(( Meh... well, sorry I couldn't update earlier. I've got school and stuff going on. But here's the next chapter, and now that everything's calmed down a bit, expect them more often! ))
Chapter Six: First Blood
Traug let himself sink under the cool water. Another stone entered the pool, and through the murky blue, the pirate saw it stop a hair's breadth from his nose. With a kick stronger than he thought possible, the ferret splashed out of the water, and caught Trevor off guard. The mouse flew back, having received an unwavering strike to the gut. Winded, he lay there for a moment.
Traug saw his opportunity. He gathered up his kit, and ran into the forest, still wet and buckling on his belts. The ferret looked back, only to find the mouse was nowhere to be seen. What in hell's name? he thought, but stopped. There, glinting on the grass blades, was a small trail of blood. With a smirk, the pirate set off after Trevor, unaware of where he was going.
---
"I'm tellin' you's," Brandle, a weasel, coughed, "he's prob'ly out there now, filling his gullet while we's here cold and hungry!"
"And I say 'e ain't," the steers-rat, Stumptail, spat back. "Any o' you ever see 'im do anythin' like that?" None of the other returned scouts responded. "Didn't think so. If you wanna get kill't, do whatever Brandle says. Stay alive and fine, Traug."
Nobody stirred. An uneasy silence took hold of the camp. But it was shattered as a mouse, with blood running down from his head to his footpaws, stumbled into the clearing, panting. He stood up straight, looked around, and fainted.
"Oi!" shouted a crewbeast, "He dead?"
Another went over and kicked the mouse. Trevor swung reflexively, but did not get up. "No, he ain't dead 'tall!" Stumptail said. "Looks like he fainted from losin' blood, though."
"Get 'im back to the ship!" somebody suggested. "Maybe there's more of 'em!" The crew of the Marauder's Solitude leapt to the task, and Trevor was soon safe, if in the hands of pirates would be called 'safe.'
---
Upago glanced around as he filled one of the Whiplash's water barrels. Something wasn't right about the island. He mentally berated himself for not listening to Dale. Wasn't this exactly what the younger mouse had been saying? But no, Upago had simply blamed it on sleep deprivation. Well, sorry, he thought to himself. Trevor would be back soon to report what was going on around them, and hopefully with as much fresh fruit as he could carry. The older mouse had seen scurvy once, and didn't want it to take any of his crew. Where are you Trevor?