A Game Plan
Targa_Wfol, Malcolm, Stubb, Sandy, Soclose, Frigg, Hactor
Location: Eastern Shore
Nighttime. The sky overhead is like a deep black portal yawning above, its darkest yet. The beach has no light to reflect save that of the central fire, an island of sand in the middle of the void. A billion stars set in clouds of deep purple, blue, and red seem ready to fall from place on the moonless night, as the group gathers to pass the time. The strange fox stands sentry, silhouetted against the starscape, his profile lit by the dancing flames.
And Malcolm is around somewhere. He's sitting on the beach, leaning back on his arms and staring out at the sea. He just stares, blinking occasionally, examining the waves and the sky thoughtfully.
"Oi don' believe i'. Oi can'." Stubb is sitting on a log, the campfire's light nipping at his bedraggled face. "She musta been a impostor. Moi Deloilah... no, she'd never a done anyfin' loike dat." He pokes at the clayey sand with the end of a stick, his head laid disconsolately across an open palm. The kindle crackles in the silence that sharply outlines his words. "A fing loike dat," he whispers after a long pause.
It was half-tempting for Sandy to talk about how romantic the sky made her feel when she looked at it at the moment, but she didn't. She was, instead, frowning at Stubb, rubbing her head a little bit. "Ya might as well believe..." was all she could say, rubbing her head a little bit. "Somewhat makes me wish I never escaped..."
Soclose sits settled on the beach, a fair distance away from the flames as the sea eagle stares away from their light, into the darkness. The gloomy night has quieted the bird some, and he's quiet as he croons, "Imposter? I wouldn't know anything about that, would I?" He looks back to the firepit, "Didn't you say something about that before? Something before now?"
Frigg attempts to pat Stubb on the shoulder, but, having never done so before, she has no idea what to expect of the weasel in his confounded state, and refrains. It hovers there, though, above the shoulder, miming a patting motion... The mouse wears an expression of pity, and lowers her arm after a while, placing it on the log next to her, "We... we all experienced it. And I almost died from it! But... perhaps she was forced, against her will?" She looks around the fire, for confirmation of this possibility..
Stubb nods mutely, his head down. His paw limply continues to twist and pull the stick, as if in imitation of his thoughts twisting in upon themselves. "Ay." He sniffs. "Ay. An' she did 'er best. Oi come to once or twoice, cracked me oiyes. She were givin' me med'cine. Somefin' bi'ter, bu' she mean' ta help." He smiles weakly. "She were troiyin' ta save me." His bleary eyes look up from their brooding perch in the soil and gather in the faces of the others, the silhouettes. "Don' pay me any moind," he says, lifting his head from his paw and self-deprecatingly waving off their attempts at consolation.
Sandy rubs her head a little bit, frowning. She wasn't sure what to make of that other lady she saw with them, asides from thoughts of smoke, ash, and an awkward moment she spent trying to save Frigg's life. Awkward to her, at least. "I wonder who started the fire at the church... And where that badger came from..." she mused, before looking like a thought hit her. She started to feel around her pockets, before sighing. "Damn... I lost that vial the badger gave me."
"Don't pay you any mind?" Soclose pipes, "You're the only sound to pay attention to, except for the waves." The osprey looks out onto the beach and shakes his head, "You lost something, in the dark? Then it is surely lost!"
He pauses, "Maybe I will fly out in the morning--if you tell me what it looks like--see if it has washed up."
Frigg nods, maybe it's best that she not interfere with the struggling thoughts visibly being tranferred onto the stick. She looks to Soclose, "Perhaps we could get something going to cheer the mood? It's awfully dark, but we have some extra sticks gathered that will last well into morning... we should set up a wider lit area, I think..." She's thinking aloud, more or less.
Stubb falls silent to listen to the exchange between Frigg and the young cook.
Sandy rubs her head a little bit more, smiling to Soclose. "Don't bother, it's probably in the sea..." she said, before leaning back, looking over to Frigg with a smile. "We could invent something. A game, perhaps?" she questioned. Throwing out her own two cents for an idea.
