Misadventures

Average Days

War of the Four Banners

Redwall Short Story

Dapan grumbled as he and his son Bigfang, or as it now was Moran now, were slowly pulling a heavy bucket of curses and foul odors from one of the latrines of the camp. Kept under the watchful eye of an otter guard who looked bored to death and assisted by the ferret now known as Sadan who kept his distance from the furious weasel. All three were struggling to pull up the bucket in that pit, dug out and smelling about as foul as one could suspect. It wasn't that it was heavy to him, it was that he didn't want to go near it. When the ferret began to pull up on the rope attached to that bucket a bit faster, Dapan turned his head and growled at him "Don't ya even try it! Slowly ya nitwit!"

"I ain't no nitwit 'Dapan' or whatever dey call ya now."

"I'll knock yer teeth in Bloodpatch." Dapan threatened him. The guard coughed and looked at the weasel. He looked a bit annoyed and Dapan realized why. He growled "Sadan. Or whatever. Just pull it slow like! When it at der edge, Bigfang ya grab der side an' pull it to der edge!"

"I ain't touchen it." Moran angrily replied. A swift slap across the head from Dapan caused him to nearly lose his of the rope. Catching it in time, Dapan scolded him "Just cause dat otter be der don't mean I can't beat ya black an' blue, boy." He gave an angry look to the otter, who was more annoyed then interested in responding. He was a professional warrior from the armored garb and halberd he leaned on. Eventually, through some teamwork the group now had this foul bucket on the ground with the soldier commanding him about. Though, it did annoy all three as he spoke to them like simplistic children.

"Now, dig a hole to the left of the latrine and dump it in there for now, five to six feet deep. Then, fill in the hole and make sure the dirt is packed tightly. Once you are done with that, place the bucket back down into the latrine, and place that covering back on it."

Dapan growled to himself, as the three took what clean sides existed on the bucket over to a small nearby field inside the camp and began to dig a hole next to one of the many small mounds. Moran complained openly to his father, angry a bit himself "Do we really gotta do this all day? I'm tired."

"Yes, boy." Dapan softly flicked his ear in punishment for his question "Now start diggen. Der both of ya."

"Aren't ya gonna help?" Sadan weakly asked. Dapan growled at him "It's a two beast job, an' I already do a good amount of der work as it is! Dat soldier had me attachen a rope to dat bucket from der start! I am gonna be smellen like woodlander-" Dapan paused and shook his head "Just get diggen, dat include you Bigfang."

Another cough from the soldier made him realize his mistake, and he corrected himself in spite "Moron."

"I ain't no 'Moron'" Moran growled back, though Dapan was overly joyful of it. Sadan kept silent, as he knew if he ever intervened, the age-old pass time of vermin bullying would pass onto him. Eventually, with enough time and threats, the vermin had completed their task. Once buried deep into the ground, the soldier watched them carefully attach ropes to the bucket and begin hoisting back into the latrine. The soldier rolled his eyes and chided them in the softest manner he could muster.

"It took you five times as long as it should have for even the most basic of recruits, but you at least did it. Hurry up and detach the ropes. You got 5 more to take care of today, not to mention cleaning yourselves."

Moran and Sadan looked to Dapan who grumbled to himself and descended carefully into the hole. He partly knew that even he escaped, and he had planned to no doubt, the lads back in the forest would never let this down. Oh, when I get me paws into a nice ol' horde wit me kin, I am gonna make dem regret maken me a workbeast! Dapan had not thought this in years, he had avoided hordes like a plague that they deserved to be called. He liked to imagine this lot of wannabe violent beasts faltering even against the horde he helped his missus escape from, and he looking over that hated hare, seeing him clean these latrines! Dapan reached the bottom and unattached the rope, before slowly coming back up. Moran groaned "Pa, hurry its up. Dey says we ain't fast enough."

"Yea, wells, I ain't hurrying on any account! Now shut yer trap an bring up dat rope ya stupid workbeast."

"Yer a workbeast now too ya know?" Sadan commented, but got a partial nudge from Moran. "I ain't needen yer defense, ferret. I can take care me own. Hmph!"

"Ya show him, me moron!" Dapan said with a hint of pride, but also mockery. The otter overseeing them looked at them with a mix of cringe and curiosity.

