'd never be caught
with anything more then beach sand on his paws. However, as he stepped along
the well worn, though violently craggy woodland path, he almost wished for the
protection provided by sole and tough leather. So encased was he in these
thoughts, Rook nearly missed the offer of fizz. Yet, let us keep in mind that
this is Rook Scarbin, and no beverage could and would please him more
"Fizz? Errrr...just
a bit to settle my stomach, Mackbry. Please, if you don't mind."
Tel nodded as he heard that he and Shara would be heading
out in front to skirt the right of the party. The hare loved to scout and
grinned eagerly at his partner as he spoke. *
I say wot!
Nothing like abit of a dog trot teh highten yer senses Shara me gel! Whot say
we head off to the right and snack a bit as we walk. Deh yah like maple cakes,
soaked in fresh honey. Tis the stuff I tells yah, little goes a long way wot!
Think I have a little flagon of rosehip and mint tea teh go with it as well...
*The hare
speaking trails off as he picks up a quick dog trot and heads out to the right
of the party, skirting a small ridge line weaving it's way in the same
direction the group was heading. Once he had reached the top of the ridge and
was a fair way away from the party, Tel reached back and opened his pack,
withdrawing a large lump of maple cake wrapped in brown cloth. He breaks off a
half paw sized chunk and paws it to his partner. *
Try some of this
Shara, twill give yeh all the energy yah need tah scout wot!
Startled by the young voice nearby, the albino looks down upon the
youth in surprise. Though the babe had clearly shown an arrogence and
disrespect to match that of a vermin, she couldn't help but be drawn by his
wide-eyed curiousity. Still, her mind was totally focused on the imposter
hedgehog, who smelled rank.... Sort of... Sort of like an otter.. .
wolverine? ... mink.... no, more like a fox... her thoughts mumbled incoherant
things to her, soft whispers in the back of her mind that she immediately
brusshed away without thinking. Instead, she watched the 'hedgehog' intently,
never averting her eyes, even when she softly hissed under her breath to
silence the questioning dibbun.*
"Shhh, hush
now..." She muttered, her rose-coloured eyes fixated on the imposter.
Despite all that had occurred since they'd left the Platoon
Four grounds, Rook was confined to himself. Having decided to catalogue the
expedition in the journal which he kept, the otter captain was trying his best
to place settings, his seemingly prude silence broken off and on by continual
mutterings, namely colors to describe the sinking sun
"Vermillion....scarlet.....they're
the same, dolt............ochre....russet......t'is beautiful
pinks......rosy.."
An earsplitting cry halfway between a yip and a howl rents the
eerily still silence. Bushes rustle angrily, sending leaves a'fluttering as a
large creature stumbles through the thick foliage. Another roar is heard, this
one angrier than the first and nearing fast. More leaves fly, littering the
ground as the creature rents its way through to the small travelers. It calls
out again, and this time words are clearly distincted among the angry growls.*
"BLUUDFUR!!!
BLUDFUR, WHERE ARE YE?! BLUUUDFUUUUUUUUR!!!!!!" the beast howls.
*The creature
seems to be nearing at a ludicris speed, drawing ever closer to the small
clearing. Its angry crys cut through the calm and peacefull setting as its
shapless black form becomes slowly visible through the brush.*
Mack snapped his haversack shut, the raspberry scone he had
half been picking at falling to the ground. In an instant the hare's spear was
gripped tightly in his paws, pointed in the direction the terrible crys had
been issued from and where the bushes shook violently.
'By the fur', was
the thought that raced through his head, 'that beast has to be a giant!' A
giant it would it was indeed, its towering black form finally becoming slightly
clearer as it drew near. Well that would just not do, with a dibbun in their
midst and a job on their paws, vermin would cause havoc.
With only a
slight hesitation, Mack stepped forward one pace. "Halt
whoever y'be! We mean no harm, but if'n you bring any I warn you we be armed!"
Large crimson ears perked at the sound, then layed back in anger.
