Aureus Lupin was every inch the warlord. From his single glittering green eye, to his gold tipped fangs, to his lean scarred body. The wolf warlord knew no fear. The large army of rats he commanded followed him for one reason: fear.
Noola, High Advisor to Aureus, stood bowed in front of his master. The one-eyed wolf's gaze seemed to stare right through him. Noola gluped and stammered, "M-my l-l-lord. Fargil and Kaloo w-were unable to f-find Windlash."
Aureus tapped his claws on the bone handle of his massive axe. His voice was low and cold. It sent shivers up Noola's spine. "Find Windlash. And when you do, bring him to me. I will show my horde how I deal with deserters."
"Yes, my lord." Noola bowed low and turned to leave.
"Oh, and Noola."
"Yes, my lord?"
"If Fargil and Kaloo don't find Windlash, tell them that they might as well hang themselves because they won't want to face me."
"Yes my lord." Noola walked out of the tent. He held up a shaking paw to his brow and gulped.
---
Their muscles ached, hunger gnawed at their stomachs, and their paws were raw, but still they rowed. Up, down, up, down. They rowed in rythem to Firth's chant. Every now and then, Greenwhip would lash out at an idle oarslave with his whip.
"Stir yer stumps me hearties!" His harsh words mingled with the crack of the whip. Jenner gritted his teeth as the whip stung his ear. He shifted his grip.
"I hope they call a halt soon. My paws are raw."
Alkali grunted. "Mine are too. So are Skorm's. Quit complainin' Jenner. This is a slave galley not-"
"Alright me lucky buckoes! Stow yer oars, cap'n Kinord has called a halt."
Firth took a large bucket of water. As the slaves saw him coming, they reached under their benches and brought forth small wood bowls. Firth filled them with with life-giving water.
He filled the bowl of a small hedgehog, then lugged the pail over to Skorm, Alkali, and Jenner. Firth filled Skorm's bowl. The black squirrel glared at the rat. She muttered under her breath, "You killed my family, Firth. And someday, I'm gonna kill you."
"Yer a chained oarslave. I'm the slavemaster.Yew can't touch me." Firth hissed. Skorm's eyes flashed angrily. In the blink of an eye, she grabbed Firth by the throat. He was stronger, and he pulled himself loose. The rat kicked the bowl out of Skorm's grasp. It clattered to the floor, spilling the water. Firth struck her across the face with a willow cane.
The mean rat loved to torture the slaves. He knocked her down onto the ground and placed his paw onthe back of her neck. "Yew ain't so tough now are ye, squirrel? Yeowch!"
Firth screamed in pain as Skorm bit his paw to the bone. He franticly shook his footpaw around, scattering drops of crimson blood. Greenwhip grabbed the rat and hauled him up on deck. A dormouse two rows down from Skorm yelled angrily at her. "Thanks a lot, squirrel. Because of you, we don't get no water!"
Skorm muttered an apoligy. Alakli shook her head. "It's okay, Skorm. I wonder where the vermin have gone."
---
Up on deck, Kinord and his crew were staring at a crumbling fortress. The stoat Duller pointed to the old fortress. "Wot's dat, cap'n?"
Kinord drew his cutlass and licked the blade. The big ferret chuckled, "That's what's left o' Fort Marshank. It looks like somebeast is livin' there. Let's pay 'em a visit."
---
Alkali's keen ears picked up the sound of a longboat hitting water. "They're gone!"
A shrew behind Alkali pipped up, "Will you sing fer us, Alkali?"
The ottermaid shrugged, "Well I don't now wot ter sing."
"Sing the about Saint Ninian's. I like that one. Even though I have no clue who Saint Ninian is..."
Alkali cleared her throat and launched into the song,
"Old Ninian mouse and his goodwife,
Needed a house to build,
They had a family so grown large
Their tent was overfilled.
To the setting sun the old wife toiled,
From daybreak in the east,
But Ninian was a lazy mouse
Who loved to sleep an' feast.
The wife heaved stone an' carried woods
For door an' wall an' beam
Whilst Ninian idly in daylight
Snored on in peaceful dream.
She raised the gables, built the roof
Her back was bent an' sore
As Ninian ate up all the food
And loudly called for more.
So when the house at last was built
His wife nailed up a sign
Which stated, 'THIS AIN'T NINIAN'S!'
She said, 'That shows 'tis mine.'
Then when all the countless seasons passed
And all within had died,
The rain and storm of ages long
Had swept the sign outside.
It washed the first three letters out
But left the rest intact
That sign now read, 'SAINT NINIANS'
A church? A joke? A fact!
So traveler if you read the sign
Then take my word 'tis true
A dreamer can become a saint,
So can a glutton too!"
The slaves appluaded at Alkali's song. She humbly glanced down at the wooden floor. A smile slkowly spread across her face as she bent over and picked something up.
"What'd you find?"
"Don't get yore hopes up, Skorm. But I found a file."