Disclaimer: Most appearing characters herein are, obviously, not my own.
A Throne of One's Own, Act 8: Sleepless Night
"Silver?" whispered Amaranth, gently shaking her son awake.
"Ma?" mumbled the ten-year-old, opening his eyes a fraction.
It was still dark inside the roundhouse. Very dark, in fact. Quiet, too. The only noise he could hear was Lobo snoring.
"Up you get," said Amaranth, "And put these on."
Silver jolted as a slab of folded fabrics landed on him.
"Why, ma?" he groaned.
Amaranth countered with harsh shush.
"Get dressed," she whispered severely.
Silver stifled what would have been a loud yawn and crawled out from under his heavy woolen blanket. Standing up, he hugged his bare frame.
"It's cold," he whined.
Taking pity on her son, Amaranth grabbed the folded tunic off his futon and pulled it over his head. Then, she furled the heavy cloak and wrapped him in it.
"Better?" she whispered.
Silver nodded vigorously, pulling the cloak tight around himself. He stumbled as Amaranth steered him to the roundhouse's low door. The threat of another shush stopped him voicing his confusion.
Outside, the light of the half-moon revealed his mother to be wearing a simple tunic and cloak herself, albeit with a plaited leather sword-belt. A pack was slung over her left shoulder.
"What're we doing. ma?" he asked, sounding faintly worried.
"We're just going for a walk," replied Amaranth with forced casualness.
"In the dark?" said Silver, tilting his head.
The roseate hedgehog sighed.
"Look, there's no time for this," she said, "Can you be a good boy for me?"
Silver wrinkled his nose at the childish accolade. Neither of his parents really called him that much anymore…not that he minded when they did.
"I'll be a good boy," he said quietly.
Amaranth ruffled his quills, then held out her hand.
"Let's go," she said.
"Yes, ma," said Silver, clasping his mother's hand.
жЖж
A howling wind raked the high ground at the northern tip of the hillfort, buffeting the sides of Queen Rouge's mead hall. Inside, the bat sat upon her carved wood throne, swaddled in a mass of cloaks and sheep pelts. A single hand protruded from the bundle, nursing a goblet of wine.
Her bed in the chamber behind the throne room would've been the more sensible place to be. Warmer, too. She was in no hurry to retire, though. Not with so much on her mind and no echidna there to distract her. She'd never once sought Knuxahuatl's opinion on affairs of state, but his plaited quills were a delight to fondle when she mulled things over.
Taking a sip of wine, Rouge eyed the ruby pendant in her lap, taken from round the neck of that deceitful cub who'd murdered Valens. Her old friend had been avenged, but this might only be the start of something.
Besides Valens's, there were a further six farms within Dalriada's territory, all worked by wolves and overseen by old warriors — mostly Broskosian bats — whose fighting days were behind them. Some of those farmsteaders were as soft on their thralls as Amaranth was. Others, to put it mildly, were not.
If any Tantari spies had turned any of those farms' thralls like they had Valens's…well, what a time to have sent Shadow off on a six-day ride out east. She would be lucky to see him and his fellow emissaries before the next full moon.
Despite the bleeding heart he'd started to manifest of late, she knew there was still a loyal warrior there beneath all that familial bliss. A warrior she could depend on to impose her will without necessarily enjoying it, as Hunni or the vengeful Bramble might.
She would always lament the fact he hadn't come to Dalriada by himself. Under different circumstances, she might've made him her king by now. Instead, he would have help her make Knuxahuatl one.
жЖж
Silver sniffed the darkness. It smelt…smoky.
That was odd. He couldn't see any embering fires nearby, nor had his mother grabbed a flaming torch on their way out of the hillfort's postern-gate. The scent only grew stronger as the sloping ground beneath their feet began to level out.
"Where are we, ma?" he asked as Amaranth stopped abruptly.
The roseate hedgehog didn't answer as she let go of his hand. Slinging her pack off her shoulder, she unfurled it and picked up an object swaddled in cloth. At first, Silver thought she saw was unwrapping a war-hammer. It turned out to be a mattock. She set it aside.
"Hold this," she said, reaching down for something else.
Silver obediently took the unlit torch with both hands. Meanwhile, Amaranth drew a knife from her sword-belt and struck the blade with a lump of quartz until the torch caught fire.
"What is this place?" asked Silver, looking around their newly illuminated surroundings. Were those turnips at their feet?
"This way," said Amaranth, picking up the mattock.
The hedgehogs continued as quietly as before, picking a path through the vegetables, trying to avoid overgrown roots. Before long, the green leaves around Silver's ankles suddenly went up to his knees as they crossed over into a parsnip patch. He soon noticed the long dark shadow a scarecrow was casting on the ground.
Then he remembered what time of day it was.
"Ma!" he blurted, fumbling the torch as he averted his eyes.
"Hush, Silver!" snapped Amaranth, lunging to hold the torch steady.
"Wh-wh-who is that, though?" gibbered Silver.
"A brave little wolf who deserved better."
Once Silver had recovered his grip, Amaranth took off her cloak and threw it over the late Gelert.
"What happened to them?" asked Silver meekly.
"That's…not important," she said, "What's important is that he be allowed to rest in peace."
She took the mattock in hand.
"Now be a good boy for me and hold that torch steady."
Silver nodded. He watched intently as his mother set to work digging up parsnips.
"Why you dig there, ma?" he asked shyly. It wasn't like there was any shortage of open ground to dig a grave.
"Because…"
Amaranth sighed.
"Because if I bury him normally, he'll only be disturbed."
Silver frowned. What could a wolf cub have possibly done that would make someone want to 'disturb' their grave?
He kept the question to himself, mindful of his mother's earlier request. She was making slow enough progress as it was.
It didn't take long for Amaranth to regret choosing the parsnip patch. The yellowish things were everywhere. Unfortunately, starting over would require putting everything back in the soil, with or without Gelert underneath them. If not, the farm's remaining thralls might be accused of stealing.
In spite of the cold, the roseate hedgehog quickly worked up a sweat. Straightening up to wipe her brow, she looked down to find the clutch of parsnips she'd been about to move already gone.
Then she saw two little white hands digging into the soil.
"Silver?" said Amaranth softly.
"Yes, ma?" said Silver, peering up sheepishly.
"Good boy."
The kneeling ten-year-old flashed a smile, then went back to digging. His mother did the same.
That's all from Dalriada for a few chapters. See you in Arkadia.