Epilogue: Roll Away Your Stone

[Rousseau]

Alternatively Titled: ?Babel?

Captain?s Log 15. January 4th. Weather: Clear

It has taken nearly four weeks-err three- but today finally marks the day that my crew and I will be departing from Kotir and beginning the long journey back to the place we all call home: Terramort. To be perfectly honest, I?m even confused by this myself, but, even with how ruddy of a place this country is, I?m almost upset to be leaving it now. I?ve grown fond of the trees and the sunshine, the way the snow and grass feels underpaw, and the quiet of the forest. But even still, Alan has disappeared to who knows where, Chokk has returned to his dam with little of a word to any of us and a pawful of freed slaves in his wake, and Tobias has secluded himself to his work and spending time with another mink. I suppose it?s my time to leave as well, to run and hide from the things I?ve done here and try to forget.

I?ve failed to protect one of my allies, I?ve kidnapped a child and started a war, I wasn?t there for a beast who tried to be for me, I almost watched my friend die in front of me, and I?ve left a child without a father or a family, and adopted him because I knew I?d never be able to escape the guilt. But these things I know I?ll never forget no matter how hard I try. I?ve been wondering over the past week whether it would have been better for everybeast had I merely said ?yes? to Regi. Definitely. Of course it would have.

Will?s wound was deep, deep enough that it should have killed him. But with what?s happened over the weeks, there?s very little doubt in my head that it was Vulpuz who kept him alive, sparing him as I guess some sort of reward for the task we completed for him. It?s still left a nasty scar on his chest, to the point where he looks like quite the veteran, ha! I?m just happy he?s okay. He?s been recovering nicely, it seems. Just three days ago, he actually managed to walk some and stay awake for more than a few hours. With the way Vulpuz is rushing his healing, me and my crew expect him to have a full recovery soon.

Speaking of my crew. They've been look at me hatefully less and less, and their glares have ceased. Have they forgiven me? I doubt it, really, but yet I can?t help but smile at that thought. Maybe at least they?re starting to trust me. Cal has said on more than one occasion that they don?t hate me, so maybe it?s time to trust him for once. I like not being hated, to not go around with everyone glaring at me in spite or mutinying against me. It?s a good feeling.

Mirdros has been following behind me everyday, watching me with those big eyes of his. It?s impossible to tell what he?s thinking, and I can?t help but think that he?s wondering to himself whether to reconsider my offer or not. There are times in the night where he cries in his sleep and says ?Da? over and over again. Then there are times where he seems to settle down and utters his little name for me: ?Rosy.? I don?t know anymore. His mind is fickle. There will be times where he?ll hate me for the sheer reason for what I?ve done, I know, but hopefully there will be times where he forgives me too. One can only hope. I?m glad he and Cal are getting along like the best of mates at least, that way if his opinion of me ever changes; he?ll at least still have him and won?t be as alone as when the Children of the Water left him.

The Children of the Water? there was much talk between Lady Kovari and Lord Tirian over what to do with them, but it was eventually decided that they wouldn?t be killed, much to Alan?s dismay, and instead would be banished and not permitted within some hundred leagues of Kotir. It was a suitable end I suppose. The team who led them away had come back with reports that they had found a huge lake, nearly the size of an ocean if they?re to be believed. The tribe has already deemed it sacred apparently, a sign that their Mother is still watching over them, and will be using it as a new holy place to make new Sons and Daughters. It seems as if Morleo was correct when he was told that after this battle, the Children would prosper.

Vulpuz and the Fates may be kinder than I once believed.

I haven?t seen Alan since the day the team returned to Kotir. It seems as if he?s almost disappeared off the face of this country or as if he?s hiding in a locked room like I sometimes do. I?m not going to try and find him, though there was actually a time where I thought I saw him pacing through the corridors, but when I tried to talk to him, he seemed confused as to who I was. I keep forgetting how similar he and Konner are to each other in terms of looks. It?s almost like a mirror image- well more like it is a mirrored image. I guess I won?t be able to give him a suitable goodbye, but when he and I shook paws, I guess that was close enough. With Konner awake, the Fates seem to be on your side, Alan, and one can only hope they stay that way. We all deserve it. ?May the winds blow in your sails and carry you where you need to go and may the Fates bless you, wherever that is.?

