Her Beauty In The Limelight Overthrew You...

[Eliza Lacrimosa]

Dawn had broken, apparently.

Or rather, whatever played the role of dawn in this sun-forsaken pit. There could be no other concievable reason for the racket the savages were making. Eliza rolled over, trying shut out the chattering din.

Somebeast at the mouth of her cave gave a shrill whistle, shattering any possibility of Eliza getting back to sleep. Shoving the bedding material aside, the pine marten elected to give them a piece of her groggy mind. She staggered irritably out of the cave, and glared about for the phantom whistler.

A motley collection of ferals stared back at her, their squinty little eyes radiating curiousity. Eliza huffed at them, and the watchers retreated to a safe distance. They had probably heard about her soup-throwing prowess.

?Good morning, miss!? said the cheery voice of One-eye, from behind her. ?I trust thee slept well??

?Yes,? she said, with what little false conviction she could muster. 

The hedgehog smiled kindly. ?Good! Perhaps thee would enjoy some breakfast?? 

Eliza couldn't help the strained expression which came to her face as she envisioned leftover hantz and brkich, served cold.

One-eye chuckled. ?I have noticed that thee seem to be rather uncomfortable with the ways of the Fritterik.?

Well, give the bumpkin a prize.

?Yes,? she said again. If, by ?the ways of the Fritterik,? you actually mean ?the utterly repellant nature of every single aspect of these beastly little creatures.?

The spikedog nodded, smiling in a way that Eliza wasn?t at all sure she liked. ?Thee are not alone in thy sentiments, miss. The Fritterik way of life is not one that suits everybeast. Thee will be glad to hear that Yirika Chivis has ordered a contingent to begin clearing away the rubble, so that all of thee might return to the Oasis. They shall commence digging today.?

Eliza?s heart leapt.

?However,? One-eye cautioned, the words carefully rolling from his lips, ?there are a great many rocks to be moved. I would estimate that it will take seven sunrises.? The hog paused a moment before adding, ?by thy measurement of time.?

The weight of the hedgehog?s words hit Eliza like a cudgel. She leaned heavily against the wall, feeling faint. Seven days of jabbering and gibbering and inedible food...

Oblivious to her distress, the old hog continued droning. ?In the meantime, we shall do all in our power to make thy stay a comfortable one. If thee find thyself in any need, please don?t hesitate to ask.?

?I don't suppose you've got a decent dressmaker, a warm bed, and a bath hidden somewhere in these tunnels?? she asked sarcastically. 

One-eye laughed. ?I'm afraid I cannot provide thee with a tailor, or any bed beyond the sort which thee have already used.? The hog stroked his chin thoughtfully. ?A bath, though, I can provide. There is a grotto down one of the side tunnels which is fairly secluded. Thee could bathe there without risk of being seen. I will ask one of the Fritterik lead you to the place.?

She'd settle for it. Eliza couldn't remember the last time she'd properly washed up, and the last several days had left her feeling like a mobile rubbish heap.

One-Eye hailed a passing female weasel, and chattered away a series of instructions in the primal tongue. The weasel nodded eagerly.

Passing Eliza a lit torch, the hedgehog smiled. ?Biskiskis will take thee to the place. I hope thee will find it suitable.?

Eliza rather doubted that, but thanked him anyway and followed after the weasel, who was already skittering off towards the nearest tunnel.

After venturing down several side passages, the guide eventually brought Eliza to a cavern. The smooth floor sloped downwards on all sides, forming the shallow banks of a large shimmering pool. The flickering torchlight reflected off of the water, casting bright interweaving ripples of light all about the curved walls.

As the pine marten appraised the glassy surface, two things occurred to her: firstly, that hantz had to come from somewhere, and, secondly, the specimen she?d encountered yesterday had possessed a rather disquieting assortment of needly teeth.

?Er... hantz?? she asked, pointing at the pool. Eliza had no desire to be nibbled on.

The weasel shook its head like an idiot. ?Ihn hantz. Iv chipik.?

Eliza stared dubiously into the inky depths. She hadn?t the faintest idea what a chipik was, and wasn?t entirely sure that she wished to chance meeting one.