"Aye! It is probably floating its way out to sea as we speak." The feathers on his head puff out, as Soclose asks Frigg, "You want a bigger fire? /Hoo-well../" The osprey opens and closes his beak a few times before crooning quietly, "What game did you have in mind that needs all this fire?"
"I was thinking more, smaller fires. Just to be safe... and besides, our friend standing guard over there..." Frigg lowers her voice, "..could stand to be a bit less mysterious. I feel like he's watching /me/." She shivers, and smiles at the game thought, "Yes! Sandy, what did you have in mind?"
Stubb grunts derision. "A game. 'Aven' got a roof ta sleep under or a place ta go, an' tha princess wan's a game," he mumbles over his shoulder to any sympathetic ears that lie behind him. Still, his eyes betray him: they station themselves with a faint twinkle of bemusement on the curious woodlander pair.
Sandy rubs her head a little bit, thinking. "Well, uh... I dunno, really. I always just played games." she mused. "Mostly 'Clean the house or be dinner', which wasn't honestly fun at all..." she added with a little bit of a grumble. "We could always consider building a proper shelter tomorrow, in case of rain."
Targa_Wfol just stands there, looking like a sentinel from outer space, as the stars slowly disappear and re-emerge from behind him. His elevated view from the higher group inland allows him to see around the landscape, black as it is, as a figure runs up to his side. Words, too far away to reach the group, are exchanged, and the figure runs away.
Frigg nods. "No that doesn't sound like it would be much fun, really... um... how about..." she scurries away for a moment, toward the sea.
Soclose peers out into the darkness, "Ah, hee? We should be off the beach if that happens. The water will come up to meet us." The osprey says amiably, "We should find some place high to live, perhaps a nice tree where we can see everything." Soclose shakes his head, "Oh, and you can all live under it!" The osprey preens his wingfeathers and huffs, "The darkness keeps moving about, I don't like to keep looking at it."
Stubb tracks Frigg's progress until she is swallowed by the night, then squints at the fox's unheard conversation. "A tree," he mutters. "Coun' me ou', ma'e. Whoi bovva wif tree roots an' bird droppin's when dere's sof' sand to be had? Even dis is be'ta than a tree." He chuckles. "Live under a tree!"
Sandy looks over to Frigg, as she left. "Hope she'll be alright." she muttered, before looking back over to the rest with a little smile. "So... What'd you think about my fish? Told you I can cook, didn't I?"
"I was only making a suggestion," Soclose croons, muttering soon after, "...a good one!" The osprey shakes and leaves off his preening and looks over to Sandy, "I had two fish, the one that was cooked and the one I caught myself... both of them were quite good!"
From the direction in which Frigg had departed, there's a scream! Well, it's as loud a scream as a mouse might be able to manage when faced with the unimaginable horrors of the night! Again, it errupts, piercing the night air, and then swiftly cuts off! Then, more horrible than before; silence.
Stubb's lips pull back in an evil chuckle. "Crab prolly go' the ole bat, oi wayjah." He sniffs, plants his stick firmly in the ground, and rises. He claps the sand off his rump and hands and gazes toward the shoreline.
Sandy smiled over to the Osprey, about to comment. Though she felt like time stopped when she heard that scream - even felt like her blood froze. At the second one, she didn't think. She jumped up, grabbed a burning stick from the pile, and ran off in the direction of the screams. "Hold on Frigg, I'm coming!"
"/He-e-k-heek-heek!/" calls Soclose in alarm when he hears the noise. The osprey jumping out of their sand pit to flap up into the darkness!
If the others aren't careful, they'd be in for a similar fate as the mousemaid - between the fire and the sea is neat, perfectly circular depression fit for a small creature, which would have been a likely culprit for swallowing up the mouse, although whatever hole seems to be perpetually covered in sand that falls in from the edges of the trap. No other sign of Frigg around, though; it seems only a short stretch of the imagination that she'd have met her misfortune here.
Stubb takes his time, not hurrying in pursuit of the young squirrel who goes barreling past him and into the darkness. The weasel is not weak, exactly, not injured; but he does have an edge now that he lacked before, a roughess of appearance that the stark light of the fire only enhances. "Bloody fool..." he says in a gravelly undertone but continues nevertheless in the direction of the scream.
