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.  Many of the other roleplayers simply stopped roleplaying, and so towards the end the only people still roleplaying were myself, Mackbry, and Moonrose.

Wayside Patrol – Arrival at Loam's Tribe

The leaves of both trees shuffled together as one of the branches began to bow down. Cinder's footing was beginning to give way before he leapt forward. He easily landed in the next tree and continued his quick pace across the treetops.

Cinder had gotten a ways ahead of the rest of the patrol, but nothing was going to stop him after he freed himself from the confining ground. It had been a while since his last run through the forest, and he was enjoying every second.

He saw a clearing up ahead, and came to a halt in a tree along its edge.
A vast golden plain stretched before him to the north. A short ways off the northeast a line of hills sat before the great northern mountain range. The hills cast their long shadows over the mountain range, as the last few crimson rays of sunlight skimmed over their tops.

In the distance, Cinder saw two small hedgehogs running for the base of a hill. When they got there, they were shooed in a small door by a lager hedgehog waving a large ladle, no doubt the mother of the dibbuns.

The murmurs of conversations mixed with the crunching of leaves and sticks, announced the arrival of the rest of the patrol. Cinder made his way out of the tree and bumped into his partners, Mack and Rook, who were towards the front of the pack. He quickly apologized before announcing to everyone about his sighting.


"S'cuse me Mack! I spotted Loam's tribe living at the base of one of the hills off to the northeast. Shouldn't take us long to get there."

*Deathjaw's ears perked up at this. To him, their short trek had seemed like miles long, and all the while time ticked slowly as he worried about the well-being of his nephew. Almost there, buck-o, he told himself. An' Bludfur'll be safe. He will. Wiping all other thoughts from his mind, the ash-coloured creature pushed his way to the front of the traveling group, like a moving wall, knocking everyone and everything out of the way in his mad accent.*

"Well, what 'er we waitin' fer? Le's go!" the monsterous canid bellowed as he broke into a sprint.

*He's safe, he'll be okay, he'll be there... the voices echoed their eternal phrase in his rampant mind. Already the beast was way out in front of the group, but all other thoughts were drowned out by the incessent whispers that made his head throb. The humongous canine moved at an alarming speed, loping along the soft grounds. This was his terrain, and he was going to use it. He picked up speed, his sinewy muscles contracting with each pull and rippling under his matted hide. He wanted to be the first there, he wanted the hedgepigs to see the enraged terror that was he, those demonic spikedogs that took his Bloodfur away.*

*She had been watching him ever since they started their hike. The albino was keenly aware that the arrogent hedgehog dibbun stayed close to her side, mumbling incoherant things, but she paid him no heed. Just as long as he stayed away from that... 'yote'. She stayed a few yards behind him, watching him as he strode off, his head and shoulders towering over the other beasts. She caught the faint scent of his pipe as the wind carried the smoke deeper into the group. Loam seemed to smell it too.*

"Geff, geff, icky!" The hedgehog coughed, wiping his nose with a filthy paw.

*Moonrose sighed and turned her attention back to the front, which had come to a halt to hear Cinder's report. They were close. Without warning, the monster among them gave a howl and set off across the grasses, his strong legs pulling him easily to the village. Fear rose in her throat and came out as a strangled yell. What was the canid thinking? That he would seek out his nephew and rampage the village despite being terribly out numbered? Without giving herself time to think, the mouse set off after the coyote, pumping her small legs and urging herself to go faster. Deathjaw had gotten a large headstart, and his long legs were pulling him ever farther away. She had no idea what she would do is she didn't catch up with him, but worse, was that she had no idea what she would do if she did.*

"Ah, very good Cinder lad." Mack said with an appreciative nod towards the squirrel, still continuing at an agile pace. But as Cinder's news reached the ears of the somewhat crazed yote, an icy hand gripped Mack as the enraged beast set off on his own.

"Will that blasted beast never learn? They'll be like as not t'shoot him on first sight! Let's go Rook!" The hare stretched his legs as he began to lope after Moonrose. Suddenly, however, he stopped as if thinking better of it. He flashed around, speaking outloud as he did so. "Cinder, quick like now, race ahead an' warn the hedgehogs. Any squirrel can beat a beast on foot, but you'll have t'hurry if'n you plan on tellin' 'em the whole story. Tell 'em not t'kill Deathjaw, but harm 'im if he poses a threat, jest knock him out or something. Quick step lad, he's already got a head start!"