"Do you creatures really have such a hatred for work, calling each other 'workbeast' as an insult?"

Sadan gave him a funny look "Ya don't know what it means, water dog?"

"Otter." The soldier angrily corrected and Sadan backed away a little in fear. Or more accurately, hid behind the smaller Moran who pushed him aside. Dapan was closer to the top, but stopped to catch his breath and correct him, his voice echoing from the latrine hole.

"It means slavebeast, otter, how der hells ya don't know dat!? Workbeast, layabout, slave, tis all der same."

The otter frowned and looked insulted, quickly correcting him in turn "You aren't slaves, vermin."

"Wells. Den what are we?" Moran asked. The otter tried to explain "You are serfs, technically and officially, of Southsward and are bound to this camp as laborers of his majesty's army."

"So we can, erm, leave?" Sadan said hopefully, but the otter shot that down "No, of course not!"

"Den we are slaves?" Sadan tried to correct the otter's terms, but the soldier seemed insistent "No, you are not. Woodlander folk don't keep slaves, we are too civilized for such things! You savages are the ones who keep slaves. You beasts are simply just too violent to understand and need creatures like me, and Gasger, to keep you in line and learn to be more proper. If you prove your due diligence, you will be then contracted to a piece of land and given over to a good lord. Tis simple."

To none of them, it sounded simple, and only brought in more questions. "Land? Contracted?" Moran seemed the most confused. Dapan was partly listening, nearly wanting to laugh out loud in pure maddened rage, but instead tried to debate the otter as he was nearly out of the hole. "If we be not slaves, den what exactly was draggen us in chain into dis camp, forcen me an' me brood to do yer dirty work, and given us de's stupid clothes, an' de's stupid names all about, eh?"

"There is nothing wrong with your new names, and certainly nothing wrong with those clothes. If anything, no doubt they are more comfortable then whatever filth you came in with. That name you give that smaller one, 'Bigfang', it's just meaningless uncultured garbage! Your, erm, just laborers learning to be laborers. That is all." The otter was seeming a bit more unsure, because in truth, it was hard to argue against the position they were in. Frankfort had made it clear these beasts were serfs, but also below the normal laborers. If they got out of line, he was ordered to take them before their overseers to see if they got punished, or in some cases killed. Dapan seemed to want to argue the point "Me son's name ain't garbage! Yer chief named him moron fer cryen out loud."

"Moran." The otter corrected him and then tapped his halberd on the ground softly "Now, please, return to your work. I am about as bound to you as you are to me right now, and I'd rather not have this go into tomorrow."

"Blasted hells." Dapan openly complained "Tis not bad enough I gotta do all dis, but also be surrounded by mad woodlanders to boot! Der only ways dis could get worse wassSSSSS AAAHHHHH."

Dapan slipped on a wet piece of grass and fell screaming into the hole. The group looked down, concerned for his wellbeing. Dapan was looking up, alive and well, but just barely as he realized what hole he had fallen into.

It was night, barely a single star in the night sky, when the vermin group finally returned home. Dapan was silent as the guard who was escorting him passed them off to Gasger who was waiting for them. The guard saluted and quickly went off, relieved he could finally sit amongst more proper comrades as a dirt covered and foul smelling Dapan gave the hare a weak eye. Gasger sniffed him and retracted himself in disgust. It took Sadan to explain to him what had happened, and Gasger was not amused.

"Clean yourselves up. The three of you. You are late considerably, but so is every bloody recruit who does that task. I hope you learned your lesson vermin; you will be working on supply redistribution tomorrow. You will need to wash very thoroughly. Your clothes will also all need deep washing. I'll send some other laborer to do that for you." Gasger ordered out, shoving the cleanest of them forward towards the baths which Dapan felt even more miserable about then falling into the hole.

Dapan and friends returned to the main tent when most of the others were already on cots or getting ready. Martha ran up to him to see if he and her son were in good health. They both looked miserable, clean but miserable, as Dapan collapsed on the bed.

"Ya good?"

"No, but I be alive me butterfly." Dapan tried to give her a weak smile, and Moran gave a disgusted look, crashing onto his cot to get some shut eye. Dapan looked to his youngest, curled up in blankets on a single cot together near Martha's own and he gave her a 'tell me something' look.

