FYI: I modeled Julian after my little brother. ^_^ And, no, I don't live in Cherry Hill, NJ, but in someplace near there.
Thank you for the reviews!
Laburnum Steelfang: Cool! Thanks! One question though...what's IC?
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"I'm a human."
"Bwahahahaha!!" The twins Coral and Dawson nearly exploded with laughter.
"That ain't funny!" the little boy retorted. He had been wandering along the huge beach since last night and this morning—alternately crying from loneliness and fear, and running along the surf with the excitement of an explorer—and was feeling very irritable. "Don't you know what a human is?"
Collapsing to the sand, the hares kicked up their legs and laughed harder than ever.
"Yahaha! Oh...! Oh...hee hee, Dawson...didja hear wot he said?!"
"Whoo! D-did I! W...what manner of beast is human, eh?"
Tears began to fill the little boy's eyes. "It's not funny, y...you big bunnies!!"
Seeing that their mirth was not being appreciated, the hares straightened up, wiped tears of mirth from their eyes, and did their level best to keep straight faces. Dawson spoke first.
"I apologize," he said, fighting a grin from his face.
"Aye, me too," Coral added. "We got rather carried away. It's something of a habit among us leverets, doncha know."
"See, we've never seen a beast like you..." Dawson stepped forward, examining the boy closely. "Wot did you say you were again, eh?"
"I'm a human."
"Y'look more like a cross between a furless badger and a furless otter, excepting the tail, whiskers, and paws."
"And you look like a giant fat rabbit tryin' to wear clothes," the boy retorted.
"Got a name?" Coral asked.
The boy made a face. "I'm not s'posed to tell that to strangers."
Dawson crossed his arms. "Well, in its place, not talking to strangers is all well and good, but that's all you've been doing the past few minutes."
For some reason, that sent Coral into another helpless fit of giggles. Watching her, the boy was suddenly reminded of his own sibling, his big brother, who also laughed often. He sniffled, wondering where he was, and then plunked down on a sand dune and started crying for the umpteenth time since he'd found himself on the beach.
Dawson kicked at his sister and glared at her sternly. "Ahem!" he began, speaking only to the boy since Coral was still recovering. "It appears you're lost, m'dear human." Here his face twitched, but he did not smile. "Howzabout you come home with us, eh? Maybe Lord Apache'll be able to help you."
The boy looked up, dark, teary eyes distrusting. "I'm not s'posed to go with strangers."
"But..." Dawson quickly thought of something to change the boy's mind. Noon was fast approaching, and he didn't want to miss the midday meal. "Listen, y'little chap, I'll make a deal with ya. If you stay out here all night and the bally corsairs don't find ya, I promise to tell them that your out 'ere and that they're free to kidnap you onto their ships 'cos you told the Long Patrol that you didn't want our help."
"Dawson," Coral muttered testily in his ear.
"Corsairs?" The boy was interested. "What's that? Food?" As if on cue, his stomach growled loudly.
The hare continued, knowing that he was close to winning. "Ah, I see that you're hungry. W'll, food's somethin' them corsairs ain't goin' to give to a pore beas—I mean, human like you. They're mighty cruel beasts, rats and weasels, the lot of 'em! They'd rip your head from your neck sooner 'n' talk to you!"
The boy jumped to his feet. "Cool!" he exclaimed, albeit timidly. "Are they like pirates?" He was grinning slightly.
Dawson and Coral nearly exploded another time.
The child continued, "My big brother told me 'bout pirates. He said they were cool!"
"Cool?" The twins exchanged a puzzled glance. "They certainly see more hotheaded t'me," Dawson inserted.
"Hotheaded!" His troubles forgotten for the moment, the boy giggled. "You're funny, mister!"
"Nice to know that." Somewhat miffed, Dawson held out a paw to the child. "Now do you want to come with us back to where we live?" A pause. "Plenty of food there, doncha know, and it's nearly time for lunch."
"Okay!" Taking the hare's paw, the boy skipped along the beach with his new friends. "Do you live on the beach, mister? What kind of—" He stopped to remember the word. "—beast are you?"
"Aye. We live inside of an extinct volcano." Dawson smiled. "Pretty exotic, wot?"
