Ark's four days of isolation brought him no comfort or stole any either. The time was spent solely alone, he even enjoyed the solitude, not moping or whining. Before he knew it, the four days were up and he was forced back into "civilization."
He spent much of his time alone, climbing trees and practicing his long jump, even after the disastrous results of his last practice session. The only friend he really had was Hufftail, an older, but mentally challenged squirrel. They were outcasts together, a group of loaners. In their eyes though, they were the only civilized beasts in the entire colony. Which was probably true.
As the doors to the meeting hall were opened Ark stood up slowly and put away his blanket. He made no effort to look excited, because he wasn't. In fact, he found it rather depressing that he was being forced into the squirrel community again. Sauntering slowly to the door, he stared daggers at the guard squirrel. After feeling that he had thoroughly intimidated the beast, he ran off the edge of the platform in signature style and landed with ease on a branch a fair ways below the platform. Not looking back he wandered back to his residence to get a drink of water and some food.
Back at the main hall the elders were meeting again. Over the past seasons, they had developed a strong disliking for Ark; you could say they hated his guts. "We must find a way to get rid of that darned mole!" One stated with a whining twinge in his voice as if he was afraid of Ark.
"That is a given," the self-appointed meeting leader agreed, "But how can we do so?"
There was a pause in the deliberations. Ark was able to defeat any given squirrel at any given time in a one-on-one challenge, not even considering his dangerously sharpened digging claws. Ark rarely did anything wrong, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone in the colony knew that, but someone had to be the scapegoat.
"What if," one of the oldest members suggested, "during one of his many long jump training sessions, we rig a trap for him? Then he would fall and it would look like an accident."
"That could work," agreed the leader, "but Ark is extremely capable of recovering from a fall...I have seen him trip numerous times and still manage to grasp a limb with ease, almost as if he planned the event."
"Then we must have somebeast push him." bluntly stated the elderly elder. (Sure it is redundant, but that is what makes it stupid.)
"Who?" incredulously asked the leader, "We may have murder on our minds, but we are a peaceful tribe. I don't even remember the last fight within members, if there even was one."
"We could go to...her." cautiously mentioned one red furred squirrel.
The suggestion brought silence to the table. Even the mention of her was enough to bring a nervous twitches into the faces of most the members. For many long moments, the suggestion hung above the table, suspended by a thread of a more sane idea. The thread snapped. "It is the only way." declared the leader. "I shall leave today and hopefully arrive tomorrow to receive her services. I'll need some form of payment too."
The elders nodded and reluctantly said their hasty farewells to the Headmaster, knowing that they may have just brought doom upon their colony because of one small mole.
Headmaster walked back to his tree house, gave his wife a brief kiss on the cheek and gathered his traveling gear. He had to blow the dust off of most of the crucial pieces, seeing as the only thing he ever used was the cloak. Long and black, the beeswax sealed cape was not only comfortable as it was intimidating. The hood sloped forward covering the wearer's face, giving a sense of evil to the beast who dared to wear it.
Fastening the bronze clasp around his neck, Headmaster adjusted his haversack so it rode more comfortably, then kissing his wife once more, he headed out the door.
That evening Headmaster made a camp about two leagues from the camp. He had walked a decent amount during the day and would make it easily to her by early the next morning. He was forced to camp in the middle of an open field because there were no trees within reasonable walking distance of his current position. Headmaster felt awkward and naked, sleeping so close to the ground, exposed to the elements and any beast's roving eye. Unable to sleep, he lay staring at the stars, counting to infinity and beyond. Finally, sleep captured the Headmaster and swept him away in a torrent of wicked nightmares. Only morning would bring comfort to the conspirator in Ark's soon to be murder.
Headmaster rose early with the sun, only eating a small nut scone which he had packed in preparation. He walked for the better part of the early morning, wandering through ever densening forests. As he walked deeper into the waking forest, the sounds of bluebirds and sparrows became sparser and sparser, until only the occasional caw of a crow would attract Headmaster's attention. The ominous trees seemed to rise higher and higher the farther he went. The moss on the sides of the trees and the lichen hanging from the branches soon became more obvious than the trees themselves. Treading lightly now, not wanting to disturb the threatening environment, Headmaster spotted the cave where she lived.
The cave was in a clearing of trees, a random boulder with a hole in it. There should have been lighter with the absence of trees, but the clearing seemed to absorb all light, giving the clearing a cave-like appearance. Ha, a cave within a cave, Headmaster allowed himself a second of muse, then quickly dampened his spirits with a second glance at the clearing.
