Chapter 12
The Fool
"Whatever happens to you out there, happens, happens, happens. Who are you to think that you can change anything, thing, thing? With the way you are right now, you're destined for a slow, painful death, death, death. You can't escape it, you shouldn't, shouldn't, shouldn't. Because the only thing your existence has caused is suffering for everyone around you, you selfish waste of life, life, life."
"Hey, don't fall asleep, I don't want to have to carry a bunch of dead weight," Art Swiftpaw snapped at Midwyng Coeptigo, who was resting their head against Art's shoulder. Midwyng blinked, opening their eyes slightly. Hm? Where am I again? This doesn't look like the cave. Oh, I forgot. I got captured. Right.
"Ugh, I thought it was much later, later, later," Midwyng said groggily. They looked around, trying to blink the sleep out of their eyes. They were still in the forest, and though it was getting brighter, it was still dark on account of the trees towering above them. Having lived in a cave for most of their life, it was surreal looking at the trees jutting upwards like crooked stalagmites draped in green. The grass felt soft and mushy under their footpaws, and the sound of the rain pattering against the leaves made them uncomfortable, reminding them of that surreal-looking structure (the ship). All in all, the forest felt amazing, yet uncanny at the same time.
Art stopped in his tracks, muttering coldly. "It's not even noon, and you're already tired?"
Midwyng grinned mockingly, "Oh, look at me, I'm, uh… not tired, tired, tired." They kept their grin even though that was undoubtedly the worst insult they came up with in the past couple of hours. It hardly could be considered one. "I didn't get much sleep back there, okay, okay, okay?" they explained.
Art stared blankly at Midwyng and shook his head, "Fine, we'll find a place to rest for a bit. I thought I saw something earlier anyway."
"And you didn't bring it up, up, up?" They asked irately.
"I wanted to keep moving, the faster we move, the faster we can get everyone out of here." Art explained.
"Whatever, ever, ever," Midwyng grunted, "Just bring us there, there, there."
"Alright, you could've been nicer in asking, but okay." Art growled and began leading them toward a clearing. The faster we get everyone out of here? Midwyng mused to themselves, What's his deal? It's not even bad here.
"This thing looks weird, weird, weird," Midwyng muttered.
Art raised his eyebrows and looked at Midwyng, "What, the barn? Have you never seen a barn before?"
At least, it was supposed to be a barn. Just like many of the other buildings on the island, it was partially destroyed. What was once a respectable-looking barn in the middle of a field was now nothing more than a decrepit shack. Most of the wall was missing, and what remained was ancient wood. Luckily for Art and Midwyng, the dark-coloured roof was intact, though the doors were missing. Despite the barn's condition, Midwyng was filled with a sense of wonder. They hadn't seen anything like this before. How do you even go about making something like this? Did they make the walls like that on purpose? Maybe if you needed to quickly fly away, perhaps. But there are already two holes, why add a third one?
Full of curiosity, Midwyng's mind went to the usual thought when they had lots of questions: how do I get beasts to give me answers without directly asking a question?
Midwyng tilted their head intently, they had a lot of questions, but they decided the easiest one to indirectly ask was, "This place seems extremely useless, less, less."
Art shrugged, "Not really. Barns are used for storing stuff like tools and… other things. Actually, maybe there's something in here I could use for a weapon." Art was worried about them getting attacked, but Midwyng insisted they couldn't hear anybeast approaching, so they were fine (Art still took the time to make sure himself, because as far as he knew, Midwyng could just be lying to make things more interesting. Stupid bat.)
"Wow, you see this and the first thing you think is, 'I wonder if there's something I can use to kill beasts in here, here, here'?" Midwyng asked sarcastically.
"Midwyng, if you don't shut up, I'm going to stab you with whatever I find inside," Art snapped. Midwyng chuckled, it's fun to make Art mad.
"It'd be nice to get out of the rain too, I guess, guess, guess," the bat commented. By this point, the weather had lessened to a light rainfall, but even then, that was more rain than Midwyng was comfortable with.
