Sunlight rays filtered through the tree top canopy above, the beams of light spotlighting the forest thicks below. Nothing but the chirping of birds and the rustle of grass could be heard... that and the sound of an evening patrol making their way back to Fort Ashburn. Armor glistening and crimson cloaks waving, the seven vermin trudged through the thick forest, only being able to see a few meters ahead at any given time.
A ferret sergeant by the name of Durgefur was leading this particular patrol. He cursed under his breath as he slashed viciously at the weeds, branches, and vines in his way. They'd somehow strayed from their usual path, now finding themselves in unknown territory. Up until now, it had been a routine patrol, or as routine as one could have expected. They'd had some trouble with a farmer who had refused to give up some of his crop as tribute, an ungrateful antbrain who wanted to play hero. It was a quick ordeal. Perry had caught a nasty cut to his cheek from the otter's blade and Grom received a bad slash to his right arm trying to deflect a blow meant for his brother Gorgetooth. In the end, the otter was left cold in the mud, his farm burning and his family penniless. A pointless encounter in Durgefur's mind and completely avoidable.
Grom, a rat, came stomping back to the main column, his brother Gorgetooth close behind. He had sent the two rats forward to gather vittles before they continued.
"Cap'n Durgefur, us found someth'n ya might be ah findin' impertant." Grom said with a wide simile and a proud salute.
The two rats were prior sea rats and called pretty much any superior officer "Captain," which wasn't very uncommon amongst prior sea vermin who'd been conscripted into the Stafgard Imperial forces. Durgefur was about to correct the rat on this when his brother piped up, "Ya! We found the lost patrol from a couple weeks ago!" Gorgetooth finished with a salute.
They looked up at the two rats in curiosity and surprise. All efforts to find the missing patrol had ceased a few days ago due to the lack of results and everyone had just assumed they were gone for good. "Well where are they?" Durgefur demanded.
"Follow me cap'n!" Grom said waving a paw, "They're right o'er this 'ill."
It was about a quarter league north east from where they'd started before Grom finally stepped out from the forest thicks and into a somewhat open clearing. A few crimson tents, a couple weapon racks, and about half a dozen or so Stafgard Imperial soldiers lay dead in the dirt. Dead soldiers were nothing new, but what was new was the state of these particular ones, they'd been torn to shreds.
"Failed t' mention they were dead Grom," Perry jibbed.
Durgefur kicked a pile of charred wood, "Camp fire's cold, this 'appened a while ago."
Roughtail, a prior searat and a veteran scout, knelt down on all fours and examined one of the bodies. From what he could tell it was a fox, though it was hard to tell given the fact that it was little more than a heap of bones, cloth, and armor. "Quite awhile indeed," the tracker rat muttered under his breath. Judging by the smell he'd say it was about ten days ago. Mattfur, a young weasel, knelt down next to Roughtail. "'Bout two weeks old" Mattfur said. "Ten days," Roughtail corrected, "Mahaps less." Mattfur and a young fox named Rafter had been sent out with Roughtail in order to better learn the art of tracking and surviving in the wilderness.
Something else caught the attention of the rat's nose, something foreign, something he'd never smelt before. His eyes examined the body of the fox soldier, who seemed to have been a colonel based off the insignia on his shoulders and it appeared that he'd been eaten. Vermin, and beasts in general, getting eaten alive wasn't too uncommon, but this seemed different. These soldiers looked as though they'd been utterly torn apart, it was like nothing he'd ever sceen. Roughtail backed away cautiously.
"Ay! Roughtail, ya wanna be useful fer once!" Durgefur smacked the sea rat atop the head, breaking him out of his momentary stupor.
"Um-uh, sorry sur..." Roughtail glanced timidly at Durgefur. Despite having been promoted to sergeant like Durgefur, he still referred to just about every other beast as a 'sir'. "This one looks t' be 'bout ten days old "
"Scummy, potbellied woodlanders," Durgefur cursed under his breath as he Looked around at the dead beasts strewn about the camp site
"I doubt it was woodlands who did this, I've nay're seen a woodlander eata vermin 'afor," Roughtail said, rolling one of the bodies onto its back and examining it critically. The rat's nose hovered over the remnants of the dead beast, twitching, "There's some weird smell... I can't place it."
Durgefur had lost interest, "Let's get a perimeter up, spread out!" he yelled to the rest of the patrol.
"Whate'er did this t' them could do it t' us, I say we get the hell outa 'ere while we got the chance." Perry said.