"Dat hare brought me and our little ones to der laundry. Twas easy work, an' der woodlanders der seemed much more friendly, doh transporting it all across dis stupid camp got me legs all numb."

Dapan whispered slowly, looking around and seeing lights going out. "Loamspear, we gotta get outta here. An' fast. I dink I saw a bent wall, an—"

"Me love'ly." She frowned, kissing him on the forehead "Not now. We can't arose der ire or suspicion. Dis ain't a horde like me ol' chiefs. De's are woodlanders, hares an' otters. Dey are organized. I wanna get away from dis place fast too, but don't ya try an' do trouble and catchen dem. Save our strength, and look fer real opportunities. Den we be peachy."

Dapan frowned himself but nodded in agreement. If they were to all escape, they would have to take it slow. It would have been like escaping from the horde his missus used to be trapped in, but now he had three kids to do it with, and experienced troops to contend with. What was true, was that he needed to look for opportunities and save his strength. If doin der dirty work today was der toughest, I'll be top shape an' ready to jump der stupid walls by tomorrow's end! I'd love to see der look on dat hare's face when me an' me kin be out an' about in Mossflower before we even know it! Dapan closed his eyes and finally went to sleep.

There was a very loud sound that absolutely blasted through Dapan's ears as the weasel suddenly awoke and nearly jumped out of his cot. The weasel fell out of his cot as the sound continued to blast and hurt his ears.

The other beasts were suddenly awoken. Was there a battle? Did something happen? Everyone's eyes soon came onto Gasger holding a trumpet in paw and looked down with a scolding look at them. He awaited with stubborn patience as the frozen serfs gave him a terrified look of confusion.

"Stand up and stand at attention." He ordered. Dapan looked outside the tent and could see light had not even flooded its way into the ground. It was barely morning. Martha collected her little ones who had in their panic fled underneath their cot, and dusted them off. They looked far more tired, and it made Dapan angry. He slowly got up and realized he was still weak and sore from yesterday's work. However, the fear of being put back on that work detail made him silent as he contemptibly looked at the hare.

Lena and her friends were in a worse mood, as they had spent much of yesterday carrying heavy crates from one end of the camp to the other. When she and her otter friend awoke, he was in a worse mood. She had only learned recently he was named Gavan, as she had a lot of time to get to know him as they carried boxes all day. The shrew, whom she got to know more as Nuels, grumbled openly even as the hare paced his way about the tent, degrading them.

"You sorry excuse for beasts would have been up an' adam by bloody now. You there. At least make your bleeding bed! You beasts can't even sleep normally, if you were proper soldiers in a Southsward army, I'd have you all flogged for this poor show!"

"I just wished he'd end us already." The vole whispered to the mouse maiden, whom was tempted to nod in agreement. Gavan sighed, holding his paws behind his back and have a bad case of nostaligia.

"Reminds me of me pops a bit." He said silently "Though he used to use a drum to wake me up."

Lena and Dapan both glared at the hare as he looked at them with continued hate. He made another order "Paws behind your backs, chins up, now!" Slowly the group complied with hesitancy. Moran didn't do so which was noticed by Gasger, as he made another loud and annoyed sigh. Instead, he folded his paws, not content to be like the others. Gasger came over to him and punished him harshly "Your family is already on half rations, vermin. Consider yours to be one fourthed. For a week."

Moran got the hint and looked up at him with troubled eyes. He was already not looking forward to his terribly small meal, but the thought the hare would just reduce it even more had him awkwardly and quickly put his paws behind his back and his chin gazed down. Gasger angrily lifted his head to a ground level, chiding him "Chin UP." The hare angrily paced as the hare looked about the group with cold spite for them.

"Your poor attitudes insult me deeply. Half of you will be loading supplies into carts and pushing them out to their respective supply depots, cleaning and maintaining what is necessary. The other half will be transporting laundry, cleaning supplies, and other necessary items to their respective stations." He glared at the Grassweaves and grumbled "I will be overseeing both groups respectively and know if I see a single peep out of any of you while I check on your wellbeing, you will not have your rations waiting for you when you return here. Your morning breakfast awaits you in the laborer's mess hall, and I shall have some of my captain's subordinates waiting for you to finish. You take too long, and your punishments will be severe."