Sandy stops when she got to the area with the depression, looking around. She held the stick out so she could see easily, though it didn't provide too much help... "Frigg, where are you!?" she called out, hoping for a reply.
Soclose finds themselves up in the air, and after a moment of looking about at the inky darkness banks and hovers over the lights on the beach to see what was the cause of the noise, "Has it gone away?" calls the osprey, "Have you found anything?" Piping up, Soclose calls out, "Frigg!" loudly into the darkness as if hailing a distant ship.
The strange fox descends from the hilltop and passes around the fire, toward the group. His silhouette is augmented now, by the bright tongues of flame that dart from out it, "She was taken under the sand. There is nothing to be done, unfortunately." He approaches, "Perhaps an oversized ant lion? Heheh..." His bone armor shakes and rattles with mirth. "Very unfortunate."
"You foin' this funny, fox?" Stubb seethes. "You fink lost loives is a reason ta chuckle?" His even paces bring him abreast of the sandy depression, but he wheels to stare back into the darkness of the silhouette. He hisses and bares his teeth, nigh-blinded though he is by the glaring outline of flame that carves the vulpine image into the night. "Stay back, you dredged-up swine!" He paws at his vest pockets.
"Taken under the sand?" Soclose pipes, "Who would? /H-e-e!/ How?" The osprey lands next to the torchlight with a swish of feathers, "I did not see anyone digging this earlier! Did anyone else?"
Sandy looked at the sand, disbelieving. She couldn't believe it, if it was even true. "No... No! She... she can't be..." she said, fighting off tears and sobs. "Frigg..." she whispered, before glaring up to the fox. "You heartless -" Lucky for everyone around, she never got to finish her sentence, as she let out a loud sob, burying her face into her paws. Once again, the poor squirrel was taken into tears...
"Perhaps there is a way... another exit for whatever beast has done this, but I would advise searching during daylight." He turns to go, "To be honest, I would have told you all about this - it's happened to a few of mine own, already. But I didn't think any of you would be foolish enough to go off in the darkness..." Targa heads back up to his former lookout, slowly padding, aided by his spear.
Just at that moment, there comes a hoarse cry - fainter than the screams before it. From someplace upshore! It's certainly the mouse's voice, but it's faint enough to be drowned out every once in a while by the waves lapping at the coast.
Stubb grinds his teeth now, and his breath comes in enraged drafts. "Speakin in... bloody riddles. Oi'm done wif dis. Dis fox is same as tha last. No' worf tha pot they piss in, tha lot of em." His knuckles crack. The weasel curses. "Whoi'd that fool go an get hisself invoved wif dis lot again? Where is that bloody Hac-tor!?"
Sandy sobs and sobs pathetically. She used to never be like that - used to never shed a tear... But losing what she considered her only friend was a low blow. Of course, she then began to hear the screams again. Faintly. She lept up, took a deep breath, and charged - charged down the beach towards the screams with sorrow and fury in her eyes; whatever was messing with Frigg was going to get it.
Soclose flies up into the air again, the osprey taking no chances with holes or burried rocks or other things on the beach. Following the sound of running on the beach.
"Don' act loike much of an ex-slava, do she?" the weasel says as she goes. "Oi'd fink she'd 'ave a ounce a caution, 'least." Stubb watches the osprey lift off but does not pursue the sound down the beach. He instead turns back toward the campfire, toward where the fox keeps vigil.
In the confusion of everything else, Malcolm had wandered to the fire, sitting down like he's been there all the time. "What's going on?" he asks as he watches Stubb return towards the camp again.
Frigg is not too far down the beach from the others, but the mousemaid crawls on paws and knees, hampered by her soggy robes, which, caked with sand underpaw, hinder what movement she can make on her own. She cries out, "Wh-- who's the--" She falls back down, chin splashing in a puddle left by the flow of the last wave. "Ohh... S..haaand..." She can't see a thing except a few dancing lights in front of her, but she feels the water rush back onto her and screams in terror, galvanized by it to continue crawling!
