Vengeance Quest
Chapter 7: RestlessnessMalaya wasted very little time settling into Riala's drey. Though Riala had worried that the emaciated squirrelmaid wouldn't be strong enough to travel the winding treetop pathways to the drey, Malaya proved her wrong by making several trips from Redwall to the drey and back in the ensuing days, lugging blankets and pillows along with her. She claimed it was all the work under the lash that made her strong, but that freedom gave her the will to labor and the endurance to continue.
Freedom. Her name, her heart, her spirit. The young squirrel drank deep of freedom and found it to be life; she named herself for it, she grew happy under it, she clung to it with all her heart. Riala knew Malaya would fight for freedom too, would give her life for it, and somehow that frightened Riala. If this embodiment of freedom and life died…
She frowned, looking down at the squirrelmaid's sleeping form, all tired fragile innocence, shattered but beginning to mend. How had she gotten so attached so quickly? This wasn't like her, not at all. It was dangerous, it was foolish, it was… it was impossible to change. Riala smiled slightly, sadly. Perhaps it was the helplessness; perhaps the way the youngling reminded her of herself; perhaps the fierce love of freedom; perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Perhaps any number of things but it didn't matter now; Malaya had wormed her way into Riala's heart and there was no pushing her out.
The scarred squirrel stretched out on her pallet on the floor; Malaya had the cot and was welcome to it. Riala had patrol duty tomorrow. Maybe she'd bring Malaya along, even though the squirrelmaid wasn't really a Wanderer yet. Too young, too new. Still, it was probably a bad idea to leave the youngling in the drey alone. Who knows what trouble a young squirrel can get into? Riala's mouth twisted into a wry grin at the rambling pathways of her thoughts. Definitely tired… She closed her eyes, took a few even breaths, and drifted into a light sleep.
Malaya took the news with wide-eyed delight. "You mean I'm goin' on patrol?"
"What else would you do—stay here with idle paws?" A grin stretched across Riala's scarred face as she tucked her roce and dagger into her belt. "You have a weapon, 'Aya?"
The walnut brown eyes widened even further. "Ne'er touched one e'er, ma'am—Riala. Am I gonna 'ave one then?"
A chuckle escaped Riala's throat. "Aye, you'll have to," she said. "That can wait, though. For this patrol you'll be fine so long as you keep to the trees." Her head tilted, gold-brown gaze scrutinizing the squirrelmaid's thin form. "Are you up to it? We'll be out all day."
"I'll be fine! Promise!"
The eagerness in Malaya's face tossed all reservations to the thorns below the drey. Riala handed her a lumpy pouch. "Waybread. Not much by way of taste, but it'll keep your stomach filled. Let's begin."
They headed south above the dirt path, scanning the ground below for anything out of the ordinary. "This is usually what it's like," Riala said at the sound of Malaya's restless sigh. "Uneventful. But necessary…" Her low monotone drifted into silence as she dodged a mass of dead foliage, not slowing her pace. A wry grin tugged at her mouth when the sound of crackling brush erupted behind her. "Of course, it might be that you're warning off all the vermin with that racket."
"I didn't see it!"
Riala turned, watched the young squirrelmaid wrestle free of the leaves and twigs, her ginger coat bringing most of the dry brush along. Malaya scowled, tugging leaves and bark free from her tail. "It was right there, mid-limb, in plain sight. Why didn't you see it?" The youngling mumbled something and Riala tilted her head, ears pricked to catch her grumbling. "Well?"
"Was lookin' at th' ground." Reluctant, irritated, then suddenly defensive. "You tol' me to!"
"I told you to keep an eye on the ground for vermin and the like," Riala said, voice mild, amusement gleaming in gold-brown eyes. "Not both eyes, certainly not all your senses. I had my attention on the ground but I didn't run into the dead limb, did I?"
"But—"
Malaya's protest was silenced by the sudden raising of Riala's paw. The older squirrel's head tilted, tufted ears flicking one direction, then another, searching for repetition of a noise heard only vaguely past the murmured conversation.
There. The bell-clang of steel on steel accompanying a rumbling growl, crackling on the wind like lightning.
"What…?"
"Battle. Hurry." Riala broke into a run, chasing the din through the treetops. After a moment's confused hesitation Malaya followed, claws clicking on the bark.
The noise grew louder as the two squirrels drew nearer, battle-din drumming in their ears, thrumming up the trees to beat a steady tattoo on flying paws, singing in rushing blood. Closer still and the breeze carried the smells of the duelers, rank musk. Mustelid—badger, and something else, a scent half-recognized that boiled Riala's mind with hate…
Wolverine!