Gasger waited for the group to be ready, putting their yellow vests and other clothes they didn't go to bed with, and they were escorted towards the mess hall for their meals. Internally, Dapan groaned to himself, knowing today was not going to be a good day.

Moran stared down at his 'meal'. What should have been a loaf of bread was very accurately cut into a fourth of its size, with a porridge so thin that when he lifted it up to his face, it looked like it was already eaten from. He sighed and drank of it, a warmness entering his throat. Despite his new found embarrassing captivity he was in, these Southsward beasts had absurdly good food, even if he was a 'not-workbeast'. Yet, he was still hungry and looked hungrily at his father's barely touched dish. He and his family were all sitting on a bench in a big, open pavilion filled with other unfortunate prisoners and vermin of various degrees of health. Dapan was looking horrified at another fellow weasel off in the distance whom was missing a paw, and a rat whom they had seen dragged away bent over on the table looking pained and jittering to himself. He had been lashed, Dapan knew partly. He looked down to see his thieving fool of a son try to reach for his bread and slapped it away.

"Ya ain't touchen dat, moron."

"Ya can just call me Bigfang, 'Dapan'." Moran nused his paw as Martha attempted to give some of her bread to him but was stopped again by Dapan "Nay, dis is a growen lessen, me lov'ly. Der boy here can learn some listenen skills while we work out a way to get out. Now listen boy." Dapan took his son's head and shifted it towards the soldiers awaiting outside "Dat lot are about as cruel an' as delusional as an' ol' vermin hordebeast. Dey gonna work us to der bone, an we can't afford to look or be weak. Ya gotta not resist dem now, we gotta save our strength an' await fer der perfect opportunity to escape. So dem little outbursts back in der tent? I might tolerate it, barely, but dat hare won't. So you best be listenen, an' keep yerself quiet!"

"Uhg!" Moran complained, but Dapan smacked him across the head again to get him to pay attention "Ya listen here boy, me an' yer ma were a horde wit slavebeasts. Ya get out of line, dey won't hesitate to beat ya and bleed ya dry, dey will do all manner of evil to ya dat ya can't dream of. I've seen warlords tie mice to trees an' use dem as target practice! Dis half rationing be only der start, an if dey don't like der way ya look at dem, dey will start torturen ya! An who knows how a woodlander can treat ya so, but dis lot certainly do!" Moran looked wide eyed and anxious, frightened even as his father took a morbid bite of his meal and finished it. He warned his son "Dat hare won't hesitate in killen us if need be, so keep yer head down an' just do as det says. Let yer pa do der talken."

Moran frowned as his family finished their meal and they slowly got up. He and the others made their way outside and were greeted by Gasger talking to two otters, one of which they unfortunately recognized. Raman, their original captor gave them a cold look and then went back to talking with the hare, but the other otter next him seemed. . .cheerier? He looked like a younger version of Raman, but not by much, his uniform was that of a soldier, but was far more down to earth than the officers and other clownish beings Dapan had beheld thus far.

Gasger went forward and began to divide them into work details as Raman and the other watched on. Moran was worried about what his father said as his family, all except his father, were divided amongst the groups. It seemed the adults were put into one line, and the younger ones into an other. Moran's mom was the only older beast in the group as Moran saw his father and others get into one line, not at all surprised they would all be separated for the day.

"Listen you lot, hop to it! One two! You will be transporting weapon and armor crates to the northern and eastern camp supply depots! Move out, or I will beat over the head the first serf who even thinks about falling behind!"

Dapan heard Sadan gulp next to him, giving a desperate look to his younger sister in the other line who gave him that worried look back. Dapan sighed and was led away, unsure of what the day would bring and still being a bit tired.

Moran looked forward at the otter who approached them, his black armor with a yellow trim shined as he looked over the group curiously. Anxiety fell upon the young weasel, as his father's word of the oncoming horrible fate he would be subjected to. He thought they would be whipped into action, or they would be subjected to some manner of evil labor or treated in the worse and cruel ways. It wouldn't surprise him considering all the threats he and his family were subjected to.

Then the otter smiled. Then he spoke.

