40. Explanations.
Torbit met the dawn on the next day sitting on a tree stump that crowned a hillock overlooking the small shrew village not far from the River Moss, where the Axehound otters established their base camp. Cold was as dire as the sunrise was beautiful, yet young otter didn't care about either. Honestly, turning into a block of ice didn't seem a bad idea to him now. Just a season ago he could not imagine what a happy otter he really was despite all the dangers and losses: he still had a loving bride, a reliable uncle, and a good friend. Just a season ago.
Aldwin and his hares had the grace to bandage Scrimmo's wound and tie Torbit himself loosely enough that he could chew through the ropes in an hour. But they had no intention of meeting the main force of their pursuers. Not that it did matter. After the help finally arrived, the healers, both from Akkla's band and the shrew tribe, needed only a brief look at Scrimmo's wound to tell that he was beyond help of any living creature and only drawing breath through the mercy of fate.
That mercy lasted long enough for Scrimmo to regain his senses for one final talk with his younger friend. Or maybe he simply refused to die until that. If anything could make Torbit feel even worse, what Scrimmo said to him did.
So it was understandable that Torbit didn't even turn in response to snow crunching under the paws of a large beast walking up to him.
"I condole with you. It is always hard to lose a friend." Akkla's voice was as dry as ever.
Torbit didn't bother to even turn in her direction. What was the worst that she could do?
After some pause, Akkla continued. "We will need your help to exact justice for Scrimmo. I hope you will be ready when we're going to march: as soon as Heddin recovers."
This succeeded in drawing Torbit's attention. "Justice? But they'll get away in that time..."
"You misunderstand. I do not intend to pursue the vermin and their collaborators. We'll go right to the Badger Lady of Salamandastron, to demand justice and amends for the actions of her underlings, and we'll demand that before representatives of tribes and clans which can be visited on the way, so that all woodlanders would know her answer. And you will be an important witness."
Torbit just stared at Akkla blankly, so she had to ask. "Do you understand?"
The look with which the young otter nodded did not make her confident but she could see that pressuring further might cause this milksop to snap. "Good. Again, I sympathize with your grief."
If Akkla lingered a bit to watch Torbit's expression, instead of walking away immediately, she might have been also able to see that if her words had any effect, it was not the intended one.
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After talking with Torbit Akkla strode back to Heddin's bedroom. Shrews scurried in all haste to clear her way and bowed deeper than usual, knowing that this otter's patience with their kind was as thin as her body even when she wasn't in a dark mood. Of course, Akkla's mood was the exact opposite of dark ever since healers assured her that Heddin will make full recovery. But she was a beast who would have burned her winter cloak if it could know her real thoughts, any cold notwithstanding, so the shrews had no reason not to assume that she is enraged by the attack that left an otter dead and her foster nephew bedridden.
Heddin was sleeping when she quietly entered the cramped room built by shrews for shrews, deep in normal sleep of a recovering beast, as far as she could tell. Akkla added wood to the fireplace, gently adjusted Heddin' blanket, sat besides the bed, and allowed thoughts to carry her away.
Akkla was bone tired after a sleepless night, so it was no wonder that the thoughts, however teeming with plans and possibilities her mind was, carried her straight to the land of dreams. She woke up from a sound of movement. Opening her eyes, she saw in the dim glow of ambers that Heddin had tried to prop himself into a half-sitting position.
"Don't move too much, it can hurt you. How are you feeling?" Akkla knew that Heddin must have noticed her being asleep, but pretended she just closed her eyes for a second.
"My head feels as if somebeast used it for a drum." Heddin smiled weakly. "But I guess I've seen worse."
"Oh. Good. Should I bring you something, water maybe?"
"Yes, water please."
After Heddin drank his fill, cringing as the pain shoot through the back of his head at every movement, and settled back to his pillows, Akkla moved to stoke the fire. "Anything else?"
"A question, Aunt."
Akkla wasn't sure what Heddin might want to know. She explained her plan to him before to quell his anxiety about possible pursuit and battle. But something in his tone made her ears prick up. "Ask."
Heddin's eyes found his cloak, hanging nearby, and he pointed at its direction. "Remember the battle after which you gave this gift, this clasp?"
Akkla could not forget if she wished. The clasp made of silver and a wildcat claw was something of a reconciliatory gift, and it was perhaps the first time, ever since she decided to raise Heddin as her own cub, she actually felt the need to reconcile with him. Some of the words said on that day she still was able to recall exactly…
"Go, chase the rest, they are getting away. If your heart isn't in it, I'll fix this little filthy flesheater right and proper myself." Akkla turned unsteadily, trying to preserve her injured footpaw.
"No." Heddin's grip on her shoulder was light, but at that moment it felt like a smith's tongs. "You will not."
But she answered simply. "Yes, I do."