Art grumbled to himself, "It'd be nice to finally get you off of me too, has anyone ever told you you're heavy?"
"Rude, rude, rude. Maybe you think I'm heavy because all squirrels are weak, weak, weak."
Art started to groan, "Not this conversation again, Midwyng, if you start talking about-"
"Look, I'm just saying, squirrels are weak. Have you ever seen a squirrel defeat a badger, badger, badger? No, you haven't. That's because squirrels are weak, and that's why you're going to die next, next, next," Midwyng said with a punchable grin. Even with the hood of Art's habit up, Midwyng could see the very clear scowl on his face.
"Say that about squirrels one more time and I'll drop you. Besides, have you ever seen anyone defeat a badger? I sure haven't," Art countered, "I haven't even seen a badger before, and I'm willing to bet you haven't either."
"Haven't yet, and never will, probably, probably, probably. I don't see many badgers where I live, live, lived. Or beasts in general, general, general," Midwyng answered.
The pair finally walked inside, and Art let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he could get his paws on a weapon. Looking around, however, he was filled with disappointment. Except for a couple of junk piles and a broken shelf, the interior seemed to be empty. No tools could be found.
"Hey look, it's as full as your mind, mind, mind," Midwyng remarked flatly.
Art scoffed, "That wasn't even clever, if you're going to make fun of me, can you at least say something better than that?"
Midwyng giggled, "You don't like when I call squirrels weak, so now I'm just calling you dumb- gah!" Art threw Midwyng to the wooden floor and immediately stretched his body out.
"Dear Martin, my shoulders hurt. Hey, do you think I could also take a nap without getting stabbed in my sleep?" Art asked as he began pacing around the barn.
Lying on the floor, Midwyng glanced outside, "I'll keep watch, don't worry, worry, worry."
Art looked at the bat questioningly, "Didn't you also want to take a rest?"
Midwyng waved their wings as they explained, "Yes, but we could take shifts, shifts, shifts. You make sure I don't get killed, and I make sure you don't get killed, easy, easy, easy."
Art stared at him sceptically, clearly not fond of being asleep around Midwyng.
"What, what, what? Do you not trust me, me, me?"
"No."
Midwyng grinned, "Oh, you better not take that nap then, then, then. Otherwise, you may find yourself in a world of pain when you wake up, up, up. By that I mean you-"
"I'll be dead or whatever, yeah, I got it," Art finished nonchalantly. "Do you ever say anything else besides threats and making fun of everyone you meet?"
The bat shrugged, "I do, but making fun of you is so much fun, fun, fun."
"You piece of…" Art grumbled to himself. "It's going to stop being fun soon. Oh wait, it stopped being fun hours ago. Stop it."
"I doubt you know what fun is, you probably climb around in your squirrel trees yelling 'stop having fun' at all the other children, children, children."
"What? I'm not a child, I'm 17. And I have fun," Art said defensively, "I read books, I train, I… do other stuff, alright? That's fun."
"Wow," Midwyng said sarcastically, "You named two things, things, things." Art rolled his eyes and went back to searching the rubble, trying his best to ignore Midwyng. "And you train, train, train? Whoever trained you must be awful at their job if you're the one who-"
Art chucked a stone at Midwyng, who barely managed to roll out of the way. "He wasn't awful! Make fun of him again and I'm going to-"
"Stab me with the first thing you find, find, find?" Midwyng finished with a smirk.
"I… shut up." Art muttered before noticing a glint coming from one of the piles. He walked towards it and began searching.
While Art was sifting through the rubble, Midwyng continued to ramble, "So anyway, back to what I was saying before you threw a rock at me, none of the two things you mentioned sound fun, fun, fun. I've never seen a 'book' before, but you're the one who brought it up, so I think it's something stupid, stupid, stupid. Training's also not fun, I don't know what you need to train for since you don't have wings, but I can't tell you how many times I got punished for flying wrong, wrong, wrong. Stupid wing, wing, wing."