Another howl broke loose from the large beast's throat, and without hesitation,
the creature leaped into the open, right in front of the travelers. Its narrow
muzzle was curled into a snarl to reveal long yellow fangs, its black-tipped
tail bristling in anger. Its size was gargantuous, with large white paws tipped
in long black claws and a dark ash-coloured hide. Its tawny burlap vest stood
sharp against it's dark fur, ripped and tattered from scuffles. Countless rusty
throwing daggers hang about the creature's chest and waist, glinting in the
sunlight, though with the natural weapons the coyote carried with it, it would
hardly need the blades. A growl rose in the canine's throat as it turned to
Mackbry to ice him with its glare.*
"I don' care
'bout yore puny threats, lanky-paws! I be 'ere t' reclaim me nephew Bludfur!
An' none o' you strangers c'n stop me!!!" The coyote howled again.
"BLUUUUUUDFUUUUURR!!!"
*The creature's
amber eyes were glazed over in rage, and it darted about, black nose twitching
as it searched for its missing charge.*
"A'rright,
y' craven currs! !Where is 'e?!?!?!" The coyote demanded, its large ears
standing up indignantly.
The hooded albino tenses immediatly, large ears picking up every sound as the creature approaches. Reaching behind her, Moonrose draws her double-bladed sword and attains a warrior's stance, ready. Moving so that Loam stood behind her, she growled low in her throat, preparing for the worst.
Cinder was working his way forward in the group to reach
his new partners Mack & Rook, when he heard the first howl. He stopped in
his tracks and crouched slightly, to hear where the noise was coming from.
Sensing danger, he immediately had his sling out, loaded, and twirling ready
for the creature. He saw Mack take a defensive posture up ahead, so he ran up
behind Mack help cover him.
The squirrel eyed
the canine cautiously, listening to his demands.
"We haven't
seen your nephew, or any beast like your self around here." His voice
sounding slightly annoyed as he spoke up in the patrol's defense.
"Back yerself up, scraggle-snout!" Mack bellowed,
unsure of the beast's species. The hare brandished his spear with a practiced
ease, slowly stepping to his left so he stood closer to the coyote's left side
than right, a few muttered words explained his movements. "Cinder,
watch his right."
A low growl
started in the elderly hare's throat, although butterflies raged through his
stomach at the sight of the coyote's daggers; spears did little again objects
that could be thrown.
"Back up I
said! We ain't got yer cousin, don't even have a fox, so scram!"
Lupin is a bit surprised as the bushes begin to shake, and a large creature leaps from their cover. It is fox-like, but larger, and Lupin has never seen the likes of such a beast before. At its harsh demand for its relation, Lupin reaches for a stone to fit to her sling, in case there is any trouble. She knows her sabre will be useless if the coyote decides to attack Mack and Cinder.
The beast's large crimson ears stand up indignantly at the
onslaught of insults from the lesser creatures, and the coyote emmitts another
angry roar. Dark amber eyes dart around between the hare and the squirrel,
eyeing their blades cautiously. With a snarl, the yote turns on Mackbry, eyes
flashing dangerously.*
"I'll
scraggle-snout you, rabbit!" the coyote growls, bristling in rage.
*The canine
reaches for one of its many daggers, but suddenly pauses, its nose twitching as
it inhales a familiar scent. The creature wanders about, sniffing noisily as it
moved, the hare and squirrel forgotten. Eyes flashing, it stops in front of the
hooded albino. The canine towers over the tiny mouse, growling angrily.
The mouse growls
back, standing her ground over Loam and sheilding the youngster with her body.
Sword ready, she glares back with icy rose-coloured eyes, snarling up at the
crazed coyote.*
"Stand back,
I warn you..." Moonrose twitches her sword slightly, her head tilted back
at a crazy angle just so she could look the monsterous beast in the eye.
"We don't have your Bloodfur."
*The coyote does
not falter at the menacing blade, and leans down slightly to point a claw at
the tiny hedgehog dibbun peeking out from behind the folds of the mouse's
skirt.*
"An'
'edgepig took me Bludfur! Twas 'edgepig I smelled back at camp! WHERE'D Y'TAKE
'IM?! WHERE'S ME BLUDFUR?!?" The ash-coloured beast demands, punctuating
random words with a thrust towards Loam with his outstretched claw.
