A day had passed since Chaimp the fox Slayer had his scouts sent out to explore the land. All day and all night they ventured, not once halting in fear that any spies from their lord were watching their movements, waiting to slay any who slowed their pace. Now on the morn of the second day they rested in a grove of trees. Perched sullenly on a stone sat Chaimp. His yellow eyes watched the movements of his scouts as they ate, cooked, slept, and occasionally fought with one another. Moodily the fox twirled his coin necklace around, allowing it to hit the stone he perched upon with every turn.
Chaimp was a common-looking fox. With gold eyes and orange fur he didn't stand out much in the horde, except he bore the markings of a Slayer: teal paint covered his black paws and was found on the tip of his ears, while the common Searchers bore teal markings under each eye. A ragged green tunic and a belt were his only clothing. Chaimp's eyes fell on a former searat who was struggling to make a meal of a skinny bird. The fox had watched the rat slay the bird with his sling, even though the bird was at the gates of Dark Forest before it was killed. Now he watched the rat angrily tear at the feeble carcass before flinging it into surrounding wood and turning on the rat that sat near him.
"Dunder'ead, stop sittn' there and go fetch me some vittles!"
Skot, the second rat, stood and ambled farther into the wood with a small sack, in search of berries. "Go get yer own, Chaintail Bulgebelly!"
Chaintail growled, baring blackened teeth at the retreating rat. "Bulgebelly y'self, scoffn' down berries and not givin a measly pawful to yer own mate!" He spat in Skot's direction before turning back to his fire.
Chaimp growled to himself, his thoughts on TealFur's rage when he and his group returned to the camp. "Ya wont have to worry about food when y'get back to the horde, rat. Toothless gums won't help yew when ya manage to steal a scrap of food when yer ordered to starve, if ya still have breath in yer, that is."
The rat in question turned on Chaimp and growled. "Yea, well if I had my way I wouldn't be sittin' here while a gutless stripecat cracks a whip o'er my 'ead. Aye, I'd be lord 'o my own domain, feedin' off the fat 'o the land!"
The fox snorted. "I'd like tah see that. Git to sleep and savor yer last pitiful dreams afore the cat slips a knife betwixt yer ribs, Mighty Lord Bulgebelly!"
Muttering to himself, Chaintail lay down on the dewy grass to sleep.
.+.+.
Sonel watched the old otter sitting on the other side of the fire. The young badger maid had met the strange creature only that morning and let her rest at her campsite in the forest. The otter, who had not yet given her name to the maid, was an ancient-looking beast, wearing a long purple cloak and hood, armed with an oaken staff. Her silver fur seemed to shine in the moonlight as the otter lay with her back to a tree, muttering softly and clutching a bundle of rags.
Thinking the ancient quite insane Sonel sat with her back to a tree trunk also and staring at her odd companion. Sulita, or just Sonel, was a young but strong badgermaid. Clad in a simple white smock and armed with a rusty dagger the orphan had wandered the landscape alone until she came to the forest. Mossflower, the creatures called it. She liked the name. Silently Sonel listened, straining her hearing power to catch the jumbled words of the ancient.
"….great power, great power to destroy all vermin….only a cat can slay a cat…yes…yes….she will slay….slay the murderers….who…who took the first light…she will….will return the….light to….the…..throne….." With a soft clunk the oaken staff fell from the otter's paw. Her head drooped and soft snoring could be heard by Sonel. Tippawing, the badgermaid ambled to the side of the sleeping creature. The otter's other paw was holding the bundle of rags.
Gently…oh so gently, Sonel moved some of the rags. Curiosity claimed her and, as the thing within the bundle could be seen, a cry of shock welled up on her throat.
Within the bundle lay a sleeping babe…
A wildcat cub.
Slowly Sonel returned to her place on the opposite side of the fire. With her back to the tree trunk the badger sunk into slumber, thoughts of the babe and unknown memories of a place she had never been before; a rocky place with a scent of the sea in the air….hovering about her mind.
Chaimp was a common-looking fox. With gold eyes and orange fur he didn't stand out much in the horde, except he bore the markings of a Slayer: teal paint covered his black paws and was found on the tip of his ears, while the common Searchers bore teal markings under each eye. A ragged green tunic and a belt were his only clothing. Chaimp's eyes fell on a former searat who was struggling to make a meal of a skinny bird. The fox had watched the rat slay the bird with his sling, even though the bird was at the gates of Dark Forest before it was killed. Now he watched the rat angrily tear at the feeble carcass before flinging it into surrounding wood and turning on the rat that sat near him.
"Dunder'ead, stop sittn' there and go fetch me some vittles!"
Skot, the second rat, stood and ambled farther into the wood with a small sack, in search of berries. "Go get yer own, Chaintail Bulgebelly!"
Chaintail growled, baring blackened teeth at the retreating rat. "Bulgebelly y'self, scoffn' down berries and not givin a measly pawful to yer own mate!" He spat in Skot's direction before turning back to his fire.
Chaimp growled to himself, his thoughts on TealFur's rage when he and his group returned to the camp. "Ya wont have to worry about food when y'get back to the horde, rat. Toothless gums won't help yew when ya manage to steal a scrap of food when yer ordered to starve, if ya still have breath in yer, that is."
The rat in question turned on Chaimp and growled. "Yea, well if I had my way I wouldn't be sittin' here while a gutless stripecat cracks a whip o'er my 'ead. Aye, I'd be lord 'o my own domain, feedin' off the fat 'o the land!"
The fox snorted. "I'd like tah see that. Git to sleep and savor yer last pitiful dreams afore the cat slips a knife betwixt yer ribs, Mighty Lord Bulgebelly!"
Muttering to himself, Chaintail lay down on the dewy grass to sleep.
.+.+.
Sonel watched the old otter sitting on the other side of the fire. The young badger maid had met the strange creature only that morning and let her rest at her campsite in the forest. The otter, who had not yet given her name to the maid, was an ancient-looking beast, wearing a long purple cloak and hood, armed with an oaken staff. Her silver fur seemed to shine in the moonlight as the otter lay with her back to a tree, muttering softly and clutching a bundle of rags.
Thinking the ancient quite insane Sonel sat with her back to a tree trunk also and staring at her odd companion. Sulita, or just Sonel, was a young but strong badgermaid. Clad in a simple white smock and armed with a rusty dagger the orphan had wandered the landscape alone until she came to the forest. Mossflower, the creatures called it. She liked the name. Silently Sonel listened, straining her hearing power to catch the jumbled words of the ancient.
"….great power, great power to destroy all vermin….only a cat can slay a cat…yes…yes….she will slay….slay the murderers….who…who took the first light…she will….will return the….light to….the…..throne….." With a soft clunk the oaken staff fell from the otter's paw. Her head drooped and soft snoring could be heard by Sonel. Tippawing, the badgermaid ambled to the side of the sleeping creature. The otter's other paw was holding the bundle of rags.
Gently…oh so gently, Sonel moved some of the rags. Curiosity claimed her and, as the thing within the bundle could be seen, a cry of shock welled up on her throat.
Within the bundle lay a sleeping babe…
A wildcat cub.
Slowly Sonel returned to her place on the opposite side of the fire. With her back to the tree trunk the badger sunk into slumber, thoughts of the babe and unknown memories of a place she had never been before; a rocky place with a scent of the sea in the air….hovering about her mind.