Misadventures

Unlucky Mercies

War of the Four Banners

Redwall Short Story

"Hurry up den!" Called the loud a roughish voice of Dakker Grassweave to his now barely awake son, Bigfang. Dakker was impatient as he always, practically jumping back into the hole which the Grassweaves called home and kicking the younger weasel into action. Bigfang immediately stood up and held his chest and moodily replied in a growling tone "Hey! I ain't even got me breakfast yet, ya old bag!"

That comment got a quick slap from Dakker in a playful tone, who pointed and prodded. "Yea, well, ye won't get viddles at all wit dat attitude, ya dumb cretan. Now get awake an' all, an join me outside! I called fer ya hours ago!" Dakker left, ranting, and rumbling as Bigfang had always known him to be.

The Grassweave family, a family of weasels, was mostly all outside as Bigfang collected what belongings in his vermin hole truly belonged to him. A torn and barely wearable shirt, stapled to it was an unwashed hood. The large quantity of 'things' scattered the vermin hole, making it difficult to move around in. His mom, despite as sweet and calm as a woodlander, had a nasty hoarding habit and a refusal to ever trash a single thing. Illuminated partly by a small fire for cooking in a mud fireplace, he couldn't smell anything good from it. Bigfang could see that not even his smaller siblings were in the hole with him and panicked partly to get outside. It was true, his father did call for him hours ago, but it had been far into the morning. By the time the teen weasel was outside of his home. He could see his father angrily shoving all manner of things onto their cart, the older bandit beast being held by his missus.

"Loamspear, go grab dat boy before I rip his ears off draggen him here!"

She motioned Bigfang to come, and the younger weasel folded his paws in refusal. Loamspear frowned a bit. She wasn't mad persay, as she understood that most vermin at his age had a rebellious streak. She and her husband went through it, and now their own son was in such a mood. However, Dakker could easily and quickly slap sense into Bigfang with a simple angry growl and a deadly eye, as Bigfang came over not wishing to incur his father's wrath.

"Just make sure der is padding between dem bottles, boy. I see one blasted chip on dem on our way to der village, I'll be given ya a blackeye." Dakker warned. Bigfang could only roll his eyes, but another shout from Dakker forewarned an even worse outcome "An if ya remain moody, I'll be doin far worse! Now help yer blasted pa load all dis!"

"Why can't they help ya den." Bigfang retorted. He motioned his head to two other beasts, two dibbums who were chasing each other near their dirty home. Blacknose and Whitenose, although both had neither, were Bigfang's twin brother and sister. He honestly could never tell them apart, but he didn't really bother to learn it. Dakker again angrily slapped him upside the head "When dey are older an' smarter den ya, den dey help wit der family business, boy. Now start loaden."

"Uhg! Why do we even gotta go to dat stupid village anyway." Bigfang complained, loading another barely held together crate into the cart. "Why can't you an' ma just go beat up some traveler, like ya all said as you use to?"

"An get stabbed by some bleeden hare?" Dakker grunted "We got a nice ol' deal wit dat lot down in Palewind, an if ya talk about doin what I used to do before we all settled down again, den I'll stab ya meself. No hare be stabben a Grassweave on me watch."

"They don't even buy this stuff, pa." Bigfang grew a bit angrier and more spiteful, loading another box which clinked into the cart "Dey say out stuff taste like rotten egg. An dem woodlander folk don' even eat egg!"

"Of course dey buy it, boy! Why else do you think we made all dem batches in der spring!" Dakker motioned towards their nice 'setup' of equipment. Barrels, small gardening tools, some overgrown and underdeveloped hops strewn about, and other implements of a makeshift. . .thing. It was organized chaos, but through some manner of determination or sorcery, Dakker had made his world infamous moonshine. "Dem moles love it, ya know! Every fair season, yer pa an' ma make enough to feed der lot of ya, an' buy ya all dem good dings. Now be grateful an' help yer pa load dis stuff, eh!"

