Chapter 9

Auma, after much thought, finally headed back to Salamandastron. She was about halfway there when she spotted two hares. She stepped closer and squinted. It was Tarquin and Becky, but something was wrong. Tarquin wasn't moving. She sprinted to the rescue, hoping that everything was alright.

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"Tarquin?"

Becky now felt sick to her stomach. She kneeled down beside Tarquin and shook him violently.

"Tarquin, if this is a joke, Ah swear it ain't funny!!! Tarquin!?! Ta..." Her voice died as she heard Tarquin cough. He put on the warmest smile he could manage through his unspeakable pain.

"Nothin'...to worry ab-bout, eh w..." Tarquin fainted with the grin pasted on his features. Becky also smiled and scooped him up, being somewhat larger.

"C'mon, let's get you back to Salamandastron, you twerp."

"Becky!!!"

She glanced over her shoulder to spot Auma not too far off.

"What happened to Tarquin?"

"He just fell. He'll be his jolly old self in no time, eh?"

"I sure hope so." Auma's worried eyes quickly returned to normal. "Let's just get back inside. I've got a thing or two to say to father anyway."

Given that, the pair (or trio, if you count unconscious beasts) strolled into the mountain. They stepped into the main hall. Then, Auma shrieked terror.

"Oh my God!!!"

On the floor was Orlando, dressed in his now blood red war armor. His entrails were torn out and scattered around, and both of his paws were cut clean off. One of his eyes was smashed on the floor in a blue and red mess, his neck was in an extremely awkward position, and he had no lower jaw to speak of. Becky nearly dropped the fainted body of Tarquin on the floor at the horrific sight.

"What the flip happened?" gasped Becky. She laid Tarquin on the floor and scanned for other hares. "The basement..."

"What?" asked Auma, still in complete shock.

"The basement! That's where all of us were before this happened! They might still be down there doing who-knows-what?"

They then took off, leaving Tarquin behind. Upon reaching the basement, they had both started to wish they had no eyes, for it was a true nightmare. Not a single hare was spared, most of them sliced brutally in half. Some had there heads smashed in, and others were in little scraps of meat on the floor.

"Oh, no..." whimpered Auma. "No...no..." Auma sat on the floor, crying and hugging her knees. "How did this happen? I'm gone for just a few hours and this happens. How? Why?" She was now past sobbing. She was wide-eyed, staring straight at the mess of blood and guts and dead bodies and scraps and, and, and...She just couldn't handle it anymore. She ran as fast as she could away from the mountain.

Away from the terror.

"Auma, wait up! Auma!" screamed Becky. It was no use, for Auma was already halfway out of Salamandastron, the now cursed mountain.

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"Come, Fishpaw. Have a seat in that chair."

Fishpaw stepped inside Gurrado's private cabin. All around were maps scattered on the floor and a painting of Gurrado on the front wall. His wooden, polished desk was nearly indistinguishable because of all of the maps that made it look so alike to the floor. The only difference was the height of the desk and the quill pen and ink, lying in a container on Gurrado's side of the table. Gurrado took a seat, and Fishpaw did likewise. Gurrado narrowed his red eyes, staring directly into Fishpaw's.

"Now then," spoke Gurrado, "This may be a little off the subject of what is going on right now, but I've noticed you aren't your old self anymore..." Gurrado shut his eyes and pensively scratched at a spot behind his ears. "It's not that it's a bad thing...but what is troubling you?" Fishpaw couldn't believe what he had heard, and responded as such.

"What...?"

"I may be a feared pirate, matey, but I'm not a vicious murderer. I only do what's necessary to get what I want. Nothing less, nothing more. But enough about me. What is troubling you?"

"N-nothing, sir," replied the still shocked otter.

"Don't lie to me, now. I know when something's wrong with one o' my shipmates. Now tell me what's on your mind-!" The ship trembled violently as the sentence was finished.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll be right back." Gurrado shot out the door as fast as a bolt of white-hot lightning. Fishpaw was left alone in the roomy and disorganized cabin, just wondering what was happening.

"What in Hellgates is going on?!?" demanded Gurrado.

"We've been hit, G'rrado sir!" shouted Ripjaw. He was a pudgy, gray furred rat with no hint of oral hygiene. He wore a captain's vest, though he was nothing of the sort, and he rolled his "R's" with natural ease. "What should we do-?"

"CAPTAIN!!! I GOT ONE!!! I GOT ONE!!!" shouted a rat over at the left side cannons. Everybeast looked up to see one of the creatures spiraling down, straight towards the ship. The other two pulled out, seemingly because they were afraid. The winged mouse slammed into the deck of the ship with a sickening thud. Amazingly, it slowly rose from the deck and into a standing position. It had a flaming red coat of fur, a black wing sticking out of its left side, and millions of sharp, silver needles sticking out of its right shoulder.

"Congrats, pirates of this..." The mouse stomped lightly on the floorboards of the pirate ship a few times. "This...masterpiece." The mouse grinned from end to end, his smile just as full of venom as an adder's toothbrush.