Twenty-five views, and three reviews (sort of). Having thought about it, I have decided that I might get more people to look at An Eating Contest if I gave the backstory that I had intended to give afterwards before instead. So, here is the latest chapter of Goodbeast, and please be aware that this has more T rated stuff in it.

Hamlet: I always plan out my stories before I begin writing them, and therefore already have a layout to follow. This helps prevent writer's block. As to Martin and his riddles . . . well, there's a whole other thing going on there, and it's not supposed to come till later. So, you'll have to wait and see.

Disclaimer: Could someone let me know if I am required to put up the disclaimer in every chapter? Anyway, except for the land of Southward that the story is taking place in, I have tried to come up with my own ideas for this chapter. But that does not apply to all things in this story; I do not own the things which are the recognized property of Brian Jacques.

6

Not to far to the north of Mechin, a family of ten voles were traveling. At the front of their wagon, the father and his oldest son guided their way toward Mechin. Inside the wagon, the mother and her two oldest daughters told stories to the five little ones. In other words, a perfectly normal vole farmer family doing a perfectly normal thing; traveling to a large city to sell their wares.

"How much longer?" asked the third youngest daughter for the umpteenth time.

"We'll be there in the morning." answered the mother.

In the distance, there was a crack of thunder.

"Oh, bother!" exclaimed the eldest son. "As if our job wasn't hard enough already!"

"Calm down, son." suggested his father. "We were prepared for this. There is a canyon up ahead. Once there, we will set up the wagon covering and bed down until the storm passes."

"Are you sure that's safe?" asked his wife, as she always did when they had to stop.

"Of course, dear." Father reassured her. "The canyon is quite stable, so there is no possibility of it collapsing on us during the night. And as for thieves," he added quickly, as Mother opened her mouth again, "there haven't been such things in existence on this road for years. It is very little known, and those who do know of it are aware that the only goods that travel on it are the organic kinds. We will be perfectly safe."

"Sir," a scratchy voice said, "they have been spotted. They are headed straight here."

"Excellent." responded the weasel perched on the edge of the canyon. "It is almost certain that they will stop here. When they do . . . Have the others prepare."

"Yes, sir." the shadowy figure responded. With that, it quickly melted into the darkness.

The weasel continued to peer into the canyon. He had no fear of being seen. His fur was black as night, and the robe that covered him and his weapons was the same. In his hand, he carried a large double bladed sword, held so that it did not catch the reflection of the moonlight. So it was that Raphael the Ranger stood waiting; waiting to complete his task, waiting to bring destruction, waiting to put an end to . . .

And then he saw them. As they were only a mile away, he could see them quite distinctly, though not very clearly. He chuckled evilly to himself as he watched them, a petty vole family, marching unknowingly to their deaths. He was watching them so intently, that he did not notice the figure half a mile behind them . . .

Father breathed a sigh of relief as they entered the canyon. Stopping the cart, he and his sons got out a large canvas and spread it over the wagon.

"That should do it." he affirmed. "Everyone in the wagon."

Even as he said it, a screech was heard from above. Looking quickly around, he discovered the presence of something nearby. But he could not see it. A clatter of rocks nearby caused him to start with surprise and fear, but nothing was there.

"Boys, get in the wagon, now. And whatever you do, don't get back out until . . ."

Before he could finish, a black shadow leaped up in front of him. As he jumped back against the wagon, the figure lifted up a shadowy sword, and swung it downwards toward his head.

Clang!

For a moment, Father thought he was dead. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Above his head, two swords were crossed. One was forged of dark metal, with a straightness that somehow portrayed a finality of death when combined with its user.

The other was a much brighter blade, curved in a peculiar fashion, as if its forger hadn't been able to make up his mind. This latter sword was being held from atop the wagon. Turning slowly, Father looked up, and saw a large black hare who appeared to have no eyes.

A bolt of lightning lit up the canyon, and Father realized three things at once; one, that the hare was wearing something over his eyes. Two, that the other creature was unlike anything he had ever seen before. And three, that there were many more of them streaming down the side of the canyon.

He wasn't the only one that noticed. With a quick push forward, the hare sent the attack stumbling backward, before he himself leaped from the wagon and finished the thing off with the second blade of his sword. Running forward, he continued to destroy the mysterious things, picking them off with almost no effort.

Suddenly, his sword was halted, and with with a jolt he found himself staring into the eyes of the black weasel. For a moment, the two stood there, the weasel growling, the hare breathing heavily, both tensed for the next move.

It was the weasel who broke the silence. "So, Samuel the Safariest, what brings you here?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not much." Samuel answered casually. "Raphael, isn't it? It's sort of hard to tell, you know. How's business?"

"Just about finished." Raphael answered, and with that he pushed Samuel back and struck at him.

Samuel neatly blocked the strike, and returned it with equal quickness. Raphael deflected it to the side, and then rolled round with his other blade to take his opponents head off. Samuel quickly dropped to the ground, but still ended up with a scratch on the cheek. Rolling over, he raised his sword to block Raphael's downswing. The force of the blow, however, sent him to the ground again, and Raphael prepared for a triumphant thrust. Before the blow could be delivered, however, Samuel kicked the weasel's legs out from under him. By the time he had recovered, Samuel had done likewise. There they stood, swords at the ready, the one glaring, the other smiling as if he did this for enjoyment.

Before the fight could be continued, a black figure called out, "We've got all of them, sir."

Samuel looked over at the wagon, and cried out in horror. Raphael, seeing his opponent distracted, charged forward with a cry of hatred. Samuel quickly side stepped, and as the weasel passed by, Samuel slashed through his opponent's waste. Raphael instantly dissolved into a cloud of black smoke, which swirled around until it disappeared in a flash of light.

Samuel stood there for a moment, panting heavily. The black figure slowly backed away, hoping not to be noticed. Samuel suddenly spun around, throwing his sword. The curved blades spun around, and the thing was cut completely in half. The blade continued for a few feet, slowed to a hover, and then returned to Samuel, who caught it expertly.

Looking back at the wagon, he took in the scene of destruction more carefully. It was plain to see that there were no survivors. The wagon itself was burning, and the fate of those who had dared to leave it was all too easily seen. Sighing, Samuel sheathed his sword. With that, another lightning bolt struck in the distance, followed a few seconds later by a thunder clap, and suddenly rain began to fall.

A few hours later, having made sure the scene was clear, Samuel turned and headed toward Mechin. He knew Raphael wouldn't go to all this trouble for no reason. What are you up to, Mordecai? he wondered. Well, whatever it is, there's only one other person who might know.

And so, Samuel broke into a slow run, hoping to reach Mechin by morning. Well, Thomas, let's see if I can still surprise you.

The story An Eating Contest is about Samuel's arrival in Mechin. Just for clarification, Samuel's sword has two blades, one on each side of the hands, just like Raphael's. But Samuel's blades are curved like the single-bladed sword in my profile picture. This allows him to throw them like a boomerang. So, now that that's cleared up, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review for me, and make me a better author. God bless, shalom, and good morning! 8/23/2014 TTT