What is there left to write about? Oh, yes, two days ago, when I had no work to get done and nothing really to paint (I?ve been running out of supplies anyway) I decided to get my sketchbook and go for a walk through the forest with Mirdros. I like trees, I really do, and I wanted to get some sketches of some before I left, when I ran into something else instead. Caught up in a fallen treetrunk and some rocks in the river, I saw Clutus? body. I wasn?t going to leave him there; I couldn?t, not after what I did to encourage his suicide. It took some work but I managed to fish his body out of the river for a burial (though I had to go back to Kotir for a shovel and a few things). I buried him where he lay by the river, nestled by the fallen tree in remembrance of the owl who couldn?t fly but had once been something more. I like trees, and Clutus reminds me of them in that regard. ?All great things fall? another owl said from behind me while I was diggin. I drew my sword naturally but it made no move. It was female, younger than Clutus, and stared at me, waiting for a reply. I finished my work without saying a word and turned to her, grabbing at my sketchbook and pulling out the two paintings of him from where I had them shoved between the pages. They are my greatest work, it only seems right they belong in the possession of a beast who can appreciate them for what they truly mean. ?But all great things can be remembered.? I won?t need them. I?ll never forget what they look like, his wings spread on the canvas, the tawny feathers floating in the breeze, the sunshine illuminating the body of the great owl. I can?t, because after thinking about it, that?s what he was always was, perfect.

As I wrote earlier, Mirdros has taken to following behind me wherever I go, but Cal has been doing nearly the same. There are times where he just watches me, kind of like Mirdros. He says he likes to watch me paint, that there?s something mystifying about watching a beast do something they love. I guess I can see what he?s talking about. I enjoy watching him cook. His paws are fast and precise and he smiles when he works. Sometimes he whistles a tune or tells some story to me. Even now he?s watching me with Mirdros while I write this and I smile. He tells some joke and I laugh. I enjoy his company. Wherever I go from here, I pray he?s with me.

It?s about time I wrap this up. We?ll be leaving soon and I need to finish making preparations for the journey. I?ve said my goodbyes, I have Kovari?s note tucked safely in my pocket, and all that?s left is to get my things. This will be my last captain?s log. When I get to Terramort, and if what me, Cal, and Will have planned works, then I?ll have no need to write another.

For the final time if all goes well,

Captain Rousseau of the Crimson Lass

Rousseau finished her reading just as a weasel dressed in the uniform of Terramort?s royal guard approached her from where she had been waiting in a polished armchair in Terramort palace?s great hall, waiting for admission to see the king of Terramort, Reginald Frostfang.

?Captain Rousseau??

The rattess closed her notebook of her logs and pushed it back into her pants pocket. Nearly twelve days had passed since she and her crew had left Kotir for the journey back to Terramort. It had been mostly uneventful, aside from the one fact that Willump had been ordered to bed rest and taken off of active duty, and, with the weasel out of commission, it was her duty and her duty alone to sail the ship and maintain order among the crewbeasts. And without a proper navigator, the rattess naturally found herself leading the ship in some amount of circles before finally finding a proper heading.

The job belonged in far more capable paws, she knew. And soon, maybe it would be.

?Aye?? she answered the beast. Rousseau had relished meeting the rat face to face again for some time, wanting to shove her rapier into his bulging stomach and erase the pompous grin from his face for what he did to her. But of course, she couldn?t murder him. It was a talk, not a duel, she reminded herself.

She reaffirmed her grip on her rapier hilt and adjusted the newly-bought sheath for her cutlass.

?The king is ready t? see you. He personally asks you t? leave yer weapons with me if you don?t mind,? the weasel said, extending his paw.

?Well, tell ?im I?ve grown rather attached t? ?em as o? late an? I ain?t goin? in there without one o? me blades,? Rousseau answered the beast?s request. ?If ?e want?s t? speak t? me, tell ?im I?m gonna have t? refuse.?

