Juskanock: A Tale of Redwall - A Redwall Fanfiction - Prologue
Story Summary:
For a multitude of seasons, the Juska clans found themselves in a state of war and death. Now, in a brief era of peace, Moggs, Seer of the Juskanock band, predicts a new danger coming from the Western Sea. For the survival of the Juskanock and for the safety of Mossflower Woods, an unlikely alliance must form between woodlanders and vermin.
(I've been working on this fanfiction for about a year and only now has it come to my realization that I should maybe upload it here on Tumblr, lol. This story takes place long after "The Rogue Crew" and is a distant sequel to "The Taggerung". Enjoy!)
Slate-colored smoke danced its way into the nighttime sky, carrying with it the scent of burning wood and salty broth. The heat of a Juska campfire was in deep combat with the chill of late autumn. Taggerung Rangum Nock, fox leader of the Juskanock band, stared contemplatively at the flames. He was a lean beast, muscular beneath his ginger fur. Across from him stood a large, black rat, dark-eyed and scarred from past battles. Black Alder Club was the name he went by, Club for short, and he stirred the contents of a large, iron cauldron. The evening's supper was a shrimp and seaweed soup seasoned with herbs from the woodlands: wild garlic, sorrel, and lemon balm. Club looked at Rangum and waved his free hand, trying to gain his attention. The fox didn't seem to notice. Removing the wooden ladle he was stirring with, Club tapped the side of the cauldron, forcing Rangum's head to shoot up. One of his paws reached for the dagger strapped to his leg.
"What's the matter?" Rangum Nock asked. His bronze eyes scanned the surrounding area. "D'you hear somethin'?"
"Mmm-mmm," grunted Club, shaking his head for good measure. Grunts, huffs, snorts, and other noises were Club's preferred method of "talking"; his tongue had been cut out when he was much younger. Despite that fact, Rangum had little trouble understanding him most of the time. It was a testament to their seasons-long companionship. Club dipped the ladle into the soup, gathered a sample of it, and held it out for the fox to try.
"Ah, right," said Rangum. He stood up, approached the cauldron, and carefully sipped at the concoction. The shrimp and seaweed were cooked well, and the herbs added flavor to what would normally be a simple brine. Rangum Nock nodded his head in approval. "Pretty good. I think it's ready for Lans." Pausing, the fox then sighed. "If she'd just let me into our tent..."
Rangum and Club looked towards one of the three tents surrounding the campfire. A lantern had been lit inside, and the silhouette of a fox was moving about. It was Moggs, the band's seer and the mother of the second vixen lying inside the tent: Lansah. Lansah was Rangum's mate. A few hours ago, she had given birth, but Rangum had yet to see his cub. Lansah would not allow it; her mind was clouded with the instinctual desire to protect her newborn, something many a Juska she-beast experienced after bearing young. For his own safety, and for Lansah's peace of mind, Rangum stayed away. It was frustrating, but the Taggerung knew that it wouldn't last.
Moggs' silhouette moved again, and she emerged from the tent, her golden eyes dull from exhaustion. This had not been the Seer's first time delivering Juska babes, but it never got any easier.
"Oooh..." she sighed, her nostrils quivering at the smell of food. "Soup's done?"
"Mmm," Club grunted again, nodding. Leaning down, the rat reached for one of the wooden bowls that were placed just far enough that the campfire couldn't reach them. He filled it with soup, and held it out as Moggs joined them.
"Didn't add t'much wild garlic again, did ye?" asked Moggs as she eyed the bowl. Club sucked his teeth, a noise indicating his annoyance at the question.
"He didn't," Rangum answered for Club. "I 'ad some just now. It's good." He nodded towards the tent. "How's Lans?"
"Fine," replied Moggs as she took the bowl of soup and began blowing at it. "She's nursin' right now, and not t'be disturbed. Hmph. Snapped at me, she did. Her own mam!" She pointed at Rangum. "It's yore fault, o'course."
The Taggerung's shoulders bounced as he laughed.
"It's not all my fault." He took a bowl of soup that was offered to him by Club. "Lans and I agreed on it together. What's the point in startin' our own band if we have no one to pass it down to when we're gone? Besides, we could use an extra set of paws."
"Mmph. Still don't like bein' growled an' fussed at." Moggs took a sip from her soup bowl and smacked her lips at the various flavors. "Hmm. Not bad, Black Alder. Yore learnin'."
Black Alder Club dipped his head in response to the praise.
"Anyway," continued Moggs. "I'll bring some soup to Lansah in a bit. I just needed some fresh air. She might settle down once she's got some good vittles in 'er."
Rangum sighed.
"I want to see 'er..." he lamented. "And the cub. At least tell me if I've gotten a son or daughter?"
"A daughter," answered the Seer. Rangum's ear flicked curiously. "Not the biggest cub I've seen, but a good appetite. Think she smelt the soup; she stopped nursin' fer a second t'get a good whiff."