Not long after the words came out of his mouth, Cinder saw Deathjaw take off towards the hills, followed soon after by the albino mouse. Cinder stood there dumbfounded as to what to do, not fully realized the danger they all faced. He saw Mack start to run after the pair, but pull up soon after. Before Mack was halfway done shouting, Cinder shot off on all fours as fast as he could, in order to catch up.

"I'm on it!" He yelled as he flew by the hare.

[i]'What do I say? How do I tell them...' he thought as he galloped across the open plain. It wasn't long before the squirrel caught up to the yote. With nothing more than a quick glance behind him, Cinder raced past him and continued on towards the hills. 'Got'a hurry, I don't have much time.... WAIT! I bet I can throw him off course, he doesn't know which hill they live in!'

With a short hop, the squirrel had changed his direction, and poured on a little extra speed, heading for a hill further south of where he saw the hedgehog family. 'Maybe that will buy me an extra second.' He thought as he sprinted onwards.

*Moonrose panted angrily, frustrated that she just could not catch up to the lanky yote. Just up ahead, Cinder zigzagged back and forth, darting out of the way. Deathjaw followed immediately, changing course and heading further south.

What is he doing?!She asked herself as she followed, taking a shorter route to help her catch up. With anger spurring her on, the mouse kicked up her heels, and slowly, ever so slowly, began to gain some ground. Growling to herself, she kept her rose-coloured eyes focused in on the ash-coloured monster just ahead, trying to imagin herself being pulled along her gaze. Lavender skirt billowing out behind her, the albino pressed on, pulling ever closer to the crazed canid.

Even from behind she could tell that he was starting to burn out; his pink tongue hung out between his yellow fangs, and his footpaws slapped the ground. It seemed, though, that in his crazed state, he did not notice his body was failing to catch up to the fleet squirrel. Moonrose would have grinned were she not gasping for air herself. Gotcha now!*

The yote caught everybeast off guard by bolting from the group, and Rook was no exception. Scarely before he could comprehend just how grave the situation had once again become, Cinder and Moonrose were also gone from his side, after the loping canine. Mackbry moved to follow, but stopped and began to shout. What he said fell deaf as Rook raced by, though otters are not built to skirt the land and Rook soon fell behind the other two, much to his continued frustration. Vowing to lambaste the yote once he managed to catch him, Rook curled his tail and pumped his lissom legs, gaining a little bit of ground on the three

"Rassafrassingyote! *pantpant* He should be locked in a cage while somebeast tosses his Bludfur in a cold river!"

Lupin gave a small snort of annoyance as the coyote took off running, warning nobeast. The fool creature would not learn! The female otter quickened her step as Moonrose, Cinder, and Rook gave chase, but she didn't run like the others, knowing that she won't be able to catch up. If water were near, it would be a different story, but neither stream nor river was readily available. Lupin reloaded her sling with a larger stone as she sped up a bit to keep the running creatures in view. If anybeat was put in serious danger, she wanted to be ready to throw the stone as a chance at comprmising the coyote, lest any of her friends or innocent creatures be injured.

"Rook, northeast m'boyo, northeast!" Mack shouted towards the sprinting otter. "Cinder said northeast an' he's headed more south'en that! I'll head striaght fer the tribe, keep goin'!"

The hare took off in a different direction than that of his companion, his long legs flexing with the strain of speed. After a few minutes his breath finally started to come out in ragged, clipped intervals as age took its toll of Mack's endurance. He slowed his pace to a fast jog and muttered to himself..

"Keep goin' Mackbry Taffellappen, you've got t'warn them hedgehogs!" With a grunt he pumped his legs once, shooting off towards the hill to the northeast.

*Deathjaw's sharp ears caught the Mack's shout easily, as the ears of the coyote are built to hear the smallist of noises. The elderly hare's words reached the yote's brain ever so slowly, not really sinking in until three more beasts had taken up the chase. NORTHEAST?! The creature gave a rage-filled yowl and changed directions, snarling with each labored breath. He'd deal with those meddling travelers when he was through with the hedgehog tribe. Seeing red, the canid pushed his flagging limbs onward, spurred by anger and concern for Bloodfur. Then he spotted Mackbry, jogging slowly up the hill. Easy prey... he thinks, and puts on an extra burst of speed.*

"No-!" Moonrose breathed in frustration.