Sandy dashed down the beach as fast as she could, wondering where Frigg was, and who had her. It was to her... bewilderment, that when she caught up to her, she was screaming from WATER. Wiping her tears on her tattered dress, she merely walked up to her, and squatted down next to her. "Frigg... are you okay?"
Hactor the whole while, is sitting next to the fire, trying to clear his mind. "What I wouldn't give fur some noice pipe backey roight now," he growls, smacking his lips.
At first, the mousemaid recoils at the approaching squirrel, dragging herself away, but, in recognition, she blindly grabs at Sandy's clothing, clinging for dear life! She's only able to stutter, "Cl... claws... cl...clicking... gr...gr...grab..nnnnnng... an... and-d-d-d..." She buries her head in the clothing and jumps when the water laps at her footpaw.
Soclose swoops about from above, the osprey hovering a moment before turning back towards the fire up the beach. "/He-ek!/ You don't need to worry about Frigg!" The osprey croons, "You need to worry about the ocean first! Do-do you all like to fall in it?" Folding his wings across his back Soclose finds his sand pit and settles down in it, muttering all the while. "Losing sleep over this...nver would have happened if we were under trees right now. You might get lost, but you wouldn't drown."
Sandy frowns a little bit at Frigg's mutterings. So she was just terrified of a crab... She didn't laugh though. Instead, she gently tried to help Frigg to her feet, smiling. "Come on. I'm here, don't worry... If we see it again, I'll kill it for you." she replied, before trying to lead her off to the others.
Stubb is momentarily torn between checking on the fate of the squirrel and returning to the fire, and his body language broadcasts this indecision. A moment's consideration pulls him back to the campfire, where he sits near the deflated old warlord. "Ah, oi was wonderin' where you'd go' to," the weasel says in a clipped voice. "Ge'tin' cozy wif yore new friends?" There's a snarl in his voice that wrinkles his narrow muzzle. "Oi don' loike tha look of 'em, ma'e," he says, leaning in to speak in a whisper. "Oi say we ditch 'em afore sunup."
"N-n-no!! No, d..d...on't..." Is all the mousemaid mutters, weakly trying to regain her posture alongside the squirrelmaid, as they slowly make their way back to camp with the aid of the torchlight. The mouse shakes uncontrollably, teeth chattering, eyes wide and pale, nose dripping. It's as this vision of pure terror that she meets the rest back at fireside, looking only worse in the light. Bits of seaweed, even, are stuck to her headfur!
Hactor gives Stubb the evil eye before growling, "Cozy!? Not likely! I'm tryn' ta avoid dem fanatics." He nods at the weasels words. "Aye. We need ta scram. An' fast." The drenched mousemaid the catches the tod's attention, a look of surprise and concern crossing his old features. "What's this then?"
Sandy gently sits Frigg down, before looking around for something she could wrap the soaked mousemaid in. Unfortunately for her, the only thing she had was her raggedy dress. "Don't worry, Frigg... I'll take care of you!" she said, before hugging her close. "I don't know what you saw, but I promise you, you'll never see it again..."
"Jes' anuvva bit a dead weigh' ta lug abou'," Stubb says sotto voce.
Soclose takes one look at Frigg once she comes into the light and the osprey ogles, "/Aaeh!/ You look like a chick who fell out of their nest!" The bird stands up and moves over towards the other side of the fire, hunching his wings outwards to provide a wall of softer feathers about Frigg and Sandy, perhaps blocking the last comment from Stubb. "Perhaps worse! --most of them have the sense to not wander so far to the edge!"
The mousemaid remains shivering and silent, looking up at the big bird as he speaks, and the rest of them in turn. Her eyes never blink.
Stubb watches impassively, not evidently alarmed by the wretched appearance of his elderly charge. They've all been battered around enough by now that an extra layer of filth needn't occasion alarm, nor even the quirking of an eyebrow. "Da's one ol' lady wha' can take a beatin', dough," he says. "Can' say as she's done us much good, but oi'll give her dat." He idly reaches into the breast pocket of his vest.
Hactor snorts and cocks an eyebrow at Stubb. "Sayes the one whos been knocked cold half dis toime," he grumbles.