Rangum could not help but chuckle at the thought. He was pleased at the news. He had a legacy now, and he was determined to shape his daughter into a proud Juskabeast.
Club had served himself his own bowl of shrimp and seaweed soup as the conversation had gone on. He listened quietly, sipping at the broth and carefully chewing the solid bits. He could not taste his meal at all, but it did not bother him much. He was alive, and that was what mattered to him. Club's eyes darted between Rangum and Moggs as he waited for one of them to speak again. The Taggerung had begun to eat, but Moggs was sitting still, the bowl tightly gripped in her hands, and her eyes staring straight ahead. Curious, Club watched her. The Seer's body began to tremble.
"Hah..." an exhale escaped Moggs' lips. "Hah...hah...hah..."
At that sound, Rangum was paying attention to the vixen as well. He and Club exchanged a glance before they both set down their soup bowls and approached her.
"Moggs?" called Rangum. "Y'alright, silver-whiskers?"
Moggs did not reply. Instead, her breathing quickened, as did her trembling. The soup threatened to spill out over her paws. Club took it from her. Rounding the vixen, Rangum rested his paws on Moggs' shoulders, steadying her. He then brought a paw to her forehead. She was warm to the touch. A fever was kicking in at an unnaturally fast pace. The Taggerung knew exactly what this meant. With serious eyes, Rangum Nock looked to his rat comrade.
"We need t'bring her inside," he said. "Quickly."
Club nodded. With one of Moggs' arms wrapped around one of their shoulders, Club and Rangum carried the old vixen into her own tent. Lansah, hearing the commotion, called out to her mate.
"Rangum? What's happenin'!? Is it Mam? What's goin' on with Mam!?"
Rangum gritted his teeth. He had no choice but to ignore his mate's shouts as he and Club laid Moggs down on a "bed" of barkcloth blankets. Club stepped out again and returned seconds later with an earthenware jug filled with fresh water. Rangum lifted her head, allowing Club to carefully tilt the cooling liquid into Moggs' open mouth. The vixen drank it, smacked her lips, and peered at the Rangum and Club through squinted eyes.
"Hah..." she breathed again. She struggled to form words. "Sm...smo..."
Rangum listened carefully. This was an omen. Whenever Moggs received one, she was struck with a sudden fever.
"Hare...badger..." continued Moggs. "Juska...death...death...death...!"
Rangum's fur bristled. Again, he and Club looked at each other. Club's eyes were wide with alarm.
"Winters...two...two winters...red...stone..." Moggs' eyes began to close, and her trembling lessened. As she slipped out of consciousness, one final word left her lips: "Barabell..."
Moggs went limp. Rangum checked for a pulse. The Seer was alive. Right now, she needed rest. In the silence, Rangum and Club sat near the recovering Moggs, both beasts repeating the words in their heads. One thing was painfully clear: something bad was going to happen, and they had two winters to prepare for it.
"Rangum!" called Lansah again. "Answer me! I know ye can 'ear me!"
Club nudged Rangum's shoulder, a signal for him to go to his mate. The Taggerung nodded, stood, and left for his and Lansah's tent in a hurry. When he arrived, he was met with Lansah staring intensely at him from her corner of the tent, their cub dozing in her arms. She was a pretty thing, her coat being an unusual shade of gold that only foxes of the Ruggan Bor bloodline could inherit. For a brief moment, Rangum's attention was stolen by his sleeping daughter.
"Answer, damn it!" snapped Lansah irritably. "What's 'appened? I 'eard Mam talkin', but she was goin' too fast. What'd she say!?"
"It's not good news..." admitted the fox. "I don't think I should tell you now, not after the day you've 'ad..."
"I'm fine," insisted the vixen. "Go on. 'urry up an' tell me."
Rangum sighed. There was no other choice; Lansah would only work herself up if he kept quiet. He sat down a good, safe distance from his mate and repeated the words to her.
"White smoke, white fox, hare, badger, Juska, death, two winters, redstone, and..." Rangum was still a bit puzzled as to the last word and its meaning. Nevertheless, he said it. "Barabell."
Lansah took the words in. Her brow furrowed.
"...It sounds like another war's comin'," she muttered in a somewhat calmer voice. "And so soon after the Taggerung Truce, too..."
The Taggerung Truce was an event that occurred seasons prior, during the spring. After the humiliation of Ruggan Bor by Russano the Wise, the Juska clans fell into a generations-long war over the title of Taggerung. The bloodshed seemed endless until the more sensible Juskabeasts introduced the Taggerung Truce. Any Chieftain, whether they ruled a large clan or a small band, would be known as s Taggerung. Something resembling peace finally fell over the Western Coast.
"It could be," said Rangum Nock. "And it won't only be us Juska involved. Badgers an' hares? I'm sure you know what that's referrin' to..."