"And we're hares," Coral added helpfully.
"Hairs? Hairs?! Y-you're not that thin! I thought you were rabbits!" It was the boy's turn to burst out laughing.
****
"Whoa..." Goggle-eyed, the boy stared around him at the passages cunningly gouged into the mountain. "I thought you were lyin' when you said you lived in a mountain."
Coral pretended to be hurt. "Us? Lie? Never!"
A new voice spoke from behind them. "I'll be the judge of that," it rumbled. The three friends spun, but the face looking down at them was kindly, if not tender.
Dawson relaxed visibly. "Oh! It's you, Milord Apache! I was just about to take this little—human—up to your forge t'see what you think of 'im, doncha know."
Lord Apache smiled as he caught sight of the boy, whose black eyes were even larger in his small face as he saw the great badger before him. "I'd first have to know what beast he is, Dawson," Apache reminded the hare.
"I'm a human," the child said. "A boy," he added.
The badger lord extended a paw. "And what is your name...boy?"
The boy shook hand-and-paw with Apache. "My name's Julian Blaine," he said, rather awed by the huge beast standing before him. "I'm from New Jersey." (A/N: So am I! Whoot! Whoot!)
"And I am Lord Apache of Salamandastron."
Julian snickered as he took back his hand. "Sala-what-now?!"
****
When Dustin awoke, he was sweating profusely; there was a thick, wet bandage around his head. He was wrapped in several dirty cloaks and lying close to something warm. He fully opened his eyes and saw that it was a fire. "Yeek!" Letting out a most unmanly yelp, the startled boy recoiled from the flames. One of the cloaks caught fire. "Whoa!" Dustin sprang to his feet, kicking the cloth into the fire.
"Hey! Now why didja 'ave to go an' burn me second best cloak, eh? Ye should watch where you're movin', brat!"
Looking up, Dustin recognized the irate Firelance. He sighed and frowned. "Why am I still here...?" he mumbled half to himself.
Firelance was carefully feeding wood chips to the campfire's flames. "Because Cap'n Swiftshot di'n't want you killed, that's why." His voice shook with barely controlled rage. "Ye've got 'im to thank fer that. He even had Crossclaw put that poultice on yer head wound! If it had been up to me, I'd've sent you back to them Redwallers without yer measly head!" He added in a quieter voice, "He thinks you're summat exotic."
The rat's harsh talk grated in Dustin's nerves. For some reason, his head didn't hurt, but to take his mind off Firelance, he looked around him.
He was standing in what seemed to be the center of the camp in a small clearing. All around him, ferrets, rats, weasels, stoats, and one or two foxes went about their businesses of setting up tents, standing watch, bringing in foraged food...and arguing about most of it. The sun was high and burning in the sky—About noon, he noted—and the trees still seemed oversized. Dustin had just discovered how large an ant was up close.
The boy winced. Animals walking, wearing clothes and talking, of all things! I think I hit my head too hard and I'm still in the hospital... He moved to pinch himself, but before he could a sharp kick to the small of his back made him gasp in pain.
"Move yer paws, if ye have any," Firelance growled. "The Cap'n says he wants to see you."
Inside Captain Swiftshot's tent, the air was mercifully cool. As Dustin stumbled in, Firelance's forceful paws shoving him on, the captain was sitting at a low table before his cot, writing with a reed pen. On one side of the table stood two agile-looking ferrets. Seeing the two newcomers, he set down the pen and motioned Firelance and Dustin to him.
The boy came, but warily. He was still confused as to where he was, which made it hard to think, and Swiftshot's eyes—the way they over-scrutinized him—made him want to scream to loosen the tension.
After several minutes, the captain finally spoke.
"I see that Crossclaw dressed your head wound with the mud poultice," he noted.
"Wha—?" Dustin's fingers went to his head. Yes, the thick bandage was still there...and a smearing of mud through it all. He winced, but made no attempt to remove the bandage, admitting to himself that it felt good. Disgusting.
"Here." The weasel took up a goblet from his table and extended it towards the boy. "You must be thirsty."
Dustin recoiled automatically. "It's poison," he muttered.
