Chapter II
Nothing touched the water save for a gentle morning breeze as the shrew brought his logboat to the edge of the river, staring out toward the branching paths and taking in the wonderful smells of autumn.
According to a traveling mouse merchant from the nearby Abbey, the Season was going to be one of plenty for all who had endured the Summer of the Long Heat and the young brown shrew was certain that he would make the most of it by catching as many fresh fish as possible from the River Moss.
A few bugs buzzed across the surface of the river as he placed his logboat into its cool lapping waves and then he climbed in and grabbed the small tools he intended to use for the morning catch: a net made of tea leaves and maple sap and a few sharp knives cut from rocks he had found farther north on the edge of the tributary.
As he prepared to push the boat into the water he heard the faint rustling of leaves from the surrounding forest and took out of one of the long pikes from his satchel, unsure what could be approaching.
His older brother walked out from the tall grass eating a bite of a fresh autumn plum, wiped his face and then looked toward the logboat with an impish smile.
"Off to catch the Deepcoiler are you Malen?" The older shrew asked as he approached the river edge, wiping his paws off on the small tunic he wore.
"Very funny Dargen, you know Father would have my head if I even went further south then the tribe lines let alone the Inland Sea," Malen told him as Dargen got aboard. "Well I can't have you daydreaming and drifting off, so make way for a fellow Fisher my brother dear!" Dargen ordered, pushing the logboat away from shore before his younger brother could object.
As the small boat traveled down the river, Malen looked over the edge toward the clear waters searching for a small char or pond smelt.
"You couldn't wait for the first day of autumn to come out here could you?" Dargen asked softly as he looked on the opposite side of the boat.
"We are meant to be out here on the water, brother. Not wasting our seasons becoming nursemaids to those shrew dibbuns like Damaste and Corriander," he countered as he tried to grab at a char that swam by in a flash.
"You make it sound like our siblings have menial labor to tend to like sweeping the harvest cellars or something! Malen, everybeast in the Guosssom has a job, how often do we have to remind you of that?" Dargen asked as he grabbed a chub with his bare paws.
The fish flopped a bit on the bow of the boat as he struggled to maintain his grip and then it flew from his paws splashing Dargen as it disappeared from sight. Malen chuckled as he looked at his drenched older brother and remarked, "I guess it's a good thing Father didn't make you a fisher."
The elder shrew glared at him as they waded toward another branch of the river, still searching for fresh fish but Malen's thoughts were already drifting elsewhere.
Since he had been a babe he recalled the tales that Log-a-Log Summo had told of the fights on the western shores near the fabled Salamandastron, of adventure and untold dangers and it had made him imagine himself one day taking up the call to protect Mossflower. As a member of the Guerilla Union of South Stream Shrews of Mossflower, he had taken an oath when he was barely twelve seasons old the same one his six older brothers and sisters had made when they were that age; to protect the tribe of the Guosssom and to keep the law of the tribe for all his days.
But the tribe itself was still young, there were still a great many quarrels as to how the role of leader was to take place. Log-a-log Summo, the First shrew to leave the Guosim of the north, had established a simple code during the days of Rawnstripe: that the firstborn of his kin would be made Log-a-log and protect the tribe until the next generation.
But now, new circumstances had changed that dynamic specifically the inter marriages of the two shrew tribes. And with seven sons, their father couldn't simply allow one to take the lead amongst the others. Especially not Esperol, their oldest kin who had what seemed to be an insatiable desire to go and hunt vermin that sometimes scoured the Mossflower forest.
As for Malen, he didn't even care to worry about the code or becoming leader. As youngest that prospect had never even come up in his mind. Esperol, Dargen, Alfoh, Corriander, Damaste and Rufe could waste their days trying to please their father so they could be the next Log-a-Log, he thought as the autumn sun glistened across the river surface. My place is here amid nature.
Suddenly his older brother pushed him aside and skewered a large white chub in the river bed with one of his pikes laughing heartily as he did and waving the fallen fish in front of his younger kin before announcing, "Now who is the one who shouldn't be a fisher?"
Malen laughed and got the net ready, while Dargen quickly gutted the fish before this one tried to flop away. The fresh fish smelled delightful but Malen knew better than to take it all for himself, the shrew tribe of the Guosssom depended on their harvest and one small chub certainly wasn't going to feed very many hungry mouths.
Over the Summer of the Long Heat the shrew recalled how the tribe had used up a great deal of their foodstuff reserves because of the dry soil making it hard to grow very many vittles. The shrews however had grown by at least a dozen or so dibbuns and that meant more hungry mouths to feed. Malen had known far too many long summer days where he had chosen to give up his hotroot soup or hazelnut bread for a newborn and then spent his evening searching the surrounding area for fresh berries or maybe even a few latespring raspberries to mix with some barley and make a fine stew. But there were other times during the rough summer he had gone hungry, all for the needs of the tribe. It was a sacrifice he was sure that he would have to make again when winter came, but for now Malen wasn't going to allow such thoughts to ruin his mood.
As he and his brother continued to fish in the great river, he found himself whistling a gentle tune and Dargen started to chime in with a simple little diddy.
"Out here Amon' the fishes
That is where I wishes
To spend all me days!
If I could go all de way,
To the edge of the Endless bay,
That would be just fine by me!
So keep my net full,
And keep my days from bein' dull
Let's go a huntin' to the farthest shore
Cause this shrew is a hunter!
That's fer sure.
And if I could spend all me days
Amid the watery ways
That would be just fine
Yes that would be just dandy!
Cause fish tastes better than candy!
So keep my net full
And my days from bein' dull
Cause this shrew is seekin' adventure
And won't nothin' keep it from me!"
Dargen laughed heartily as they caught several more chum and a few char on the north river bank and then turned the logboat toward the mossy shore, the morning ending with their net quite full.
Malen and his eldest brother grabbed the bounty and trekked toward the inner marshlands that were marked as part of their tribe's territory.
The morning meal filled the air of the tall grass as they pushed thru to the first hollowed trunks where he saw Alfoh and a young female shrew he fancied performing guard duty in the early Light.
Fresh loaves of shrew bread, slices of barley cakes, and warm hazelnut soup reached his nose as they walked into the camp of the Gousssom and already Malen could see the other members of his family running about and tending to their daily jobs.
He spotted his eldest brother Esperol approaching the edge of camp with his fellow shrew warriors off to perform morning patrol, the burly shrew looking like every bit of a water bound warrior.
"Morning brothers, did you bring me the morning catch?" Esperol asked as he grabbed the net from Malen before his younger brother could object.
Esperol licked his lips as he greedily grabbed three fish from the bag and then tossed one to his first archer and gobbled up the others himself.
"Brother that was meant for the morning feast!" Dargen snarled angrily.
"Look around! The feast has already begun and a few measly fish won't tide over those hungry dibbuns. Besides you'll just go catch some more eh bro?" Esperol asked as he rubbed the fur on Malen's head the wrong way.
Malen sighed and took the net back with the other fish, he and Dargen walking away from the patrol as Esperol laughed, still savoring the fish that he stolen for breakfast.
This season is going to be a long one, Malen thought as he walked toward the burrows which led to the kitchen.