"The Salamandastron lot..." growled Lansah. She held her cub tighter to her chest. "An' redstone? Tha's referrin' to those Abbeybeasts from the old tales. What'n Hellgates do either of 'em want with us!?"
"I really don't know, Lans." Rangum let out a heavy sigh. "An' then there's this talk o' white foxes and smoke. It's a lot t'figure out right now, but the one thing we do know is that we 'ave time t'prepare, two winters. We're lucky ol' Moggs had her omen now an' not later, when it's too late. We need t'be well-trained, all of us."
Lansah was quiet for a moment. She stared down at her cub, and after a few seconds, looked at Rangum.
"Barabell..." she began. "That was the name of me gran'mammy. Mam tol' me about her when I was a wee 'un. She died in the wars when Mam was barely old enough t'get her clan markin's."
"Aye?"
"Aye." Lansah looked at the cub again. The foxbabe yawned, exposing her pink tongue. "I wonder if that's meant t'be this 'un's name."
"It's a good name," commented Rangum as he stood up. Lansah seemed calmer now than before. Perhaps this was his chance to come closer. Cautiously, he took a step forward. The vixen's golden stare burned into him almost immediately. Rangum paused. "...I'm not gonna 'urt her. You know I'm not."
Lansah glanced her mate over. Rangum waited, not daring to breathe as the vixen made up her mind. Lansah's gaze softened somewhat; the brief conversation made Rangum's presence more palatable.
"Slowly," was all she said in response. Ears perked, Rangum carefully approached. He lowered himself onto all fours and took his place beside Lansah. The vixen held Barabell out so that Rangum could properly see her. Even with her eyes closed, something told Rangum that she would have the same vibrant eyes of her mother and grandmother.
"Heh..." laughed Rangum. "Amazin' how even the vilest Juskabeasts start out small like this, hmm?"
"Hmm..." Lansah halfheartedly attempted to laugh. Frowning, Rangum nudged her head with his own. She flashed her teeth at him as a warning.
"Sorry," the Taggerung winced. "Y'know, you really shouldn't stress so much. Moggs is fine. After a day or two, she'll be back on her feet. You know that."
"And what about the omen?" Lansah stared hard at Rangum. "What are we meant t'do when it 'appens? Fight an entire army ourselves?"
"O'course not. We survive by any means necessary, even if that means..." Here, Rangum exhaled wearily through his nostrils. "We have to flee the Western Coast."
"Flee?" growled Lansah. "Tch. I'm tired o' fleein'. We did our fleein' when the Juskalaith fell apart."
Rangum frowned as he remembered the clan he, Lansah and Moggs once called home. Life in the Juskalaith had been rough, especially under the rule of the weasel Chieftain, Sloangra Laith. She had not lived long enough to see the Taggerung Truce, not that Rangum believed she would have agreed to it. Her daughter, Verratta Laith, led a mutiny that took Sloangra's life, and in the chaos, Rangum, Lansah and Moggs took their leave. After the Truce, Rangum did not concern himself with the Juskalaith. It was a bad memory he would rather forget.
"If runnin' means our band survives," the fox responded after a long pause. "Then so be it. I didn't leave Juskalaith just so I could die. Did you?"
Lansah's silence was all the answer Rangum needed. After a moment's hesitation, he brushed her arm with his own.
"We shouldn't think about that now..." In a bold move, the Taggerung reached out with his paws. "Lemme see 'er."
"...What?" Lansah gave Rangum an odd look.
"I want t'hold 'er. See 'ow little she is."
"Hmm..."
"I'll be gentle with 'er. Honest, I will. Swear on me longbow."
"Right." Lansah eyed her mate a bit, her mind still a bit clouded by her maternal instincts. Slowly, she raised the infant and began passing her over. "Careful. Not one 'air outta place, or I'll break that longbow."
"Of course," snickered Rangum. He took Barabell, and held her out in front of him. Moggs had not been lying; Barabell was a tiny thing. The cub stirred, her nose quivering, taking in the scent of her father. Rangum could not resist a grin as he brought Barabell closer. "Barabell. D'you like that name, lass?"
"She can't 'ear ye," scoffed Lansah, the slightest hint of amusement on her weary face. "Mam says cubs can't 'ear when they're first born."
"Oh." Rangum blinked. His fur bristled with embarrassment. "Well, in my defense, I 'aven't 'andled too many cubs in my lifetime."
"I know." Lansah leaned a bit closer to her mate and rested her head on his shoulder. "Can't wait 'til she's old enough to handle a spear. Just imagine, me and 'er, downin' enemies left an' right. Not t'mention how much fish we'll be bringin' back from the sea, hehe."
Rangum held little Barabell in his arms the way he had seen Lansah do it. As the vixen spoke, he gently poked the cub's belly with a claw.
The Taggerung grinned as his own imagination took flight. "An' I'll teach 'er to use a bow. Strikin' fear into the 'earts of intruders with 'er ol' sire. I tell ya, Lans, the Juskanock's gonna be in good paws when we're done with 'er."