Swiftshot chuckled. "No, of course not. Why would I poison you? Now drink! Several of my crew are preparing something to eat."
The boy remembered how thirsty he was, but shook his head. "No thanks." The captain analyzed him for a while longer.
"What is your name?" Swiftshot asked at last.
"Dustin Blaine," the boy replied.
The captain went back to examining him. Dustin wanted to sink through the tent's rush-woven floor.
"And what manner of beast are you?" Swiftshot suddenly said. It wasn't a demand; his words seemed more like a command. Under less dangerous circumstances, Dustin would have laughed if he had known that those words were almost the same words that Dawson had spoken to his brother Julian nearly an hour ago.
Julian... Thinking of his brother reminded Dustin of the place from whence he'd come. "Is this some kind of early Halloween joke?" he demanded, ignoring Swiftshot's question and taking a step forward. The ferrets moved also. "How much are you gettin' paid for this?"
Swiftshot raised an eyebrow as he got to his feet. "I think you're the one playing the joke," he retorted. "Tell me, are you a spy from the Redwallers in some bad costume, sent to watch me 'n' my crew? And if you are—and I'm asking you nicely—is there a way that we can get in without their knowing?"
Dustin crossed his arms, his bandage forgotten. He knew that there were several people in his neighborhood who would take a joke as far as these people seemed to be, but he wasn't sure...
"I told you last night that I didn't know what Redwall was!" he growled.
"Aye, so did the last mouse we found," Swiftshot replied levelly. "Want to know what happened to him?"
Before Dustin could answer, Swiftshot pointed to a bag on the floor. "Open it," he said. When Dustin hesitated, the two ferrets grabbed him roughly by the arms and forced him down. Once on his knees, the boy reluctantly reached for the bag.
Behind him, Firelance snickered.
Imagining all kinds of ghastly surprises in the bag—live snakes, skeletons, a history book—Dustin was completely unprepared to open it and find...
He froze.
He jumped back with a choked gasp.
In the bag was the bloated corpse of a mouse. Dustin wanted to throw up. The face was recognizable to the extent that he saw how frightened the small beast had been.
"I drowned him," Swiftshot said grimly.
Sick.
He took several deep breaths to steady his stomach and licked his dry lips. Looking up at Swiftshot, the boy saw that he was smirking knowingly, as were the ferrets and Firelance.
"Now do you think I'm joking?" the captain asked.
"N-no." Unable to tear his eyes from the revolting sight, Dustin swallowed hard. "But I'm telling the truth! I don't know about this Redwall. I don't know about anything else! I don't even know where I am!"
"You are in Mossflower Wood," Swiftshot answered, closing the bag around the mouse remains. "But if you're not from Redwall, then where are you from?"
"Cherry Hill, New Jersey," Dustin finally looked up. "In the United States."
The ferrets burst out laughing. "New Jersey?" they hooted. "United States? Cherry Hill? Firelance, d'ye know of any hills of cherries around 'ere?!"
Looking pleased, Firelance glowered at Dustin, who transferred his own gaze to the floor. Captain Swiftshot got to his paws and darted around the table so he was facing the boy.
"All right, then," he sneered, his good humor gone since Dustin hadn't "admitted" that he was from Redwall. "I gave you a chance to tell me the truth, but it's too late now. So we'll leave. We'll take you back to my ship and you'll be the first of the oarslaves."
"Oarslaves?" Dustin was alarmed.
"Aye." The weasel's foul breath blasted in his face. "Take my word for it, whatever-you-are, being an oarslave under me is worse than that mouse got!"
Dustin didn't reply.
Swiftshot knew he'd gotten his point across. His voice returned to its usual calmness as he turned to speak to the ferrets. "Jadin, Twomark, take this brat outside and tie him to the nearest tree. Guard him closely. If he so much as...as breathes too loud for your liking, beat him, understand?"
The ferrets touched their right paws to their left shoulders and bowed. "Yes, Cap'n," they replied together.
Four sinewy paws grabbed the boy's arms and began dragging him out.
"Firelance," Dustin heard Swiftshot say to the rat. "Tell the crew to be ready to leave at dawn."