??E said you?d say something like that,? the guardsbeast replied. ?In which case, ?e told me that that will be acceptable on the condition that I?ll be right outside the door. Do you accept??

?Aye.?

?Good. Right this way.?
With how long it had taken for her, the love of Reginald?s life, to be admitted to see him-nearly an hour of her tapping her footpaws impatiently and doodling in her sketchbook- Rousseau wondered how surprised he had been that she had shown up at all. All she knew was that the shock of her sudden entrance had apparently warranted a request of not bringing weapons and a personal escort and guard. Reginald was scared.

Rousseau smiled.

As he should be.

The rattess followed behind the beast down the corridors, staring once more at the walls and the portraits of the palace?s once-great kings. Reginald stared back at her occasionally from his spots on the walls, portraits she remembered pressing her brush to canvas to make. Portraits she loved to hate and hated to love.

She locked her single eye onto a female rat with two sparkling blue eyes, wearing a cream dress and a necklace of pearls. Rousseau paused for a moment, staring at herself, and then continued moving behind the weasel, trying to forget what she had seen.

?King Frostfang had that framed an? mounted up only a few days ago,? the royal guard member said. ?It looks like you.?

?It is me.?

?Hrm?? he said. ?Your eye? did ?e??

?Aye,? she answered casually.

?Now I know why ?e doesn?t want?cha with weapons.? He paused before rounding a corner and heading in the direction of the rat king?s study, ?An? with a guard at the door.? The two stopped at the entrance of the large room. ?You?re the beast he sent out t? the wolf castle, Kotir or somethin?, right? For an alliance? Did you get it??

?I wouldn?t be ?ere if I hadn?t,? Rousseau answered. ?Why??

The beast changed his voice into a hushed tone. ?That beast in there is mad, he thinks everythin? is his for the takin? an? that nothin? can stand up t? him. Anythin? that does, he?s makin? examples of them. You got your eye cut out an? got sent away. Do you have any idea what?s been happenin? while you?ve been gone?? He paused and glanced around him to see if anybeast was coming. Seeing no one, the weasel raised his left paw. It was like Rexim?s, the claws torn off and left as mere stumps upon it, grotesque and unnatural looking. ?He got a little idea from what he did t? you. Anybeast who disagrees with ?im, somethin? like this is happenin? t? ?em.?

The rattess stared at it. ?But, why is everybeast all o? a sudden disagreein? with Regi? As much as I kin?t stand t? look at ?im, he?s been one o? the best kings we?ve had in seasons. He?s increased our power an? wealth by tenfold, everybeast loves him,? Rousseau replied quietly. ?What?s goin? on??

?Reginald wants t? attack the badger mountain.?

Rousseau stared at him dumfounded. ?But we don?t ?ave the numbers or resources fer that! He?d kill us all.?

The weasel shushed her by raising a paw to her snout. ?Exactly. Not just the Navy either. He said he?ll be sendin? the Royal Guard over too. It?s an all or nothin? deal, with a better bet on gettin? nothin? an? losin? everythin.? Reginald keeps sayin? that with the wolves helpin? us, it?ll be easy-?

Rousseau?s eye widened. ?That?s wot the alliance was about?? The rattess thought of Alan and Tobias, their injuries barely healed and already being sent into another war. Konner eye?s opened once more only to be closed again by an arrow or a spear. She shook her head. ?Their castle was barely finished when I got there, not t? mention that a bloody war broke out almost a day after. They ain?t in no shape t? fight. Kotir?s practically crumbling and everybeast is still lickin? their wounds from the last fight. He won?t just kill us, he?ll kill them too.? She stopped and shook her head. ?But why hasn?t anybeast tried t? get out of it yet? If anybeast valued their tails they?d be linin? up t? resign from the Navy an? Guard. If anythin? it would at least be an example t? Regi t? stop this nonsense.?

Kotir was supposed to fall, that was what Vulpuz had said, but was this what he was talking about? No, he had mentioned something about a mouse or something. Kotir wasn?t supposed to fall, not yet. But was this?

?All great things come to an end.?