Lansah smiled. By now, she was used to Rangum being in the tent with her. The maternal cloud had become a ghostly mist, allowing her to see Rangum as the fox she knew and loved. The feelings were not completely gone, however. She reached for Barabell again.
"Give 'er back," she ordered. Rangum chuckled.
"Yes, marm," the Taggerung joked. He rested Barabell back into her mother's arms, and the cub began whining. She was hungry again. Lansah laid on her side, closed her eyes and began nursing Barabell. Watching her and the babe for a moment, Rangum spoke again. "You should eat, too. Moggs was gonna bring some soup, but..."
"Mmm..." Lansah opened an eye to look at her mate. "Soup would be nice. Get me some, would ye? And make sure there's a lot o' shrimp."
"Aye, Chieftain," snickered Rangum. His laughter grew louder when Lansah looked at him in annoyance. He got up and started for the entrance of the tent. "Alright, alright, I'm goin'.
Just before the Taggerung stepped out into the night, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. He watched his mate and cub once more and began to frown as Moggs' words repeated in his mind. Despite what he told Lansah, not even he could fight off the worry in his heart. Rangum Nock closed his eyes, shook his head, and left the tent in silence.
Earlier this year I had the pleasure of being commissioned to design a character for a Redwall-adjacent TTRPG, Cassian the Dormouse thief. I definitely would love to do more work like this again, and it was thanks to my Inktober sketches that the client found me. I also made an icon for them to use on Roll20 or Discord depending on where they played, or if they needed a token.
His design is based on the Bavarian Dormouse because I thought the natural mask sold his character type.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Characters: Martin the Warrior (Redwall), Luke the Warrior (Redwall)
Summary:
Luke's story did not end with the wreck of the Goreleech. Despite changes to his life, it becomes clear that the lineage of a warrior is not so easily extinguished. Follow the journey of Luke's second son as he travel's the world and discovers new friends.
(This piece is something I initially spent a lot of time on, developing it as a story about two of my Redwall OCs, but I eventually abandoned it because I couldn't wrangle a decent plot out of it, but I haven't written anything in a while and I wanted to post something I was decently proud of. This type of work is something I call semi-canonical because nothing in it actually contradicts canon, but fills in some gaps with my own interpretation. This is not my most polished story, but I hope you enjoy it.)
Meet Peregrine and Tamsen: the latest additions to Captain Clawlion’s crew!
Peregrine: Peregrine is descended from a family of royal wildcats and at one point was in line to become queen. Her sister, Maybell, who was extremely jealous of her, forced Peregrine out of the family over a horrible lie. Maybell told her parents that Peregrine was a traitor and wanted to overthrow her whole family. Peregrine defended herself and promised it wasn’t true but her sister’s word was taken over hers. Maybell was always the favorite of the family. Peregrine, without a home, family, or any money to her name was forced to become a criminal to survive. She joined Captain Clawlion’s crew and quickly climbed the ranks, landing herself the job of Quartermaster. Peregrine has an attitude towards others who are below her and can appear stuck up at times. In reality Peregrine is lonely and hurt from her sister’s betrayal. She wishes to become Captain to have some sense of stability and control.
Tamsen: Tamsen is a playful and rambunctious fox who loves joking around and having fun. She originally came from a poor background. Tamsen takes a lot of the loot she steals and sends it back to her family to help support them. She is sweet and seems easygoing but knows how to be serious and when to get the crew back in line. Tamsen loves the thrill of plundering and stealing treasure. If necessary, she will get herself in dangerous situations over a bit of gold. Tamsen and Peregrine don’t get along very well. She believes Peregrine is distant and rude towards beasts below her own rank. Tamsen has suspicions about Peregrine wanting to become Captain and taking Clawlion out. She just has to get evidence first…
Storra - Storra was once under the tyrannical rule of Cluny the Scourge. After refusing to hurt a family of woodlanders, Storra ran away from Cluny’s army to live in peace at Redwall Abbey. Though a bit overzealous and headstrong, Storra would do anything to protect her friends and to keep Redwall safe.
Captain Clawlion - Abandoned as a dibbun and found and raised by a crew of pirate Searats, Clawlion eventually grew up to become Captain of the same crew that took him in. After years of clawing his way up and stepping over otherbeasts, he got his wish to become a leader. Clawlion soon regrets becoming a pirate Captain when he finds out that his crew is plotting to overthrow him.
Iceroot - Iceroot is a kindly white fox who made a treacherous journey from The Land of Ice and Snow to Mossflower in search of a new life. Clever, understanding, caring, and constantly reading and writing in her scrolls, Iceroot knows how to make any type of potion or cure you can think of. She resides in Redwall Abbey as a healer. She loves playing in the snow and will do anything for some strawberry jam.
