Three's a Conspiracy (Brooga Delfan)

[Substitute Author]

Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men?
It is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!

The conversation petered off softly and Brooga leaned back with a quiet sigh. Shelby wasn't so bad. The comment about eating had taken her off-guard, but who could begrudge a beast their sense of humor? That sort of thing was sorely needed in a place like this. The molemaid stubbornly ignored the little voice in the back of her head that reminded her that the stoat might not seem so innocent if she wasn't a slave. Everyone deserved the benefit of the doubt, especially if they were going to have to work together.

She glanced over at the stoat intending to offer a friendly smile, but Shelby had turned away. And so instead of smiling, she moved a little closer and touched the stoat's shoulder.

"Whoi don 'ee stay with us, mizz Shelby? You'm look loike 'ee need a friend or two."

Shelby coughed slightly and looked back at the mole. "There's not a whole lot else I can do at the moment, is there?" She lifted one paw and jangled the chain. "We're chained together, remember?

Brooga shrugged and chuckled softly. "Burr hurr, pur'aps roight now. But arfter we escape, will 'ee stay then, too? Oi'd gurtly loike it if 'ee did."

"Don't you mean if we escape?"

The mole paused for a moment, pensively tapping one digging claw against her snout. When she spoke again, a wide smile wrinkled across her whole face. "No, Oi don't. Whoi be pessimistic? It don' do anybeast any good."

Shelby didn't respond immediately, and Brooga decided not to wait until she did. Rather, she politely tugged her snout and left the stoat to think what she would.

She leaned back again and let her head rest against the blackened wall. Despite her cheery words and smiles, the mole was fully aware that the proposed rebellion had more than its fair share of risks. The vermin crew had weapons, was fairly well fed, and was most likely composed of trained fighters. The slaves had no weapons, had only been fed enough to keep them alive and strong enough to row, and many of them had never lifted a weapon of any sort in their entire life. And, of course, they were chained up

She scowled slightly. Tassle would have to come up with a very good plan, or they wouldn't get anywhere at all.

Brooga winced as her shoulder accidentally scraped against the wall. She would never have guessed that a beast as small as Cricket would have been able to give her such a vicious beating. If the mole's velvety fur hadn't been so dark, she would have begun to look like a veritable map. She could still feel more bruises appearing all across her arms and back.

The little rattess was astonishingly cute, and yet, Brooga decided, at least twice as ruthless. She was probably lonely, too, considering the fact that she was an orphan and her behavior was hardly calculated to attract others. Brooga pitied her. Not that she had changed her mind about the tail-tanning. Cricket was a horrible little creature, and some discipline would do her a great deal of good. Hopefully a gentle tongue would help as well.

Brooga gingerly touched her shoulder and winced again as a burst of pain announced that her bruises were still growing. A look of mild annoyance flitted across her face. She really didn't need any help when it came to being in pain. The oars had done an awfully good job of that already.

Oddly enough, she had found rowing to be an easier task than sewing. Less enjoyable, but much easier.

Tassle's voice caught her attention as it grew just loud enough to be heard above the other noises in the fort. Brooga peered nearsightedly in the vague direction of the shrew, squinting as she tried to see the difference between the blackened walls and the other prisoners once the quiet voice had vanished into the wide sea of other noises.

Aha! There they were.

It was a good thing the badger was such a massive creature. It made him much easier to see, even for a creature with sight as poor as Brooga's.

The mole carefully eased away from the wall and crept forward again, doing her best to keep from bumping or scraping her various cuts and bruises while still moving silently towards Tassle and the badger.

What Oi wouldn' do fer a hot barth roight naow. That would do moi pore body wunders.

Unfortunately, there was no bathwater anywhere near. Brooga wasn't even sure that there was a great deal of clean water of any sort. A bath would just have to wait. But once she got home... well then. She would just have to let herself take a nice long soak until this whole ordeal was washed from her memory.

She grunted softly as a sharp stone embedded itself in her paw.

For now, baths had no useful place in her mind, and there were other things to do. Things like making their plans and enlisting the badger's help.

She still couldn't understand what Tassle was saying to the badger, but now instead of irregular mumbles she could actually catch a word here or half a word there.

It took a ridiculous amount of time, but the mole finally found herself within a few feet of the pair. She stood, carefully, and tugged her snout in a respectful greeting.

"Gud day zurr badger." She smiled a little through the shadows as she realized just how big the badger really was. "Naow, Oi don't know what mizz Tassle's told 'ee, but Oi'd loike to tell 'ee a few woirds of moi own."

Brooga paused, looking over at Tassle to see what she was thinking. Not that whatever she saw there would have stopped her from saying what she would. Fortunately, the shrew did not appear to mind that she had gained a partner.

"Zurr, would 'ee please 'elp us? We don't 'arve much of a plan yet, but if'n 'ee were with us, we'd know what we could plan. Oi carn't imagine that 'ee want to stay chained up f'rever, and we'd both be gurtly 'appy if'n 'ee'd 'elp us."

She waited in silence for a moment, then wrinkled up her nose in another warm smile as she held out a friendly digging claw.

"And boi the way, moi name's Brooga Delfan, an' that's miss Tassle. What should Oi call 'ee?"