Prologue
Deep within Mossflower, beside a small river, a tribe of otters lived. They were a tribe of warriors, though there weren't very many of them. Maybe a score of otters lived in this tribe. Most too old or too young to fight. The ones who were of good fighting age, where too soft hearted to fight. Only those of many seasons knew how.
Word had come that vermin were coming to this riverside tribe. When they heard, they trained all those capable of fighting. They became quite strong, but still softhearted. The vermin came, thousands of them, with long lines of slaves. They had come too soon for the otters. It was spring, so many otter wives had babes. Skipper had told them o run, but not soon enough. The vermin came, and the battle begun.
Those who were fit to fight fought their hardest, but to no avail. They fell after many days of hard fighting. The vermin took no prisoners. All the otters in the tribe where killed, all, but one.
The vermin where searching the camp for weapons and food. One fox, a vixen seer, stumbled upon something more precious than any food or weapon. A baby otter. The only living proof that a tribe of otters had lived there. She was close to giving birth to her own babe, and decided to take the otter for her own and turn him into a fox. She took the little bundle, along with some food and a small dagger, back to the horde's main camp. She laid him down in a small bed, and fed him. He was only a few days old, and he was very hungry. He ate all the food very quickly.
The next day, the vixen gave birth to her own child. It was a boy. Before her husband could see him, or the otter, she disguised the little riverdog. She died him with blue dye, to match his brother. One thing stood out on the otter, a blood red stripe going from his nose to his tail. It showed through the dye, and shone like the evening's sun. She continued, putting a small blue tail over his little brown rudder. She finished him by putting ears from a dead fox over his. She gathered up her babes, and called in her husband. He looked at them, not too pleased to see two.
"What do we name them?" the husky dogfox asked.
She pointed to the otter, "This one shall be Nimero Bloodstripe," she handed the little bundle to her husband, "See, he has an odd stripe going down his back." The fox handed him back to the vixen. He pointed to the other one.
"What about that one?" The vixen picked the baby fox up, and handed him to her husband.
"Niko Bloodpaw. He has the same reddish color as Nimero has on his stripe on his paws." The fox looked him over.
"I like this one. There's something not right with the other. Almost not fox-like." He shrugged his shoulders, and left the tent. The vixen sighed, relived he didn't ask more about Nimero. She looked at her sons. Should I tell him? she thought. Nimero, almost like reading her thoughts, nodded. She smiled at the otter. She couldn't even tall it was an otter. It looked like a fox to her. She sighed, and left the thought.
Deep within Mossflower, beside a small river, a tribe of otters lived. They were a tribe of warriors, though there weren't very many of them. Maybe a score of otters lived in this tribe. Most too old or too young to fight. The ones who were of good fighting age, where too soft hearted to fight. Only those of many seasons knew how.
Word had come that vermin were coming to this riverside tribe. When they heard, they trained all those capable of fighting. They became quite strong, but still softhearted. The vermin came, thousands of them, with long lines of slaves. They had come too soon for the otters. It was spring, so many otter wives had babes. Skipper had told them o run, but not soon enough. The vermin came, and the battle begun.
Those who were fit to fight fought their hardest, but to no avail. They fell after many days of hard fighting. The vermin took no prisoners. All the otters in the tribe where killed, all, but one.
The vermin where searching the camp for weapons and food. One fox, a vixen seer, stumbled upon something more precious than any food or weapon. A baby otter. The only living proof that a tribe of otters had lived there. She was close to giving birth to her own babe, and decided to take the otter for her own and turn him into a fox. She took the little bundle, along with some food and a small dagger, back to the horde's main camp. She laid him down in a small bed, and fed him. He was only a few days old, and he was very hungry. He ate all the food very quickly.
The next day, the vixen gave birth to her own child. It was a boy. Before her husband could see him, or the otter, she disguised the little riverdog. She died him with blue dye, to match his brother. One thing stood out on the otter, a blood red stripe going from his nose to his tail. It showed through the dye, and shone like the evening's sun. She continued, putting a small blue tail over his little brown rudder. She finished him by putting ears from a dead fox over his. She gathered up her babes, and called in her husband. He looked at them, not too pleased to see two.
"What do we name them?" the husky dogfox asked.
She pointed to the otter, "This one shall be Nimero Bloodstripe," she handed the little bundle to her husband, "See, he has an odd stripe going down his back." The fox handed him back to the vixen. He pointed to the other one.
"What about that one?" The vixen picked the baby fox up, and handed him to her husband.
"Niko Bloodpaw. He has the same reddish color as Nimero has on his stripe on his paws." The fox looked him over.
"I like this one. There's something not right with the other. Almost not fox-like." He shrugged his shoulders, and left the tent. The vixen sighed, relived he didn't ask more about Nimero. She looked at her sons. Should I tell him? she thought. Nimero, almost like reading her thoughts, nodded. She smiled at the otter. She couldn't even tall it was an otter. It looked like a fox to her. She sighed, and left the thought.