Scully - Scully is a slippery, conniving, and boisterous corsair who enjoys stealing treasure and then forging fakes of them to sell to unsuspecting beasts. He isn’t the worst pirate to come across as the most he’ll do is take your money or try to sell you knockoff jewelry. Scully has a bit of a good side. He looks after his friends and always upholds his loyalty to his fellow crewmates and captain.
I hope you all like my silly little characters!! XP
Plowing a field by paw was strenuous, tedious, and exhausting work, but the smell of food wafting from the farmhouse kept the laborers optimistic that their efforts would be well-rewarded.
One of the day-laborers, a weasel with striking blue eyes, paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. He was young, only a few seasons into his adulthood. With boundless energy, this was work he was well-suited toward. As he rested, he saw another weasel approaching, the daughter of the farmer who had hired him and his friends to work on his farm in exchange for food and shelter. Her name was Maudred, and the laborer had grown quite close to her in the few weeks he had been working. When Maudred drew close, she offered him a canteen of water with a smile on her face. It was a warm, friendly smile just like that which had drawn the laborer to her in the first place.
Relieved to have something to drink, he took the canteen and downed most of the contents in a few large gulps. “Thanks,” he said, handing the canteen back. “It’s been a hot one today. Is dinner going to taste as good as it smells?”
“You bet it will. I made the blueberry pie myself.” She winked. “I know it’s your favorite.”
“Well, then I’ll be sure to have seconds and fully appreciate your work.”
“It’s hard work, cooking for an army of hungry beasts.”
“We should probably switch jobs then. I can take over in the kitchen and you can come out here and plow the fields.”
Maudred laughed. “At least we wouldn’t have to worry about eating. We’d all have died of food poisoning after the first night.”
The laborer held his arms out in mock offence. “Are you saying I can’t cook?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.” Maudred winked and lightly kissed the laborer’s cheek. “But you can help with the dishes any time you want.”
The laborer leaned on his hoe and sighed as he watched Maudred walk away toward the farmhouse. He was thankful he and his wandering companions hand come across this farm when they needed help. They hadn’t eaten so well since they had left their homes to lead a life of adventure, living off the land, scavenging, and sometimes begging. Having a place to call home, even if it was only temporary, was nice.
“Hey Ferahgo!” one of his companions shouted from across the patch of soil, how about you do some work like the rest of us?”
“I am!” Ferahgo shouted back. “Impressing maids is a very difficult job.”
*
As promised, dinner was delicious. The serving table was packed with crisp salads topped with juicy tomatoes, bowls full of berries and nuts, plates stacked high with scones and honey. To drink there was mint tea (still cool from the farmhouse cellar), nutbrown beer foaming in mugs, and sweet raspberry cordial. The laborers ate at every available flat surface around the farm: inside at the table, on the floor, outside around tree stumps, plus a few on the patchwork picnic blankets spread all around. All the while, Maudred was hurrying about, making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink. The laborers were a mixed bunch. Besides Ferahgo and his friends, there were itinerant hares, some otters from the nearby river, two or three wandering hedgehogs, and a large number of others of various species who, like Ferahgo’s group, traveled around looking for enough work to fill their bellies.
Maudred was so busy seeing to everybeast’s needs, she hadn’t had time to sit down and eat herself. Ferahgo noticed, and eventually forced her to take a break and have something to eat while he took over the dispensing of food and drink.
When dinner was over and everybeast, including Maudred, had eaten their fill, most of the laborers went off to the barn where they slept to enjoy some music before they went to bed, but Ferahgo stayed behind.
“Aren’t you going to go with your friends?” Maudred asked as she picked up the plates that had been left lying around.
“I think I prefer different company tonight,” Ferahgo said, starting to make his own stack of dishes.
“You don’t need to do that,” Maudred told him. “You’ve worked hard enough today.”
“You did say I could help with the dishes any time I wanted.”
“If you insist.” Maudred picked up her stack of plates and started for the farmhouse. “You can wash.”
The wash-bin was large enough to be a bathtub and was filled with soapy water and no small number of dirty dishes. Ferahgo started washing as Maudred wiped the dishes dry and put them away until they would be used again the next evening.
“This is certainly easier,” Maudred said. “Maybe I should have you help me every night.”
“It’ll cost you,” Ferahgo teased. “You might have to kiss me again.”
“A sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Maudred teased back. “Maybe I should kiss your friends as well. Might get them to do all my work for me.”
Ferahgo flicked some water at Maudred. She looked at him slyly and brushed the drops from her fur. She dipped her paw into the water and splashed him. Within moments, events escalated into a full splash-war. When the suds settled, both Ferahgo and Maudred were soaked through to the skin and in a fit of laughter.
Maudred took a clean cloth and wiped off Ferahgo’s face. “You clean up nice,” she said to him.
“You always look nice.”