*The monster had keener hearing than anyone had suspected. Pushing herself onward, she followed the heavy canid, cursing her skirts for slowing her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and each breath was beginning to create a dull ache. Angrilly she forced herself forward, pushing her leaden legs to the limit. She spotted Mack heading out in front of the massive canine, dashing with the god-given speed of only a hare. But the yote was gaining crazily.
It struck her brain like chain lightning. With a roar the small mouse pressed herself forward, straining every muscle and every last bit of strength to catch up to the monsterous beast. She could feel her legs beginning to give, and the muscles in her middle knotted in a large cramp. I can do this! She scolded herself for having any doubt. She had gotten this far, haden't she? She was close enough to reach out and touch the black-tipped tail in front of her. With one last burst of strength, she threw herself at the canid, knocking him off balance and bringing him to the ground.*

Riala blinks, taken off guard as everything happens at once - the coyote charging towards the hedgehog camp... Cinder's swift flight to warn the tribe... and then instinct kicks in and she races with all the incredible speed of her species up a tree, tearing across the treetops, dropping to all fours in her mad rush to catch up and overtake the 'yote. Gold-brown eyes narrow dangerously as the flagging coyote speeds up with Mack right in front of him...

Not going to lose another friend...!

The thought rages across her mind, fueling her heaving lungs and her burning muscles as she leaps for the 'yote, roce out and swinging by its cord from her paw and aiming towards his head, dagger in her free paw to strike if her club-like stick doesn't do the job of halting the maddened canine.


The commotion has not gone unnoticed by the hedgehog camp, for sound can travel where sight can't detect. Nearby weapons are taken up immediately, wariness etched on each quill-framed face as they wait for intruders. The scent of coyote is strong in the camp, however, and strongest within one tent that continues to attract cautious glances from the warrior tribebeasts.

*The canid hit the ground hard, getting the breath knocked from his lungs in the process. He coughed out a strangled growl of anguish as he swiped at the albino, shoving her off of him. Their alpha soon entered the fray, and he had to roll over to avoid the weapon she was wielding. Snapping his mighty jaws together angrily, he scuffled with the exhausted mouse for a moment as she fought to keep him down before hastilly picking himself up and dashing off up the hill, his breathing ragged and laboured. He could feel his wiery muscles beginning to fail, and he angrilly forced himself on, following the grey hare in hot pursuit. He'd get those travelers for this! Turning his head over his shoulder for a look back, he found that the mouse had gotten to her feet and was following him again. The squirrel was there too, nipping at his heels. Do they never quit?!  He threw himself forward, charging the hill angrilly and quickly gaining on the older hare. Only a matter of time now. With a crazed howl, he went down on all fours, digging in his long claws and propelling himself forward in a most primal manner.*

"LUAAAAAAAAAAANAAAAAAAA!!"

Mack suddenly skidded to a halt as a loud 'thump!' sounded a ways down the hill behind him and a cloud of dust rose. Deathjaw had advanced upon the jogging hare in utter silence, speeding through the forest at a pace faster than Mack had even known possible.

The hare flashed around and choked back a cry of surprise as his eyes landed on the beast he feared as much as any adder. But surprise was soon replaced by horror as he saw what had brought the yote down; his friend and comrad Moonrose. Mack shakily lifted his spear, his air-deprived mind slowing his actions. Something seemed to break in him and tears suddenly made his eyes sparkle, although none rolled down his cheek. An icy paw tugged at his heart and he wave of helplessness swept over him. Deathjaw's blood-curdling cry of anger did little to enforce Mack's confidence.

The hare's arms felt weak and watery as he stared in total silence as the bloodwrath-led beast charged up the hill; how many hares had challenged a coyote who suffered from the bloodwrath? Mack was willing to bet very few.

Suddenly a strange, yet somehow faintly familiar voice rang through his ears, "Every warrior fears something my son, but never do they remain still when danger is present; it is the warrior's duty and honor." All at once energy surged through Mack's body as he hefted his spear high above his head.

What he saw before him was not the blood-shaking coyote, but an enemy, one who presented a threat to more than just Mack's life. Muttering something to the extent of "Aid me, Father." Mack charged down the hill towards the canine. His arms and legs felt like jelly and were coated in the sweat of fear, but he moved with the grace of a young fearless warrior.