"Ri-Riala?"
She whirled, impatient anger snapping from her throat in a growl. "What?"
Wide nightoak eyes met her temper, softening it to guilt. Malaya's face held fright and timidity, transformed in a single moment to her days as a slave. Riala realized with a trickle of shame that it was she who had so frightened the youngling, that the one whiff of wolverine had completely altered Riala's countenance to that of a demon: gold-brown eyes sparking hatred, teeth bared with vicious fury, hackles lifted, crouched into a fighting stance.
She closed her eyes, forced her taut muscles to relax, breathed deep to calm down. "I'm sorry, Aya… it's not you. It's…"
Steel clanged on steel, interrupting Riala's broken explanation. She tensed once more, motioned to Malaya. "I'll explain later. Somebeast might need help."
The youngling nodded hastily and both squirrels raced once more to the clash and clang of battle.
It was a wolverine, a lithesome female, all russet marbled with cream, a fluid whirlwind of savage death. Riala didn't miss the flicker of admiration and awe that touched Malaya's face at the sight. She turned her own gaze to the wolverine and spoke with a strange casualness to her tone, almost alien after her near rabid reaction to the creature's scent. "E'er watched a thunderstorm? Beautiful in power. Lightnin', thunder, dark clouds, roarin' wind… Hard tae believe sometimes that the storm can kill ye an' burn down all o' Mossflower wi' only a lightin' bolt or two."
Riala turned, studied the thoughtful look on the squirrelmaid's face, noted the slight confusion lurking in the nightoak gaze. "What be beautiful be often deadly," she said flatly, the steel beginning to show itself in her tone. "Storms, fire, swords—wolverines. That one be doin' her best tae kill Onestrype."
And Onestrype it was indeed. The massive badger was of a height with the wolverine, more muscular where she was more agile. He carried an axe, she wielded a saber. Both were evenly matched by all appearances in strength and agility.
"Ain't we gonna 'elp?"
Riala shook her head slowly, eyes fixed on the battle, on the deadly intensity of the fighters that blocked out all else save the whirling dance of blade and blood. "Nay… one distraction means the battle, now. If we tried tae help, we'd do more harm than good."
Silence from Malaya. When Riala turned to see what brought on the sudden still quiet, her gaze met incredulity, even a touch of shock. "How c'n ya be so calm-like? Ent th' badger yer friend?"
The older squirrel returned her attention to the battle, breath hissing past clenched teeth to her lungs. "If ye think I be calm, ye be a poorer judge o' body language than I thought." Hard to believe anybeast could miss the tension in every line of her form; the hate pounding at her skull, commanding her to let it free, let it take over and lead her into the blind rage that knew nothing but the desire to kill…
"Riala? Riala!"
The squirrelmaid's panicked call jerked Riala to sanity. She gripped a nearby branch, drew in a shuddering breath. "I'm fine," she said, voice harsh.
"Ya didn't look fine," Malaya said, staring, concern and fright clear in her young face. "Ya looked like somethin' was tearin' ya apart. It was scary!"
"Sorry." She had no words left to waste, not when every whiff of wolverine eroded her control, not when every glimpse of long white claws sent her paws twitching towards the weapons in her belt.
A hiss of pain drew her gaze to the battle below. Onestrype's axe bit into the wolverine's paw, caught the blade between haft and head. A mighty twist of massive paws sent the saber flying into the brush, concealed immediately by thick greenery.
The wolverine didn't waste time staring after the sword, didn't try to retrieve it. She darted in windswift, catching the axe hilt with strong paws, claws digging into wood and flesh.
"She's gonna lose," Malaya whispered. "Nobeast's strong's a stripedog!"
"Nobeast but a wolverine," Riala said, quiet and tense. "Naught be certain naow…"
Badger and wolverine strained at the axe in an unmoving tug-of-war. White fangs gleamed in a feral grin and the wolverine opened her claws, a child's trick but effective. Onestrype stumbled back, caught off guard and off balance and the wolverine was on him in that instant. Long claws deadly as any dagger sank into the badger's shoulders, the wolverine's full weight bearing him to the ground like a felled tree. He swung with the axe but she was inside his reach, sinking her teeth into his paw, forcing him to drop the weapon with a roar of fury and pain.