"Greetings, good beasts." The anxious group gave the otter an a weird look as he happily nodded to them and put his paws to his sides "Good to see you all well fed for the most part! The name is Gulan, and I have been told you will be helping us with some of the camp's chores. Come along, trust me, this kind of thing isn't very difficult at all." He looked to the little Zadan and Mia whom seemed now a bit confused, blinking at him. He gave an even wider grin, bending down to their level and looking back up at their mother, whom looked relieved but also cautious towards this friendly beast.

"Little ones, eh? Adorable. Don't you all worry one bit, this may be a military camp, but I the work me and the lads got today won't take us long at all!" He motioned the group to follow and as they did, Moran gave the otter a strange look. If this was some manner of trick to get them comfortable before some evil design is revealed, it certainly was working.

Dapan bent down, picking up one box and walking what felt like miles through dirt and mud to another side of the camp. He kept his head held about as high as he was allowed to, grumbling, and complaining along the way, but never loud enough to be punished. The weasel for the first few boxes was in high spirits, even though he was looked down upon by Gasger who yelled at him and the others to hurry, keeping his eyes open for laziness or trouble like a hawk. Carrying things like this was child's play to a strong and experienced beast like himself!

Then he was sent to another box.

Then another.

The hours began to pass, and Dapan could feel the sweat on his brow as he heaved another box to his level and was transporting boxes of gear from carts to various tents full of supplies. He had arrived at one tent as he set it down at the foot of the tent, only to be yelled at by a mouse who marched out of it in an angry huff.

"Not right there, you blasted idiots!" The mouse practically screamed. Dapan gave him a tired, but angry look. He spoke up "Whacha mean? Dey said put it at dis tent in der 'bottom end' of der camp?"

"Can't you read!?" The mouse pointed to a wooden sign above the tent, and Dapan squinted. Gasger slowly approached as he watched over the other serfs as Dapan scratched his head. Dapan couldn't read, he didn't know any vermin who could. Gasger rolled his eyes and approached the mouse, informing him otherwise "Apologies, quartermaster. These vermin don't read. We will fix this right away." Gasger said in a bored tone, he turned to Dapan and growled out his orders "You see that blue mark on the box? It means the box goes behind the supply tent. Now go and do it."

Dapan complained angrily "How der hells was I suppose to know dat!?"

Gasger quickly produced from his belt a wooden stick of sorts and beating stick which he whacked the weasel in the face with. Dapan got the picture as he nursed his jaw and took the box around. The blue marked box was place haphazardly amongst others, and as he was doing that, he noticed a fellow rat doing the same. Dapan wouldn't normally interact with such a creature, but the old looking rat arose and gave a crick to his back, giving the weasel a sympathetic glance.

"Even'en." He said in a friendly tone, and Dapan grunted back "Whacha want?"

The rat sighed, Dapan knew full well that fellow vermin acting friend was far worse than one who didn't. That was how he was taught at least. He backstabbed more then enough beasts in a similar manner, as the rat honestly spoke to him "Me back be a bit dull, matey. Mind if ya help me?"

"Any reason? Me back be sore too. . ." Dapan began, but then grunted "Fine, nevermind. Ya owe me one, ya know." Dapan came over as the rat pointed to a bigger box. Dapan grunted as he and the rat worked together, and transported the box around towards the front as the rat guided themselves towards the right side of the tent. Once they set it upon the ground, the rat smiled "Danks. Dem woodlander folk said de's symbols here mean dey go on der right side of der tent, just as dey pull me original help away."

"Ya, wells, yer welcome." Dapan said in a bored and exhausted expression. The rat then spoke up to him as he was leaving. "Hold on der a minute, let me repay ya in kind."

"How so?" Dapan turned as the rat motioned him closer. The rat spoke to Dapan like a condescending uncle, advising him along in a way Dapan was all too familiar with.

"Ya got an attitude matey, I can sees it, and you should drop it before it gets ya hurt. Used to run wit a horde whose chief was in a similar manner to dis lot, used to be all about making us keep cheery spirits or he'd beat us till morale improved. Kept up a fake smile, and got a lot of good dings me'way fer it. Try to at least act yer tame, an' dem beasts will stop giving you dat." The rat pointed to the weasel's jaw. Dapan wanted to argue, say that he had been entirely obedient and calm this entire time, but he knew it wasn't true. He spoken out of turn plenty of times, recognizing the rat for what he really was.