"Swords of justice, ARISE!" Mack hurled his spear down the hill with all the force he could muster at Deathjaw, aimed at the yote's left shoulder as he was on all fours; that beast had to be brought down, Mack thought, dead or alive.

*The canid skidded to an abrupt halt, staring in awe at the spear shaft that seemed to grow out of his shoulder. There was no pain in his crazed state, but fear flooded through him, causing him to tremble violently. He was going to die, to die, to die! The coyote sunk to his knees, still gaping at his bleeding wound. He was going to die and never see his Bloodfur again. He had let Dakket down, he had let Bloodfur down... What had he done? Crimson blood filled his vision, and with one last, gurgled howl, the coyote collapsed in a bloody heap, unconcious and barely breathing.*

The sounds of confrontation reached Cinder's ears as he reached the base of the hill. He chanced a look, but found no one following behind him. He skidded to a halt, his muscles burning with pain and breathing heavily. 'It didn't work, I got to get to the tribe.'

Without looking back, Cinder started off again heading straight for the hedgehog encampment.

He was just arriving as a grumbling howl pierced the evening air. Cinder cam to another screeching halt.

"LUAAAAAAAAAAANAAAAAAAA!!"

The entire camp, for the slightest moment, was silent, as they stood motionless looking for the cause of the disturbance. The sudden cry from a young dibbun, for it's mother, broke the errie spell, and sent the young and old scurrying to their homes. The warriors of the tribe quickly rounded up their weapons and gathered around the campfire, all of them looking up to the male hedgehog, standing upon a large rock, for direction. "Baggor, ged'up 'da hill and scout around for that beast. D'a rest of ya, set up a line to....."

Cinder had ran up to the group, trying to push his way in towards the chieftain, yelling to get his attention.
"Sir!, Sir!" The warriors all turned to see who interrupted. Completely out of breath, he tried to explain the situation.

"S'cuse me, Sir! *huffs in and out* I'm Cinder Elmcreek, 'n I'm with *breaths in and out again* a scouting party from Fort Ruddler. *gulp* *another deep breath in* There's a crazed coyote looking for his nephew, running straight for this camp. We need any of your strongest warriors, to help stop the yote from getting here, but PLEASE only help capture the beast. He's only looking for his lost nephew, we only need to stop him long en....."

"The pup! .... He's coming here after that beast over..... "

The chatting warriors, some of who gave nervous glances towards a tent on the other side of the camp, interrupted Cinder. The chiefthain shouted out to quiet the group. Cinder took note of where the glances fell before urging the warriors to action.

"Please hurry! I have a feeling my friends maybe in trouble."

Soon after, Cinder and a half score of the tribes warriors, with weapons ready, were running up the hill to aid the rest of the patrol in stopping Deathjaw.

Mack fell to his knees, his cap tumbling from his head. His breath came in ragged gasps as he watched the yote fall to the ground as well. By that time the two were within a short stone's throw of each other. The hare, his limbs quivering, quickly crawled towards the massive beast.

The tears that had threatened to pour forth did so at that moment; despite his porfession and need to protect others, Mack had rarely killed another beast and took no pleasure whatsoever in doing so.

The coyote's breathing had slowed, making obvious the fact that the beast was unconcious. Stopping the flow of tears and wiping them away with the sleeve of his tunic, Mack hunched over the yote. Slowly he wrapped his paws around his own spear and with a sigh tugged it quickly free of the injured beast's shoulder. Pulling the flagon of water from his haversack and uncorking it, Mack slowly poured the water over the wound while watching Deathjaw closely for signs of wakefulness. After the wound had been cleansed of all blood, the hare lightly pressed the edge of his cloak over it; a dark stain began spreading across the blue fabric.


"Riala! Moonrose! Rook!" Mack called out, his voice faltering as if laiden with grief and pain.

Riala had almost caught up to the 'yote when Mack made his move, and she had to dart aside to avoid ramming into Deathjaw as he fell. She watches the fallen coyote with narrowed gold-brown eyes, breathing deeply from the exertions of the chase. Insane... The thought breezes through her mind silently, darkly, a shadow of foreboding. ...if not truly an enemy.

