Alone, but not for long
This page was imported from a forum post dated October 04, 2012 in the category Art and Fiction by BrokenRain. Its content is likely to be out of date!
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Thu, 10/04/2012 - 15:44
OOC: This is a bit of history for one of my characters. Thought it was rather important, considering it affects her quite a bit. It is a bit sad, so if you don’t like death and blood and that sort of thing, don’t read it. (Though it isn’t that gory. Don’t like gory things myself.) Enjoy.
The traveler walks quietly through the woods, aware that vermin are in the area, but not unduly nervous. She knows that she is more than capable of defending herself. A slight breeze ruffles her fur, and she gives a little hop-skip, happy to be out and about and alive on a beautiful day such as this one. Turning her face to the sun shining through the trees, she narrows her eyes. Some scent that the wind brought to her has made her unsettled, and more wary. The tall otter pauses for a brief moment, trying to gauge where the disturbance is. Quickly unsheathing her sword and holding it at the ready by her side, she sets off north.
In a small clearing, not far from where the traveler first scented danger, three large crows and a raven are cawing raucously, diving at two prone bodies on the ground, and one more, barley able to stand. The pretty mouse on the ground is clearly dead. She is draped over one who seems to be her baby girl. They are both covered in blood. The mother is cradling her daughter, the blood and gore on her face mixed with tears that leaked from her beautiful brown eyes before they had closed for good. The blood on her matted blue-grey fur drips onto the dirt. Drip, drip, drip.
The mouse still standing is obviously no fighter, though he is strong. He has no weapons, and, realizing that his family is dead, doesn’t seem to care if he lives now. The birds dive at him, pecking at his upraised arms and barely covered face. As his legs crumple to the ground, he sobs. “Why have you brought evil to the peace that is Mossflower? Why have you come?” The birds fly away from him, but begin to circle about for another attack. The mouse hangs his head, closes his eyes. He whispers. “Why couldn’t you have taken me and left them?”
From the fringes of the clearing, the traveler bursts through the trees, having started running at full tilt when she first scented blood and heard the crows. Her eyes are narrowed to slits; she is gritting her teeth. Raising her sword above her head, she swings it at the raven, cleaving it in two. Continuing on her strike, she spins, plunging the blade deep into the chest of a crow. Shaking the dead beast off of her weapon, she arches her back as a crow scrapes her back, tearing her tunic. The third bird goes for a direct charge. The fighter twists away, letting the fool-hardy charger run into his companion with a loud CAW. A swift draw of the blade across their throats as they struggle to rise is their death.
The otter pauses for a brief moment to catch her breath, examining the clearing. Small movement catches her eye. She wipes her swords on a pawful of grass, sheathes it, and trots over the figure of the father, the last mouse to go down. She kneels and grasps his paw gently.
“I’m Wildefray, sir. Who’re ye? What has happened here?” Wildefray sees that the mouse is past help, so she does what she can to make him comfortable. The otter wipes blood from his face, and props his head on a tussock of soft grass.
His voice is deep and raspy as he struggles to talk.
“I am Dulin. My family has done nothing, yet these vermin have brought terrible sorrow to this place.” He stops, draws in a shaky breath. “My daughter…her name is Shandar. My wife is…was…Bailey. Please…lay them in a good place. Thank you, friend.” He draws in one last shuddering breath, then his eyes close and his paw slips out of Wildefray’s.
Wildefray stands slowly and moves towards the mother and daughter. Gently moving the body of Bailey, she picks up Shandar. Shandar is limp in the otter’s arms; just like a broken rag doll. Wildefray goes to lay the mouse in the remnants of her home. She gives a start as the girl’s eyelids twitch, and she gives a small whimper. Shandar was alive, by some miraculous feat of nature.
OOC: Here I have omitted some things, just for the sake of everyone’s sanity and the length of this thing. It’s mostly just Wildefray taking care of the mousemaid and laying her family to rest. If you’re really really interested in that (I would be surprised if you were), just page mail Shandar or Wildefray and we’ll page the info to you or something. It's not that interesting, though.
Shandar has woken out of deep sleep. The first thing she remembers is her mother, dead, and the black birds, her father shouting for her to run. Upon hearing rustling, she turns toward the sound and sits up. Her place is comfy- a soft bed of moss at the base of a large elm. She looks with wide scared eyes at the otter.
Wildefray can sense that the mouse is frightened, and she crouches about four feet away from her, speaking softly.
“My name is Wildefray. I c’n tell by your face that ye remember what has happened, and that ye’re frightened. I shan’t harm ye, so you’ve no need to be afraid o’ me. If you’re hungry, there’s food in the bag near your head.” She points. “I bandaged your wounds, and laid your parents to rest. Ye cn’t stay here, though, so if you’ll eat up, then we c’n be on the move t’ Redwall. Ye will be safe there.” The otter moves a bit towards the mousemaid.
The mouse flinches as Widlefray lessens the gap between them. Her gaze doesn’t leave Wildefray’s but she reaches for the bag, rubbing the bandage that has been wrapped around her from her lower back up to her ears with her other paw.
The otter sighs, talking to herself. “Ah, how am I goin’ t’ get a baby mouse t’ the Abbey if she can’t trust me? Though I don't blame 'er, after what she's seen...” Speaking up, she directs her words to Shandar. “Eat as much as ye like. I won’t force ye t’ do anythin’ ye don’t want t’ do.” She shakes her head and stands. “The creatures at the Abbey are good. They’ll heal that wound o’ yours better’n I c’n. An’ mayhap they c’n make your shyness and fear go away.”
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