An old soul as his fellow vermin would call him.

Older vermin who lived long lives had a deep respect amongst all vermin of all types. They were calm beasts, successful in many ways, and knew a lot about the world. Dapan knew plenty of them in southern Mossflower, moral guides of sorts who guided vermin away from degeneracy and to convince beasts to settle or be a bit more diplomatic. Foolish vermin would call them soft, but Dapan knew better. An older ferret, one of his fellow gangsters, advised him to leave his old group with his missus and Bigfang, in the nick of time before they were all killed or chased off by the Long Patrol who had enough of them. Dapan grunted and spoke to him "Ya say dat as if it be easy."

"It be a trick, ya gotta be dinken like a woodlander an' even acten like dem if ya want to get on by, friend. Names Zardan, by der way. Though, dey use to call me Zabber."

"Ya sound like ya like yer new name." Dapan partially mocked, and the rat gave a friendly retort "Me pa wasn't der most creative, dey used to call me Black Jack, Berrybramble, Verde, Pep, an' all manner of uder names an' titles. Best one I got was when one of der bosses called me 'Der roundest rat in all of Mossflower'. Didn't like me weight." He slapped his somewhat larger belly.

A shout from Gasger got their attention who was peaking around the corner "You two! Get back to work, or face the lash! Hop to it!"

The two vermin made their respective nods and returned to work, as Dapan continued to haul boxes from one place to the other. One of the woodlanders, the otter Gaven, fell while transporting a box in complete exhaustion. Sadan didn't fare much better, being too weak to lift even one box of things much to Gasger's anger and disappointment. Dapan was partly amused with the ferret carrying loads of camp sheets, all the while the hare berated him. Dapan was beginning to feel weak, the sun beat onto him like a cruel taskmaster, which synergized with Gasger beating on him with a baton from time to time.

Dapan tried to keep a watch for something he could exploit, a means to escape, but he wasn't finding anything. He wasn't sure because he was getting exhausted, or that there was no legitimate thing he could see. He continued onward, his feet dragging further into the ground as he and the others brought more and more boxes to their respective supply zones. The weasel's arms slagged and hurt, where even carrying a smaller and lighter crate felt like he was trying to lift a boulder. Dapan had truthfully never had worked harder in his whole life in a single afternoon, especially as Gasger angrily slapped or whacked about to keep the group moving. They ain't gonna break me! Dapan thought to himself, but truthfully, he was slowly but surely getting into a tireless rhythm which dragged on and on.

A single cough, and vicious bent in his arms and he at last tumbled with a box he was carrying into the ground and fell forward. He looked in desperation at what had happened, relieved only partly that it was undamaged. Dapan attempted to bring up the box, but to no effect, he was simply too tired and exhausted, but knew full well if he didn't at least pretend to try, that hare would be bashing on his back with his favorite vermin beating stick.

Dapan's eyes lit up as he looked up from his tired duties, not having even noticed a beast approaching. Bent over, he looked to see boots planted firmly into the ground as he slowly looked up to a disappointed and annoyed looking Raman who looked down at him.

"You will be cleaning the mud from that before you set it near one of the supply tents, right?" Raman looked coldly at the weasel who was slowly boiling over in fury. In part, the only place there was to 'clean' was a long ways back in the other direction, and Gasger directed him to another side of the camp, and Dapan tried to argue his point. "Where? At der station a long walks dat way?" He motioned his head behind him, and the otter simply nodded. "We have a need for cleanliness and to be hygienic, vermin. Something I hope you will learn like the rest of your kind." Raman folded his paws, expecting the tired and exhausted weasel simply take it and obey. Dapan gritted his fangs, but he drew back to what that rat had said earlier. He was too exhausted to argue, too tired to fight. In defeat, Dapan simply lowered his head and put his strength into lifting the box and was carrying it again. He was silent, as he turned away, heading the long and miserable distance to the bath tent where he knew there was cleaning waters.