Ferahgo and Maudred finished washing the dishes together and then cleaned up the kitchen, making sure to mop up the puddles from their aquatic battle. Afterward, Ferahgo waited while Maudred went to put on dry clothing. She came back out wearing a simple cream-colored dress that beautifully complimented her brown fur. She took Ferahgo’s arm and led him to a private spot outside beneath and oak tree. They lay there together and watched as the stars came out. They had both watched the stars many times before, but there was something special about sitting and quietly watching the distant points of light with somebeast close by.
Though they sat in silence, Ferahgo could tell something was bothering Maudred. He shifted closer and placed his arm around her. “What troubles you, Maudie?”
She sighed and looked into Ferahgo’s blue eyes, which sparkled with starlight. “The time for planting is almost over. Once the seeds are in the ground, father and I will not need so many laborers. Father already asked the Brownspikes and the Streamdogs to stay on to help with weeding and irrigation. I’m worried that you’ll leave and I’ll never see you again.”
Ferahgo sat up in front of Maudred so he could look directly into her eyes. “Do you think I care so little that I’d simply leave and never come back? This area is plentiful in the spring and summer. My friends and I can stay close by. When harvest comes, we can come back.”
“And after that? What then? What will you do in the winter?”
“I’ll…I’ll think of something,” Ferahgo stuttered. “I’m not going to disappear. Even if I have to spend the winter a little further south, I’ll be back in the early spring.”
“And what about after that? Will it be like that forever? Planting and harvest with months of absence in between? I don’t want you to go.” Maudred sniffled and wiped her teary eyes.
Ferahgo put his paw on her cheek and leaned in close. Their noses were nearly touching. “Come with me.”
“W-what?”
“Come with me and my friends. Come wander with us. Just for the times when we aren’t here. We won’t go too far, and if you get homesick we can always come back, and-”
Maudred pulled Ferahgo to her and kissed him. Ferahgo, though initially surprised, did not resist and let her linger for as long as she wanted. When they separated, Maudred leaned back against the tree and contemplated her future.
“I’ll have to ask my father. Even with just him and a few laborers, there’s a lot of cooking and cleaning, never mind the laundry, the sewing, keeping inventory, and a dozen other things I do around here.”
“I’m sure you father can manage without you. He was running this farm before you were born, remember.”
“That’s true,” Maudred said. “Now how about you? What do you think of all this?”
“To be honest, I’m still recovering from that kiss. Wasn’t really expecting that. Not that I didn’t enjoy it.”
Maudred blushed. “I’m glad you liked it.”
Ferahgo moved next to her beneath the tree. “I’m going to be washing dishes forever, aren’t I.”
Maudred gave him a playful shove. “Shut up, you idiot.”
His eyes still sparkling in the starlight, Ferahgo smiled.
*
Several seasons later in the late autumn, Ferahgo’s group of wanderers had made camp at the bottom of a small valley sheltered between several hills. A stream running nearby supplied them with fresh fish, and berries and nuts grew abundantly in the woods. It was an ideal place to stop and store up for the winter. The group had grown beyond Ferahgo’s original group of friends in recent seasons. Besides Maudred, the group now included a dozen new members, each one content to enjoy the nomadic lifestyle, occasionally stopping to work at the farms or fisheries they happened across in their travels.
The nights had been growing colder, and everybeast slept with a small fire blazing near his or her tent. Ferahgo and Maudred were no exception.
The two weasels had been together since Maudred had left her family farm. Though they had never publically declared themselves to be mated, they still lived under that assumption and casually referred to each other as ‘husband’ and ‘wife.’
With their own fire warmly glowing not too far away, Ferahgo and Maudred settled down for bed, cuddling close to stay warm during the frigid night.
Though his eyes were closed and he was gently dozing, Ferahgo could feel Maudred’s eyes on him. Opening his eyes, he looked at his wife, gazing at him with an uncertain look.
Ferahgo rolled onto his side and leaned on his elbow, looking skeptically at his wife. “Love, something is bothering you. Let me help.”
“It’s really nothing.” She sighed, and then looked down as she ran a paw over her abdomen. “I think I might be pregnant.”
Ferahgo’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Oh Maudie, that’s wonderful. How long have you known?”
“I only said I might be pregnant. I don’t know for sure yet.”
“But you have felt signs?”
“For the past few days, yes, but it could just be an upset stomach.”
“When will you know for certain?”
“I suppose if it doesn’t go away, that means it’s a baby.”
Ferahgo cuddled against his wife. “Why did you wait to tell me?”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up in case I was wrong. You’ve talked a lot about wanting a family of your own someday. I hope I’m right. I’d like to have a little one of our own too.”
Pulling her close, Ferahgo kissed her on the forehead. “I’d like that a lot: you, me, and our child. Who needs anything else?”
Bringing the covers up, the two weasels once again settled down to sleep, dreaming of the future they would have together.
*
Gone.
Ferahgo sat alone in his tent, staring at the ground, utterly expressionless. He had heard nothing from the midwife for almost half-an-hour, and Maudie’s cries of pain from the birthing process had long been silent. Ferahgo knew what that meant, but he didn’t want to see it. If he didn’t see it, then it wasn’t real. If he didn’t see it, there was still a chance everything was fine, and he and his wife would be cradling their newborn, smiling and making silly noises to him as he looked at the world with new eyes.