Gorgetooth and a few others nodded in agreement. Durgefur growled, "that was an order. Form a perimeter, an' set up some pickets. Grom yur on first watch. Roughtail, take a couple lads and scout the surrounding area, we camp 'ere." It was standard procedure to bury the dead and retrieve any armor, vittles, and general supplies from the dead. It was a bad look to leave imperial soldiers lying in the dirt like common sell swords and it made the Stafgard Empire look weak as a result. This particular patrol had been missing for weeks and the ferret sergeant expected to be rewarded with a promotion for finding them, if he followed protocol.
"Ay! Roughtail, ya might wanna see this." Rafter called over to the veteran rat. Roughtail strode over to find what the fox was talking about. To the average eye, it would simply look like a tangle of twigs, leaves and dirt, but to the eye of a veteran scout, it was the largest set of tracks he'd ever seen. Mattfur stumbled over to them and looked wide eyed at the tracks. Placing a paw next to them, Roughtal surmised that whoever had trekked through here, had paws easily five times as large as his own.
Gorgetooth clambered up a small hill and peered into the forest. Looking around, the rat got a sudden chill and the sun seemed to go dim. Walking further into the forest he suddenly felt isolated, cold even though it was mid fall. The wind rustled in the air and his calls out to his brother seemed to be lost in the forest. Hearing a snap, he called out again "Grom?" looking about, he suddenly realized that he didn't know where he was or which direction camp was.
Turning around slowly, Gorgetooth's breath caught in his throat as he came face to face with a large white snout pulled back into a nasty snarl, showing bloody fangs the size of daggers. One second he was paralyzed with fear, the next second he was dead. If he'd had time to scream, he wouldn't have been able to.
Roughtail, spit into the fire pit as a light wind blew through the rat's fur. He sat on a rock leaning into his spear as he watched the flames sleepily. Three days, he'd been running patrols with Durgefur and now he was forced to mind the tents with Grom. He poked the butt of his spear into the flames, watching the ambers flicker about. 'Where the hell is Grom. He should be back by now' Roughtail thought as he continued prodding the ashes in the fire with his spear.
Snap, 'What was that?' Roughtail stood up slowly, levelling his spear towards the direction of the sound. "Grom that yew matey? This ain't funny mate. Who goes there? Come out and show yur self!" The rat yelled. Outwardly he tried to act unafraid, but the darkness of the night made him uneasy. Grom suddenly appeared, stumbling out of the forest and into the camp. He was panting and the expression of worry and fear on his snout made Roughtail weary. Grom needed no bidding to tell the other rat what was going on, "Its Gorgetooth, I-I don't know where he is an' I can't find 'im, I've been looking all around an' hes no where!"
Roughtail sighed, "Ok, just calm down 'afor ya wake the entire forest. I'll get Durgefur."
Walking over to the sergeant's tent, Roughtail peeked inside and gently prodded the ferret officer.
"Can't ya see that I'm sleepin' Roughtail! Git yur smelly snitnose outa me tent or I'll be havin yer scalls fer -" Ahhh-ooooooooooh! A sound, like he'd never heard before split through the air like a missile. Roughtail had heard legends of wolves, but he'd always assumed they were just stories told to keep kits in line. "What in the hay doodle dandy?" Durgefur said, sitting up just in time to see the crimson tent surrounding him pulled up from around him and tossed to the wind. Looking up dumbly he stared directly into the throat of a beast towering over him, a wolf. The ferret's scream was cut short when the wolf closed its jaws on the sergeant. Roughtail thrust his spear into the wolf's shoulder before retreating behind a fallen tree and blowing the alarm whistle.
"Rise! Rise Up! We under attaaaaack!" Roughtail shouted as he stumbled over to the weapons rack. Just as he was grabbing a new spear, he saw another two wolves come out of the forest on the opposite end of the camp, snarling and showing bloody fangs. Perry ran straight into them as he was coming out and was swiftly snatched up. He watched as Perry's body was tossed and ripped between the two wolves. Hastily, he made his way back to the cover of the fallen tree where the rat held his breath and shut his eyes, perplexed with fear and horror. Peaking over the log, he could see that Grom was gone, but he was unsure if he'd been eaten or gotten away. Mattfur and Rafter were nowhere in sight. Roughtail decided at that moment to make a break for his life. Sprinting on all fours he ran for as long as he could, not daring to look back. Finally he collapsed to the ground with exhaustion after what felt like days of sprinting. The night fell quiet.
