The Dilly Dally Wackas

Chapter 1

An ominous wind; wrought with cruel malice, blew through Mossflower wood. The treetops swayed, and the leaves rustled. The light of the full moon lessened all shadows and betrayed the hiding spots of all who slunk secretly in the night.

A squirrel bounded through foliage. Her shield bounced against her back with each stride, and her tail wiggled and whipped; frenzied. Ragged breaths turned to vapour in the early spring air, each breath pushing her further to exhaustion. She held tight to a sword stained with blood. A path of crimson droplets trailed behind in the darkness.

Close behind her, the undergrowth snapped and broke. Her pursuers were gaining, their voices clear on the wind.

'There she is! Get your bow ready! Don't let her escape into the trees!'

The squirrel doubled her pace. With a swing of her sword, she slashed through bramble and thicket. Her fluffy tail clung to thorn and branch, and despite the pain, she tore through. Her ears twitched to the sounds of pawsteps. She would not escape. A final push had her tumble into a clearing. She rolled through the dirt, jumping into a stance. She watched as dark figures circled the fringe. Their hideous, evil eyes reflecting in the moonlight.

'We have her now, lads!'

Laughter boomed out. 'Aw! She's scared! 'bout to shake herself unconscious!'

'Put 'er out o' her misery! Tis' be a mercy after what she did to pore ol' Greenback!'

'Plug an arrow 'etween her eyes!'

An arrow whizzed through the squirrel's whiskers. Without flinching, she dawned her shield and held it up in what she hopped was the direction of the archer.

'You missed! How could you miss? She was standin' still!'

The archer growled, giving away her position. 'You said betwixt the eyes!'

'Bah! Just shoot her!'

The squirrel adjusted slightly. She peered into the darkness. The silhouette of a weasel pulled back on a bowstring. She watched and listened. Her breath slow, the rush of blood the only thing she could hear; till the telltale whistle broke the stillness.

Thunk!

The squirrel lowered her shield. The arrow had struck the middle, buried deep within the wood.

'You'll have to do better than that to slay me, scum!'

Adrenaline surged through her body. Her exhaustion was forgotten, and her paws held tight to her weapons; ready for a last stand against these terrible foes.

'Oooh! She can talk, can she? Not just slay and run? Ha!'

'I can do much more than that! Come find out, pansy!' The squirrel roared in challenge; and with the flat of her sword, she snapped the embedded arrow in two. 'It'll take more than one archer to take me out!'

'Who says we only has one archer?'

'I'd be dead by now, if you did. I'm no fool.'

Laughter came from all directions. Despite trying to count their numbers, she could not. She did not, would not, feel defeat; not even when another arrow struck her shield. The pain was dull at first, as if it never happened at all, but she could feel the warmth of blood across her forearm. She knew she had been wounded, but dared not look away from the archer in the thicket.

'Fight me, you cowards! Fight me!'

Silence. It weighed heavily on the squirrel. Her ears twitched and scanned, desperate to hear anything from her assailants. Then, a snapping twig betrayed the approach. From the shadows, they came into the moonlight. Behind, a ferret approached, to the sides, a stoat and rat. In front, the weasel with her bow drawn.

'Give up, squirrel, and we'll finish ye off quick. I give you my word.'

'We'll even bury your corpse. How about it?'

The bandits laughed again as they eagerly approached with their weapons drawn. A nasty array of steel, all poised to take the life of another victim. The squirrel darted her gaze to and from each of her opponents. She could not see the one behind her, but she could feel his pawsteps, hear his breathing. She chanced a look to the rat and then to the stoat. They took slow, tentative pawsteps, as if the squirrel would strike out like a venomous adder. Fear was thick in the air.

The weasel kept her distance from the squirrel, 'Go on! Get her to lower that shield! I'll make a pincushion of her, yet!' She let loose her notched arrow.

As soon as the squirrel felt the arrow pierce her shield, she dashed forward. The gap between her and the weasel closed quickly. The weasel swung her bow like a club, aiming for the head of the charging squirrel. She ducked, her sword aimed upward. The weasel only had a moment to look surprised before the squirrel ran her through with a single thrust. She dropped her bow and clutched uselessly at the sword in her belly, staring at the squirrel in disbelief. Before her companions could help, the squirrel tore the blade from her middle, splattering blood across the grass.

They were on her in a flash, a flurry of blades and strikes. She raised her shield in time to catch a blow from a mace, but could not block a slash to her back. Her eyes widened in shock as the cold steel tore through her tunic and into her flesh.

With unrecognizable strength, she bashed the rat with her shield, sending him rolling into the dirt; and with a quick parry with the flat of her blade, she knocked a sword out of the ferret's paws. A blind rage overtook her, numbing the pain and invigorating her strikes. She was a mad beast! Like a leaf in the wind, she twirled about; slashing and stabbing, dodging and weaving. The wild beat of her heart was a deafening roar in her ears.

The stoat waited and watched, till finally he saw an opportunity to strike. He lunged forward, bringing his mace down in a mighty arc. It smashed against the squirrel's nose, shattering the bone and deforming her muzzle. She went down hard, gasping and sputtering through breaths of blood. Despite the pain, she tried to push herself back up, only to be forced down by the stoat's footpaw.

'You'll pay for what you did, squirrelmaid...'

The stoat pressed her roughly into the dirt, making her squeak in pain. Despite being bruised and beaten, the three males surrounded the squirrel in good spirits. Past laboured breaths the rat spoke first,

'She had a lot of fight in 'er!'

The ferret nodded. 'Too bad she gone an' slain two of ours...'

'It'll take half a season to find new recruits,' The stoat growled, raising his mace far above his head. 'I'll finish her off proper. Dark forest knows we have our work cut out for us now...'