Bigfang wasn't grateful, in fact he just huffed loudly. He hated working for the money his father would spend on beer, sugary treats, and the occasional gambling debt. Yet, he got by, and his mother would forgive him of his older nature through scavenging and fixing what he breaks. Bigfang however had bigger dreams, daydreaming of being a proud and fearsome warrior, of being able to just rest and sleep while his hoard of minions rushed about looking for food and things for him, and of his father complaining to let him into his mighty castle while he still lived in a hole. Bigfang wasn't very happy with his life thus far, but as he loaded more boxes into the cart, finishing it up with sweat dripping from his brow, he imagined a easier time would come when he was older. Even though his father forbid it, he really wanted to join with one of the roaming vermin gangs in the woods, for at least they got the good stuff and didn't got to work for their living.

"Whitenose! Blacknose! Come on you two, were headen out!" Loamspear called out and gathered up her little ones, putting them on the cart. Dakker and Bigfang took their place at the head of the cart, and on the count of three would begin to pick it up and begin moving.

"Alright. One. Two. Three—" Dakker said, but found himself being the only one picking it up. He quickly put it down and placed his vicious eye back on his son, seemingly distracted by his own thoughts. A quick slap across the head brought him once again to reality, as the bored teen prepared to lift the heavy cart with his father.

"One. Two. Three!" The five beasts were soon heading off northward, through the hills and plains and southern Mossflower.

Bigfang was tired and bored, as he suspected himself to be. Carrying a cart full of heavy bottles was one thing, but he was honestly just destitute of recreation. Southern Mossflower was warmer than most places, bordering on a great southern desert and was a wild place full of farmers, tribal vermin, and thick forests. Bigfang was the son of a bandit turned simple beast, who only recently began to settle when Palewind was constructed and began patrolling this land more often. The Long Patrol hares were a deadly force, their tales and deeds many, and his father was more frightened of them then he was. He found it silly, a warbeast like his father being frightened of some hare with a pointy stick. As they continued on, something rushed past Bigfang's feet and he looked down to see four big eyes looking back up at them. Whitenose and Blacknose were smiling like dumb children, and began to ask him all manner of questions.

"Where we headed, Bigfung?"

"Bigfang, snot nose." The teen moodily grunted, but answered regardless "Were headen to a village nearby, some mouse forester camp."

"Whuts a forest ters?"

"Loggers."

"What be a lug gor?"

Bigfang's face and mood soured "Dey chop up wood, now leave me be. I ain't in der mood."

"Why ya gotta be su angy?" The high pitched one spoke, which he guessed was his sister? It was hard to tell for him. "Cause, its gonna be some boring fair anyways. Nutten to even do. Dem woodlander folk won't even let us in I bets. . ."
"At der wood choppen camp?"

"No, no. Dat is where we stop first, den head towards Buerchbarn."

"Is dat a wood choppen camp too?"

Bigfang didn't answer this line of questions and tried to ignore them. But a soft kick to his own feet got his unfortunate attention "Ya kick me again, ya two, an' I'll scalp ya."

"Hey!" Dakker angrily spoke up to his son, observing only partly "Don' ya say dat, boy. Or I'll be der one scalping you!"

Bigfang silently grumbled to him. Ever the unironic hypocrite, his father seemed more harsher on him then on the two devils below him who continued to bombard him with questions.

"Why won't dey allow us into der fair?"

"Cause were vermin."

"Whats a ver man?"

"Us."

"No, we be weasels."

Bigfang turned to his pa for help, who seemed uninterested as he was lost in his own thoughts. Bigfang spoke up "Pa, can ya explain to dem why we aren't allowed in der fair no more?"

Dakker grumbled and looked to his two youngest, looking for answers to this injustice. "Last year, yer pa brought a friend an' his cubs to der fairgrounds, an' dey caused all manner a mess which I took der blame for. Shoved a couple of dem workbeasts, punched anuder. Had to explain to der chief of dat town why I did so, so now we can only sell outside der fairgrounds. Twas why ya didn't go last year."

"Why dey cause trouble?" One asked

"Yer pa's friend called anuder beast a workbeast is what. To der wrong beast. I dun' know, some blasted dormouse who used to be a slave in Kasg's horde or somethen, caused a huge stir amongst dem folk. Not like dey aren't all workbeasts. Bah!"