Head in his paws, Ferahgo broke down sobbing, his grief unending. She was gone. He knew she was gone. Gone. He did not know how long he wept, but he only stopped when another beast entered his tent. With has much mental effort as he could muster, Ferahgo tore himself from his grief. “What is it?” he said without any real interest.
Della, the midwife, spoke calmly to him, not that it did much good. “As you’ve figured out, Maudred did not make it. I’m sorry, Ferahgo. I did everything I could to save her, but she lost too much blood.”
Ferahgo stood up. Now that he knew the truth, there was no point hiding from it. “I want to see her.” He started walking automatically toward the midwife’s tent.
“I don’t if that’s a good idea, boss. In your state-”
“I said I’m going to see her.”
His walk to the tent was a daze. He would later recall a number of creatures offering him their sympathies, but he would not remember who had been there. Entering the tent, he looked down at the mess of bloody blankets. The only clean blanket in the place covered his wife’s body. He delicately took the edge and pulled it away from her head. Maudred’s eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly open. She did not look she had been in great pain. Ferahgo gently ran a paw along her cheek. She was still slightly warm to the touch. Gone.
“I did this to you. I brought you out here. I slept with you. I made you pregnant. It’s my fault. I did this to you.” Ferahgo let out a scream of grief and rage. He pounded the earth next to where Maudred lay. A pair of gentle arms held on to him, holding him as every single ounce of emotion flowed out. Ferahgo never knew who it was that held him as his grief tore him apart.
After some time, he stopped. He made no more noise. He was empty. There was nothing left inside. He placed the blanket back over Maudred’s face, stood up, and went to leave the tent.
“The baby?” he said at the midwife as he passed.
“Your son lives,” she said. “I am having Dapplefur watch over him for now. She had her own little one a week ago. She will nurse him for now. He will be cared for.”
Ferahgo nodded and turned to go back to his tent.
“He will need a name,” the midwife said.
“Klitch,” said Ferahgo without hesitation. “We had talked about it, me and her. Klitch. After one of her uncles.”
He reached his tent and closed the flap behind him, shutting out the rest of the world. He collapsed onto the bedroll and inhaled deeply, taking in his wife’s scent while it still lingered. Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling of the tent.
Gone.
*
Anybeast entering the camp would have had no way of knowing that Ferahgo was present. Unless that beast were to stick their head directly into his tent, it was unlikely they would ever see him. Ferahgo seldom left his tent, and the times he did were usually at the urging of one of his close friends to go see his son.
The situation in the wanderer’s camp was poor. While everybeast was largely capable of scavenging and gathering for his or herself, they relied on Ferahgo to lead them to a good spot where wild edibles were plentiful, but Ferahgo had made no effort to find a spot for the coming winter. In truth, Ferahgo had little concern for himself or for the camp, rarely eating or talking to anyone. He had grown thin and ragged; even his blue eyes had lost their shine. Indeed, his only concern was for his son.
On this rare day, Ferahgo had left his tent to go feed little Klitch. Though he was still nursing, the midwife had recommended starting him on squished berries and vegetables. Little Klitch seemed to enjoy the experience greatly, smiling and laughing at the spoon as it zipped around his face before going to his mouth. Such times seemed to lighten Ferahgo’s mood as well.
“Here comes a birdie looking for its nest. Where’s it gonna land?” Ferahgo said as he trailed the spoon around. “Here it comes. It’s going to land.” He popped the spoon into Klitch’s mouth and let him swallow the vegetable mush. “That’s a good little weasel. Going to grow up big and strong like your daddy.”
The feeding was interrupted by Dewnose the stoat, one of Ferahgo’s friends who had been part of his original group. “Boss, we need to talk.”
Ferahgo continued to feed his son as he talked to Dewnose. “What is it?”
“Boss, we need to do…something.”
“Something?”
“Something about food, boss. Autumn’s almost over and we’ve nowhere near enough food. We’ve been kipped here so long everything’s been picked clean. We’ve got enough for day-to-day stuff for now, but once winter hits-”
“We’ll get through it,” Ferahgo said without much concern. “We’ve gotten through rough winter’s before.”
“Not with this many mouths to feed, boss. We need to do…something. Move the camp or…I don’t know. You’re the one who’s good at planning and stuff. What do we do, boss? If we don’t get a lot of food soon, we’re going to die, boss. You, me, your son, and everybeast here.”
Ferahgo stopped the spoon halfway to his son’s mouth, a grimace on his face. Klitch fussed as he tried to get at the just-out-of-reach morsel.
Silently standing, Ferahgo handed Klitch back to Dapplefur and gestured for Dewnose to follow him. Returning to his tent, Ferahgo belted on the knife he normally kept for skinning fish. “Go get Crabeyes, Doghead, and Badtooth. Dethbrush and Grabble as well. Tell them to bring weapons.”