"Magga the Black! Ruler of Darkfang Forest and Possessor of Many Souls, I Headmaster, your humble servant have come requesting assistance." Headmaster bowed extremely low, rubbing his forehead in the vile dirt until his forehead was covered with the muck.
A seductive, feminine voice drifted out of the cave. "Enter squirrel, for Magga finds no reason to harm thee. For now."
Tentatively peeking into the cave, Headmaster slowly stepped into the cave, crawling on all fours to show his humility. Or his fear. "Magga the Black, I come with a need, my clan holds a beast that is of the wrong species, but is able to outperform any of our best squirrels. We desperately need your help to exterminate said mole for we are a peaceful tribe, and cannot harm another beast."
The large black form shifted in the darkness, turning to face the prostrate squirrel. "What do you have to give in return for this gracious favor?"
"I have brought many forms of payment," Headmaster lied, "Name your price and I shall see if I have it with me."
"The tip of your tail." she demanded flatly, allowing no room for bargaining.
Headmaster shook with terror and anger, his tail! What sort of beast needed another beast's tail?!
"Of course," Magga continued, "I could just kill you know and take your entire tail for myself. Really, it is the sacrifice that counts here." A sadistic chuckle emanated from the darkness. "So, what shall it be?"
Seeing no way out of the situation other than the obligatory route Headmaster reluctantly agreed. Begrudgingly he drew his knife, and began to cut at the tip of the fur on tail. "No," spoke Magga, "The tip of your TAIL."
Recognizing that his plan hadn't worked, Headmaster grabbed a twig off the floor of the cave and clamped his jaw down on it to muffle his pained screams. Out of complete sworn duty he drew his blade across the tip of his tail. Blood oozed from the wound, staining the fur red. Ending the pain as quickly as possible, Headmaster raised his paw and slashed the tip of his tail clean off in one blow. He grabbed the bloody stump and unceremoniously thrust it at Magga, hating her for every drop of his own blood he had spilled.
"Very good, little squirrel, this must be a significant problem when the chief is willing to sacrifice his own tail for the murder of one of his own clanbeasts."
"He is NOT a clanbeast of mine! He was an orphan that was taken in, now we can't get rid of him."
"Don't worry tiny one, I have the perfect cure for your problem." Magga seemed to grin in the darkness. "Wait outside, this may take a while."
Thankful to be out of the dank cave, Headmaster slumped down on the moss outside the cave. He reached into his haversack and pulled out a long strip of white gauze. He had no recollection to why he had brought it, but was now thankful that he did. Binding his tail carefully, he inwardly cursed Magga for demanding such a high price; he cursed Ark, for ever showing up at the colony. He even cursed Ark's long dead, unknown mother, reefing on her dead soul for giving birth to Ark.
His anger rose quickly, and he soon found that he had wrapped the bandages far too tight, cutting off circulation to the bloody stump.
The sun slowly slipped away, the dark forest becoming near pitch black. Headmaster waved his paw in front of his face. Nothing. Shivering in the darkness, and not so much because of the cold, he waited sullenly. Only wishing that this horrendous event would end soon.
His prayers were answered, not exactly in the way he had hoped, but answered nonetheless. Magga, carrying a candle, walked out of the cave, the meager light from the taxed candle only extending an arm's length away.
"I have what you want." She declared.
She passed him a glass vial with crooked ridges running along its stubby neck. "Once you have opened the seal and poured the solution on your tail," she smiled smugly, handing Headmaster his severed tail tip, "An exact replica of you shall be formed. He will do your bidding for one day, and then he shall dissipate back into the shadows. Unless of course, you die within that day, then my little friend here will occupy your body, while your soul goes to the Dark Forest!"
Headmaster did not know whether to thank the beast or shriek in horror. The thought mortified him, yet he grinned sadistically with Magga, not wanting to anger her.
"Thank you Magga, ruler of the forest." He intoned, bowing long and low before he exited the clearing.
Not being able to see where he was going in the dark, Headmaster did the last thing he wanted to do, and set up camp. At least there were trees for him to sleep in. Curling up uncertainly in the nook of two large branches he drifted off to an uneasy sleep.
Even though he was tortured long and unmercifully by his raging nightmares, Headmaster slept long into the day, not realizing the change from night to day. It was nearly noon when he woke. Clambering down from the tree, he did his best to judge his bearings, and then headed off in the rough direction of the colony.