"A book is something you read. You can learn a lot about amazing beasts like Martin the Warrior and Orlando the Axe. And, no, you stupid idiot. I didn't learn to fly… I learned how to fight," Art muttered quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed.
Midwyng snorted, "I didn't think that abbey of yours taught you how to fight, fight, fight."
"Oh, uh, they normally don't," Art replied sheepishly. "A… let's just say a friend began to teach me after I spent a lot of time in the attics." Art hesitated as he spoke; he clearly didn't want to talk about it. Unfortunately, Midwyng didn't care.
"They trained you just for that, that, that? You must've given them a lot in return for them to teach you, you, you," Midwyng remarked absentmindedly.
"Hm? I didn't have to give him anything, he was just really nice."
Midwyng looked up at Art, confused. "Did you bother him until he gave in and trained you, you, you?"
"No. He's just nice."
"You really didn't have to do anything, thing, thing?"
Art narrowed his eyes at the bat, "Where do you live again? How are you not getting this?"
Midwyng chuckled, "I live wherever I want to, to, to," they replied light-heartedly.
Art's face started to look concerned, Midwyng didn't have a clue why. Maybe Art got a headache or something, he complained a lot in the last few hours after all. "Why do you think I'm helping you?" The squirrel asked suddenly.
"I don't know, on the walk here you kept complaining that I was heavy and that we're moving slow, so I don't know why you're even bothering to carry me, me, me. Unless you want me for killing, or you're using me as bait, I'm useless, less, less."
"Maybe you're useless, but it's because even though you're annoying and I hate you, I've vowed to help every good beast I come across." Art grumbled.
Midwyng began to giggle, a sound that was probably grating on Art by now. "Define good, good, good."
Without a beat, Art answered with, "Anybeast helping that damned wildcat deserves to die. As long as you're not helping him, you're good."
"You must really hate that wildcat, huh, huh, huh?" Midwyng asked with amusement.
"Wha-? Are you serious? Of course I hate him! He kidnapped us! Now we're stuck on some island in the middle of nowhere."
"I think it's kinda nice," Midwyng began, much to Art's bewilderment, "Look around, I haven't seen most of this stuff before, before, before!" For some reason, Art was looking at Midwyng with shock. What? What's so surprising? Oh, that's right, you're from that abbey I kept getting told about. You probably get to leave and look at barns and rain whenever you want.
"You're looking at a destroyed barn, a storm, an empty field, and a squirrel who's been slowly dragging you through a forest. I don't know how this is nice," Art said bluntly. Midwyng waved it off, not bothering to elaborate further.
With the conversation presumably over, Art went back to searching the rubble. In a matter of time, he found what he was looking for. "Oh, look!" Art exclaimed with a grin. Midwyng watched as Art pulled out a curved metal blade with a short handle. A sickle. He swung it around a few times to get a feel for the weapon and tucked the sickle in his habit cord. Midwyng watched with amusement as Art repeatedly drew and put away the blade, trying to figure out the quickest way he can take out the sickle if they were attacked. "Well, it's better than nothing. Now I have something to protect myself with."
Art was expecting Midwyng to respond with a sarcastic quip. Maybe about how excited he was to find the sickle or something, but instead, Midwyng was still. Their head and ears were pointed toward one of the entrances, their face still with concentration.
"Midwyng?" Art asked warily, "Is something there?"
Midwyng suddenly tackled Art to the floor, clamping a paw over his mouth. "Hey! What are you-" Midwyng slapped Art in the head and made a "quiet" gesture with their free paw. Art's ears flicked as he tried listening for whatever Midwyng heard. At first, he heard nothing but the sound of rain drumming on the walls of the barn, but then, he faintly heard voices. Lots of them.
"We gotta hide somewhere, where, where," Midwyng hissed. Art's eyes darted around the barn, searching for a hiding spot. No good! There wasn't anywhere to hide inside the barn. Suddenly, an idea popped into Art's head, and he motioned with his thumb. Art helped Midwyng up, and he hastily led the pair to a place where they could hide.
