CHAPTER EIGHT: "THE TIME HAS COME"
The sky was barely tinged orange when Ivy Squirrelqueen and her daughter Amber led the hundred or so squirrels through the trees. Each carried a bow over a shoulder and full quivers at either hip. They swung over the thicket of thorns and landed on the riverbank at Camp Willow, where the fivescore otters were waiting.
Rockfist carried a long pole with a torch tied to its tip. As he noticed the squirrels arriving, he dropped the pole into the river to extinguish the flame. Striding forward, the big otter shook Ivy's paw firmly. "Well, today's the day we drive 'em out. In a few hours, there's going to be a lot of surprised vermin over at Kotir!"
The squirrel smiled and toyed with an arrow she was holding. "Very sad villains too, I'd wager."
There was a rustling in the thorn bushes and a muffled grunt. Rockfist seized his javelin and held it at the ready, but he lowered it again when a badger crashed through, sucking on a paw. "Ouch, blasted thorn!"
Rockfist held out his paw and felt it enveloped by a bigger, stronger one. "Barkstripe, glad to see you here. Thanks for helping us out today."
The big badger was clad in a suit of armor that hadn't been used in many seasons. He blew dust off of the shoulderplates as he replied, "Look at me; A farmer going out to war. However, I'm proud to be fighting for Mossflower. As Boar's son-in-law, I feel I have a duty to do so in his absence."
Ivy Squirrelqueen gripped Barkstripe's other paw. "We all do. Let's go now, for Mossflower!"
The squirrels leaped into the trees, the otters slid into the river, and Barkstripe jogged down the riverbank, carrying a sword he'd found in Boar the Fighter's old possessions.
Several minutes later all had arrived at the woodland fringe, and just over two hundred eyes gazed down at Kotir. A new wall had been built around the structure, and outside this wall were many grain and vegetable fields. Dilapidated hovels dotted the landscape, and as the first ray of sunlight penetrated the forest, creatures stumbled exhaustedly out of the little hut. Toting rakes, hoes, and shovels, they filed into the crop fields and began to work furiously.
In the field nearest the tree fringe, a mouse was struggling with a huge bundle of wheat stalks when he turned and saw the gathered warriors. Making sure he wasn't being watched, the mouse scurried up and grabbed Rockfist's paw. "Rockfist, mate! What brings you and your otters here? We thought you and the squirrels had taken off after ole Greeneyes took over!"
The big otter felt sympathy tug at him as he studied the mouse. Seasons of work had literally worn the shirt off his back, and Rockfist could count the unfortunate creature's ribs. "Mikk, you need some rest an' food! Why are you overworking yourself?"
The mouse laughed wryly. "I would if I could, mate. However, half of what we produce each day is taken by the wildcat's patrols. If it isn't enough...well, just know that executions have been getting more commonplace. The vermin will make up charges such as treason, but we know what's really going on."
Nitestream, who had been standing just behind Rockfist, stepped forward and swept his left arm out wide, indicating the forces of the otters and squirrels. "Why not join us? We can use any ablebodied beast willing to help fight."
Mikk took up his scythe. The sturdy pole with its long, curved blade was his instrument for cutting grain. But now...He gripped the wooden pole tightly with both paws. "I'm with you, Rock! D'you want me to rally the others?"
Rockfist patted Mikk's shoulder. "That would mean a lot to us. The more we have, the better!"
The mouse had begun to walk off when a young one barely able to walk toddled up and tugged his tail. "Whereya goin'? Who'zall dem?" he asked, pointing a chubby paw at the assembled fighters.
Mikk dropped his scythe and lifted the babe. He walked back to Rockfist. "I can't fight with my son to look after. Can you get little Gonff to somewhere safe?"
A grizzled old otter with a crooked tail stuck his javelin in the ground and stepped forward, his paws outstretched. "Look, I'd be a hindrance to our force. I'm too old to fight, as much as I'd like to. I'll take him back to Camp Willow where he'll be safe." He took the squirming infant and swiftly made off for the river.
Gonff peered over the old one's shoulder and raised a tiny paw, calling back to his father. "B'bye, Daddy!"
Mikk waved with a smile, then he bent down and seized his scythe. When he straightened up, his face was the picture of determination. He ran off into the fields without a word to begin raising up the others.
