Chapter Three

Western Coast, Mossflower Country

Two weeks later

Martin slid to a stop in the ash-blackened snow and looked behind him in the direction of the barren forest that he had been running through for the last half hour. Holding a paw tightly against his bleeding shoulder, he hunched over, trying to catch his breath and bring air into his aching lungs.

He glanced down at the blood gushing from beneath his fingers.

Tearing a strip from the hem of his tunic, he tied it around the wide gash to put pressure on it, using his teeth to tighten the knot.

Looking up from his wound, he pricked his ears to listen. The faint sounds of dozens of footpaws pounding in the snow and the shrill warcries were evidence that the vermin were still on his tail.

Martin scowled and resumed his flight.

He was one against an entire patrol. It would be suicide to try standing his ground again. He was lucky to escape with just an injured shoulder in his previous attempt.

The vermin patrol stopped where Martin had paused to tie off his wound, inspecting the blood spatter on the snow.

Aynon, who had led a brutal assault on Martin and his small group of scouts, knelt down to inspect the blood. Following the trail and Martin's tracks with his eyes, he saw them heading west towards the sea.

The black rat stood up. "He's wounded pretty bad, lads. He won't get much farther running like this." He waved a paw and the vermin resumed the chase.

As the forest sloped downwards, Martin lost his footing on the snow and fell hard, the breath knocked out of him. He rolled the rest of the way down before slamming onto his back at the bottom of the slight hill. He sat up painfully, gritting his teeth as another shooting pain went through his injured shoulder.

Forcing himself to his feet, he shot another glance at the top of the slope before dashing into the snowy undergrowth, trying to think of different ideas to get the vermin patrol off his tail.

Down in this part of the forest, where the horde's destructive fires had not reached, the trees and undergrowth grew closer together, which Martin figured would be an advantage against his pursuers, giving him a place to hide as well as making it difficult for them to pass through.

The warriormouse pushed his way into the snow-covered bushes, ignoring the sharp ended branches and thorns as they tore at his fur and clothes, digging into his skin and drawing blood from the scratches. He dropped out of sight in the middle of the undergrowth to catch his breath, peering through the gaps in the bushes.

Keeping to all fours, Martin crawled silently through the bushes, wincing as he put weight on his injured shoulder, hoping that the thick woodlands would keep his pursuers busy until he could get a fair distance away and divert them from his trail somehow.

Aynon stopped at the top of the slope that Martin had tumbled down and leaned over to catch his breath. He could see the signs of the warriormouse's fall and the tracks leading into the thicker part of the forest. Spots of red blood were still visible as well. The rat twitched his tail in irritation. Even though the mouse was wounded, he still had a fair chance to get away from them. He was told not to come back until he had taken Martin prisoner.

A ferret stopped alongside him, his breathing coming in painful gasps. He had an arm around his ribs where the blade of Martin's sword had slashed him. "Just wait 'til I get my paws on that-

"You won't do a thing to him!" Aynon snarled, pointing his cutlass at the ferret's chest. "Caliban will tear you apart if you rob him the chance of killing that mouse himself." He glanced down at the ferret's wound disdainfully. "I thought you had him! Why'd you let go of him?" He looked back up at the enraged ferret.

The ferret bared his teeth. "I had t'let 'im go! I didn't wanna be cut in half by that sword he was swingin' around!"

Aynon snorted and spat on the ground. "Useless lump." He mumbled before half-walking, half-sliding down the slope after Martin's tracks with the patrol at his heels.

Sitting among the thick undergrowth, Martin kept himself out of sight while he took a brief rest to inspect the gash in his shoulder. Even though he had tied the piece of his tunic around it, the wound still bled, the red blood dripped down his arm and onto the ground, soaking his sleeve with it. Martin shot another glance through the gaps in the bushes, frowning grimly. He was leaving a clear trail of blood spatter for them to follow.