"Now, I didn't think I needed to say this," Tiviko began, tiredly burying his face in his paws, "But please stop going off on your own to try to capture the prisoners." The beasts following Tiviko looked at him sheepishly as their captain chastised them.
"Look, I appreciate the initiative, I really do. Thank you all for that. But from my count, seven of us are dead, so how about you try to think of what the smart thing to do is, alright? All of these prisoners were captured for a reason. Most of them are dangerous. That stoat's a psycho, the mole is as strong as an ox, and that mountain hare can tear all of us in half with his bare paws. Now, we're going to travel as a group, sweep the island and execute the prisoners, got it?" Even though Tiviko was speaking patronisingly, his crew didn't seem to pick up on that and believed he was just getting everybeast on the same page. "But in case some of you forgot- and it's totally fine if you did, remember that there are two prisoners that cannot die no matter what- actually three, counting that hare Borsen is obsessed with for some stupid reason. I drilled their names in your brain, so you better remember."
They all knew Tiviko was angry, but they believed that anger was born out of concern, not frustration. They all thought Tiviko cared about them (he did, just not emotionally.)
"Right, so the first order of business that you will all follow as a group, search that barn." Tiviko pointed with his dagger to a cruddy-looking barn across the field. Like the obedient soldiers they were, they ran toward the barn without hesitation. Tiviko grumbled to himself as he watched them run like mindless lemmings. One of them didn't even have their weapon sheathed properly.
As they searched around the barn, Tiviko felt a migraine coming on. In most situations, this group of beasts were surprisingly effective. With how much they were willing to follow Tiviko, they'd put more effort and stick their necks out on the line more than any other beasts. Unfortunately for Tiviko, this wasn't one of those situations. From my count, some beasts are missing. Wonderful. Marlus probably grabbed a group of them to try to capture them himself. Probably to impress me or something. Stupid pine marten. I hate him. Can you stop trying to impress me and just do your job? There's already a bunch of other idiots trying to impress me on a daily basis.
Speaking of the bunch of idiots, Tiviko walked up to a hooded fox searching the interior of the barn and tapped him on the shoulder. Smiling warmly, Tiviko asked, "Good morning matey. Hey, do you happen to know where Marlus went? I haven't seen him since the ship crashed."
The fox nodded. "Oh, Marlus? Aye, I saw 'im chasin' d'prisoners wit' a group he rounded up. I tink dey went-"
"Good enough. Thanks." Tiviko walked away, straining to keep up his smile. Damn Marlus. You better not make this harder for me. Well, can't do anything about that right now. Let's just get back to searching this barn.
Under the grey sky, the barn was swarming with black-clad beasts, searching for any prisoners that may be nearby. Inside, the guards searched every nook and cranny, but nobeast could be found. Tiviko himself was scanning the outside of the barn for any places prisoners could hide.
Minutes passed without any results. "Well, there's nobeast here, let's go. Remember to stick together, everyone." Everybeast murmured in agreement and followed Tiviko as he started to walk away from the barn. Tiviko took one glance back at the barn in case they missed anything. Nope, nothing. Shrugging, he led his crew into the forest.
They all felt safe. They were with Tiviko, and they searched every inch of the barn, so none of the prisoners could be nearby, right? They all felt so safe that none of them noticed that one of them had gone missing.
Midwyng wasn't sure what to make of Art. Compared to every other beast they'd known, Art was great company. He was a lot of fun to be around, wasn't scary, never hit them unprovoked, and didn't abandon them in the woods. Yet even with all these positives, something always felt off. Art was the nicest beast they'd ever known, but there was something sinister about him that felt all too familiar.
They hid on the roof; that was Art's idea. Midwyng covered Art with a wing, and luckily, the roof's angle, the morning, and the dark-coloured roof kept them hidden. But then Art did something that surprised them. As Tiviko was leaving with the guards, Art's expression suddenly changed. He wordlessly got up, crawled to the side of the building eerily silently, and like a falcon swooping down on its prey, leapt onto a rat who was straggling behind the group. Art wrestled him into submission, immediately pinning his arms down and holding the sickle against his neck with ease.
