Author's note: Apologies in advance for this weak and silly spillage of words. I had no time to write today, and rushed to get to the end in the midst of yawning. It's not at all my best work and I'm not proud of it, but here it is anyway.
There were advantages to ranking among the smallest of the Narnian army. There were still those who laughed outright at the notion or condescendingly humoured the soldiers in question, but the concept was slowly catching. Birds were among the most effective of spies, Rabbits for scouting, Moles for the digging of pits and ditches, and so on. Tonight was a chance for some of that number to prove their worth again.
Peepiceek crept into the camp, not fearing to be seen, but not desirous of attracting attention either. Elsewhere in this forest of tents, he knew that the members of his little band were doing likewise: Tabbypad the Cat in search of a crackling fire to inspect, Lilystar the Nightingale winging overhead for a good whistling perch, Slimbie the Ferret on a lookout for shiny baubles, and others. All of them here to keep their eyes and ears open.
Peepiceek knew why he had been appointed leader of this band. He was patient and subtle and careful. He hadn't grown out of the skills that had won him many victories against Reepicheep when they were but pups and war was little more than games. Peepiceek would stay here till he found what he sought; Reepicheep might have issued a challenge to combat by now. The heat of battle was Reepicheep's domain; Peepiceek excelled at reconnaissance. That was why he was here.
What he didn't know was why he was here. Battle was to be enjoined tomorrow, so why spy on the enemy now? King Caspian didn't say.
Peepiceek thought he heard a voice speak nearby, but when he stopped to listen, all he heard was a rumbling snore. He resumed his sojourn.
Perhaps the king needed an assurance of some fact before he finalized the organization of his army. But then why would he not say so? Surely it would have been more efficient to know what he wished to know, so the little band of spies would have known what to watch and listen for. But perhaps King Caspian didn't know himself – he did look peaked, Peepiceek thought, and his voice had cracked increasingly more as the day had worn on. The giants themselves probably had something to do with it: the king had led them valiantly against the Telmarines before, but the northern giants were large and intimidating in a rather different way.
Another advantage to being so small: when everything is larger and more intimidating than oneself, one doesn't much mind when something is yet bigger.
Peepiceek heard a voice coming from a nearby tent – one that spoke, not snored. He scuttled over to it to listen. In the strange accent of the giants, he heard, "That's five times now. It's the same dream each time."
"Go back to sleep," mumbled a sleepy voice.
"You know I hate mice," the first said with an audible shudder. Peepiceek naturally perked up his ears at that. "I can't stand them at the best of times. If I sleep now, it will only return and I'll be no better off for it."
The second groaned unevenly – possibly as he shifted positions on his bedroll. "Tell me what you dreamt so you can be free of it."
"There was a mouse. Small and brown and fuzzy" – another audible shudder – "but the closer it came, the larger it became. I mean really large for a mouse, growing and growing till it knocked down the tent-poles and trapped me in with it."
At this point, Peepiceek didn't know why he still listened. Was it because he'd found nothing else that he spied on the telling of a mere nightmare? Yet even with this chastening thought, he did not move. The silence that descended on the tent was too loud to ignore: there seemed no more to the dream and there was not a word of answer, whether to scoff or to command. Until…
"What is it? Why do you look so strange?" the first voice asked nervously.
The second hesitated. "There are Mice among the Narnians, aren't there?"
Peepiceek could nearly hear the blood drain from the first voice's face. "Do you think…?"
"That your dream is a sign? After five times… perhaps it is."
The spy outside wondered the same. Was there any chance this was what the king wanted to know? That his enemy feared defeat at the hand of a physically smaller force?
Somewhere nearby, Lilystar sang a warning note: it was time to go. Peepiceek turned to make his escape from the camp, but there paused. He thought about it… considered it… weighed it… and swiveled back towards the tent. He poked his head in through the tent flap. A single candle illuminated two giantish faces, neither of which paid him any attention. So he took a step in, then two. One of the giants saw that; by the look of horror on his face, Peepiceek knew that he was the dreamer. The giant howled and flailed his arms, knocking down the tent pole in the process. As the heavy fabric of the tent came crashing down with it, Peepiceek beat a hasty retreat.
His little band was waiting for him a ways away from the camp, quick to report that they had nothing to report, and anxious to know what caused the hullabaloo in the giantish camp. Peepiceek told them of the nightmare and his impulsive act of mischief. The alleged sign of the dream he withheld, for that was for King Caspian's ears first.
Prompt: There is a spy ring comprised solely of small, mischievous Animals. Who is their leader, and what is their current mission?
Author's note: If you recognize it, yes, it's a version of Judges 7:9-15.
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