Rachart had a headache. No, make that a migraine. And it had been persistent for several weeks. It was hard for her to focus on anything anymore. She sighed, rubbing her temples, trying to will away the throbbing in her skull.

"Mistress Rachart," a scrawny stoat named Cuttail trotted up. "The party you sent out earlier has returned."

Rachart's golden eyes sparkled in the firelight. Perhaps they brought some good news, something that would brighten her mood. The fox adjusted her tunic and made sure she looked respectable. She needed to look her best in front of the troops, no matter how she felt.

"Very well," she motioned for Cuttail to bring them forward. What Rachart saw next made her want to throw up and explode at the same time. Before her stood less than one-fifth of the number she had originally dispatched. The four vermin that remained were in terrible condition; no doubt the result of an ambush of some sort. There was no way the single mouse they had been sent after could have defeated nearly a score of warriors.

Rachart surveyed the four battered beasts. They were a weasel, a stoat, a rat and a fox. Out of them all, the fox appeared to have the worst wounds. He had several cuts, the worst of which was just above his right eye. The blood had run down and dried, sealing the eye shut. Also, a chunk of the fox's left ear was missing. The other three had no major wounds, but were caked in mud due to the rain earlier.

"What is your name?" Rachart addressed the fox.

"Garvic, Lady Rachart," he answered. Garvic's voice was barely above a whisper, but he saluted and stood rigid.

"That cut must be hurting you, am I right?"

"The pain is all but gone, my Lady."

"Still," Rachart drew closer to Garvic, "I think it best that you see our healer."

"As you command, Lady Rachart," Garvic saluted once more. He turned and headed towards the rest of the vermin army, who ere gathered around several campfires in a glade a little ways away. Rachart watched the other fox until she was sure he was out of earshot. She then turned to the trio of remaining beasts.

"Who would like to tell me what happened?" The fox's voice had softened. She wanted to convey complete trust in her soldier's words.

"I will, Lady Rachart," the weasel stepped forward and saluted. His name was Kulger.

"Don't bore me with the details; just tell me if you killed him."

"N-no, Lady Rachart, we were unable to kill the mouse."

The throbbing in her head, which had subsided slightly, returned even worse.

"We were ambushed," Kulger continued. "A dozen otters, armed to the teeth, jumped us as we were closing in. They all but wiped us out, only us four made it away."

Rachart turned to the other two, "Is this true?"

The both nodded vigorously. The fox knew there was something suspicious about their story.

Kulger spoke up again, "I bet them otters took that mouse and he told them all about us. They might be planning an attack right now."

"Calm yourself," Rachart looked the weasel in the eye. "You three may go. I'll worry about any otters that may be out there."

The three vermin saluted and wandered off. Rachart seated herself on a fallen log, massaging her temples.

"Not a very convincing story, was it my Lady?"

"No, Garvic, it wasn't."

The male fox stepped out from behind a nearby tree, the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips. He sat down next to her.

"Those buffoons thought it worked on me as well. They told me that after I was knocked out by the 'first' otter that eleven more jumped out of the underbrush."

Rachart chuckled, "And were there eleven more otters?"

"Please," Garvic snorted. "If there had been, I doubt I'd be sitting here."

"So, what actually happened out there Garvic?"

"That Mouse had slain twelve before I got to him. Even after I almost severed his right arm and cut his face in half he never relented. Then, this otter bounds out of the forest, whacks me on the head and then goes after the rest of our party. I blacked out. Next thing I know, those three are waking me with their story, saying how lucky I was not to get caught."

The female fox stared at Garvic. Now she understood why her father had charged her with the task of killing the mouse warrior.

"If we return to where I fought him, we can have Hawkeye track the mouse." Hawkeye was the best tracker in Rachart's army.

"Very well," she watched as Garvic stood to leave.

"By the way," he paused, framed by the firelight, "what is my new quarry's name?"

Rachart grinned, "Ruka Swiftpaw."

"Hmph – I'll remember that when I send him the Hellgates."