Loamspear came forward and touched her husband's shoulders "Ya did a good ding helpen dem out. Dey owe us a lot fer dat."

Dakker frowned "Aye. Dey do. Not like dat lot will ever repay it. Blasted ol' rat."

As they continued, Bigfang could not help but think about a lot of things. To him, he didn't fully understand what was so bad about calling the woodlanders workbeasts. I mean, dey work, dat all dey do? All day, everyday. Work work work. Not like dey like doin anyding else. Yet another thought entered his head. Kasg. He had heard only rumblings from others, but never bothered to speak up more to it till now. Bigfang spoke up, not sure of how his pa would respond, as usually new questions either resulted in yet another slap across the head, or a genuine response. "Pa, who was Kasg?"

"Kasg der Craven." Dakker spat "Ya know Whiteclaw? Me pa's friend, der northerner?" Bigfang nodded. He knew him, a strange and awkward brown rat from the farther off north. He didn't complain a lot, but was paranoid and twitchy. "Dat black bandana he wears. He was apart of Kasg's black clad horde. Blasted fools ran into der badger lord, an' got demselves killed, like every blasted warlord before dem. Dey said he was a black rat from a strange land, but probably dey mean he was just some northern wretch. Said he never showed up fer battle, an dat he send waves of vermin to do his bidden. Dat where der word 'Craven' comes in. Wells, Whiteclaw said he was a beast to be feared, but dey say dat about all dem chiefs an' bosses. Like yer own pa's boss."

"Ya mean Drapkack?"

"Aye." Dakker growled out and spat more spitefully "Deserved getten got by dem hares. Tellen us dat we weren't pullen our weight! Ha! Now look at us!" He nuzzled his missus' shoulders with affection and she nuzzled back. Dakker gave a rare smile "Dat be why I dun' allow ya to go out an' get yerself killed in some blasted gang. Dem hares will probably come for dem stupid lot next once dey be done dealen wit dat horde off a ways."

"Horde?" Bigfang said a bit excitingly, but Dakker was quick to slap that fantasy down "Aye, a horde. Dun' ya dink about joinen it eder. Hordes ain't like der gang we were in, boy. Ya gotta work far harder an' be a lot more useful to a warlord den to beasts like Drapkack. Dem are evil beasts, ya see. Real evil. No doubt run by all manner of degenerates. Would murder ya den look at ya, an' dat be a lucky outcome!"

"You came from a horde, right ma?"

Loamspear frowned and nodded "Aye, an' not der best time it was, young'un. Yer grandpa an' grandma were in dat horde, an' got made into fishbair as an example fer bein too old to hold der own, despite der long service. Twas a far eastern horde ya see, in der plateaus."

Bigfang frowned as well, he never even heard he got a grandpa or grandma, and to think they died in such a cruel way was a bit distressing. He pushed it out of his mind as they looked onahead. Smoke partly plumped over the trees as Dakker smiled and called out "Finally! Hurry it up, we just gotta get some supplies an' we be off to riches galore!"

Bigfang sighed. Seasons. I hope somethen interesting happens. I'd even learn to read if need be!

They neared the village grounds of a logging hamlet called Borgtown, run by a clan of mice and some hedgehogs. Yet, as they neared, there was an eerie silence. Dakker didn't take mind to it, parking his cart at the edge of the hamlet behind one of the huts, taking inventory. Loamspear was the first take notice of the silence of the village, and noticed some odd things. There were voices farther up towards the dirt path leading to the more important settlements, and she swore she could see the glint of something.

"Grab dat one, boy. Der decent one, I owe dat mouse a nice ol' bit of moonshine fer last year."

Bigfang grumbled more loudly as he grabbed a large dirty bottle and pulled it to him. He knew he would have to carry it as Dakker would no doubt berate him for supposed laziness if he tried to hand it off to him. Bigfang was in a happy mood, as he checked to make sure he had all his things. He had a good amount of coin still left over from last year, his cart was fuller than ever, and he was happy at the prospect of his younger son and daughter enjoying themselves as they traveled. His smile slowly faded as he saw what was happening in the hamlet himself, as all the eyes were soon upon him and his family.