What had been a dance now became a browl, all finesse and thought and skill thrown to the brush with the wolverine's saber, replaced by brute force and a savage single purpose: to kill. The wolverine's jaws snapped for Onestrype's throat only to be backhanded into the dirt. Long claws dug deep into the badger's chest and then were broken off, lodging there apart from the paws as the wolverine was tossed to the side. Her fangs tore at Onestrype's stomach, at his shoulder, his leg, his arm only to be punched and clawed and swiped away, time and time again.
He swung a huge paw at her head. She backpedaled, fell as it grazed her skull, rolled and came up with dirt. The badger roared, fury evident in his blind swings, pawing at his dirt-veiled eyes. Triumph hissed from the wolverine's mouth. She sprang, threw him to the ground, closed bloodstained teeth on his throat.
"No…!"
A cry of denial, of protest, ripping from Malaya's throat, eyes wide with horror and shock. Despair that came too early, for Onestrype fought through the pain and the lack of air, one paw reaching—reaching—closing on the fallen axe.
The meaty thud of the blade slicing into the wolverine's back announced her death to all who could hear. Her death—and the battle's end.
Riala burst into motion, dropping to the ground the instant the axe fell. She reached the two prone combatants in a matter of moments, knelt at the badger's head. The wolverine's jaws were locked about Onestrype's throat even in death, choking off air. Riala grasped the deadly jaws, pulled with all her strength to pry them open before time froze the joints to immobility.
"Care tae help, Aya?"
The squirrelmaid appeared almost as quickly, grasping the snout with tentative paws. They pulled, the mouth slid free, and Onestrype drew in a gasping breath. Riala shoved hard at the wolverine's corpse, pushing it off of the badger. One tug freed the axe, exposing muscle and pale bone as the blood drained forth.
"Urk…" Malaya turned decidedly green at the sight. She stumbled into the brush just in time to lose the waybread she'd eaten on the duller portion of the patrol.
Riala ignored the squirrelmaid's plight, all her attention focused on the badger, tallying wounds even as she tore her cloak into bandages. Ravaged throat—she bound that first, expression growing grim as the cloth darkened to black-red in seconds. Gashes in one shoulder from wolverine claws. Bite wound in one paw. Claws broken off in the chest; huge gashes there. Stomach, leg, arm, all torn by dagger-sharp fangs.
"Malaya."
Her voice was quiet but held an urgency that brought the squirrelmaid to her side in an instant, weaving on shaky paws, trying desperately to keep her eyes off of the wolverine carcass. "Yes'm—Riala?"
"Can you climb?"
Malaya clutched her stomach, muzzle gaining a greenish tinge. "Climb?" she said weakly.
Riala tore another strip off her cloak, bound the unconscious badger's shoulder wound. "Either run to Redwall and get a healer or bind wounds. Which one?"
"Er…" The squirrelmaid looked from badger to tree and back again and blanched. "I'll… climb."
"Then go."
Malaya lurched for the closest tree as Riala began extracting the broken claws, expression grim. "Just a while longer, Oney," she said under her breath, setting the bloodstained claw on a nearby rock. "Hold on just a while longer…"
The short minutes' wait for Malaya's return seemed like ages. Riala busied herself with changing the makeshift bandages and pulling out the remaining wolverine claws in Onestrype's chest. It was with relief that she heard pawsteps on the path, saw Malaya pull Sister Bria into view.
The Infirmary sister spared the wolverine's body barely a glance, arrowing in on Onestrype. Her sharp gaze took in the badger's wounds, a brief flicker of concern flashing across her angular face. "Hmph," she said, and began untying bandages, sloshing water from a hefty canteen over each gash. "You do this, brushtail?"
"Aye."
"Hm." Bria looked down at the bloody claws laid out on the rock. "Not bad." She spread some sort of paste on the badger's throat, bound it up tight with a clean white bandage, not even looking up at the sound of running pawsteps up the road.
It was Kaylen. She slowed to a halt at the sight of Onestrype's prone from and the wolverine's body, shock overtaking her usually grinning face. "Onestrype?" Her gaze flicked to Riala. "What 'appened, matey?"
"I'm not sure… He fought that wolverine. Killed her." She nodded to the corpse, images of Nightdeath Longclaws flashing through her mind at the sight of the body. Her jaw clenched at the thought.
Kaylen's expression grew grim and she crossed the road to Sister Bria and Onestrype. "Will 'e live?"
The mouse's thin shoulders lifted and fell. "Can't say. I might be wrong an' then ye'll strangle this poor sister. I been wrong afore, ye know." She looked directly at Riala with this last, a slight smile quirking at the corners of her mouth. "Depends on how much th' stripedog wants t'live."