Which led them to now. 20 minutes after Tiviko left the barn, Midwyng was sitting against the wall while Art stood in front of the rat. The rat was tied against a support beam with Art's habit cord. Midwyng looked at the two beasts with amusement. The rat was utterly terrified, staring up at Art. Midwyng knew evil, and that glint in Art's eye was unmistakable.
"So Art, whatcha gonna do to him, him, him?" Midwyng asked, thoroughly entertained.
Art shrugged; the paw holding the sickle was quivering. "I think I know, but did you want to do anything?"
Midwyng grinned, "Nah, I wanna see what you're gonna do, do, do."
Art scowled at Midwyng, "Are you judging me or something? You have no right to judge."
The bat began to giggle, "No, I'm not judging, carry on, on, on. I just find it interesting, that's all, all, all."
Art scoffed and began to walk toward the rat. The rat looked up at Art, searching for any kind of mercy.
Midwyng cocked his head. Even though most of Art's body was covered with a baggy habit, they could see that he was shaking, it was plain to see he was furious. His fists were clenched, and Midwyng could hear a growl rumbling in his throat. Moving behind the rat, Art began to lightly drag the blade of the sickle across the rat's chest. By golly, was this the same squirrel that didn't want to talk about death earlier? He's dealing with this surprisingly easily, Midwyng mused to themselves.
"Shame you're here, isn't it?" Art spat, his voice dripping with malice, "The worst thing that can happen for a monster like you is getting tied up by those you wronged. I'm going to ask you some questions, and you better answer," Art then started dragging the sickle from the rat's neck downwards, "Or I'll gut you chest to stomach, alright? Now, how many beasts are on that ship?"
The rat stammered, swallowing, "I won't tell ya anythin'!"
With little compunction, Art covered the rat's mouth with a paw and plunged the sickle's blade into the rat's belly. The rat began to squirm and cry out as Art struggled to keep him quiet. Midwyng looked at Art, whose expression was that of grim determination. "You don't have a choice but to answer. How many are on that ship?"
Breathing heavily, the rat shook his head frantically. Art's words echoed in Midwyng's head, Anybeast helping that damned wildcat deserves to die.
Minutes passed, each filled with Art asking a question, the rat refusing, and Art stabbing the rat. Midwyng watched it all with a vested curiosity. By the end of this torture, the rat was bleeding heavily, and not a single piece of information was given. Whoever this rat was did not want to give anything out about Tiviko and his crew, even at the cost of their life. "We don't have time for this, they might realise he's missing and come back," Art muttered. "Midwyng, if you wanna kill him, do it."
The bat shrugged, "Eh, too much work to get over there, you do it, it, it."
"Are you kidding me? Fine." Art looked down at the rat, who was panting heavily as he struggled for air. With little hesitation, Art raised his sickle and swung it in a wide arc, slashing the rat's throat open. He checked the rat's belongings for anything useful, but was quickly disappointed to find nothing of note. Oh well. With the dying rat already out of his mind, Art untied his habit cord from the pole and tied it around his waist, securing his sickle to his body as he did so. It was then that Midwyng remembered that most of Art's concerns earlier were about his own death, not any other beasts'.
Midwyng crossed their arms with a smirk, "Pretty messed up, squirrel, squirrel, squirrel."
Art glared at Midwyng, "What did I do?"
"Tortured and killed a rat? What else, else, else?" They said, trying to annoy Art.
"You can't be judging me, didn't you kill two beasts already?" Art pointed out.
Midwyng rolled on their back, "I never said I was good either, I get called 'selfish' pretty often, often, often."
"Well, I'm sorry for trying to take proper measures to try to get out of here as fast as possible. Besides, he deserved it anyway," Art snarled, "He's a lowlife who's helping a wildcat capture and kill us, do you expect me to feel bad about this?"