Scarred footsteps make little sound on the sparse grass as Riala pads over to the canid's head, staring down at the prone body coldly. Too dangerous to live, she thinks, her mental voice unemotionless and ringing with absolute finality. Mackbry's grief-choked voice breaks on her consciousness like a wave on the rocks in the aftermath of a storm, and russet-tufted ears flick his way, followed by her gaze, a look that holds all the emotion of the gates of Dark Forest.

"Mackbry." Riala's rough voice is flat and level, carrying the hardness that he may find familiar: it is the complete emotionlessness that brings to mind the fact that this is no merciful warrior of the normal codes of honor, but one who has lived by the rules of ruthlessness and strength, one who has had it beaten into her time and again that the honorable only ever find death at the blades of those without honor... "Don't waste your efforts on him."

Her words are accented by the rasp of steel leaving a sheath, and the dying sunlight gleams red off of the dagger in the squirrel's paw.

The elderly hare wrapped his cloak around Deathjaw and stood up, wiping his blood-stained paws on his tunic. Without a word he ambled over to where his cap had dropped to the ground and reached down to retrieve it. Mack stood up, turning the cap over in his paws as if memories of long ago seasons were passing through his mind.

"Riala, please..." He began, finally settling the cap atop his silver-furred head and staring down at his own red paws. "He's young ones t'take care of an'...he's jest crazed for fear of them bein' harmed." Mack wiped away a few beads of sweat that had gathered under his eyes and polished his glasses briefly. "I mean...tis the last thing this world needs by killin' another parent of young ones. I'll..." The hare hesitated, glancing down at the fearsome creature; at its long, dangerous teeth and sharp, mericiless claws. This was the beast Mack would have preferred to avoid for the rest of his life, the beast that had twice now struck an icy fear in the hare's gut. Yet somehow, there had been something strange Mack had felt by the coyote's words of thanks when offered water.

"I'll...I'll watch him. Jest until he goes his own way...I'll watch him."

Riala watches Mack closely as he spoke, something akin to sympathy flashing across her face and then disappearing as if it had never touched her scarred features. When he finishes, she is silent for a long moment, and then shakes her head. "He's insane, Mackbry," she says. "Even if he's not an enemy, not vermin, he's insane - he's too dangerous to let live. Dangerous to himself and to others... He tried to kill you, Mack, and you're the one he seemed to trust most."

The slight softening in the squirrel's gaze disappears, replaced by ice as she stares down at the 'yote. "You say he'll go his own way... but you can't know that he will. Just as likely that he'll try to kill you and those in the hedgehog tribe. He's better off dead." She tests the keen edge of her dagger on one calloused paw, her face expressionless. Killing is not a job she enjoys, despite her seeming bloodthirstyness at times: it's something she feels she has to do. In many cases, she feels it's the best solution... such as this one.

*Moonrose saw the canid fall, heard the dull thump as he collapsed, saw the spear petrude in his shoulder, watched him as his breathing slowed. She skidded to a halt, trying hard to get her heartbeat under controle. She watched the beasts converse up ahead. The monsterous creature was not dead, but what would the future bring?*

"Riala's right, Mack..." The mouse says softly, puting a comforting paw on the hare's back.

*She walked the rest of the way to the coyote's side, staring at the ash-coloured beast in distain. His breathing labored, his wound crusting with the dust, he looked as pitiful and as helpless as a wounded lion. His eyes half closed, he was already at the Gates of the Dark Forest. For a moment, she felt something akin to sympathy to the magnificent beast before her. Though terrifying, his strength and power had held her in awe. Then her eyes befell upon the long yellow fangs, the sharp black claws, the twitching sinewy muscles, and she knew what had to be done. She unshiethed her sword from her back, heavy in her paws, and looked to Riala with an unreadable expression.*

*Through a shadowy haze, the monsterous canid watched the conversing travelers with glazed eyes. His shoulder shot the white fire of pain surging through his torso, but somehow his senses weren't picking it up. His keen hearing must be failing him as well, for the words of the beasts so close seemed muffled, dull. He tried moving, but his muscles only twitched in response. The coyote breathed a gusty sigh, they were discussing his fate. How stupid of him to disobey their alpha, just when they had givin him a second chance! The mouse who had hit him earlier came forth, wielding a double-bladed sword. It glinted silver and gold in the light, almost glowing. The mouse held it poised above his neck, her expression grim. This is it, he thinks. I'm sorry, Bloodfur.... The creature closes his eyes in defeat, awaiting his death.*

A long, drawn-out sigh was Mack's reply as he stooped to pick up his cloak. For a moment he gazed at Deathjaw, then patted the yote lightly on the shoulder before rising once more and gave a slight, reasurring smile that just barely turned the corners of his lips.