Fear of the towering canine-like beast surged through Mack,
although his face remained expressionless. He readied his spear as the coyote
reached for one of his daggers, but suddenly the beast turned around, crazed
eyes settling on Moonrose.
Something in the
elderly hare snapped at that precise moment, but it wasn't anger, it was the
complete opposite; fear, fear for his friend's life. Moonrose was a friend, a
close friend at that, and young Loam was an innocent.
"Swords of
justice, ARISE!" The Fort Ruddler battlecry ripped from Mack's throat
as he charged the coyote, the end of his spear headed on a course striaght for
the attacker's outstretched paw.
Teltoli heard the call of the maddened beast from his
vantage with his partner on a nearby hill top. They had been sent as scouters,
but this beast had come from a different direction than that they had been
travelling. At the sound of the Fort Ruddler battle cry ripping from Mack's
throat, the battle ready hare whipped out his bladed javelin and charged towards
his party.
He ground to a
halt, eyes shining slightly as he tried to take in all that was taking place.
His keen nose picked up the smell of fear instantly, and surely this beast was
frighting to behold. It looked as if Mack would injure the canine in a moment,
Moonrose and the little one were in danger. Tel decided to back up Mack,
knowing he was putting himself in harms way.
He ran up, coming
in from the side towards Mack and the yote, knowing blood might be shed in but
a moment.
Were instinct to play any part in this situation, Rook
would have been into the fray, blades drawn and hacking the foe. Unfortunately,
it did not. Having been suddenly shaken from his reverie by the canine's fury,
Rook hesitated when the others took action for the sake of Moonrose. Altruism
was also not a factor, for the poor otter felt as though gallons upon gallons
of molten lead were being poured down his gullet, his courage vanishing,
evaporating in the heat of a conflict which he could not muster enough of
himself to take part in
"W-w-w-hat a
monster! Oh no! Mack!!! Tel!!!"
The mouse winced as the putred breath of the beast blasted her
face as it roared. With a snarl, the albino pulled back her blade, preparing to
swing. Without warning, a battle cry rent the air, and the ugly beast turns its
head to see the oncoming attackers. The coyote turns from the mouse to face the
hares, the five blades on the end of each paw ready.*
"WHERE IS
'E?! WHERE IS ME BLUDFUR?!?!?!?!?!" The creature roars fearlessly at the
foe-beasts.
"Don't say I
didn't warn you," Moonrose growls as she takes a swing at the giant.
*The flat of the
blade collides with the monster's face, rendering the tower unconcious. The
beast stumbles, then falls back, creating a cloud of dust as the body hits the
ground with an audible and satisfactory thump. Turning up to see the two
hares rushing towards them, weapons drawn, the albino holds up a paw.*
"STOP!!
WAIT!!" She yells to them. "Leave the canine be! I want him to explain
himself when he awakes... Someone bind his paws. He wont be out for
long..."
Mack drew a shaky breath as he ground to a halt, the action
of the situation finally subsiding. He blew dust from his nose and looked back
at Tel, giving the fellow hare a silent nod of thanks as if Tel's presence had
been reasurring. A weak smile turned the corners of his lips as Mack glanced at
Rook, an understanding expression across his face.
Paws shivering,
Mack removed a short length of rope from his pack and shakily began tying the
coyote's paws and footpaws together. Casting a glance at the canine's head,
Mack hastily tied a knot around the great snapping jaws of the beast, loose
enough to talk but tight enough to prevent the dangerously sharp teeth from
harming anybeast.
The hare stepped
back, weakly leaning on his soear as he glanced up at Moonrose. "I-I
don't s'pose you now what that thing is? Felt like I was racin' to hurt
crazed b-b-badger."
The hare ground his quick procession to a slow jog as he
noted the nod from Mack. He came forward slowly, studying this new creature. He
had seen canids before, foxes, the ocassional wolf...but this one...what was
he? Tel knelt beside his friend Mack. He could sense the subsiding fear in his
friend and noticed his paws shaking slightly as he tied the strange creature
up. *
I say Mack me
bucko, let me give you paw with this un' eh?