“Weapons, boss? What are you-?”
“You said you wanted food, didn’t you? It’s too late to move camp. So unless you want to starve this winter, go and do as I say.” The tone in Ferahgo’s voice indicated that dissent was not an option.
As Dewnose went and did Ferahgo’s bidding, the weasel spun the knife around in his paws. He could do a few good tricks with it, but he had never used it to hurt any living creature, save for fish. He hoped that he wouldn’t have change that now. He really didn’t like what he was about to do, but for his son, the only thing he had left of Maudred, he would do anything.
The others came to him quickly, armed and ready to go. Ferahgo led them off out of the valley and over the hills. They followed the river for miles until they came to a farm. Most of the working day was gone, so the farmer’s would likely be inside. Silently, Ferahgo signaled for his crew to move toward the barn where all the stored food would be kept.
Dewnose and Badtooth unbarred the door and opened it. Inside the barn there were stacks and stacks of food: flour, wheat, dried fruits and vegetables, nuts, and jars and jars of preserves.
“Start with the items easiest to carry. We’ll take whatever we can.”
“Boss,” Crabeyes interrupted, “I don’t think this is right, taking everything from these farmers-”
“We aren’t taking everything. We seven couldn’t possibly take everything with us. We’re just going to take enough to survive. We’ll leave them plenty to live on. Maybe you don’t like it, but once winter hits and it’s your stomach grumbling, you’ll be thanking me for this when you have food to put in your belly.”
There were no further complaints, and the crew began loading everything they could into sacks. The sacks were half-filled when a voice stopped them dead in their tracks.
“What in Hellgates do you think you’re doing?” A hedgehog stood at the barn entrance holding a large club. He was backed up by five others.
Ferahgo stepped up to meet him. “We’re going to starve. We won’t make it through the winter unless we get food stores going. If we have something to trade we can-”
“Trader’s usually ask before they start collecting goods,” the hedgehog said. “You lot are nothin’ but thieves.” He raised his club. “I’m gonna give you ‘til the count o’ ten to get out o’ here before I start smashing skulls.”
As the hedgehog began counting, Ferahgo quickly surveyed his crew. They were all looking to him for their next move, but he could see the tension in their bodies. They were ready to draw the weapons they had brought. They knew they needed this food, and they were willing to do whatever it took to get it back home to their families.
The hedgehog finished his count and Ferahgo took out his knife, spinning it around a few times for effect.
“You’re gonna regret this, weasel,” the hedgehog said, drawing his club back. He sprung forward with surprising speed, but tripped on a hole in the uneven dirt floor. His momentum carried him right across Ferahgo’s blade. Blood spurted from the hedgehog’s throat as the thrashed on the floor before going still.
“Murderer!” one of the other hedgehogs screamed. “Assassin!”
What happened next was forever a blur in Ferahgo’s memory, but there was combat, and when it was over, the hedgehogs were all dead and Ferahgo’s crew was covered in blood.
Ferahgo cleaned his blade on one of the dead farmer’s tunics and returned it to its sheath. “Take everything you can carry,” he said, reiterating his previous command, steeping over the bodies without a glance. “We’ll come back for the rest later.”
Nobeast said a word as they trekked back to their camp, their costly burdens weighing them down, but the others noticed Ferahgo had developed a crazed look in his eyes.
The rest of the camp was surprised to see them return coated in blood, and everybeast quickly came out to see what was going on. The entire camp, around forty in all, assembled as Ferahgo began to speak.
“For seasons, we’ve lived off of the meager food of the forest or the pitiful wages of a farmhand. We are not vagrants. We are not slaves. We are better than that. Living season-to-season, even day-to-day has been a struggle for far too long. From this day forward, we are no longer slaves to nature nor slaves to any other beast. What we need, we will take! The riches of the land will be ours! Where we are denied what is ours, we will leave only bodies! Be loyal to me my Corpsemakers, and I will show you what true wealth is!”
Around three-quarters of the group, already on the verge of dire hunger, cheered for Ferahgo. Many of the others cheered as well, if only so that nobeast would see they weren’t cheering.
Ferahgo went back to Dapplefur’s tent and picked up his son. Feeling alive once again, he playfully swung his son around. “Don’t you worry, Klitch. Daddy is going to keep us all safe and fed. Everybeast will come to fear us, and we will lack nothing. Anything that we want will be ours.”
Putting his son back down, Ferahgo left to organize a return trip to the farm.
A fierce wind flew in from the north, bringing a blast of frigid air and the first flakes of winter. Ferahgo laughed at the wind, for the chill of winter was no longer any threat to him. As the wind continued to blow and gust, a manic grin appeared on Ferahgo’s face, and his blue eyes shone with a cruel light.
The coming winter would be cold, but not as cold as the smile on the face of Ferahgo the Assassin.