"Riala, we can't kill him. We're honorable beasts, whether he be or not doesn't matter. The least we can do is take him along with us and wait for him to die, be better then killlin' him in cold blood. If he's truely goin' t'die, then let him, but if he's not then let him live. He's a guardian of a youn 'un, an'-" Mack hesitated, hating to bring up a touchy subject that related to Riala's out past. "An'..." He faltered once more before plucking up whatever courage had not been drained from him when Deathjaw had charged him. "An' think of the type of life Bloodfur twould live without somebeast t'care fer him."

Mack knelt next to Deathjaw and laid a soft paw over the yote's back. "He willna hurt anybeast what with a wound like that. I'll take responsibilty fer him; he gets in trouble, I'll get in trouble. I'll even split me rations with him, jest don't kill him, please....not in cold blood leastwise."

*The mouse sighed, frustraited, lowering her blade and sticking it point down in the soil next to the monster's head. What Mackbry saw in this creature was beyond her. It could be a father, brother, or a grandfather, but it didn't change the fact that this canid had attacked them twice, held a complete disregard for Riala's wishes, and appeared stark raving mad. She stared into the coyote's half closed amber eyes with mistrust, debating wheather the old hare was actually seeing something good within the monsterous creature, or if father time was turning him soft. Still... The beast still has a young one to look after, a small part of her mind whispered. She shook her head at that. What was she thinking? This beast was dangerous, unstable, and it was his love of his Bloodfur that made him that way.*

"I..." She began, but trailed off, not knowing where to go from there.

*The albino took a long, hard look at the yote, disregarding him for a moment. He was virtually helpless, and she had to admitt, the loss of a dear one can make a beast crazy. Before the mouse knew it she was reaching over and removing the monster's belt of daggers. She unsheithed one, tossed it and caught it deftly.*

"I'll let him live, as long as he stays away from these," Moonrose twitched the blade ever so slightly, watching the sunlight glint off the metal before sticking it back in the belt.

*To the coyote's complete surprise, instead of the stinging blow of the albino's blade, all he could feel was a gentle paw on his shoulder. His muscles winced slightly in responce, twitching involuntary. His eyes rolled in his head, searching the bright world, finding the same old hare who's spear was lodged in his shoulder. Somehow, the slight touch was comforting, and it lessened the maddening roar that crashed inside his head. Thank the gods, the mouse had layed down her sword. They were going to let him live? He did not want to jump to conclusions, and shut his eyes, just in case. An eyon passed between them, but his mind was totally focused on the soft paw on his back. Somebeast wanted him to live, and that took away most of his fear. He opened his eyes just a slit, only to find the mouse undoing his dagger belt. I don't blame 'er, he thinks drowsily, blinking once before letting his muscles go flacid. With one last sigh to blow away the rest of his fears, he sank into a deep and dreamless sleep, to the sound of the traveler's muffled voices.*

A heavy sigh of relief escaped Mack and a small, brief smile fluttered across his lips. The hare sat down next to the now sleeping Deathjaw, careful not to remove his paw from the yote's back. Comfort was Mack's strongest trait, as many who knew might have known; he seemed to have sympathy and the want to comfort towards anybeast.

Removing his cap, Mack revealed the wet, sweaty hair atop his head as he ran a paw through it, smoothing it backwards.
"Riala, say you'll let him, I'll watch, I will.. He be a livin' beast jest like any of us."

Atune to all, though he could do little to affect the outcome, Rook stood silent, almost pensively as Mack pleaded for the life of a beast who had every intention of tasting the blood from each and every one of them. His thoughts were fraught with the powerful, almost unrestrainable urge to knock the doddering old fool away from Bloodfur's side and slit the yote wide like a carp. How could one be so absolute in his forgiveness? Such compassion and selflessness was far beyond the icy Rook, which made him feel a certain sense of contempt for Mackbry in that brief span of time. Usually given to locking away his thoughts and notions behind an impassive, placid face, Rook could not help but utter venomously

"Hmph....I swear that kind heart will be your end one these days, Mackbry. What good is honor while you rot in the ground? It may save your name, but not your life."