* The hare
assisted getting the knots good and tight about the yote. He stood slowly and
dusted off his paws, surveying thier work. This beast was going nowhere. *
Moonrose, what
the bally biscut is this beast? Have you seen his species afore?
The creature groggily lifts its monsterous head, only to find that
it has been bound tight. Struggling angrily, the creature glares up at the
albino, snapping its jaws together in an almost mechanic clip precision. The
rope around its narrow muzzle hinders any real biting, but the sound was enough
of a threat. Glaring up at the surrounding beasts, the creature growls in
annoyence and rage, writhing on the ground and drawing blood from its wrists as
the ropes rub them raw.*
"Lemme go,
y'slimey grubs! Lemme go!!" The coyote snarls between its bonds. "Me
name's Deathjaw th' Yote! I'm lookin' fer me nephew, Bludfur! WHERE'S 'E?!
WHERE'S ME BLUDFUR?!?!?!"
Tel's reasuring voice and the rare smile from Moonrose soon
saw to it that Mack's shaking subsided. His fear of the coyote had surprised
even himself. Only once before could he remember the feeling of fear as icy as
that that had struck him just moments ago, and that had been when Mack had had
a nasty run-in with a full grown adder when he was young traveler.
By now, Mack was
recovered sufficently enough to stop the quivering in his voice and his face
once more hardened as the coyote spoke. "What
the bally is a Yote?" He half muttered to himself. Mack's courage
seemed to return as he heard himself speak and his pointed the end of his spear
at Deathjaw's neck, although he kept it a safe distance from the snapping jaws.
"Does it
look like we've got yer nephew, yote? There be more'n one hedgehog in the
world, jest acause we've got one in our midst don't mean we've got yer
Bloodfur."
Resigned and content to keep as far from the others and
their captive as he possibly could, Rook crouched in the sandy soil and brought
his thick tail about his ankles, curling it. From a distance he could discern
the tremors that ran through his friend Mack. The others were a comfort to the
elder hare, which was all well and good. Better they than himself. Rook
seriously doubted the integrity of his own balance after such an episode. His
legs felt heavy and unused, as though every muscle had atrophied in the space
of a few seconds time. His stomach had settled, though what had left it now
coarsed through his veins; disgust at his cowardly performance. Mack had been
frightened, and rightly so, though he still charged the canine. Rook had not
"Bah!" Rook
muttered, pulling his pack near and digging through it to find a packet of gorp
from the traveling rations he'd been advised to keep.
"T'was
j-just nerves....beastie tries anything else, I'll use his guts for a jump
rope...r-r-ight, I will."
There was no
answer to this solitary decree, so taking a pawful from the tiny pouch, Rook
pressed it into his maw. He chewed slowly, crunching while his whiskers bobbed
and twiched in time with his moist noise. The nuts were slightly stale, though
the sweet tang of a raisin or two more than made up for that.
The monsterous beast reared back its gruesom head, putting itself
as far away from the tip of Mack's spear as physically possible with the ropes
binding it. With amber eyes flashing in rage, the ash-coloured canine growled
deep in its throat, mumbling something incoherant before roaring a reply to the
elderly hare.*
"I ain't
daft, y' ol' 'alf-wit, though it seems you be! Twasn't jus' any 'edgepig I
smelled, twas that 'un!!" The coyote looked pointedly at the hedgehog
dibbun.
*The creature
wriggled wildly, the ropes binding it rubbing the hide benieth the thick fur
coat raw to bleed. This painfilled attempt was carried on for what seemed like
an eternaty to the coyote, whilst he cried out softly for his nephew. Finally,
with one last heart rending howl, the beast gave up its struggle and sat stock
still in its bindings, swollen tears streaming down its grimy face as it let
out huge sobs. These were no ordinary soft sobs, oh no, but the never-ending
wail of an infant.*
"I jus' wan'
me Bludfur back!! Wahhahahaha!!!" The coyote whimpered through its muzzle
bindings. "Waaaahhahah!!!"