?Beasts already have,? the weasel said. ?There was one beast- that fox captain o? The Queen I think- who pulled a sword on the king an? demanded he let ?im resign. That beast ain?t breathin? anymore. Got rushed down by a group o? the Guard, stupid idiots they are.?

Rousseau paused and blinked once. ?Zihark? he?s dead??

?Aye, deader than a stone.?

The rattess stared at the smoothly tiled floor. Zihark had always been Reginald?s favorite captain, his right paw when it came to foreign affairs and battle. And he had killed him as easily as that, with a simple wave of his paw?

?Everybeast is bein? turned down??

?Aye, don?t matter who you are.?

She prayed he wasn?t right. Zihark might have not mattered enough to be spared from this suicide attempt, but maybe she, the ratmaid with her portrait hung on the wall of the royals, was.

As if sensing what she was thinking, the guard nodded and rapped his paw upon the door frame. ?Lord, Captain Rousseau has arrived.?

The door opened.

Reginald stood in the entrance, his frame much smaller than the last time she had seen him. Rousseau could only think it had to do with him not eating over distress of being denied by his love or a way to impress her in some regard. He seemed more freakish now than ever.

He smiled at her.

She returned the gesture with a frown.

The guard closed the door as she entered and she made her way to her seat on one of the red armchairs. Rousseau?s paw hovered over her rapier hilt.

?I see ya brought yer weapons.? He glanced at one of the skulls decorating his desk, taking a cloth and polishing it.

?Forgive me fer takin? necessary precautions,? the rattess replied, ?but frankly, I like t? see? if ya understand wot I mean.?

?Then I assume ya didn?t receive my letter of apology??

?I received it. I burned it.?

Reginald sighed. ?Why d? ya hate me, Rouss??

?Well, fer starters,? Rousseau elaborated, ?ya cut out me bloody eye.?

?No,? the king replied, ?before that. Why did ya say no? After all I did, after all the things I gave ya t? support yerself an? yer ungrateful little wretch of a family, ya jest? said no. I did those things, I gave ya the money ya needed, the promotions, an? ya jest?? Reginald slumped into his chair. ?I did ?em jest fer you, nobeast else. You were special. I liked ya, loved ya? an? I thought it could??

?Win me over??

?Aye,? Reginald said.

Rousseau was silent, pondering over everything that the king had said. She hadn?t come here to talk about her feelings, but if it helped in her escape, the rattess would keep him talking. ?I ain?t that type o? beast, Regi. I ain?t gonna fall head over heels fer some beast, jest because he paws over everythin? I need. Ya kin?t do that t? get my fancy.?

?But yer lazy, ya hate work!?

?That may be,? the rattess agreed, ?but when I?m forced int? doin? a job, when I really, really have t? do it, I?ll make sure it?s done good an? well. I was in a rough spot, aye, but I didn?t take yer gifts because I wanted ?em, I simply needed ?em at the time. Ya helped me, an? I?m thankful fer that. But, I couldn?t love ya fer it. I thought you were a friend, the only one I had, but I couldn?t think that way. Ya can?t buy a beast?s heart or force ?er int? lovin? ya, Regi. Ya gotta, show it? like a? like a paintin?. It?s gotta be beautiful an? perfect, ya have t? have put great care int? every detail o? how yer gonna present it. But, most importantly, it-err, you- have t? be there fer them t? see, not with money or gifts, but just you. I didn?t love ya? because? money didn?t keep me from cryin? at night, or lockin? doors an? screamin? ?cause I hate everybeast. Money kept my parents from doin? that. If ya wanted me t? love ya, Regi, ya shouldn?t have treated me like an object that could be bought.

?I guess all I have t? ask now is why me? Any maid or wench ya laid yer eyes on would ?ave leapt at the opportunity o? marryin? a king. You could ?ave had anybeast on this island, why me?? Rousseau asked. She dropped her paw away from her rapier hilt.

?Would they have leapt at the opportunity o? marryin? me, or gettin? my money, Rouss? Yer the only beast who didn?t bat an eye at everythin? I sent ya.? Reginald said. ?An? most everybeast now wants me dead.?

