CHAPTER NINETEEN: REUNION

Skipper used his javelin to push aside a tall fern. Before him lay a huge hollow log. The sight brought a satisfied smile out of the big otter. It was the day after Chibb had returned with his news. Skipper had left as soon as possible, wanting more than anything to see his brother again. Cautiously he moved forward, not wanting to surprise Riverwyte. For all his brother knew he could be a vermin, after all.

Without warning, a tall, lean, and very tough-looking male squirrel dropped down in front of Skipper and folded his paws in a businesslike manner. "What are you doing here? This is Spearbrush territory," he challenged the otter tersely. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at Skipper intimidatingly.

The big otter took a step forward, but the squirrel set his chest against Skipper's and pushed him back forcefully, bristling slightly. "I said, what are you doing here? Who are you, anyway?"

Skipper looked over the squirrel's shoulder at the hollow log ahead. "I'm Skipper of Camp Willow, here to look for my brother, Riverwyte. He supposedly lives here."

The squirrel smiled. "Ah, I see. Here, I'll show you in." He gripped Skipper's shoulders and steered him into the log.

A little taken aback at the squirrel's abrupt change of mood, the big otter looked around expectantly. "Where is he?"

The squirrel grinned again. "He's here now! I am the Mask," he told Skipper, extending his paw.

Skipper shook the beast's paw distractedly. "Yes, yes, thank you...but where's Riverwyte?"

Mask sighed as he shed his false ears, whiskers, tail, and teeth, unbuttoning the tunic and pulling it off to reveal his normal vest and kilt. "Ah, I remember you, Skipper of Camp Willow. As I said, I am the Mask."

Skipper shook his head. "The Mask? I thought you were Riverwyte."

Mask smiled slightly. "I am. Once I went by Riverwyte, but that name is gone now. I am the Mask, master of disguise and subterfuge. I've dedicated my life to using my skills for the slaying of vermin." He sat down on a rock and Skipper noticed something else that was different.

"Ri- er, Mask. Mate, where's your rudder?"

Mask ran his paw over the place where his tail had been. "Lost it," he stated matter-of-factly. "In battle," he added as an afterthought.

Skipper put a paw on his brother's shoulder. "I'm sorry. How do you swim?"

Mask sighed, allowing some emotion to surface. "I don't, at least not much. I only get in the water to fish these days. All because I was fool enough to attack seventy ferrets single-pawed."

Skipper smiled proudly. "Well, you lived through it, at least!"

Mask nodded. "Yes, but now I live only to rid my part of the woods of vermin. I can infiltrate them easily." He stood up and grabbed several things from the right wall. "I can become a fox, ferret, stoat, weasel, rat, or anything I choose. I join their band and run with them long enough to figure out their fighting strengths and weaknesses. Then I turn on them when the time is right and kill them all." He turned around as a tall, scarred weasel with an unreadable tattoo on one cheek.

The disguise was so realistic that Skipper's subconscious urged him to attack. As it was, he'd laid his paw on the sling tied about his middle without even thinking about it. Forcing his warrior spirit into submission, Skipper stepped forward and clasped the weasel's paws. "Mask, you don't have to live here alone. You can come back and live at Camp Willow with me and the others. We're trying to get another force together to overthrow Verduaga sometime in the future. I think our new plan might work!"

Mask quickly reconfigured himself so that he was an otter again. He put his paws on Skipper's shoulders and stared him eye to eye. The gray otter felt his brother shift uneasily and smiled wryly to himself. "That's okay, Skip. I don't think I should come back. I enjoy the solitude up here, and knocking off a villain every once in a while is good for my warrior spirit, saves me from going insane. Also, I can feel your nervousness. I know my eyes, and especially the recent loss of my rudder, will unnerve many of the other otters. Some of the nicer ones may try to make me feel included, but I don't want anyone treating me differently just because of my unfortunate experiences. I will continue to live up here and rid the woods of vermin, but you can visit if you like. I don't mind." He leaned close to Skipper's ear. "And if you're ever ready to attack the wildcat, send for me. I'll be glad to help any way I can."

Skipper smiled understandingly. "Right, then. I'll head back to Camp Willow, but I'll be back at least once every season. Good luck with your hunting, my brother."

Mask embraced Skipper in a tight hug. "And good luck against ol' Greeneyes, Skip. I'll be here when you need me." The gray otter watched Skipper as the big otter turned and began walking south. Long after his brother had disappeared into the distance, Mask was still watching the spot where he'd lost sight of him. Suddenly, he lifted his head and sniffed the air. A band of ferrets was nearby. The gray otter put on a fake muzzle and ears, choosing a false ferret tail and dusting dark marks over his eyes. Donning a ragged tunic and a feathered beret, he left his log with a spear in his paw.

Mask was on the hunt again.