Light pawsteps announced the arrival of yet another creature. It was Shadow this time. She stood just in view, taking in the scene. "I heard Onestrype was wounded…"
Riala glanced from fox to otter and finally to Malaya. "Did you bring all of Mossflower?"
"I was… kinda loud," the squirrelmaid said with a sheepish smile. "Tryin' ta find a healer an' all."
"She came into the abbey yelling about a wolverine, Onestrype being hurt, and demanding a healer." Was that amusement in the vixen's tone? "Is this the squirrelmaid from the slaver mission, Riala?"
"Aye… Changed, isn't she?" Riala said, but the grin in her voice didn't reach her eyes. Her gaze wandered to Bria, still bent over Onestrype, and she pulled it away with difficulty. Worrying's not going to help…
Bria's too-familiar scolding jerked her attention back to mouse and badger. "Ye're doin' me no good hoverin' like that, waterdog! Not me or yer friend. I tell ye again—he'll live if he wants t'live an' bad enough. I'm doin' what I can, an' ye're bein' nothin' but a pest, slowin' down what I can do!" Get out of here! Make yeself useful—bring th' Badger Mother an' a cart. Mayhap some strong riverdogs too." She glared when Kaylen didn't move right away. "Well? Go on!" Her glare transferred to Riala and Malaya. "All of ye! Get out of here! I only need onebeast t'stay an' make sure nobeast attacks or such. Not ye!" she growled as Kaylen stepped forth to volunteer. "Ye hover too much. Ye neither," as Riala started to speak, "ye be too contrary. Th' fox be quiet enow. The rest of ye, get! Shoo!"
Kaylen's face contorted into a very odd expression indeed as the three woodlanders retreated to Redwall. The moment they were out of earshot she burst into helpless laughter, doubling over with the hilarity of it. "Didja 'ear that, mates? I 'over too much! Haha, an' Riala, yore contrary? At least th' crotchety mouse got somethin' right…"
"And she'd rather a fox to guard against trouble than one of us." Riala shook her head in disbelief. "I think poor Bria needs a healer—a mental one."
Kaylen chuckled. "Ye may be right thar." Then he sobered, looking over her shoulder the way they'd come. "…y'think he'll be shipshape again, mateys?"
That wiped the grins from every face present. Riala's gaze went to the ground rolling past beneath her feet, uncertain of what to say. "I hope so…"
A troubled silence draped about the three woodlanders, broken at last by Malaya's quiet voice. "Who was th' wolverine?"
"I don't know." Riala's tone was troubled, uncertain. The sight of the wolverine… the scent, the sound—it had all brought back memories turned dusty and near-forgotten by her stay at the Wanderers. Redwall and Mossflower were somehow insulating, quieting, bringing out the better aspects of allbeasts within and suppressing the worser ones. She'd become almost relaxed, almost content—but now the old memories and hatreds stirred within, driving her to restlessness.
Malaya watched her closely, nightoak gaze curious and concerned. "Riala…?"
The older squirrel blinked, startled from her reverie. "Aye?"
"Why'd ya be so strange-like when ya saw th' wolverine?"
Riala closed her eyes, drew in a long, slow breath. "You don't want to hear that tale, Aya."
"Mayhap we both do, Riala matey," Kaylen said, watching her intently. "Ye've talked 'bout a black wolverine but ye 'aven't said much else 'sides that yore lookin' for 'im."
"I wants t'hear it," Malaya agreed.
Riala looked away from the expectant gazes. Her voice was hard when she finally spoke, eyes fixed to the ground. "A wolverine killed my father through treachery," she said flatly. "Nightdeath Longclaws and her horde. I swore revenge."
"…Oh." Malaya withdrew into herself, pulled silence about her like a cloak.
Kaylen frowned. "When did this 'appen?"
"I've lost count of the seasons…" Riala's rough voice was abruptly quiet as she pondered. "I was young… maybe Malaya's age. Maybe younger."
"And ye've been huntin' th' wolverine all this time?"
"Aye."
Another long silence from the otter, and then— "That's a long time t'waste on 'ate, Riala."
Anger flared within, sudden and roaring hot. Riala's paws curled into tight fists and she spoke past clenched teeth, deadly cold. "An' we be wastin' time chattin' when we should be makin' our way tae Redwall. I'll be runnin' on ahead." She stalked to a nearby tree, broke into a run once in the treetops, unreasonable anger lending her paws furious speed and pinning her ears back against the startled cries to wait.
She has no RIGHT!
