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[Deadtail]

He woke to pain?a dull, pervasive ache across his entire body. Lying motionless, Deadtail opened his eyes and looked up, trying to remember why the roaring noise just behind him sounded so familiar.

The waterfall. He had tried to jump out of the boat, but had he made it? Apparently not; out of the corner of his eye, he could see the water continuing to gush downwards. But that didn't matter. He was alive.

Seeing nobeast around, the rat took his time before he climbed up. By that time, the pain wasn't so bad, but all of a sudden he felt a sharp pain in his leg. Deadtail didn't bother to check who might be watching, but took off his faded uniform to inspect it.

For once in his life, the rat smiled at a swordpoint poking him. The waterfall hadn't taken away the weapon he'd carried with him from Bulgam's army. Though a furtive glance around as he pulled his uniform back on did not reveal any threat, he was always better off armed.

Deadtail turned towards the bottom of the waterfall, which flowed into a pool. Several forms lay slumped on the other side of the pool. Even if they had once constituted Martin's Shadow, they were no longer his business. He meandered away, towards the back of the waterfall itself, where there seemed to be some sort of opening. Sword first, he advanced into the semidarkness.

The water continued to beat down behind him. There was not much room between it and the rocks piled at the back of the cave, certainly not enough to be anybeast's home. Still, it seemed as fine a place as any to rest for some time. His eyes didn't need to adjust to the dark; it was almost as dark outside. He had not been unconscious for too long.

As he felt around the edges of the cave for a comparatively soft place to lay his head, he noticed what appeared to be a dark smear on the wall. He paid it no mind, ignored a similar one just beyond, but couldn't resist curiosity when he saw another above that. Squinting, Deadtail attempted to make sense of the smudges. One appeared to be in the shape of a mouse; the next resembled some sort of weasel. Both creatures had paws outstretched toward the other; each paw seemed to hold something, though it was too dark for him to make out the details.

Whatever it was was no concern of his. Deadtail lay down, closed his eyes?and tilted his head at the sound of noise from outside.

Grabbing his sword, he rose and peered out through the opening of the cave. He saw nothing, but the noise had grown louder. The rat stepped out and looked around; on the other side of the pool, a small battle was in full force.

?Have at ye, scum!?

?Huh, is this what they're sendin' these seasons? Pfah!?

Nobeast seemed to notice the rat as he crept around the pool, watching the fighting rage on. Some, though not all, of his longboat companions, struggled against a squadron of vermin who outnumbered them, perhaps two to one.

Deadtail had seen too many creatures to take first impressions for granted. The ruthless general who would sacrifice anything to win might be a coward beneath it all. The obese ferret might be the finest archer in the woodlands. No one beast could be fully understood in a single glance.

But when it came to armies, things were altogether different. There was, quite simply, no way that so few half-drowned woodlanders could defeat the horde that had materialized. Usually, it would take the rat many battles before he realized he was on the wrong side, but he no longer had that luxury. Oh, he could have stood and waited for things to die down, but alone in the desert, he could wander for days unless he was part of a group that knew what they were doing.

The vermin would triumph, and Deadtail fancied his chances alongside them far more than in a cage at their paws. He would just infiltrate their diverse ranks in the chaos. Many armies he'd seen were full of common rat soldiers, with other animals comprising the officer ranks, but there rats and weasels fought side-by-side, while a wildcat?A wildcat? Yes, he was definitely better off outside of Martin's Shadow.

Even if any of the woodlanders got away, they'd be in no shape to mount a counterattack. Still, the best thing to do was to make the vermin's victory complete. Not their victory, he told himself. Ours.

He recognized the ottermaid, Erin or somebeast. Her face was not that of a carefree riverdog, though, but a grim warrior. She was holding her own against a full-grown ferret who lunged forward, scimitar at the ready. But hers was there first, slicing through his paw and sending the scimitar falling harmlessly to the ground. The ferret backed away, scrambling for it.

As the ottermaid pursued the ferret, Deadtail attacked from behind her. His sword tore through her back, and she fell to the ground, blood pouring onto the sand.  When every step might be over a corpse, any surface was the same for fighting on?riverbank, grassy valley, or woodland soil.

The dirt was more than everywhere; the only place they were was the place the dirt was not. ?Only moles live in holes,? he'd mutter, but it earned him a glare.

?Shut yer trap! There's a mad badger wandrin' about!?

?Aye, but even mad badgers'll die if there's a sword through their??

?I said, shaddap!?

In the end, Deadtail did keep his quiet through the seasons. The old loony was right on that?but little else. Only morons hid when there was danger apaw; he was safer in numbers. The larger, the better. Perhaps he should have been more tolerant of digging tunnels, though?it might have prevented the scene that stretched before him. There were only a dozen or so beasts, and fewer still standing, but they emanated the stench of a far larger battle.

There was no sign of the robin?though if the rat had wings, he wouldn't be anywhere near the waterfall either. Deadtail thought he glimpsed the dormouse, but as his eyes roved for her, his ears were assaulted from below. ?You!?

He hadn't killed the otter? His thrusts had weakened severely. She posed no immediate threat, of course, and he wanted to move on and eliminate some other beast from the fray. But if she survived in that condition, vengeance on the ?traitor? would surely come to mind.

It was a pity. Just because he was free from such delusions didn't stop his life from being threatened by others' stupidity. All he could do was waste his time there. Annoyed, Deadtail sent his sword to her throat and silenced her for good.