Chapter Four: Redemption
Three season earlier...
The sun, red and fading quickly, shined upon the small island. The grasses swayed in the tropical winds, and a small cricket chirped in a berry bush. With a clunk, a coconut fell onto the ground from the tree that bore it. A brown-furred mouse picked it up.
Creatures that saw the mouse would claim it was more red than brown, but at a twitch, a it would shimmer and they would say differently. His eyes were lazily half-open, but completely aware of everything around. Slender but not skinny, muscular but not bulky, Redemption was a difficult creature to describe.
Stuffing the brown lump under his arm, he strode back the way he had come, away from the sandy cliffs. Brushing aside various fauna that blocked the well-worn dirt path, Redemption walked into a small clearing. Brushing some leaves off of a stump, the mouse sat down in the center of a camp.
A few feet to the north lie a lean-to, that looked both sturdy and old. A small, shallow creek divided the camp with its bed of rock, until it flowed down a small hole. To the south, on the far side of the water, were sack cloths, filled with grains and powders. A small pile of rocks lied next to them, each sparkling with hidden treasure.
Taking one of the numerous hollow coconut shells, the mouse filled it with the cool water and hung it over the fire crackling next to him. As it began to boil, and the outer shell flake away, he added some rice and carrots. Redemption threw in some wild roots, and a delicious aroma began to originate from the coconut-shell pot. He took it off the fire, and using a wooden spoon he'd carved, the mouse began to eat his soup.
After he was done, he threw the shell into the fire to burn away, and washed to spoon. Returning to his lean-to, the mouse lay down, and closed his eyes. A gasp escaped his mouth, and the mouse lie limp and still. His chest ceased moving. A thing vapor emerged from his chest, and a faint, misty echo of a mouse floated above the body.
Redemption floated to one of the beach cliffs, and gazed out to sea. A ship approached, and it bore markings on the side that he could not read. "Words," somebody had once told him. But they did not matter to the mouse. As long as they were peaceful and his body was not disturbed while it was getting its rest, everything was fine...
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Traug tossed aside the already-dead body of the mouse, and looked at his crew looting the small camp they had discovered. It's my island now... he thought to himself. This is Traug's Island!