The albino shook her head in disgust at the site of a full grown
creature, a terrifying one at that, blubbering like a dibbun with a 'booboo'.
Pitiful. The racket alone was enough to wake the dead.*
"Calm down!
Stop your cryin'!" The mouse ordered in annoyence. The reply came as
another wailing yowl, earsplittingly heartbroken.
*Moonrose winced
at the sound, as it came ugly and cracked. Only one thing for it, she
thought. Without hesitation, the albino slapped the beast full across the face,
hoping to snap him out of his hysterical state.*
"Pull
yoreself together!"
Cinder heard the whoosh of air as the beast past him by. He
turned to see it approaching the albino mouse, which was trying to protect the
young hedgehog. Before he could think of a plan, he saw Mack charge the beast,
as he let out his warcry. Cinder took off after him, ready to back him up in
case.... "Aaahhh!" *thud*
The beast heard
Mack's cry and turned just in time to sidestep the charge. In a flash, the
beast hammered Mack in the back of the neck with his fists locked together. But
Cinder wasn't far behind the hare, his sling up to speed ready for the fight.
The squirrel jumped in from the beast's left side, as he swung his sling across
his body, smashing the jaw of the coyote. As Deathjaw howled in pain, Cinder
landed, and laid a foot paw in the beasts side sending him flying to the ground
...... *POP*
The whole
dream passed before the squirrel in a split second, as he lay sprawled, face
down in the dirt. It seemed a large root protruding form the ground had it's
own idea for reality should be other than Cinder's own. The squirrel pushed
himself up onto his knees in time to see the albino mouse smack the coyote on
the back of his head, knocking it unconscious. Slowly, Cinder got up and brushed
himself off before he made his way over to where the hare's were binding the
beast up.
A little
embarrassed about the fall, he watched the interactions with Deathjaw in
silence, hoping and guessing no one saw his accident. 'Questioning him just keeps
us running in circles.' he thought to himself. 'We might as well ask Loam if
...' Cinder froze as the idea hit him. Quietly, he made his way to the young
hedgehog's side, where he had been watching the whole scene. Cinder mustered a
calming smile, as he crouched down to ask him a question. He tapped the
hedgehog on his shoulder.
"Hey buddy.
Do you know this beast, or do 'ya got any idea who or what his Bloodfur
is?"
"Loam," Mack murmered quietly, "do you know
what he's talkin' about?"
The hare knelt
down and dug through his haversack for a few seconds, finally emerging with
flagon of cool cider and a tiny wooden bowl used for mashing berries and such.
Trying hard to keep his paws steady, Mack poured a bit of the cider into the
bowl and gingerly placed the bowl a paw's length from the yote's head. Using
the butt of his spear, the hare pushed the bowl towards Deathjaw.
"Calm down
like she said, yote. We don't mean you any harm as long as you don't mean us
any. You won't get anything by rippin' us t'pieces, or blubberin', so drink up
and stay quiet."
Although Lupin had readied her sling at the first sight of the canine, she stood motionless as it nearly clawed Mack. Moonrose, thinking quickly, struck it in the face with her blade, saving Mack from serious injury. Fear had caused Lupin to seize up, and she saw the same reaction in several others. Mack himself was quaking as the coyote was bound, and Lupin gave a shiver as the creature woke and began howl like a babe. Though the situation now seemed under control, the otter kept her sling loaded, not wanting to be surprised again.
The stinging slap from the mouse caught the canine by surprise,
and it immediately snapped him out of whatever pitiful daze he was under. But
the slap came off as more of a personal insult rather than an injury. A mouse?!
A scrawny mouse wench had the nerve to cuff him like a cub!! Growling, the
beast turned to face the albino, fire raging in its amber eyes*
"Don' raise
yer paw t' me, mouse! 'Er I'll bite it off!" it snarled, snapping its
large fangs together menecingly, tears completely forgotten as it attempted to
somewhat avenge its injured pride.