"Aunt Akkla, Aldwin said to me that he met the kit of the couple that died by my paw that day. And I thank you for keeping your promise. But… he also said that this kit was so shaken, that she couldn't talk. Did you do… something to her, after I left on my chase?"
"I gave you my word. Do you doubt it?" That's what Akkla wanted to say. But she had a cold feeling that the answer may be a straight "yes". So instead she said solemnly. "By all the seasons that were and that will be, by my place among my ancestors, and by my honor, I swear that we didn't harm a single hair on that vile wildcat spawn and gave her as much food as she could carry before escorting her to the pass. Though I still say that was the worst error of your whole life and wildcats are vermin. Is that enough for you?"
"Yes."
Akkla didn't really feel angry. Maybe because Heddin's suspicions were correct. Though her oath was technically true, she wasn't too proud about either playing with words or letting her frustration rule her that day. To keep up the appearances she still needed to chasten Heddin, but before she thought of a suitable rebuke, he continued. "There is another thing."
"What?"
"Before I faced Aldwin and his hares, I met a squirrel in the woods. A squirrel grey of fur and thin of limb, with no ears, who called himself Flicker. He spoke with me. And he said terrible things. He said that he was a survivor of the Fortunate Freepaws troupe. He said it was no vermin who led a horde to the Fortunate Freepaws' camp. He said it was you, Aunt. He said that just the day before the attack you had a big quarrel with their elders and promised that all of them will drown in their own blood for their stupid ways before leaving their camp. He said… he said that he saw you in the night forest right before the attack with his own eyes, but much time passed before you and your warriors came to scatter the attacking horde. He said that my blood parents died because of you. He said you did that because you wanted to make an example of what happens to those who trust any vermin or try to avoid fighting. He said you cut off his ears, so he would be branded a liar and no one would ever believe what he says about you."
"But you believed him." Many among the Axehound otters considered Akkla heartless, because her face and voice rarely expressed anything. They still didn't but now she looked like an otter long dead, hide stretched overt the skull even tighter than usual.
"If I did, I wouldn't be telling all this to you. No. But the squirrel spoke with such conviction... I can't just discard his words."
Indeed, Heddin only had to close his eyes for a second to see the scene all over again:
His swordpoint was pressed so hard against the squirrel's scraggly chest that it pierced skin but that did not daunt Flicker. Rather than back away, the smaller beast leaned forward until Heddin could swear he felt the blade scraping against a rib. "Believe me or not, do whatever you want to me, what I said is still truth and nothing but truth! Your father and mother must be weeping tears of blood if they can see from the Dark Forest what you were turned into!"
"My father is High Warchief Willag Axegound, my mother is Akkla Axehound, and they are proud of me!" Heddin's words were confident, his paw held the sword firmly, but his voice cracked for a moment.
Akkla supposed that now she should get genuinely and righteously enraged. But instead of wrath came unbidden thoughts that made her grit her teeth. She sucked in air and spoke a bit faster than normally, just to shut them up. "I do remember Flicker. Heddin, that squirrel is a pitiful creature who lost his mind with his family. Yes, I was near the Fortunate Freepaws' camp not long before the attack. But where I should have been when we found tracks of a few vermin in the valley they camped that evening and searched for the vermin who left them, not knowing that those were only scouts of a large band? When I realized they were I went back to warn our main force. Flicker must have seen me at that time. There was a good chance we'll be able to strike while the vermin are taking positions for the attack. So I thought. But we arrived a few minutes too late."
There was a long pause. Then Heddin asked. "And Flicker's ears?"
"He accused me of treachery and deceit in front of every survivor. Do you know how to wash away such a stain to my, no, the whole Axehound clan's honor with anything but blood? No one believed him, no. But I still was obliged to challenge his words in a combat to death. I've beaten him easily. But I couldn't kill nearly a cub, and obviously mad with grief. Proclaiming him an exile and taking his ears to mark him as such was harsh too but that was a chance to live. Which he misused."
There was a long pause again, interrupted only by embers crackling in the fireplace. Finally, Akkla added. "Maybe if I took a stand at the camp and let my warriors come to the sounds of battle your parents would have lived. Or maybe I would have died with them. I won't say I'm sorry. That won't change a thing. Think of me what you will."
Heddin sighed slightly. His head was spinning, more literally than figuratively. "You should have told me all this earlier, Aunt. You should have."
This time Akkla remained stubbornly silent and still until Heddin asked. "Is that all? You aren't keeping anything else from me?"
"No," lied Akkla. "I can swear whatever oath you want on that."
She hoped that she won't have to, putting a proper spin on words was going to be difficult. And to her relief Heddin answered. "No, Aunt Akkla. I think I've mistrusted you enough already. I won't say I'm sorry either. That won't take my words back. But if you can forgive me, let us put all this behind. And Salamandastron ahead."