The logging mice and hedgehogs were all lined and surrounding a large contingent of armored beasts. He'd be in a panicked mode if they were vermin, but no, these were woodlanders but not ones he had ever seen before. Their fur was trimmed, they wore rich garments of black and yellow, and he had never seen a warrior in such richly golden garbs. The soldiers were behind one beast who stared at them with confusion mixed in with contempt, a large silverish otter with a stone walled face, in an even richer officer's garb. He was speaking with a older mouse whom Dakker at least knew, the chieftain of the hamlet who gave him a horrified look and rushed forward to him. Dakker looked at him, moving his eyes between him and the otter who was slowly approaching, with several of these soldiers.

"Dakker. Dakker!" The mouse called out. The mouse, a older beast named Raspoin, came over, nearly trying to shove him and his family away, but the weasel didn't budge. The mouse silently spoke up, trying to keep the panic in his voice down "Dakker, you need to leave. You need to le—" the mouse looked behind him and fell into a silence, fearful that the otter may have heard him.

"Der hells is goin on here, Raspoin. . ." Dakker angrily demanded. Bigfang looked around as the soldiers rather quickly were surrounding them. It was a mix of woodlander beasts that not vermin wanted to be in a fight with. Otters, hares, and large hedgehogs who were so well armored, Bigfang thought they were some manner of knights from his mother's tales. His eyes shifted between their armor and their weapons. Some had long pikes, others had crossbows, with swords or maces on their belts. He was partly enchanted at first, but as Loamspear came close to him and held him close, he soon began to feel fear.

The otter looked Dakker up and down, his face molding into some manner of spite "Gorsgan. Laysban." He began to speak up, but the mouse interrupted him "No, no no. Good beast, these are not bandits, but my tail an' heart an' the seasons I swear. . ."

Dakker looked around and grunted dumbly "Of course we ain't some bleeden bandits no more, Raspoin. I demand to know what dis is all about. We ain't dun nuthen wrong. . ."

Dakker's confidence came from two simple facts he knew. Most woodlanders he met were skittish beasts, often quick to deescalate when he arose his voice. Otters were a bit different, but at the end of the day, they were woodlanders. Yet, Dakker began to frown a bit harder when the otter squinted his eyes and looked to Raspoin "They look like bandits, mouse. I have my orders."

"What orders. I demand to know what be go—" Dakker was about to openly complain, but the otter angrily shot back "Interrupt us, vermin, and I'll have you tied and gagged." The otter put his paws calmly behind his back and Dakker shut himself. He began to understand the trouble of his situation, the concern in the eyes of the villagers knowing something he did not. Yet, the tone the otter gave him was abnormal, and he took an instant dislike to it and challenged it by the purity of his instinct "Why ya got dee's stupid water dogs an' spike backs surrounden us fer? We are just here to trade our good stuff an' be gone."

The otter huffed and looked at the weasel's cart "Stolen I presume. . ."

Dakker grew silent, as it was partly. Mostly. Absolutely true. He did steal it, but from his former horde, who stole it from another horde, who stole it from some woodlander. Raspoin quickly spoke up though, in Dakker's defense "Nay, I sold him that cart seasons ago. Captain, dis beast here be named Dakker, just a hermit an' his family who lives farther south. Dakker, ain't that right?"

Dakker and Raspoin knew it was a lie, but he nodded. The otter look down at what the weasel wore, and at his small pouch of coin. "Which beast did you mug that from?"

"I didn't mug no beast fer dis!" Dakker angrily spoke up, but before he could react, one of the hares slashed at his belt with a knife and took it. Dakker tried to get it back, clawing at the hare who took it, but soon widened his eyes when a sword was pressed to his throat, and he was pushed back. The hare gave the pouch to the otter who looked it over, counting it out, and then tying it. "Where did you earn this money then, vermin."

"I earned it! I sell bloody moonshine ya daft water dog. . .now gives it back!"