Rousseau had painted a total of eleven portraits for Reginald, ten of himself and one of her. The rattess had always brushed if off with the thought it had been merely part of his ego and obsession, but maybe it had been something else. She always hated the thought of dying alone, but she had made friends and comrades, beasts who wouldn?t desert her in her time of need if she merely asked them. But the king had nobeast but himself. And if surrounding himself with portraits mirroring his image, hoarding gold and silver, and conquering nation after nation was what made him happy, who was she to judge?

?Yer just as lonely as me, aren?t ya?? the rattess muttered too low for him to hear, using the same words Clutus had. She chuckled inwardly. She had hated the owl for being pretentious and self-absorbed, for being Reginald, but in the end he was only slightly the same as the king. It was her he was like. Now it was the same for Reginald. It was odd saying the rat was nothing like himself, but, she shook her head, no, that wasn?t what it was at all. It was? She was wrong.  The rattess had hated Reginald, no, she had hated herself, just as she always had. It was impossible not to hate the beasts who reminded her of what she had been. Reginald could have had anything, but he had thrown everything away in his own pursuit of happiness. And now he was as hollow as the skulls decorating his study.

Rousseau felt a feeling bubble inside her. Was it sympathy?

She hated it.

?Well, ye?ve done a good job o? screwin? everythin? up, haven?t ya, Regi?? Rousseau said. ?Ye?ve cut out the eye o? the only beast ye?ve ever actually loved, thrown everythin? away fer a stupid goal I know yer not gonna stop, an? now everybeast hates ya because of it.?

?I?m not gonna stop my ?stupid goal? because, with Kotir?s alliance, this is the best chance anybeast has ever had with killing that damned badger, Gorse, an? taking ?er fortress. That?s been Terramort?s dream fer ages. Beasts may be scared that we?re finally goin? t? do it,? Reginald said, ?but they can?t hate me when I succeed.?

Rousseau thought of Alan and Tobias once more, and, answered him without any hesitation. ?I failed,? she lied. ?I failed t? get the alliance. In fact, I didn?t even try t? get it. I did everythin? in my power t? sabotage that goal. When ya cut out me eye, I was annoyed, not even that, more than annoyed. Enraged. Aye, that describes it. So, I took it out on me work. I started fights, didn?t help with work, an? lied t? the lord an? lady on multiple occasions. They sent me packin? before I even received yer apology letter.?

?But yer first mate sent yer logs. They seemed positive as if everythin? was goin? well.?

?Those weren?t my logs; he made those ?imself.?

Reginald paused. Rousseau could imagine everything that was going through his head. His one hope shattering to pieces, the thought that he was leading his country to suicide, and how he was finally truly alone in the world. ?That?s unfortunate.?

Rousseau nodded. ?An? ya can?t back out now, can you?? Reginald was never one to retreat from something he wanted, whether the odds were in his favor or not. His pride would always get the better of him.

He shook his head. With everything deserting him, the rattess knew she was last on that list of thoughts. ?Do ya think we could ever start over, Rouss??

It was a last resort, his last try at hanging onto somebeast he knew. She paused; the blackness on her right side making her dizzy for a split second, then shook her head. ?I don?t think that?s possible anymore.?

He nodded. ?Can ya ever forgive me??

Rousseau turned her head to the ceiling, staring at the swirls and designs painted upon it that she hadn?t noticed before. ?The guard said ya killed Zihark fer askin? permission t? leave the Navy??

?Ya wish t? leave?? he asked.

?Me an? two others, aye,? Rousseau answered. ?If ya say yes-?

?Ya never said yes t? me.? The malice in his voice caused Rousseau?s paw to jump to her rapier hilt once again. ?Why should I??

?If ya let me finish, Regi,? the rattess snapped at him. ?I was gonna say, if ya say yes, if ya let me an? these two beasts go, I?ll be able t? fergive ya far easier. With or without yer permission, I?ll be leavin?, as a free beast or a rogue pirate, it doesn?t matter t? me. But, I?ve spent my life runnin? fer long enough an? I?m sick an? tired of it. Please, Regi. It?s just me an? two beasts. Surely ya can allow that??