Kaylen's face in her mind, incredulous and puzzled and pitying in turn.
No right to judge me…
Paws thrumming viciously on the treetop paths, heedless of caution.
No right to pity me…
Kaylen's words in her mind: A lot of time to waste on hate, Riala.
It's MY time! MY life! She has… no… RIGHT!
Teeth bared, ears pinned, tail lashing, paws pounding. Wind and branches and leaves whipping past, barely noticed by narrowed gold-brown eyes.
She can't understand! How can she judge what she hasn't been through?!
Stop.
Riala ran out of trees, halted across the path from Redwall Abbey. She drew in a deep breath, hissed it out past still clenched teeth, forced herself to calm down. The squirrel dropped from the elm and walked up to the gates, lingering tension clenching one paw open and closed.
"Sister Bria needs the Badger Mother, a cart, and a few strongbeasts to help bring a wounded badger to Redwall," she shouted to the walltop. "And hurry!"
Hurry they did. Minutes later Riala was racing the wind through the treetops once more, followed by a badger-pulled cart filled by two brawny otters.
"Ahoy th' cart!"
The Badger Mother of Redwall dug in her heels, screeching to a stop next to the otter and squirrel in the road. "You want something?" the badger said, a growl rumbling in her words.
Kaylen nodded to the cart. "Just a ride t'Bria'n Onestrype, Beya."
"Get in."
The otter grinned, thanked the badger, and climbed into the cart, extending a paw to Malaya. The squirrelmaid looked about reluctantly, hopefully, then grasped the proffered paw with a disappointed sigh.
The cart tore off with a clatter and a pounding of heavy badger paws. Riala followed in the trees, perverse pride keeping her hidden.
Onestrype was deathly still, only the slight rise and fall of his chest showing that the badger remained alive. The hiss of a sharp intake of breath announced Kaylen's dismay at the sight. "What d'you want us t'do, sister?" she asked, leaping down from the cart.
Bria poured the last of the water from the canteen onto her bloodstained paws before nodding to Onestrype. "Beya, take th' stripedog's left. Skipper, ye an' t'other riverdog…" She looked at a lithe male otter wearing a Wanderer rank insigna on his jerkin and twin scimitars at his waist.
"Drizzt," the otter supplied.
"Aye. Ye two take t'other side. An' you, Kaylen or whoever ye be… lift th' badger's legs, will ye?"
The badger and the three otters lifted Onestrype with care and some difficulty. Bria hovered about them, rattling off constant warnings and admonitions. "Be careful now… don't ye jolt him. Watch that tree root… good, now into the cart--gently, ye bumblin' riverdogs! Easy, easy… there!"
The badger Beya lifted the cart shafts slowly and waited for Bria to climb in next to Onestrype, breaking out her healer's bag once more. Riala made little sound as she slipped to the ground, padded up behind Kaylen and Malaya while the cart rattled off with Skipper of Otters and Drizzt at point.
Kaylen's senses were better trained than Malaya's. She turned, blinked in mild surprise at the sight of the squirrel. "Yore back."
"Who's back?" Malaya craned her neck around and yelped when she saw Riala. The rest of her body followed her head in a clumsy turn, a grin enveloping her angular features. "Riala! Where'd ya go? Ya left so sudden-like an' looked so angry…"
Riala's indignation at Kaylen's earlier words melted with the squirrelmaid's obvious delight at her return. "I just went to get the badger mother," she said, avoiding Kaylen's sharp gaze. "Sorry if I worried you."
Malaya bounced on her paws, grinning ear to ear. "S'okay! Yer back now. Take me with ya next time? I c'n keep up!"
"I'll try."
"Aye, well, this be all well an' good, but…" Kaylen nodded to the wolverine's body. "What d'we do with that?"
Riala spared the corpse barely a glance, expression turning impassive. "Let it rot," she said, voice harsh and cold.
"But…" Malaya's ears flickered, uncertain. "Don't she even deserve t'be buried?"
"Not a wolverine."
Disbelief and shock flashed across the squirrelmaid's face to be replaced by a stubborn set to her chin. "Should bury 'er."
Riala's jaw took on the same hard line, eyes glinting unyielding steel. "'Tis too good for the scum."
"Hold 'ard, mates!" Kaylen stepped between the two squirrels, blocking the daggersharp glares. "Compromise, will ye? No rottin', no buryin'—how's burnin'?"
Riala nodded slowly. "Fine."
"Good 'nuff," Malaya said.
The otter grinned. "Well, that's good then! Ye two go talk'n make up. I'll take care of this, mates."