Midwyng smiled, tilting their head to the side. And here I thought those abbey beasts were only filled with peace and love. Midwyng had no doubt Art wanted to help the prisoners as much as he could, but that desire for vengeance was clear.
Art glanced around, peeking out of the barn's entrances. "Come on, we should leave. That rat screamed a lot, somebeast may have heard." Art extended a paw to Midwyng, who took it. He pulled the bat up and they settled back into their moving arrangement. "Are you doing alright?" Art asked.
Midwyng responded genuinely, "Oh yeah, this is the most fun I've had in forever, forever, forever. Still tired though, though, though."
Art couldn't help but crack a slight smile. "Let's hope things stay good then. I don't think they will for long."
"Oh, things are definitely going to get much worse from here, here, here," Midwyng said bluntly. "But nothing we can't handle, right, right, right?"
"Yeah, totally," he replied sardonically, "We will get them. Go us."
Midwyng began to chuckle, "But on a more serious note, you've got me curious, curious, curious." Midwyng glanced over at the rat's corpse. Blood was beginning to pool underneath the body. The image of Art sneaking over and incapacitating the rat ran vividly in their mind. He did it almost perfectly. Nobeast even heard him.
"You looked like an idiot tackling the rat, rat, rat."
"At least I managed to capture one of them. Didn't amount to anything, though."
"Whoever trained you should've done better at teaching you how to interrogate beasts, beasts, beasts."
Art growled, "Shut up. I already told you not to insult him. Do it again, and you'll end up like that rat on the floor."
"That's harsh, harsh, harsh. "If your abbey didn't teach you how to fight, I feel sorry for the poor vagabond that had to-"
"Midwyng, I am going to kill you. Stop. Talking," Art spat. Midwyng felt the warm blade of the sickle press against their throat. That was enough for even Midwyng to realise that they should shut up. A couple of minutes of silence later, Art released the sickle and tucked it back in his habit cord.
As strange as it was, for the first time in their life, Midwyng felt the genuine desire to learn more about somebeast… So naturally, they decided to attack Art. Excuse me for this, I know you won't be hurt anyway.
Midwyng lunged forward, fangs bared. Their eyes were fixed on Art's neck. They could see it all as if the world melted into slow motion. Art's expression turned from confusion to surprise as he realised what was happening, Art fell to the side, kicking out as hard as he could into Midwyng's stomach. They doubled over on the ground, hacking and coughing. That happened so fast. How did he manage to-?
In one swift movement, Midwyng was jerked onto their back. Lying on the ground, Art wrapped his legs around Midwyng's stomach, weighing them down. His right paw forced the bat's head up while his left paw pressed the bloodstained blade of the sickle onto Midwyng's neck right above the metal collar. There's no way he's a normal squirrel, how did he do that so fast?
"What in hellgates are you doing?" Art snarled. Midwyng could feel the squirrel begin to press the blade harder and harder into their neck. "Tell me why I shouldn't just cut your head off right now!"
Oops, did I go too far this time? I don't think I did, but he looks pissed. "Lord, relax Art, I wasn't going to kill you, you, you. Like I'd try to bite your neck when you have a piece of metal protecting it, it, it," Midwyng replied rather casually.
Art was seething, and he pressed the blade harder. "That's not an answer, why would you do that?"
Mildly annoyed, Midwyng tried to push themself away from Art, but then he pressed the blade harder. "Ow! Okay, stop, sto- Art, I was just curious, cur- let me speak! Stop with the sickle! You leap off the barn and incapacitate a rat quieter and easier than any bat I've ever seen and expect me to not be curious how you learned to do that, that, that?"
"You have got to be kidding me," Art spat, "And you couldn't've just asked like a normal beast? What is wrong with you? Besides, you think I'm going to answer after you tried that?"
Midwyng blinked in confusion, what was happening? "Yes, yes, yes?" The bat answered. When Art didn't comment or respond, Midwyng clarified, "I promise I wasn't trying to hurt you, you, you."