*Upon seeing the
cider poured forth, the creature looked up, suspicion building behind the
yellow primal eyes. Poison? Maybe the old hare was up to something. The canid
noted the grey creature's paws trembling. Hah! Thought he wouldn't see, eh? The
poison they put in there would probably kill the grass had the hare spilled a
drop. Yeah, that's it! Well, Deathjaw the Yote wouldn't be killed so easily!
Yet, still.... the creature's throat was as dry as a bone with all of the
howling it was doing, and the mere sight of the warm amber liquid set his mouth
to salivate. With suprising agileness and control, the burly and combersom-looking
creature bent its ash-coloured neck in a graceful arc, sticking its snout a
hairsbreath from the liquid surface. The coyote inhales deeply, sending
mini-ripples across the surface as the keen nose analyzed the contents of the
bowl. Only the delicious smell of apple cider. Though his senses were going
wild at the sweet smell, the monsterous beast cautiously ventured a pink tongue
out for a taste. More wonderful than the smell!! Besides, he thought, I
haven't died yet...Why stop now? With that, the beast dug in, lapping
greedily at the golden liquid until all that was left was an empty bowl. Even
then, the mighty beast licked at the wood, searching for any hidden drops. His
thirst quenched, the canid sat back on its haunches and licked its chops
satisfactorily.*
"Thankee,"
The coyote nods to Mackbry, for once treating one of the creatures with a
glimmer of respect.
Mack nodded back to Deathjaw, feeling as if he had reached
a silent understanding with the coyote, his quivering finally subsiding entirely.
After all, rage was an easy thing to acquire if a beast could not find a loved
one.
Again the hare
bent down to Loam and questioned the young one.
"Loam, tisn't nice t'run off with other beasts nephews, an' I'm not sayin'
y'did, but I need t'know if you know what the yote is talkin' about. C'mon
m'lad, do y'know of this Bloodfur?"
Moonrose watched as the little hedgehog dibbun unclutched a
muddied paw from her cloak and brought it to his chin in a very thoughtful
gesture before replying to the elderly hare. His foul attitude had seemed to
have died down some, and cooperated enough to give the travelers an
understandable answer.*
"Me know
Bloodyfer. We played fer 'while, but then he 'ad to go bye bye. Then he
left," The dibbun gave an exaggerated shrug. "Dunno wheres he
went."
*Moonrose heaved
a gusty sigh and gently masaged her forehead with her fingertips, trying to
make sence of how the assumed scenario went. A hedgehog dibbun, presumably
alone, went trampsing about in this... monster's camp. The bloodthirsty
monster's nephew went to play with this newly arrived dibbun, then got lost on
his way back. Or abducted. It could happen... The albino shook her head. This
trip was getting more complicated with every step. What next, a wildcat with
wings on its head looking for a lost aunt? Turning back to Mack, she gave him a
tired and almost annoyed look before speaking.*
"Now
what?"
Cinder had hoped for more information from Loam, but the
trail seemed to run dry again. As he sat on his haunches, staring intently at
the ground in front of him, he talked the problem out to himself, although it
was loud enough for those near by to hear clearly.
"If Bloodfur
IS lost in the woods, it'd take a while to find him, since we don't know the
area that well. But, what do we know is around here? Well, Loam's tribe is just
a little ways further..."
Cinder's eyes
widened at the thought of the danger the coyote cub could be in. He kept his
thoughts to himself as he stood up. 'It's a long shot but it could have
happened.' Not exactly sure of who to tell his idea to, he looked back and
forth at Moonrose and Mack, address both at the same time.
"What if
Bloodfur walked straight into Loam's tribe? With Loam missing, there's no
telling what sort of conclusions they might jump to, if they found out there
are coyotes living in the woods. Bloodfur might be in danger there. Maybe we
should send some beasts ahead, to check if the tribe has seen him."
Mack stared intently at Loam, observing the hedeghog's body
language as he told his story; yes, he was telling the whole truth. The hare
remained silent at Moonrose's question, his thoughts enveloping him. Finally at
Cinder's suggestion, Mack spoke up.