The otter narrowed his eyes and growled in a more serious tone "Speak like that again, vermin, and you won't be speaking again."

The threat shut Dakker up as Raspoin came between them, begging the otter to see some manner of reason "Captain. Dakker here truly be just a merchant, who sells his alcohol to others! No need for violence, me lord."

The otter frowned and seemed to retract himself into calm "Fine. Bring me this drink then."

Bigfang looked on at the sight, a bit frozen before one of the soldiers grabbed the bottle in his paws harshly from him. Beneath him, the normally oblivious and enchanted dibbums hid behind his legs, looking around and the cold faced woodlanders. Bigfang had never seen woodlanders who acted like this. He knew that the vermin and woodlanders were often at each other's throats, but this looked and felt different. He felt like he was in terrible danger. The soldier brought the mug to the otter who swigged the bottle around. He took a deep sigh and took a sip of the drink, much to Dakker's personal anger. The otter's eyes opened suddenly and he dropped the bottle, coughing and gagging. He spat out what he could as he angrily called out "What the hells is this poison?!" The soldiers only heard the word 'poison' and drew closer. Raspoin was saying all manner of things, trying to calm the otter down, but he wasn't listening.

"Smash up that cart and bottles, immediately! Put this poisoner and its brood under arrest!" The otter angrily spat. Dakker protested "Ya ain't doin dat! Stop!"

Dakker looked behind him in horror as the soldiers went about their task, taking the boxes and smashing them onto the ground, but his concern wasn't on that and more his family. One soldier picked up his youngers and others began to tie his missus and older son's paws in a harsh manner, confused and struggling as they were. The soldiers were about to get him as well, but Dakker angrily rushed the otter, punching him straight into the face. It didn't do much but anger him, as the otter punch back with a force that sent Dakker into darkness.

Slowly, light began to return to Dakker's eyes. He was in terrible pain, at least his face was, but his paws as well. He tried to move them, but much to his dismay, he couldn't move them. He looked down to see he was slumped up against a building, or at least, inside of one of the hamlets. It was Raspoin's home to be sure, but his paws were bound on both his arms and legs in tight rope. Once he began to move, he could see it was night and thoughts flooded his mind. Panic began to set in, unsure of where his youngsters or his missus were, he was confused as to what had just happened, and furious over a great many of things. An entire year's work had been smashed up because some otter didn't like his drink. Dakker was afraid that if he called out, he would attract those soldiers. Yet, as he moved about, trying to bite and gnaw at his bindings, the door to the house opened and Raspoin came in, holding a small candle.

Raspoin had a sad expression on his face as he approached the bound weasel and sat on the floor with him, putting the candle near them. The mouse was awkwardly silent, the older beast looking on at the weasel terrified as much as pitifully.

"Dakker. . ." He began "I know you got, a lot of questions. . ."

"Of course I bleeden do!" Dakker growled out "Untie me, ya flea brain, an' tell me where dat otter is so I can gut him!"

The mouse hushed him "Dakker, you don't understand. You gotta be calm. . ."

"Calm?! After what dat bastard o' a beast did?!"

"Dakker. You are in terrible danger, and so is your family."

Dakker's expression of fury and vengeance turned to a silent calm. With great strength he calmed himself as Raspoin explained what was happening, and what had happened, and what would happen.

"The otter and his soldiers aren't from around here, Dakker. Calls himself Captain Raman, Raman Coastlord of Southsward. Noble I thinks, a part of some army from the deeper south, past the desert. They came to our hamlet to put us 'under watch and protection from the local banditry and vermin.' They began to make demands and orders, asking us on the location and information of bandits. They meant vermin. All vermin."

"All of dem?" Dakker lifted his eyebrow.

"Aye. They got orders Dakker, to kill or arrest every single vermin here. They said they hanged a good deal in the forest already and rounded up. . .their youngsters an' those who didn't fight back. Any beast who did, is getting killed. They don't really explain why, I tried truly to make them see reason, but. . ."

"Yea, well, ya didn't try hard enough." Dakker grunted and then spoke again "Me family?"