Sandy gently pats Frigg on the shoulder, trying to comfort her. Wasn't working much, apparently, but she kept trying, nevertheless... She did give Stubb a glance, frowning a little bit. "She's helped feed your sorry tail earlier today..." she said irritably.
Ignoring the squirrel's rebuke, Stubb shifts the conversation back. "So how do we shake tha fox an 'is gang, 'Actor? Any broight oideas brewin?"
Soclose looks over from his side of the fire and croons, "How many of them are there?" Soclose settles down, looking rather hunched with his wings spread out. "You know that, and you know what tricks you must try."
Hactor the fox grins wickedly. "Actually yes! I says we wate till it's dark. You goes up to Targa whats 'is foice, telln em I've kicked da bucket. Ifn he needs prove, show em ta me." The fox grins triumpahntly, waiting to see if he needs to further explain his 'genius' plan.
Sandy keeps supporting Frigg, though she leaned over to listen to the other's plans intently. She wasn't getting left behind, and she was going to make sure Frigg didn't, either. "If only we had herbs to induce sleep, we could trick that fox into eating something, and knock it out..." she said thoughtfully. "An army is nothing without it's leader..."
Stubb's fishing in his pocket produces a lone green leaf, shriveled and dry. He flicks it away in disgust. "Well," he says, imbibing the suggestions thoughtfully, "firs' we foind ou' deir numbas, loike Soclose says. You go' wings, so yore better a' soizin' em up properly dan we can hope ta be," he says to the colossal bird. His voice is low, and he checks now and again to see if the fox is on to them. "As for yore 'erbs, li'tle laydy, oi don' reckon we'll foind much a dem growin' round 'ere."
Hactor flicks an ear at the squirrel's suggestion. "Or dat works to I spose." He strokes his beard. "Hows about a pothecary or docter eh? I'm sure we could foind one in tha town."
"There could be two leaders," Soclose suggests. "You could also prepare some bad fish for them. They would not get far on a stomachache." The osprey tucks his wings closer and croons, "We will wait until morning, then? I can not count in the dark and these two are still wet!"
Sandy rubs her chin thoughtfully, frowning. "Damn... I didn't figure we'd find any herbs of the sort out here, anyhow." she said, thinking harder. She wasn't an ex-warlord or anything; just a squirrel with a little combat experience, presumably. "I'm certain killing 'em would be the biggest mistake of our lives, if we still value them..."
Stubb chuckles, reaches out to retrieve his stick, and leans back. "Some'ow oi don' fink killin' em would do much good anyhow. Dese bloightas keep comin' back, foindin' us, trackin' us frough fores's and ci'ies an..." He stabs the ground with the stick. "An' how in Hell /did/ dey foind us again? Oi fough' we'd shook em clear back near Roonga'e."
"Same here," grunts the old warlord. Sudennly his eye goes wide with remembrance. "Anba! The Witchdog probly told em about me after I escaped!"
Soclose looks towards Hactor and asks, "/Hee?/ Witchdog? Is that a ship or is that a beast?"
Sandy rubs her head a little bit, grumbling under her breath, "Again with that blasted fox..." After that, she just quietly looked down at the fire, lost in thought on what to do...
Stubb clasps his hands together. "Oi say we take tha bird's advoice. Tomorrow eve, give em a bit a fish. Mix it up so i' looks loike we eat tha same fing dey's eatin'. Den sneak off a' noigh'fall. Some a dem is boun' ta follow us, bu' dey'll be easia ta deal wif when we string em ou, oi'd wayjah."
Hactor nods, "Then it's settled. Sooner we get away from dis bunch o' wack jobs, tha better."
Soclose opens and closes his mouth, "Make sure to mark which is the bad fish, then!" He adds after a pause, "I do eat the same thing, you know! And like it!" Crooning the osprey whistles a tune, "--Cle-ver am I, am I real-ly?, you know."
Sandy rubs her head, hoping Frigg would fall asleep soon. She also hoped they would find civilization soon, so they could sleep in real beds, and maybe get a change of outfits. That ragged dress of hers was beginning to become uncomfortable. "I'm all for your idea then. Though I don't know how I could ruin my recipe..."