"Aye, but we
all need t'head fer the hedgehog's village, an' take the yote along with us.
Must remember we be on a mission an' we can't steer too far from it. If the
hedgehogs haven't seen this Bloodfur, than I don't know what t'do with
Deathjaw, but that can be figured out later."
His footpaws scuffed
the dirt, silently considering technicalities that could prevent this from
happening. How would they get Deathjaw to move? Would he understand they were
helping and do as was told?
"Riala, be
that a'right with you?" The hare asked, removing his cap from his head
and running a paw through his headfur absentmindedly.
This entire time, Riala had been... um... scouting ahead or
something. Yah. She returns and listens in carefully on all the explanations
and inquirations, gold-brown eyes narrowed slightly at the 'yote's and
hedgehog's words. At Mack's question, she nods slowly, rust-gold tail twitching
as squirrel tails are wont to do. "That sounds good to me... We may have
to travel double-time though, and eat as we go, if we want to get there quickly."
She looks about at the faces of the patrol, most of which are looking fairly
rested due to the stop near the stream, and nods again, this time to herself.
The squirrel
walks over to Deathjaw and watches his finally calming visage closely.
"Well, 'yote, you have a choice. The hedgebabe was only playing with your
nephew, and the both of them are separated from family now. I think we might be
able to find your nephew, first by visiting this hedgebabe's tribe - they may
have found him, and if we hurry we might be able to get there in time to
prevent any..." Riala hesitates, groping for words that wouldn't alarm the
coyote too much, "...drastic misunderstandings. But we won't be able to
drag you along; you'll have to cooperate with us if you want to find your
nephew more quickly."
The small cloth pouch was void of all save a few remnants, several very close relatives of the hazelnut crumbs that dotted the black, shiny landscape that was Rook's nose. He brushed at them absetmindedly, scattering flecks off into the prickly grass that rubbed against and combed the fur of his ankles. Then, Pulling himself up, Rook returned his haversack to his shoulder and directed an uncouth snort in the direction of the others, just to make them aware of his growing restlessness. Indesicion was a bane, a tab, a tax on his patience, and it seemed rampant enough in the glade, near the stream where they had encountered this yote.
The blood-lust seemed to have seeped from the ash-coloured canine,
and he stared at the squirrel with utmost seriousness. Must be their Alpha,
he thought, watching the other beasts turn to her with respect in hopes for a
knowledgable answer. Tipping his muzzle to the rust-tailed squirrel warrior as
he would to his own Alpha, he replied in a gruff voice full of concern.*
"I'll foller
ye to the 'edgepig's camp, I jus' wanna bring me nephew back 'ome safe an'
sound," the beast spoke in earnest, trying his best not to move lest the
rough ropes saw painfully at his raw hide. "Er, ouch, ack, oww... on my
word as a 'yote I'll not 'urt an 'air on yore 'eads, if only y'd untie these
'ere ropes... thems makin' me rather uncomf'terble."
Something about the way the coyote spoke struck a string in
Mack's heart, he sounded truely concerned about his lost nephew. Then again,
not knowing much of this new speicies, Mack could not classify Deathjaw as
vermin.
Casting a
tentitve glance at Riala and Moontouch, Mack bent down and slowly undid the
ropes binding the yote's paws and muzzle. Slightly hesitant, Mack stepped back
to allow the coyote room.
"Er...want
anythin' t'eat whilst we walk...er, Deathjaw?"
Rubbing his wrists ruefully as the blood painfully began to
circulate properly through the bruised areas, the ash-coloured creature gave a
small wince before replying.*
"Thankee,
sir, no. I cun'na keep n'thing down at a time like this. I'd rather we
move," the canid stated, looking unsettled.
*Glancing at the
hedgehog babe, the yote swallowed a growl of disgust. Whatever this creature
had done had led to the dissapearence of his beloved Bloodfur, and for that his
dislike for the dibbun would stay standing until proven wrong. A side-glance
brought his amber glare to the albino mouse who had struck him earlier. The
same distrust and distain filled him at the sight of the tiny creature who had
the nerve to treat him like a lowly rat-thief. The nerve! The absolute nerve!