Midwyng could feel the sickle release from their neck, but from the tone of Art's voice, he was still clearly angry. "How the- did you not expect me to get angry after you pretended to try to kill me?"
"Well, from what I know about you so far, I knew you'd get angry, just not that angry, angry, angry," Midwyng admitted. He's overreacting, isn't he? I mean, I'd understand if he restrained me like this as a joke, but he's so mad. I didn't even insult his trainer this time. I don't get it, why are you so mad?
"So just to clarify," Art growled, "You genuinely weren't trying to be a prick?"
Midwyng laughed, "Not this time, no, no, no. But I'll try to be if you want, want, want. I can think up of a bunch of different insults about squirrels, squirrels, squirrels," they joked. They could tell Art didn't find it funny though.
"You really don't see what's wrong with this?" Art asked, rubbing his forehead.
Midwyng shook their head (as much as they could with Art holding it up) "Nope, nope, nope." Art sighed, pushing Midwyng off of him and standing up. "So I suppose you're going to leave me here, right, right, right? You didn't have a reason before, and now, you definitely don't want me around, around, around."
Art didn't move, and for a few seconds, the barn was filled with awkward silence. They could hear the squirrel sigh, and he finally attached the sickle back to his habit cord. "Generally, beasts just ask if they're curious about something, you don't have to act like an idiot and do something stupid like that. And also, I'm still not going to tell you."
"Asking doesn't work though, though, though," Midwyng replied sharply, "Asking just gets all the other ba- beasts mad at you, you, you. And it doesn't help that your head is as thick as a rock, rock, rock."
"You're calling me stubborn?" Art snapped, "Oh, tell that to the bat that's been annoying me for hours just because they found it fun." He waved a paw to get back on track, "Nevermind. You didn't know, so I'm not going to leave you here. If you try that again though, I'll stab you in the leg."
Midwyng giggled, "You're still not leaving me behind, behind, behind? You now have three reasons to do so, and you just won't, won't, won't. Squirrels are dumb, dumb, dumb," they remarked.
Art buried his head in his paws out of irritation, "Why are you so okay with me leaving you behind? You'd just get killed if a large group like that came and found you. Do you want me to leave you behind?"
Midwyng shrugged, "If you want to, to, to. If somebeast is dragging everybeast down, you throw them out, don't you know that, that, that? I've slowed you down, I've made you really angry, and you don't trust me, me, me."
For some reason, Art was looking at them strangely. Midwyng couldn't understand why. "Just… c'mon, let's just go," Art finally said.
Midwyng shrugged, Art was acting really weird. Or were they the weird one? "I'm guessing things are different at your abbey, abbey, abbey?"
"Er, yeah. From what I recall, the only times we ever threw beasts out of the abbey permanently was for attempted murder. Or actual murder." Art pulled Midwyng up once more and propped them against his shoulder. He was scanning the treeline as they walked out of the barn. "If we threw useless beasts out of the abbey, I could've thrown many beasts out of the gates by now," he joked.
"What's a gates, gates, gates?" Midwyng cocked their head.
"You use it to keep unwanted beasts out."
"How, how, how?"
"Do you not- it's like a giant door."
"Huh, your cave seems a lot more advanced than mine did, did, did."
Art raised his eyebrows, "I don't live in a cave."
"You don't, don't, don't? Isn't abbey another word for cave?"
"… An abbey is not a cave. I don't live in a cave, I live in a forest, in a building." In light of this revelation, Midwyng went silent. Tilting their head down, they thought to themselves, huh. I guess that'd explain why Art knows what a 'barn' is.
"Oh dear Martin, I have a lot of stuff to tell you," Art muttered concernedly.
Midwyng was utterly confused. So many things that they thought were strange, Art was seemingly accustomed with. They didn't know what was happening, but all they knew was that they were having fun. New sights all around them, new experiences, and a strange but interesting squirrel that was both fun to annoy and talk to. Whatever happened while they were here, they knew they'd enjoy it.
