The Day the Vermin Won
By Joseph Dunlap
Chapter 4
Lieutenant Walliff was a superb marksbeast. As ordered by Lord Dirion, he had silently stowed himself inside a hidden crevice somewhere on the mountain. He flexed his bow and chose an arrow. The trade was commencing far below: he could see it all clearly. The vermin weapons were inspected first; Walliff felt the pang of regret felt by many over the long seasons since the mountain's mighty forge had fallen into disrepair.
Then, as the negotiations seemed to be coming to an end and the officers headed for the mountain, Walliff pulled up his bow and sighted it on his target.
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Captain Kitch was also stationed at the farthest end of the rocks of Salamandastron, Rilmarr's defense should anything go wrong in the negotiations. The weasel's keen eyes studied any likely location for a sniper: flotsam on the beach, nearby rocks, and the many crevices in the mountain itself. As his eyes drifted over the mountain one last time, he sighted a small movement. It was the tip of an arrow, and it looked to be aimed straight into the middle of the beach. Treachery!
Then the figure moved forward and Kitch could get a clear view of him: it was a hare, alright. He aimed quickly and fired.
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The Long Patrol hare moved forward a matter of inches so he could get a better shot from behind the rocks. At the same moment he released his arrow, a well-aimed shaft came out of nowhere and buried itself in his chest. He didn't even have time to issue a cry of pain before he fell from his spot to the sand below, stone dead.
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Kitch's shot had been true: unfortunately, the hare had managed to get a shot off. He looked out just in time to see the two sides amassing against each other, shouting out cries of treachery.
Kitch rested his bow on the rock in front of him; he had failed to protect his lord.