The sky was barely tinged orange when Ivy Squirrelqueen and her daughter Amber led the hundred or so squirrels through the trees. Each carried a bow over a shoulder and full quivers at either hip. They swung over the thicket of thorns and landed on the riverbank at Camp Willow, where the fivescore otters were waiting.
Rockfist carried a long pole with a torch tied to its tip. As he noticed the squirrels arriving, he dropped the pole into the river to extinguish the flame. Striding forward, the big otter shook Ivy's paw firmly. "Well, today's the day we drive 'em out. In a few hours, there's going to be a lot of surprised vermin over at Kotir!"
The squirrel smiled and toyed with an arrow she was holding. "Very sad villains too, I'd wager."
There was a rustling in the thorn bushes and a muffled grunt. Rockfist seized his javelin and held it at the ready, but he lowered it again when a badger crashed through, sucking on a paw. "Ouch, blasted thorn!"
Rockfist held out his paw and felt it enveloped by a bigger, stronger one. "Barkstripe, glad to see you here. Thanks for helping us out today."
The big badger was clad in a suit of armor that hadn't been used in many seasons. He blew dust off of the shoulderplates as he replied, "Look at me; A farmer going out to war. However, I'm proud to be fighting for Mossflower. As Boar's son-in-law, I feel I have a duty to do so in his absence."
Ivy Squirrelqueen gripped Barkstripe's other paw. "We all do. Let's go now, for Mossflower!"
The squirrels leaped into the trees, the otters slid into the river, and Barkstripe jogged down the riverbank, carrying a sword he'd found in Boar the Fighter's old possessions.
Several minutes later all had arrived at the woodland fringe, and just over two hundred eyes gazed down at Kotir. A new wall had been built around the structure, and outside this wall were many grain and vegetable fields. Dilapidated hovels dotted the landscape, and as the first ray of sunlight penetrated the forest, creatures stumbled exhaustedly out of the little hut. Toting rakes, hoes, and shovels, they filed into the crop fields and began to work furiously.
In the field nearest the tree fringe, a mouse was struggling with a huge bundle of wheat stalks when he turned and saw the gathered warriors. Making sure he wasn't being watched, the mouse scurried up and grabbed Rockfist's paw. "Rockfist, mate! What brings you and your otters here? We thought you and the squirrels had taken off after ole Greeneyes took over!"
The big otter felt sympathy tug at him as he studied the mouse. Seasons of work had literally worn the shirt off his back, and Rockfist could count the unfortunate creature's ribs. "Mikk, you need some rest an' food! Why are you overworking yourself?"
The mouse laughed wryly. "I would if I could, mate. However, half of what we produce each day is taken by the wildcat's patrols. If it isn't enough...well, just know that executions have been getting more commonplace. The vermin will make up charges such as treason, but we know what's really going on."
Nitestream, who had been standing just behind Rockfist, stepped forward and swept his left arm out wide, indicating the forces of the otters and squirrels. "Why not join us? We can use any ablebodied beast willing to help fight."
Mikk took up his scythe. The sturdy pole with its long, curved blade was his instrument for cutting grain. But now...He gripped the wooden pole tightly with both paws. "I'm with you, Rock! D'you want me to rally the others?"
Rockfist patted Mikk's shoulder. "That would mean a lot to us. The more we have, the better!"
The mouse had begun to walk off when a young one barely able to walk toddled up and tugged his tail. "Whereya goin'? Who'zall dem?" he asked, pointing a chubby paw at the assembled fighters.
Mikk dropped his scythe and lifted the babe. He walked back to Rockfist. "I can't fight with my son to look after. Can you get little Gonff to somewhere safe?"
A grizzled old otter with a crooked tail stuck his javelin in the ground and stepped forward, his paws outstretched. "Look, I'd be a hindrance to our force. I'm too old to fight, as much as I'd like to. I'll take him back to Camp Willow where he'll be safe." He took the squirming infant and swiftly made off for the river.
Gonff peered over the old one's shoulder and raised a tiny paw, calling back to his father. "B'bye, Daddy!"
Mikk waved with a smile, then he bent down and seized his scythe. When he straightened up, his face was the picture of determination. He ran off into the fields without a word to begin raising up the others.