A wave of guilt came over him for letting his patrol walk right into a trap. None of them had a chance against the seasoned fighters of Caliban's horde. He should have gone scouting by himself.

He was about to move on when Aynon's voice made him freeze.

"If you're hiding in there mouse, you better listen good."

Martin crouched down lower and looked through the bushes. He could see the vermin patrol now, spreading out on all sides in an effort to surround him.

Aynon stayed where he was, watching as his patrol spread out into the bushes and began searching, spreading branches apart, their weapons ready. He crossed his arms and grinned, his voice deceptively friendly. "We're not trying to kill you." He chuckled dryly. "Not yet, anyway."

Slowly, Martin twisted himself around so he could see the vermin circling around the back of him. They had him completely surrounded now and they were closing in on him. He heaved a silent breath and wrapped his claws around the hilt of his dagger in his belt as a big rat crept closer, unaware of how close Martin was to his feet.

Aynon pushed through the bushes, walking towards the middle, figuring that was the most likely place that their prey was hiding. "You're not making this easy on yourself, mouse." The rat went on casually, spreading the branches apart as he slowly moved closer to the center. "You're losing blood and the stamina to keep running like this."

Martin pulled the dagger from his belt as Aynon stepped closer. "Wanna bet?" He whispered before stabbing the blade through the leg of the big rat. The large rodent screamed in pain and fell into the bushes, giving Martin the opening he needed. He moved quickly, taking advantage of the patrol's surprise.

Aynon was just as stunned as his companions, watching the bushes rustle as Martin made his getaway, briefly appearing at the edge of the thick undergrowth and running into the trees towards the sea.

The black rat growled in frustration and glared at his patrol. A couple of them were helping the injured rat to his feet, the rest just staring blankly after Martin, as if unsure what to do.

"Don't just stand there gawking at 'im!" Aynon swung his cutlass out at them, making them scramble over each other to avoid its blade. "Get him!"

The patrol hurried after Martin, leaving Aynon and the injured rat alone within the bushes. The rat's face was twisted up with pain, looking down at the nasty wound in his leg, the knife still embedded in it. "That mouse is crazy!"

Aynon bared his teeth. "Ye think?!" He narrowed his eyes and looked in the direction that Martin had gone.

The injured vermin gasped in pain, prompting Aynon to snort in annoyance. "If you can't keep up then get back to camp. I ain't no nursemaid!" Without another word, he left the wounded rat in the bushes and sprinted after his patrol.

As the trees thinned out and became farther apart, Martin chanced a quick glance over his shoulder to see how far behind they were.

This glance almost cost him his life.

When he turned back and saw where he was headed, he tried to stop but lost his footing in the loose powdery snow and slid over the cliff edge.

It was a tangle of roots growing out of the cliff wall that saved him. He clung tightly to them, looking down past his dangling feet at the jagged rocks below where the sea crashed its foamy waters against them. Not being familiar with the lay of the land, he hadn't realized he was running straight to the cliffs.

White powder fell on his head and he looked up to find the patrol lined up at the edge, their weapons trained on him.

Aynon pushed between two weasels and leaned over, grinning widely when he saw Martin dangling from the roots. "Well, well. What a way to end a chase. How's it going down there?" His comment made his patrol chuckle with amusement.

Martin glared up at him. "How about you climb down here and I'll show you!" He snapped back.

Aynon snorted with laughter. "Looks like fun but I'll pass. You sure got yerself into a fix though, didn't ye?"

Martin grit his teeth as the root loosened from the cliff and dropped him down a couple feet. The strain of his weight on his injured shoulder was agonizing but he held on stubbornly.

"Well," Aynon knelt down and inspected Martin's situation. "We can stand here and wait for that root to break and drop ye to yer death. Or you can surrender and we'll pull ye up." He looked down at Martin and grinned. "Which will it be, mouse?"

Martin hated to admit defeat but he had no choice. "Alright, rat." The warriormouse replied grudgingly. "You got me."