He walked until he found himself at the edge of the forest, gazing at the sun, which was now almost behind the horizon. Realizing his fault, Headmaster pressed on hard, and barely made it to his original camp by the time the moon was already high in the sky. Once again, he slept restlessly; his actions to be plaguing him like...well... a plague.
Waking to the sound of birds chirping in the fresh morning air, Headmaster once again packed up his belongings and began to march back home. The early spring air was rejuvenating, and was a drastic contrast to the evil deed Headmaster planned to go through with. His footpaws were sore before he began walking, and they only grew worse as the day progressed. Around noon, when the sun was at its pinnacle, beating down on Headmaster like a drop hammer, he stopped at a small stream at the edge of the forest where his colony was. It was only another quarter-day's march to the colony.
Sitting down on the edge of the bank, he placed his feet in the ice cold water, a small gasp escaping his mouth at the drastic change in temperature. He soaked his feet until they were numb then he wrapped his feet in the remaining gauze. It wouldn't be very effective in protecting his sore feet, but it was better than nothing.
Standing up slowly, he followed the creek through the forest until the sun was barely above the horizon, and quickly sinking to its obvious demise. He smelled smoke, and knew that his colony was near. Unceremoniously, he entered the colony grounds being greeted by squirrels as they noticed that he was back. Even Ark found the time to welcome the Headmaster back to the colony.
He went directly to his home and asked his wife to heat some water, so he could soak away the pains of his arduous journey. She noticed the bandage on his tail, but didn't dare ask what had happened, knowing that Headmaster had gone to see Her.
The water heated quickly enough, and Headmaster clambered into the tub and lay back, letting the hot water sink deep into his pores, massaging his very soul. He relaxed in the tub until the water was lukewarm. Slowly raising himself out of his bath, he dried off his fur with a thick plush towel, one of the few luxuries in this relatively primitive colony. Wrapping himself in the towel, he creaked off to bed, feeling his joints ache with each step. He fell into his bed with a soft whump, and immediately fell into a deep exhaustion induced sleep.
Early the next morning, Headmaster rose from bed and rummaged through his haversack, searching for his tail stub and the mysterious potion. He pulled the two ingredients for evil from his bag, and slipped them into an inside pocket on his long robe. Hurrying to a secluded corner of the community, Headmaster placed his tail on the ground, bidding it a final farewell, and then poured the vile black substance over it.
The potion reeked of blood, ash, and death. It ran with the fluidity of molasses, slowly oozing out of the thin, stubby neck of the bottle. Within seconds of contact with the severed tail, a thick indigo smoke began to billow from the tail. Suddenly, a large WHUMP! shook the ground, knocking Headmaster over. Once the smoke had cleared and the ground stopped shaking, Headmaster looked up cautiously. He gasped deeply, his face paling; directly in front of his stood an exact replica of him, even wearing the same robe. Swallowing deeply, he addressed the clone, remembering that it would serve him for one day only. "Beast."
The clone turned. "Beast," Headmaster said again, "I am Headmaster, and you are to serve me for one day."
"That is true."
Headmaster paused for a second, startled at hearing his own voice from within the beast the stood across from him.
"Well, the only thing I ask of you is to kill the mole. His name is Ark. You will find him in the trees near the edge of the colony," he pointed towards the eastern edge of the village. "I need you to make his death look as if he fell off a branch while practicing his jumping."
"Yes, it shall be done." the clone intoned, and then with a devious look in its eye, it turned and added a final remark, "Stop worrying, you look like you've seen a ghost!"
Headmaster immediately passed out, so afraid of the monster he had created.
Ark turned over in his bed one more time, trying to find a position comfortable enough to enable him to get another few minutes of sleep. His efforts were moot, (Yeah! I just used the word "moot" in a sentence!) and he got out of bed very soon after. Yawning and reaching high into the air, he stretched, feeling his drowsy muscles start to awaken. He paced around his room for a couple of minutes, warming up his legs, and then launched into a front flip, landing without a detectable noise. Feeling satisfied with his morning ritual, he headed out into the main living area where his foster-who-hated-him-family lived. He smiled at his "mother" only receiving a cold glare. Ark didn't care, he rarely saw her anyways.
Grabbing a nut scone, he headed out the front door, onto the front porch of the tree house. Chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of scone, Ark sat down and dangled his footpaws over the vast drop to the forest floor. He stared off into the sunrise, nearly complete. He finished his scone and headed off towards the sun.
Clone watched all these events, granting himself and evil grin. Slowly and quietly he slunk after Ark.