"Safe. Ish. They are in another house, in binds. I asked personally for you to be separate, because I had no other chance to do so. Dakker, I am going to ask you to forgive me. . ."

The mouse was even more embarrassed then before, and Dakker could see he didn't want to say what he wanted to say. He prodded "Help me den, ya blasted round ears! Free me an' I'll stick em' in der night an' be off wit me family!"

"Listen Dakker, you stupid creature!" The mouse begged "You cannot fight them! None of us can. They wanted to hang you right then and there for even hitting him, and your missus! I had to beg them not to, to convince them that swill you sell isn't bleeding poison, and that you acted out of instinct! He listened, but barely, and I had to lie a lot about your 'good' character to make sure they didn't kill you. This Raman even thought your son, Bigfang, was 'tainted', and I don't need to tell you what that means, Dakker."

Dakker shut himself up and was horrified. Dakker spoke more slowly, his voice strained "Okay, what do dey want, mouse? An apology? I can do dat, an' we can just leave, an. . ." Dakker's voice trailed into nothingness as Raspion slowly spoke up.

"I am sorry, Dakker. I truly am. I had to say a lot of things to keep you and your family unharmed. I am so sorry." The mouse began to tear up a little. Dakker didn't understand, asking him what he had meant. The mouse sniffed and tried to explain the best he could.

"Dakker, they are going to drag you and your family with them, along with some others, to their camp. They don't intend to let you go, not anytime soon."

"Whacha ya mean? I was der one who hit him, not Loamspear or me youngsters."

"They are collecting, or killing, all vermin Dakker." The mouse reminded him "They are going to put you into 'serfdom' as they calls it, but from what I saw from the vermin they collected, I am. . .I am. . ." the elderly mouse froze up, unsure how to best explain it. Dakker soon realized what he was meaning to say and slumped down in disbelief. "Dey gonna make us into workbeasts?"

"As Raman explained it, it's what it sounded like. It was either convince him you'd be silent and obedient, or they would only be marching your youngest out with them, and leave us to bury the rest. I am so sorry Dakker. Not only for you, but your whole brood. I want to do something, but I got my own family to think of. . ."

"Der hells ya mean?" Dakker angrily seethed "Yer a woodlander, ya folk don't harm each other as it is!? Just tell him dat we ain't done nutten wrong, an get us out of dis!"

Raspion frowned and then informed Dakker what he had seen "In Raman's line of prisoners, Dakker, I saw a couple of woodlanders as well. Said they were resisting Southsward, and resistance meant service. If we resist them, Dakker, I and me own could end up much like you."

Dakker looked sick and aghast, completely in disbelief what he heard. Raspion had nothing comforting to say, and the two stared at one another, unsure and lost until the candlelight was snuffed out. Dakker only hoped when the morrow came, this Raman Coastlord would be in a better mood.

Dakker was tired and sore when he was stood up by soldiers in the early morning and marched out of the house, and immediately greeted by his missus. Although her paws were also bound, the soldiers did not bother to keep too harsh a binding on them. Dakker looked around and could see his children also rushed over, with Bigfang dragging himself behind and looking a more frightened. Dakker looked over his children, trying to say comforting things to his family despite their dire situation "Ya all okay?! Dey didn't treat ya harshly, did dey? All ya just stay calm, an we'll sort dis all out. . ."

A harsh thud was heard as Dakker turned to face the otter captain who was now looming in front of him, having had whacked his tail on the ground to gain his attention. Dakker pushed his wife and children to the side and got in front of them, ever protective and a little frightened. He was anxious, unsure of what to even say, so the otter spoke for him.

"You are. . ." The otter spoke, although with clear annoyance in saying Dakker's name "Dak-kar Grassweave. I have spoken to the chief of the village and others of your character and most say the same thing, I am aware you are simple beast with a simple trade, is that correct?"

Dakker raised an eyebrow to this and nodded "Aye. We do."