All that was heard for the next few seconds was the peaceful chattering of birds and the gentle waving of tree branches as silence overtook Mack. A wave of sadness swept over the elderly hare, knowing his life had been far different from that of many warriors at Fort Ruddler; he simply looked at life from a different view.

Slowly his paw lifted to place his cap atop his head as he stood up. The hare leaned thoughtfully on his spear for a few seconds before finally replying to Rook's comments.


"Well," he began, his voice soft and gentle, "pr'aps you're right, Rook. What good is it if I save my name, but not my life?" Mack stopped as he asked this question, his face surprisingly serene and peaceful. Suddenly a brief smile fluttered across his lips as he snorted softly. "But pers'nly, I'd rather die knowin' I did all I could in my life t'be a good an' honorable beast, than die knowin' that I saved m'own skin at the extent of other's sacrifice. Tis jest m'own thinkin' though, an' that be how I intend on livin' m'life. I wasn't born a warrior, my dad an' mum weren't warriors an' even after they died I didn't become a warrior. Even now I ain't a warrior, I'm a fighter; I jest fight when I need to. It adapted as I b'came a traveler, jest t'protect m'self an' others. There should be no other reason for killin' a beast an' this one here ain't goin' t'danger nobeast in that condition."

Riala listens to each of the arguments, for and against the 'yote's life, and finally sheaths her dagger with a sigh. "Mackbry..." She hesitates, eyes shadowed as she debates within on what to say, what not to say, and finally nods. "Very well. You're right in that this creature probably can't hurt anybeast much, not in his condition, but we're not going to wait for the 'yote to get better. If you can forgive his trying to kill you, then that's your choice... you can stay with him, I'm not going to try to stop you, but I'm not going to wait up for you either. We're already too far behind on this mission to make any more stops than necessary."

She pauses as if about to say something more, the words running through her head but not reaching her lips: Sometimes I wish I could be as honorable as you... that I could be merciful... but all my experience says mercy is death, and not just for one's self but for others as well. Mack... but she doesn't say it, doesn't reveal her emotions, her thoughts. They remain locked inside, as ever they have.

*Live. The monster was going to live. The mouse nodded to herself, leaning gently on her swordblade. She couldn't help but give the old hare credit, he was a strange fighter, indeed. Wise and trustworthy, yes, but strange. He fought for nobility, something lost to many fighters as the seasons turn their hearts cold. It was a trait she respected most about him. But what of this primitive and murderous creature? It's life rested in their paws. They could rid the world of it's rampages right now, save future lives, stop the tyranny before it started. Still, her trust was firmly placed in the elderly hare, and she would continue to stand by him.*

"Nothing you say can change my mind about this creature..." She starts, placing a paw on Mackbry's shoulder. "He will always be a monster in my eyes. But I swear to assist you in any way I can, you have my trust."

Dissatisfied with the response given by his friend and prone to having his word be final, Rook spat violently upon the ground, a few inches from the immobile Deathjaw's still form

"There are many among us who weren't born from warrior's blood. My father was a humble fisherbeast, like his father before him and so on. My mother wove nets of kelp, living righteously a-and h-hon-honorably.....AND THEY BOTH DIED DIRTY DEATHS AT THE PAWS OF CUT-THROATS LIKE THIS BLOODY YOTE! WHY DO WE ALWAYS HAVE TO PLAY BY THE FAIR AND NOBLE RULES? It's just a p-pathetic excuse and so incredibly weak.........*Rook paused and blinked rapidly. His voice had been rising, building to a hateful crescendo, and the otter realized his paws were shaking with a leashed fury that clouded his often sound judgement. He dipped his sleek head and let the air about them expand in his chest*.....I'd best g-go before I say something that will have me apologizing later. Excuse me, Riala...."

"Thank you, Riala." Mack said with a curt nod and a weak smile in the squirrel's direction. Although his heart did not rejoice, he was happy inside for he had saved a helpless creature...for now; just how long would Deathjaw remain helpless?

Mack, of all beasts, feared the massive canine. What if Deathjaw was to attack? To hurt some creature of their party? To kill them? Life wouldn't be the same, guilt would reign supreme on the hare's conscience, he'd have to leave the fort, leave all his fri-

Suddenly a soft paw upon his shoulder and a quiet voice interupted his thoughts. It was a surprising feeling. Despite all Mack did to comfort others, rarely did others try to comfort him. It was strange, especially coming from Moonrose.


