Broken

Chapter Two- Mixed Reactions

Notice- Don't be surprised if this is a very brief chapter. My computer is down (just got a new laptop, a tablet pc, the kind you can use a pen to write on!) you know, new computer frustrations. I'm using my mom's computer and I only have a couple hours to write this (usually it takes me a couple days to write a chapter). So bear with me, here! I'll do my best.

Bluefen would normally be glad to sleep in a separate tent than her husband, but when she was offered to, she declined. She was curious about these changes that had come over him. It seemed like he was merely a lifeless mass, never speaking nor showing any sort of emotion. She had to know. She was secretly delighted about what had happened to him, but at the same time, she was extremely puzzled.

Usually she was ignored by him, or treated badly. Badly to put it lightly. After a while, she became numb to the ill treatment and learned to accept it, so she couldn't say in truth that she hated him. For her, this treatment was normal, for this was the treatment that almost all females faced with their husbands. Growing up to learn it was right did numb her. She had no bitter feelings towards him.

That night was bazaar to sum it up in one word. When he came into the tent, he did look at her, surprisingly. The look on his face was one of blankness. She could swear that there was no thought process going on in his mind. It was silent for the first few minutes. Bluefen was the one to speak.

"Swartt..." she said softly. "Where have you been?" she inquired, scooting closer to him, trying to break through his mental barriers.

Swartt looked her straight in the eyes and spoke. "It doesn't matter where I've been. What matters is where I'm going," he said, looking away from her to the canvas of the tent.

Bluefen felt her heart racing as she heard him speak. She had heard of how Scarback had tried so hard to get him to say one thing, and one thing was all he had said. Hopefully Bluefen could pry more information from him.

"It does matter," she said gently. "If you would just please tell me..."

Swartt turned to her again and shrugged nonchalantly. "It just doesn't matter."

She nodded, realizing that he would not answer this question. It was so strange, he was being civil, which was very unusual. Normally he would yell at her to leave him alone or go to sleep, but not that night. She smiled. "Is there anything that I can do?" she asked kindly.

He nodded slowly, solemnly. "Forget," he said.

Bluefen narrowed her eyes and stared hard at him. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head hopelessly and laid down, covering himself with the blankets, turned away from her. Bluefen was disappointed at this, and ended the conversation there. She laid down next to him and pulled the blankets over her, putting out the candles. It was relatively quiet except for Swartt's soft breathing. Bluefen was curious.

The next morning it seemed the whole horde was on edge. Everyone began to question what was going on with Swartt's mental health, and there were fights breaking out everywhere. Some were still loyal to him, while small rebel groups made attempts at assassinations. There was a lot of bloodshed that morning.

Scarback had decided to stay in Mossflower until this whole thing was sorted out. There was plenty of food and a river nearby, it was perfect to stay for a few days.

Scarback had taken a defensive stance as far as the warlord went. He ordered the utmost protection for Swartt, and he ordered death to all those who attempted attacks. For the most part, it worked well, though there will small scale assassination attempts. Those beasts were killed in the process, and by afternoon, no one dared attack him.

Bluefen had reported to him what he'd said to her the night before, every word. Scarback ordered her to try to speak to him more, hoping that perhaps he would open up to her.

He and Marbul, Swartt's other weasel assassin, so named for his one blind eye, conversed while they waited outside the tent for Bluefen's reports.

Marbul shook his head, still in a state of disbelief. "What the hell did this to him, Scarback?" he inquired.

Scarback shrugged. "I wish I knew," he replied with a small smile.

Meanwhile, Bluefen and Swartt were seated in the tent, an awkward silence hung in the air. She sat on the other side of the tent, away from him, staring at him desperately. Now she had pressure, that was great. She hated doing things under pressure.

"Talk to me," she murmured to him, leaning her head on her arms wearily.

He turned to her and smiled, a rare thing to see. "What's there to talk about?"

Bluefen shrugged. "You."

He shook his head. "It's not worth your time," he muttered in response as he again stared away from her.

She crawled closer to him and clasped his paw. He looked back at her forlornly and shook his head. "Really, it's not worth your time," he said quietly.

She smiled, trying to look cheerful. "I'm yours...you are worth my time," she said with phony merriment, his melancholy slightly rubbing off on her.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "You're not mine."

Bluefen freed her paw and rose to a stand, frustrated. She then left the tent, and immediately had Scarback's attention.

"What's going on?" he queried anxiously.

Bluefen sneered. "It's hopeless! Who cares, just leave him alone!" she exclaimed as she walked swiftly away.

Scarback and Marbul exchanged looks of perplexity. Very rarely had Bluefen ever spoken, let alone yelled at them. It was unlike her, but then, everyone seemed out of character that day.

"Listen to her," a voice said from behind the two weasels. They whipped around to see a young ferret. He had no dyes or piercing, clad in a vest and slacks he was set apart from most of the horde beasts. He was young, around seventeen seasons old. Slung through his belt was a curved sword in which he worked well with. He had one paw with six claws, thus it was Ectyce Sixclaw, Swartt and Bluefen's son.

Scarback had not taken any sort of liking towards the young ferret. He claimed that he was different from his father, but in all actuality he was just the same with a different appearance. He had earned a great deal of respect from most the horde beasts and was certainly destined to be a leader. He was the type: cunning and greedy.

"You have no say," Scarback said and turned back to Marbul, trying to ignore the young ferret.

He then felt himself being shoved harshly into Marbul, the two tumbled to the ground.

"Have you forgotten, I'm his son!" he spat with contempt, walking away from the weasels, leaving them lying on the ground.

"I'll take my blade to that one someday," Marbul murmured menacingly. "Someday..."

"We'll see how that goes," Scarback said cynically as he rose to a stand, wiping the dust off his tunic. "Not if he's like his dad."

"Yeah, we will see," Marbul said tempermentally.

Abrupt ending, I know. Its past one o clock, and I began at eleven. It'll have to do! By the way, Ectyce=Veil. Fixed that little mistake.