"I apologize for earlier troubles." The otter began and sighed "Your. . .drink. . .burned my mouth. I am made aware you vermin are bred very different and have strange tolerances. However, this. . .drink. . .is still unacceptable and I won't be compensating you or such business. In return, I will look over this." The otter pointed to his blackened eye, although from how Dakker looked, it was rather minor. Dakker groaned and listened to the otter give his spiel "I am under orders of Frankfort Squirrelking of Southsward to put down violent vermin and other bandits in this region, and to bring all villages, hamlets, and peoples under the emergency authority of the combined armies. Your violence against me and resistance to arrest would have earned you a swift. . ." The otter kept his words carefully looking down at the frightened Grassweave dibbums. "Sentence." He concluded, and then continued with a clear spite "So instead, you and your brood will be marching off with us back to Palewind, effective immediately you are all now serfs of Prince Frankfort's army, permanent laborers, and students of his majesty's command. A mercy. Be grateful of this opportunity to be civilized. Erm. . .Ferret?"

Dakker gave the otter a weird look, which Raman quickly noticed. "Did I assume you wrong? What species are you then."

"Weasel." Dakker gave a huff. Raman rolled his eyes, but as he did, Bigfang heard what was happening and angrily retorted "We ain't goin nowhere, water dog, we did nutten wrong!"

Raman gave a deathly looked to the moody teen, whom soon regretted his words. Dakker spoke angrily to him "Shut yer trap, Bigfang." Dakker returned his attention to the otter, trying to defend his son "Forgive him. He just be a learnen pup. Takes a lot after me ya see."

Raman grunted and nodded "I noticed, and that is the problem vermin."

Dakker kept those words in his mind as Raman's soldiers began to tie the binds on their paws together, with the villagers watching. Most were horrified what they saw, as Dakker held back his spite and anger as the soldiers harshly made sure his binds were tight. Loamspear spoke up to Raman, hoping the otter would listen "Is dis necessary, water dog? Me youngest aren't marchers. I'd radder dey stay wit me. . ."

"Otter." Raman quickly corrected, but Loamspear seemed confused. "I am not a 'water dog', my hares are not 'long ears', and I will lash any beast who calls my hedgehogs 'spike backs'. Its degrading."

Raman approached the Whitenose and Blacknose, taking their rope leads and tying them to Loamspear's end. It wasn't exactly what she wanted, but at least they were near her a bit more. They looked up at her in pleading tones "Ma." The boy asked "I wanna go home."

"Don't ya worry now." She bent over to try to comfort them. Dakker looked forward, his eyes set on the lead puller of this small division of troops whom coldly looked back at him. Raman poke to the mouse chief who came beside him, giving a pitied and embarrassed look to Dakker.

"I will be keeping two soldiers here which the hamlet will care for, but they are decent and hard working beasts." He said with a coldness. Raspion attempted to speak up "Maybe, my lord, perhaps it would be better if this group of beasts remained here. You know, since you now know they are decent and friendly beasts an—"

"As you claim." Raman chided him and looked back to Dakker. The otter didn't seem convinced, let alone impressed, his attention coming back to the mouse "Your told me they are not violent. I am trusting your word, but I hope it isn't a tainted word. As a woodlander myself, I had no intention of harming their youngest. Why you defend this. . .barely disguised bandit is bit baffling to me."

"Cause, my lord, they had never been bandits! I swear to you, they were practically raised in this village."

Another bold face lie which the Grassweaves heard. Bigfang was tempted to speak up, but a glare from his father kept him silent. Raman looked at the mouse with suspicion but sighed "Fine. As you say. I hope you are honest with me, because this a terrible amount of risk taking in such beasts as it is. Palewind will weed out those who cannot be redeemed or saved."

Raman motioned his paws and the Southsward soldiers quickly got into a formation. The speed which they did surprised the Grassweaves as Dakker felt a harsh tug on his paws. Raman joined his soldiers and yelled out orders to them "We regroup with the others and make our way to Palewind! Move out, Beasts of Southsward!"

Dakker gave a troubled look behind him as the hamlet of mice began to disappear from view, pulled downward from the hills as he began to the long and troubled journey with his family to a destination that really troubled his thoughts. Why der heck we headen to dat Long Patrol fort? Dem stupid Salamandastron hares are not gonna hear der end of it when I complain to dem about dis travesty!