"Dapan." Raman said lowly, calling out to the weasel. Dapan still continued, having not really heard him. "Dapan." The otter said more firmly. Dapan remembered he had a new name and slowly turned to the otter, the box still in his paws. Raman approached and chided him "I know you only got a proper name only yesterday, weasel. Be more diligent with it." Raman then looked in another direction "There are several watering stations, vermin, it would be wise to know our camp and it's structures. There is one station just behind those tents." Raman icely informed him. Dapan was relieved, heading there at once, but Raman stopped him partly. "Now, thank me properly for aid."

The weasel wanted to say something back to the effect of 'Den ya should have pointed me der in the first place, water dog! I ain't gonna thank ya for making me misery slightly less so!'. He thought and was tempted to say it, but he simply sighed and weakly replied "Dank ya."

"Thank you. . ." Raman motioned a more proper response, and the weasel blurted out more angrily "Thank you. Sir."

"Less mood."

Dapan wondered if he was going to be here all day, as he sniffed and eventually was let go to return to his miserable tasks.

Moran was put into a limbo of confusion as he was picking up various items from the boxes. They were combs, pins, small knives which wouldn't make a real weapon, but he was somewhat familiar with. They were shaving knives, used to make him look ridiculous. The otter overseer came over with another soldier, who looked dumbly naïve as Moran was. Gulan picked up some of the items from the box and affixed them into a small fish leather sack.

"Now, soldier. This is all property of his majesty's army, so I implore you not to misuse or break it, otherwise it comes out of your paycheck." Gulan warned, but then gave a friendly slap to his back "Though, you can just get new ones and just say you lost it, then it's completely fine! Now in all seriousness, you will be issued a comb, nail clippers, a shaving knife, trimming scissors, and blah blah blah, you get the picture. Just don't like a complete mess, eh?"

The soldier smiled and took the small satchel with him, with Moran giving a rebellious huff. He had been mostly putting the correct items into sacks pretty much all day, along with other duties. They had at first been carrying tent cloth and tarps from one cart to across the camp, with Gulan showing them all the places with a sense of humor which reminded him partly that of a fairground's comedian.

"I believe you are all familiar with the baths, each bath has a barber station nearby to keep us all clownish and spiffy right before we get all dirty and bloody again in the name of Prince Fartfort. I trust you all won't tell on me, though I also trust that jumped up tree walloper to not believe a word you say either!"

"These are the main soldier, laborer, and officer mess halls. Not the best food in the world, rather eat grass and dandelions meself ya see. You all had the water rations? Pleth! Absolute garbage to throw myself from a cliff then to drink again!"

"Those watchtowers are run by the world's most bored scouts you have ever seen, complete and total losers, right lads?"

Those soldiers didn't seem to mind, even joking along with the otter as he showed the group around. Moran tried to hold in a few bursts of laughter, but his younger siblings didn't. Despite their grim situation, the group Gulan was leading seemed far more comforted by his presence as he, well, acted like the woodlander they had once openly mocked. True, he was well armed, but he wasn't cold and dismissive at all towards them, although his followers were a different story. Moran found himself walking alongside younger looking adults, mostly fellow soldiers who were about as ignorant of the camp's functions as he was.

Honestly, the young weasel felt embarrassed and moody, and folded his arms in protest.

This wasn't some jumped up, laughing torturer or tormenter he could rebel against, show off his immense constitution to the others. He was relieved he wasn't some degenerate murderous beast who took pleasure in their suffering or threatened them with death, but he expected something other than this. It annoyed him that he was kind of a goof.

"Moran is it?" Moran snapped out of his daze, which was becoming harder to due since his stomach rumbled a bit. He looked up with an annoyed expression to the otter, who returned with a curious one towards him.

"Der names Bigfang, otter." Moran quickly reminded him. The otter smiled and folded his paws "That so? Odd name to give you? Your fangs actually really big, or only slightly so."

Moran was a bit surprised, rather than berating him or slapping him across the head, the otter seemed to get curious with him and now he was at a loss. So he tried to impress on the otter with some weird story, dramatizing himself "Dey called me dat cause I. . erm. . .snapped at a beast wit me fangs an' scared a big ol' badger into the woods! Bet ya never made a badger rout befer!"

Gulan played along with his line of thinking "No, can't say I had. Does a big ol' lizard count though?"