Turning back to the squirrel before he lost his head, the monster-like creature
nodded civily to the leader.*
"An'
thankee, marm, fer 'elpin' me in me quest."
The mouse met the strange-beast's icy glare and matched it. Deep within the caverns of her mind something reared its head in fear of the creature. Echos of the carnage-filled tales told about the 'yotes' around traveler's campfires filled her ears, and she cringed at the thought of her companions meeting the same fate as those poor victims in the horrendous stories. What were they doing trusting this... this monster... letting the beast walk around without hinderences or anything to save them if the beast went homicidle on them once again. Do they really believe his 'honest' word? The albino but a protective paw on Loam's shoulder. No, she'd be on guard. She'd be ready. Mistrustful rose-coloured eyes followed the smoothe movements of the canid like a hawk, ever icy and dangerous. You'd better watch your step, monster, she thought to herself. I've got my eyes on you.
Riala watches the 'yote with narrowed eyes as he rises to his
footpaws and glares at Moonrose and Loam with intense dislike, and seeing the
mouse watch him with distrust. More conflict... just great... She makes
a mental note to keep a close eye on both the coyote and the albino mouse, and
especially on the 'yote. She doesn't know what his kind is like, nor if he is
trustworthy, but they don't have much of a choice.
The squirrel nods
curtly at Deathjaw's thanks and turns to the rest of the patrol, glancing up at
the dimming sky. "If we move at a steady jog, we can reach the hedgehog
tribe in an hour, not long after sunset," she announces. "Team 2 -
Teltoli and Shaara, Landin and SilverRose - you've got scouting duty. In fact,
you'd better just go straight on ahead to the hedgehog tribe to say we're
coming and to check if the 'yote's nephew is there. You'll have to eat on the
trail. Let's go!" With that, the squirrel sets off at a steady lope down
the trail...
The yote's appearence was fearsome indeed and his manners
could be improved, but unlike most vermin this strange creature actually seemed
to care about another beast. Mack shook his head with a heavy sigh and began
trudging after Riala, but something stopped him.
The hare slowly
made his way through the crowd of assembled beasts over to Rook. Wiping away
beads of sweat that had gathered on his brow on first sight of Deathjaw, Mack
simply wrapped a friendly paw around Rook's shoulder.
"C'mon Rook
m'boyo, on w'go."
The canid nonchalontly turned his magnificent and fearsom head for a quick look around, absorbing his surroundings for the first time. Countless creatures, all strong and equally armed were scattered throughout the clearing. The yote breathed a silent prayer of gratitude as he realized that if his threatening interrigation went as planned, he would have most definately been slain on the spot. Reaching into his vest pocket, he removed his favorite long cherrywood pipe. Red ingravings flared as the canine lit the pipe, bringing it to his muzzle for a deep inhale. Blue smoke wafted up towards the grey sky, and the monsterous creature let the warm ashes float and caress his large white paw, enjoying the feeling of the lightly scented breeze over his rough paw-pads. Holding the pipe in his mouth, the beast began to move at a brisk march, the determined step of one with a mission. He moved almost twitchly, anxious at the thought of finding his beloved Bloodfur in any danger. If those half-witted spike-dogs so much as touched an 'air on 'is 'ead... the canine thought angrily. I'll yank each spike from their 'ides, one by one! Growling half heartedly, the ash-coloured shook his head in dispare. If anything happened to his nephew, if anything did, he'd be too broken hearted to take revenge.
The cold ache in Rook's stomach subsided, replaced by flooding relief at Mackbry's touch. A phantom smile appears on the otter's face, only to be blown away with the same wind that carries the hazy, cobalt colored smoke from Deathjaw's cherrywood pipe. Livening his steps to match Mackbry's, Rook gave the drawstring of his haversack an unintentional squeeze, as though it foreshadowed a reaction; a sneeze or a cough that might have been building. He was in fact, still wary of the 'yote, and didn't wish to be caught with his tail exposed again, such was the figure of speech.