?What is a chipik?? the pine marten attempted. This brought about a look of befuddlement, so she asked again, loudly and slowly. More befuddlement.

Eliza tried to recall the way she?d heard questions asked before, at the feast. ?Er... im... chipik?? 

Coherence dawned on the weasel. It scrambled down to the pool?s edge, and pointed to the water. ?Chipik,? it said, simply. Then it splashed a paw into the water. ?Chipik.?

Right. So, ?chipik? just means ?water.? I think. Eliza picked her way down to join the feral, careful not to slip. She dipped a paw into the pool, and was pleasantly surprised at the moderate temperature. She?d been expecting something absolutely frigid. 

?Thank you,? she said, exaggeratedly nodding her approval to the weasel. ?Now, shoo, please.?

The feral stared at her in puzzlement. ?Shoo?? it parroted.

?Shoo,? Eliza repeated, trying to wave the savage away. She was hardly going to disrobe in front of this common wretch. ?Shoo! Begone. Go.?

?Go??

?Go away! Get out of here!? the pine marten snapped, stabbing a claw at the exit. The feral?s mental gears ground together briefly, then it caught the hint and toddled away. Eliza watched it go, frowning. What a frustratingly stupid beast.

Eliza scanned the shadows, eyes hunting for any sign of life. Nothing moved, except for the occasional drip of water.

Good, she thought, shrugging out of her dress sleeves. No sense giving the savages an eyeful. The fabric clung to Eliza?s fur via a thin sheen of sweat, much to her disgust. She peeled the garment off, shivering slightly in the cavern air. Whichever seamstress had invented the slip had definitely not done so for warmth. 

She took a deep breath, and stepped into the water. The coolness galvanized her, sending a tingle through her paws. Ripples spread out across the surface of the pool as Eliza descended further, easing herself into the shallows. The water lapped at the trailing edge of her slip. 

Seven days... The number hung ominously over the pine marten's head as she began to scrub. Seven days in this hellish labyrinth of predatory shadows.

Eliza splashed a few pawfuls of water onto her face. It trickled down through her fur in grey rivulets, leaching away the filth.

The ferals were going to dig them out, and then the corsairs would probably try to chain her back up. She would have to figure out some way of circumventing that, and quickly. Perhaps Captain Venril can make himself useful...

Then there was the robin. His curious serenade had slipped her mind until now, the matter having been buried under the avalanche of unfortunate events she?d been experiencing lately. The bird's display of unsolicited flattery was, on one paw, charming. Hearing her praises sung had sparked a tiny flame of hope in her, that maybe, just maybe, she wasn?t entirely hideous.

On the other, however, there had been something... amiss... in the robin?s eyes. Something she couldn?t quite articulate, but it made her flesh crawl. Whatever the bird?s deal was, she wanted no part of it. 

Eliza ran a claw through her stringy fur, grimacing as some of it came away in her paw. Days of unwashed wretchedness had given the dirt enough time to establish a firm stronghold; without soap, she wasn?t going to be able to accomplish much. Perhaps a good soak might help...

The pine marten waded deeper, sinking into the water until it reached her neck. She gasped, trembling slightly. It felt a good deal colder than it had earlier.

Eliza pushed off the bottom, floating for awhile on her back. Numbness began to spread through the pine marten?s body, the cool water absorbing every ache. She watched the dancing patterns on the roof as she drifted, marvelling at their silent beauty. The refractions merged, wavered, and rippled all across the craggy dome, producing an elegant masterpiece of dance which no mortal choreographer could ever aspire to replicate.

There was a splunking sound. Eliza snapped upright, glaring about for any potential voyeurs. The pine marten?s eyes darted about the cavern. She couldn?t see anybeast, only the crackling torch. The light was burning faithfully, just beside the rock on which she?d laid her dress...

...Which was no longer there.

No. No, no, no no. The syllable looped over and over again in Eliza?s head, accelerating to a fever pitch with every repetition. Her only tangible reminder of home had been snatched away, leaving her exposed and helpless in the water. Somebeast had stolen it! No, she realized. Not just any beast. Some pestilent, demented fool... A fool like...

?Revel!?

Eliza screamed again, white-hot with fury. ?Revel!?