Malaya bounded for a nearby tree, calling over her shoulder, "Goin' t'the drey, Ri! Catch me if ya can!"
Riala hung back, a rare concern flickering within. She looked close at Kaylen before speaking. "I'm sorry about Onestrype… I know you were closer to him than I."
"Were?" A shadow crossed the usually grinning face, and Kaylen's paw tightened on the dry firewood already collected for the makeshift pyre. "Yore talkin' 'bout him like 'e's already dead. 'E's not."
She winced at the harshness in the otter's tone, backed off a step. "I'm sorry," she said again, helpless, sensing a chasm yawning between them, breaking apart what was once friendship.
No answer. Kaylen turned away, jerked up another piece of wood with sharp, tense movements.
Silent stillness, words tumbling incoherent about her mind, lodging in her throat, unable to escape into the air. Riala's mouth thinned into a tight line, the mood shattered. Pride denied reconciliation and she whirled away reaching a tree in three quick strides, vanished among the green in an eyeblink.
Riala stopped by Wanderers headquarters on her way back to the drey and came out with two cloth-wrapped bundles. The unwieldy objects slowed her down somewhat, resulting in startouched night by the time she reached the thorn-fenced drey.
She dropped into the drey on silent paws, glancing about for Malaya. The young squirrel huddled on the cot, tail held in one paw as if for comfort, a troubled cast to her face. Riala watched the sleeping squirrelmaid for several long moments, an unreadable muddle of thought and emotion flicking windquick across her scarred features. Finally she leaned the bundles against the wall, changed into garments free of blood, and started to climb into her own rumpled bed.
A soft whimper caused her to turn. Malaya was curled into a tight ball, every muscle tensed, quivering against the assault of nightmares. Riala hesitated, unsure what to do, and then a soft cry against some dreamed or remembered pain escaped the youngling's mouth. It broke the older squirrel's reservations.
"Malaya… Aya, hush… shh…" One calloused paw touched the squirrelmaid's shoulder, shook her gently. "It's over, it's all right, just a dream…"
Maybe Malaya heard her or maybe the touch stirred her close enough to consciousness to break free of the nightmare. She stilled, sighed out a long breath, and relaxed.
Riala waited until the squirrelmaid's breathing grew long and deep, the sign she'd sunk into dreamless sleep. Only then did she climb into her own blanket nest on the floor and let a light sleep overtake her mind.
The creak of wood beneath light paws drew Riala to consciousness at once. Her senses reached out, funneled information into her waking mind. Sunlight, birds—morning. No scent but squirrel—Malaya. Awake? Slits of gold-brown peered out from behind cracked lids to see shadows playing on the walls and a thin bush-tailed form tip-pawing oto the bundles in the corners of the drey. Riala's mouth quirked up in the barest hint of a smile at the sight.
A gasp and the gleam of dawnlight on bared steel announced Malaya's discovery of one bundle's contents. Riala chuckled and sat up, chin on knees, watching with an amused glint to her gaze. "Nosy, are we?"
The squirrelmaid yelped and nearly dropped the sword. Guilt flooded her face as she replaced the weapon, turned to Riala with downcast eyes. "I, um… well…"
"You were curious. Nothing wrong with that." The older squirrel crossed the room in two short strides, unwrapped the sword completely. "It's a rapier," she said, balancing it on both paws, displaying the thin length and intricate basket hilt. "About the right length for you… not excellent quality but it'll do. I can teach you to wield it properly and defend yourself well enough, but the blade's not my weapon—you'll have to learn finesse from other Wanderers."
Malaya's eyes grew big as dinner plates. "It's fer me?" she squeaked.
"Aye. Here, put it on." Riala sheathed the rapier and handed the scabbard it hung on to the squirrelmaid. "You ought to have a long range weapon as well, though. My roce's my preferred weapon but my dagger's saved my life more than once." She unwrapped the second bundle: a short bow and a quiverful of green fletched arrows.
It didn't seem possible that Malaya's eyes could get any wider but somehow they did, shining with delight as she stared from sword to bow to quiver and back again. "I… it's…" A grin split her face from ear to tufted ear. "Thanks!"
A wry smile twisted its way across Riala's features. "You won't be thanking me tonight. We're going to work."
"I don't mind!"
"Good. Because the first lesson is that you put that sword on wrong."
Riala waited while Malaya sheepishly switched the scabbard around, then handed her a stick carved to the same dimensions of the rapier. She took up her own practice sword and nodded to the younger squirrel. "Let's go."