"No! Lizards don't count, nor frogs, nor toads. Ya, even me pa needs to keep me down out of fear fer me."

Moran's two siblings came up to him and looked up, curious to their conversation. Their mother and that younger ferretess was folding up laundry with some of the other soldiers, and the two seemed bored. They gave Moran a weird eye as Mia tried to get correct information "I daught ma says ya were calls big fung becuz ya bit pa whens ya were liddel. Liddeler den us."

"No, twerp!" Moran scolded them. Gulan was amused, partly mocking the young weasel "I dun' know, sounds even more impressive if you think of it? A babe biting a beast twice as big as it? Now that sounds a bit less believable."

Moran was taken aback and looked to Gulan. The otter simply smiled and began to help him with his tasks, informing the young weasel on several things he was entirely unused to. Eventually, the young weasel got into a rhythm and the group took several short breaks, but oh boy was he feeling the burn of hunger. Gulan got distracted more than a few times by his own soldiers, and Moran feigned in his mind being relieved of the otter going away from him. Yet, he gave occasional glances to him, wondering what he was up to. The otter was kind, a lot kinder than any of the other beasts who he met with thus far.

Gulan returned to helping Moran in due time, and Gulan conversed with him. "So, what did that rotten ol' hare name you then? Can't call you Bigfang ya know, not publicly at least."

"I'd radder go by me real name." Moran huffed. He gave the otter a less sure look, wondering if this was the part where he revealed his true colors. The thought of this woodlander putting on a kind act to get him to become tame didn't exist until now. Gulan ruffled his head a bit "Ya, and I'd rather go by the name of Dragon when I was about your age too. That still annoys my brother."

"Wells." Moran softened a bit "Yer brudder ain't here is he?"

"Sadly he is, and having met him, I think you have some understanding of it."

Moran was confused "I did?"

"Hard to really miss him. Raman Coastlord. Surname is quite literal, since we live near the coast and my brother is one day going to be a future lord." Informed Gulan Coastlord. Moran's eyes lit up in partial fear, but the otter kept his composure and gave a comforting smile.

"Trust me, Bigfang. He was like that even at home, and anything ya say stays safe with me. I am also very deadly serious you don't tell him I called our lord and liege 'fartfort'. Hates it to the highest skies when I do that."

Moran finally gave a short chuckle and closed his mouth in a hurry. With a light and friendly pat on the back, the two returned to their tasks, although Moran felt perhaps a bit too at ease due to how hungry was he was starting to get.

Moran was getting ready for bed and looking longingly at the end of the barracks. His family was there, but for the first time in his life, he was wondering where his father was. His mother stood close to tent's flap and then looked relieved as the laboring group trudged their way back into the tent. It was night time, and Moran's group returned to their tent early and Gasger angrily walked into the tent next once everyone was inside. Dapan slowly walked to his cot, but kept standing as the hare angrily spoke to them in his usual vicious voice.

"You sorry lot will work much harder tomorrow for that slow, pathetic excuse you put on today. No more excuses, no more niceties. I've not seem something this pathetic in a long time, and you will try harder and build a work ethic by the time I am done with you." Lena and Gavan looked tiredly at each other, exhausted themselves. They all wanted to rebuke the hare, but none of them had the strength to do so. Gasger then informed them of tomorrow's wonderful details "You will work on ditches tomorrow, along with the other miserable failures and bandits. Good Night!"

Gasger left in a huff as Dapan finally could collapse harshly on his cot. Martha came up to him, shaking him partly to try to inform him of some good news "Dakker, ya lazy beast. I dink I saw a couple dings." She whispered, trying to raise his spirits. Dapan's eyes moved to her in a sad motion, still relaxing with his back upwards on the cot.

"Ya okay, lov'ly?" Martha said concerned. Moran gave a grunt to his father, thinking his work was likely not as busy or as miserable as his own, cause he was also partly tired.

"Ya seen anyding? Anyding at all to get us out of here? Dakker. Answer me." Martha seemed desperate before the weasel finally, and very weakly, blurted out.

"I wanna sleep. Back hurts. Maybe tomorrow." Dapan slowly faded as Martha gave her husband a sad and horrified look. She sat on her cot and held her sleepy young ones closer then before, knowing that they wouldn't last much long in Palewind.