A rumble in the dark, snapping branches and voices in the night. The vermin perked up, ears swivelling and honing on the approaching sound.

'Some beast a'comin'!'

The bandits readied their weapons and took a stance. The squirrel gurgled and spit dirt and blood from her muzzle, but that was all she managed before the woodland erupted with boisterous war cries.

'Dilly!'

'Dally!'

'Waaaackas!'

Hares stormed the clearing. With their weapons drawn, they charged towards the bandits. The stoat dropped his mace and turned tail with a bloodcurdling scream. A javelin, thrown straight and true, flew between his shoulder blades and into his foul heart.

'Give em' blood and vinegar, chaps!'

'Don't let them 'orrible creatures escape!'

The ferret and rat split up, desperate to evade the pursuing hares. From the fringe, a strange rabbit cut them off. A small, rightly thing; with an obviously oversized hat balanced precariously between his two long ears.

'And where do you think you be off ta? Eh, eh? Speak up, sah!'

The rat charged and swung his sword with reckless abandon. With the expertise of a dozen seasons, the rabbit deflected the blade with his rapier and countered in the same moment. The long thrusting sword penetrated deep into the chest cavity of the rodent. A flick of his wrist was all that was needed to free his blade. The rat fell backwards, dead before he hit the ground.

'That'll flippin' well teach ya some manners, wot wot.'

A scream from the ferret was the last thing he ever uttered before death. His killer, a giant hare wielding a massive greatsword. He tore the formidable weapon from the ferret's corpse and slung the blade over his shoulder.

'That's t'last o'them, I'd say.' The hare adjusted his kilt and made his way towards the fallen squirrel. 'How's t'wee lass doin'?'

A beautiful female hare wrestled with the young squirrel. 'Deary me! I'm havin' a bit o' trouble holdin' her down. Ouch! She bit me! Y'great pudddenhead! I'm trying to help ya.'

The squirrel growled and slashed out with the shield still strapped to her arm. She desperately searched through blood-blind eyes for her sword. The noise drew in the rest of the hares, a company of six. They surrounded her, taking in the display before them.

'She's gone mad!'

'Can't ye calm 'er down, Poppy? That pore beast looks half dead after what those vermin did to her.'

The rabbit bounced over, peering at the wounded squirrelmaid through a crystal monocle. 'Hm. I'd say she hasn't long to live, sah.'

'I can't help if'n she keeps this up!'

A sturdy, military type hare pushed through the group. He wore the same dark-green tunic as the rest of his company, but his chest clanked with the weight of several medals. 'Come on, come on! Give the lass some space.' He nodded. 'Now what's this, eh?'

'I don't know what to do, Sergeant! She'll die if I can't tend to these wounds!'

Another voice sounded from out of sight. 'Knock the lass out! That's for the best.'

The Sergeant wiggled his whiskers. 'I hate to see the young thing suffer more, but she is givin' us no choice, wot!'

'Fallum! Don't be smackin' that pore maid around anymore than she already has been!' A female hare brushed past the group and knelt next to Poppy. 'Here, I'll help hold 'er down. Use the last of that herb y'got from that Long Patrol medic.'

'But, Marm! That's-'

'No buts! Save this squirrel, that's an order. We'll get more from the abbey, don't you worry.'

Poppy nodded and sat herself on top of the struggling squirrel. 'Stop ya fussin'!' She clapped her ears together as she pawed through her pouch. 'This'll taste terrible, lass! No spitting it out!' She forced it into the squirrel's bloody, deformed muzzle and clamped it shut. 'I promise to fix your snout when you pass out!'

The hares watched with bated breath, till finally the squirrel slowed down and took her final frenzied breath.

Sergeant Fallum sighed. 'Leave it to my Daffo to bally well sort us out, eh, wot wot!'

Poppy took her weight off the squirrel. 'My word, she was strong! Never have I felt such strength from a squirrel, much less a female!'

Daffo nodded, 'Aye. She took to battle with a warriors heart.' She looked over the torn and ragged form of the unconscious squirrel, her face falling grim. 'Double time, miss. This squirrel won't last till morn' if we don't patch her up.'

'I'll do what I can, marm, but I can only do so much.' With a pair of iron scissors, she snipped through the squirrel's tunic. 'Lucky lass! Her tunic saved her from a fatal blow.' She clicked her tongue and grabbed a roll of gauze from her pouch. 'She'll be lucky to live through the night, but I'll give her a fightin' chance.'

The hares nodded grimly. They had seen death before, but each life they couldn't save weighed heavily upon each of them.

'We'll take her to the abbey, then. No use chancing her life out here in the woods.' Daffo stood and issued out rapid commands. 'Lachlan, Lilly. Unroll the stretcher. You'll be carrying her to the abbey first shift.' The two hares saluted and did as they were told. 'Frenal. Search the area, then report back.'

Frenal stamped his foot, 'Marm, I request the use of my full title!'

'Stuff it, you pompous fruit. I'll have yore cottontail for a pillow, if y'keep it up!'

The rabbit huffed and bounced off, eager to be away from his overzealous superior. Doing as he was commanded, he explored the battlefield and inspected the corpses. He poked cautiously at the dead ferret, making sure the vermin was dead before frisking him for valuables. Finding nothing of note, he moved on to the weasel. She lay in a pool of blood, where she clutched dirty rags against her wound.

'Marm! We have a live one!' Frenal pointed his rapier at the dying weasel. 'Say the word, marm!'

Daffo and Fallum hurried to his side. 'Stand down, Frenal.'

Frenal saluted and returned to his duties. Fallum stood guard above his wife as she produced a dagger and pressed it to the weasel's throat.

'Tell m'what happened here, scum, and I'll ease yore passin'.'

The weasel coughed and sputtered, before finally managing the breath to respond. 'S-she had eyes like blood...'