"Th...thank you, Moonrose." The hare faltered with another weak smile. Perhaps it wouldn't be as bad it looked, as soon as Bloodfur was found Deathjaw was very likely to forget the travelers. "Yes, thank you." He repeated, his voice once more steady.

Without warning Rook's shouts of anger broke the comforting spell of silence, snapping Mack's mind back into full power. In spite of their friendship, Mack knew little of Rook's past and his face saddened as he listened to the outraged otter's voice rise with every word. Rook soon finished, however, and and seemed to startle even himself.
"Rook..." Mack began, but stopped himself. "Er...yes Riala, pr'aps y'should all continue on. I'll stay with Deathjaw until he wakes then join you at the hedgehog's village. If they wish him not to be in their village, I'll sleep away from it with him."

Riala flinches at Rook's outburst, his impassioned words about the fallisty of honor hitting a little too close to her own unspoken thoughts. She watches helplessly as the otter storms off, wishing she could do something, but knowing no words would heal his pain - just as none had ever balmed hers. I hate this...

Mackbry's voice tears her from her thoughts and she nods slowly. "Very well... I hope you're right about the 'yote, Mack." Gold-brown eyes hold a glimmer of concern for the kindly hare, a rare softness in her rough, normally cold tone. "For your sake and his." Then all emotion is pushed aside as so many times before, and her scarred face returns to immobility as she starts down towards the hedgehog tribe.

"Everything's all right..." she tells the spiked warriors. "We've subdued the attacker. Have you found any sign of a young canine?"

The hedgehogs glance at each other, and then one burly cinnamon-colored female steps forwards, an angered expression on her face at the mention of a canine. "Aye, we did," she says curtly. "M'son disappeared a few days ago an' we found a monstrous dog-cretter wi' my Loam's scent all o'er him. Huh, should say we captured 'im, an' 'e's awaitin' trial back at camp, though I don' see why we'm givin' him a chance t'defend hisself! Clearly guilty, I say- he et my Loamyyyy!" The name ends in a wail, and the hogwife bursts into tears.

*The cub breathed a gusty sigh, wriggling ever so slightly to itch his back on the rough ropes that binded him. His red footpaws had long since fallen asleep; he had been stuck in that tent for days. He tried to wiggle his toes, only to send small needles of pain coursing through his foot. His dark-amber eyes had scoured every inch of the surrounding burlap tent, trying to find some way to pass the time, and finding nothing to amuse himself. The young canid sighed again, trying desperately not to let his fear mount against him as the noise outside the tent flap grew. 'Stay calm, you must have a clear head in all situations,' his mother had told him. He tried his best, but he could feel his heart dropping to his stomach as one of the hedgepigs claimed him guilty, which would explain the sudden nausia. He whimpered a bit, trying not to make to much noise lest the spikedog elders come in and cuff him again. With a deep breath he closed his eyes, trying to imagine Uncle Deathjaw bursting in to save him, cutting his bindings with one quick slash of a dagger, and sweeping him out to the safty of his tribe. That thought comforted him some, at least enough to open his eyes. Scanning the surrounding area and finding it empty still, he sighed once again. He had too much time on his paws, and it would all be spent waiting.*

The sight of his mother in tears prods the shame-faced Loam into action. He walks forward slowly, footpaws dragging in the dirt, eyes cast downwards. "Mummy..." he says quietly, guilt thick in his tone, "Um, Bloodyfur's m'friend. We's just playin', an' then I left an' got losted, an'..."

The hedgewife's eyes go wide at the sound of her son's voice, and she runs to him, patting him all over to check for injuries, wiping off his filthy cinnamon-colored face with the hem of her tunic and generally making a huge fuss over the little hedgehog. The sheepish look on Loam's face quickly fades to long-suffering irritation as a stream of words pours from his mother's snout. "Oh m'Loamrose I thought ye be dead I couldn't find ye anywhere and that 'or'ble dog-creature had your scent all over 'im and I thought he et ye an' don't e'er do that t'me again I was worried 'arf t'death an' ..."

The corners of Riala's mouth quirk up into something that might be called a smile, and she shakes her head. A strange hedgehog... but then most of their kind are odd...