Leaping from branch to branch with ease, Ark headed towards his favorite practice area. It had a willow tree along with two or three birches and a number of other good climbing trees. He climbed up to the top of one of the birches and surveyed his surroundings. The sun was above the horizon, beginning its day long journey to the other side of the world.
Satisfied with the tranquility of the morning, Ark clambered down from the top branches until he found a branch that was roughly parallel to the ground. He walked to the end of the branch to survey the drop. The drop wasn't a huge one, but impressive at least. He turned and walked back to the trunk of the tree, then sprinted towards the end of the branch. As he neared the very end of the branch, a paw reached up from underneath the branch and tripped him up. Ark fell off the branch and began to plummet towards the forest floor far below.
This is where the chapter would end, but seeing as I HATE cliffies, I'm not going to torture you and wait another three or four chapters before telling you how this scene ends. Keep reading!
Reaching out with all of his paws in all directions, he desperately groped for any sort of anchor which he could slow he descent with. He felt a leaf brush his paw, and he closed his paw around it, ripping the leaf clean off the branch. His tumbling soon brought him around so he was heading face first towards the ever rising ground. Seeing one last branch before he met his dirty death (pun intended), Ark threw his weight forward as he had learned to do when compensating for a botched jump. The branch was substantially thick, and Ark couldn't wrap his paws all the way around it, fortunately his momentum carried him in a full loop, like a gymnast on a high bar. He let go as he came around and launched himself up into the air, tucking into a double back flip before landing on the branch which had just saved his life.
Ark panted, adrenaline still pumping through his veins like fire. He looked around for who ever had grabbed his ankle. "Hello?" he called out, "Where are you beast? I know you are there! Show yourself!"
Clone cursed the mole's amazing show of prowess, saving himself from a certain death. Locking away those emotions for later, the twisted Headmaster clone donned a smug, nonchalant smile. "I'm here mole."
Ark was shocked. "Headmaster? Is that really you?"
"Why of course not," Clone commented darkly. "I am an evil clone of your precious leader. And I am here to kill you."
Ark stepped back. Could this really be true? But before he could ask himself anymore questions, Clone came charging at him, unnaturally long and sharp claws outstretched. Dodging swiftly, Ark jumped over his assailant's head and landed on the branch, now behind his opponent. Not bothering to look back, Ark jumped off the branch and landed with his claws embedded in the trunk of the tree and slid down to the ground. Ignoring the middle step, Clone jumped from the branch and landed whisker's lengths away. Ark slashed out with his razor sharp digging claws, slicing Clones gut open. Clone just grinned sadistically. Ark scrambled away in horror as the ethereal clone's torso split open and spewed a black smoke.
Just as unexpectedly as the smoke, Clones torso split vertically, then grew a second half on each side again. "Great, two ghost clones, that is all I need," Ark murmured to himself dryly.
The two clones came at him quickly. Ark feinted to the left, throwing the right clone off of its path, and then he dodged right, slicing clean through the throat of the left clone. Ark watched with morbid fascination as the being's head rolled off its shoulders and plopped onto the ground. This time however, it didn't become two beasts; instead it turned into a dark plume of indigo smoke and dissipated into the morning air. Ark let out a little whoop, knowing that he had found a way to "kill" these ethereal clones.
Before his celebration got out of hand, he was quickly reminded of the other clone as a loud screech came from behind him. He turned to see two Headmaster clones. Had the clone split without being cut? Ark panicked slightly, but calmed himself. If it can split on its own, then I have to kill them both simultaneously, He thought to himself.
Ark began to charge at the two clones, his claws outstretched behind him, ready to swing forward with deadly speed and accuracy. One of the clones spoke aloud in a panicked voice to the other, "Get him now!"
But by the time the clone had reacted to its partner's command, Ark had raked both of their bodies with his deadly claws. The first clone fell to the ground a non-fatal cut across it collarbone spewing indigo smoke. The other, however, collapsed to the ground gasping and heaving, crimson blood spewing from his neck. Realizing his massive mistake Ark called out, "Headmaster? No! This has to be a mistake!"
Crying profusely, Ark failed to notice that he had missed a deathblow on the true clone. Behind him, clone stood up, it's cut still spewing smoke. "You have done me a great favor mole."
"How can death be good?" Ark sobbed through his tears, "How?"
"I won't explain it all young mole, just leave now, or I will have to follow through on my orders to kill you."
Unconsciously obeying the ghost clone's orders Ark turned and ran way from the body, running away from the morning sun, chasing his shadow until his legs could run no more.