Grinning triumphantly, Aynon stood up from his kneeling position and moved away from the edge, jerking his head at his companions. "Send a rope down and pull him up. The rest of you get a fire going. We'll be camping here tonight." He glanced up at the sea where the sun was slowly sinking lower, coloring the sky with pale oranges and blues. "Its too late to get back to the fleet anyway." He glared at the ferret that had been slashed in the ribs by Martin's sword. "And this time... don't let him escape.

Martin winced as the thick kelp rope was pulled tight on his wrists. The vermin in charge of guarding him had forced him to sit down against a sapling tree and bound his wrists behind him and his ankles together before they confiscated his sword and another knife he had on his belt.

The ferret that he had injured pulled savagely on the ropes again and moved around the sapling so he and the warriormouse were face to face. He bared his teeth. "If I had my way, mouse, I'd tear your throat out."

Martin stared back evenly. "Well here's your chance, ferret." He challenged, his pale blue-gray eyes alight with fury. "Now that I'm tied up and helpless."

The ferret curled his lip and stood up, holding his arm against his sore ribs. "You ain't worth the punishment Caliban would give me if I laid a claw on ye!" He gave Martin one last snarl before walking away, passing by Aynon and a battle-hardened female weasel to go to the small fire where the others had gathered. The rat and weaselmaid approached, staring down at their captive as if sizing him up.

Seeing his sword in the rat's paws, Martin glared up at him. "You here to gloat?"

Aynon stepped closer and crouched so he was eye level with Martin. "You're not afraid to speak yer mind while staring death in the face, are ye mouse?"

"No more then you, I guess."

Aynon chuckled and sat down on the snow, setting the sword down beside him and pulling a knife from his belt. He used its edge to sharpen his claws as he spoke, motioning his head to the weaselmaid. "I brought her over here to look at your wound. Wouldn't be fittin' to let you die of blood loss."

Martin scoffed. "Why go to the trouble, rat? You want me dead, anyway."

"You're right," Aynon admitted. "But I still need ye alive for a little while longer." He stopped running the knife blade over his claws and looked up. "See, my father still wants you breathin' so he can kill you himself."

"Well that's comforting." Martin replied dryly, giving the female weasel a wary glance as she knelt down beside him and untied the cloth strip from his bleeding shoulder.

The black rat narrowed his eyes. "You preybeasts are pretty determined to keep a hold of this land, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't you if somebeast tried to force you away from your home?" Martin winced as the female weasel put pressure on the gash.

"Let's see, Martin, is it?" Aynon pointed the knife tip towards him. "What makes your woodlanders so sure that they can defeat my father's horde? I've seen how some of them fight. Most of these woodland bumpkins have never even seen battle before, let alone held a sword." His smile widened, a sadistic glint appeared in his eyes. "Especially those beasts that were on patrol with you. It didn't take long to cut them down but I knew you'd be a challenge once you unsheathed that sword of yers."

Martin clenched his fists and grit his teeth.

Aynon sniffed, enjoying the chance to insult his prisoner. "You'd think with a warrior like you around that they would have had a chance."

Martin jerked on his bonds, making the weaselmaid lean away from him as he fought to free himself, enraged by the rat's callous way of admitting he murdered his scouts. "You didn't give them a chance!" He growled furiously. "You're lucky I'm tied up, rat!"

The black rat chuckled in amusement, giving a nod to the weaselmaid. "I'll let her finish patching you up now. And then," he raised an eyebrow. "I would get some sleep if you can, Martin. You've got a long march to make tomorrow." With that, Aynon got to his feet and walked over to the fire.

Trembling with fury, Martin settled back against the sapling, allowing the weaselmaid to finish cleaning his wound and bandage it. A wave of exhaustion overcame him, which wasn't surprising after being pursued for nearly half the day. There was nothing more he could do now, being tied up like he was. He would have to wait until tomorrow and watch for another opportunity to escape.