Reginald hesitated. ?Where will ya go??

?I dunno yet.?

?Will ya come back??

?No.?

He flinched at her answer then smiled. ?Ya know, with everything that?s happened between us two, I could say no. I could keep ya here forever if I wanted, get some beasts t? follow yer every move, watchin? ya, makin? sure ya don?t try anythin?. An? if I fall, I could bring ya down with me.?

Rousseau was taken aback by the sharpness in his voice, his threat cutting into her the same way his dagger had her eye. It wasn?t an empty threat. If he had killed beasts for merely disagreeing with him, wounded her for saying the wrong answer, he would do it. And he wouldn?t care. Revenge was a bitter pill to swallow. To him though, she was sure it could be as sweet as honey.

And that would be how it would end for her. Forced to stay on this grey rock of an island, watching it sink like a ship with its captain and unable to do anything about it. Had everything been for nothing? Her second chance at life, his apology, had it all been just a ruse. Did he actually not care anything about her; was she just an object that might fulfill his selfish desires? But no, regardless of how deep the dagger had sunk into her eye, it couldn?t have severed what he thought of her. It couldn?t.

?Ya wouldn?t do that. Ya couldn?t,? Rousseau replied. ?Ya might?ve stabbed me, Regi, but ya wouldn?t hurt me like that. Ya love me too much.?

Reginald didn?t say anything, his eyes darting back and forth over the words of a parchment on his desk. ?I know,? he said, pushing it aside. ?Where are the papers??

The rattess raised her eyebrows. ?Wot??

?If ya wanna resign from the Navy, ye?ll need t? fill out the proper paperwork. That?s the policy,? he answered, his voice cracking. ?I?m sure ya have ?em, right??

Rousseau gaped at the king for a heartbeat before blinking herself out of the trance. She nodded. ?Aye, o? course I do.? She reached into the inner folds of her jacket and produced the mounds of parchment that were the resignation forms and other documents she would need. She paused before pawing them over to Reginald. ?Regi? I, uhh, don?t know how t? thank ya.?

He set the parchments on his desk before replying with, ?Rouss, ya said that if I said yes, ye?d be able t? fergive me easier. If that?s what it takes, then I?ll let ya go. I guess, what I?m tryin? t? say is that, if this is how I need t? show ya that I?m sorry, then so be it. After all, I doubt ye?d burn these, right? I jest want t? see ya happy, Rouss.? He sighed, glancing through the papers.

?I jest need ya t? sign those three,? Rousseau stated, pointing out the forms for herself, WIllump and Calder. ?The rest are my recommendation letters fer mine an? Will?s replacements. I figured that my first an? second officers, Aryll an? Garrow, are more than capable o? doin? a far better job o? runnin? The Lass than I ever could.?

He nodded. ?Anybeast could.?

She scowled at him.

?An? they didn?t want t? leave? None o? yer crew?? he asked.

Rousseau shook her head. ?No, they trust their king an? love their home too much fer that. I already asked if any o? them wanted t? join us. Most didn?t hesitate with their answer.?

?An? yer parents??

?A fourth o? what?s in my storage kin go t? them. Nothin? more. When it?s gone, it?s gone.?

Reginald nodded and scribbled his name and title at the bottom of Rousseau?s resignation form and pushed it aside for Willump?s. ?Yer jacket? Ya ain?t a captain anymore in case ye?ve forgotten.?

Rousseau blinked at the realization. She wasn?t a captain. She wasn?t even part of the Navy anymore. With a few flicks of his wrist, Reginald had erased all of that. She smiled and shrugged off the blue naval jacket that had been issued to her with her promotion,  grabbing out all of her things she had stashed in the oversized inner pockets over time. Wadded up parchments, charcoal sticks, a half-opened canister of paint that she quickly sealed fully before the other rat could see, and her sketchbook. She sat everything onto his desk and folded up the jacket carefully.

The other rat signed his signature onto Willump?s resignation form and blinked at her. ?Can I see?? he asked.

?Wot??

Before she could stop him, Reginald grabbed up her sketchbook from where she had sat it and flipped through its pages.

?Wot!? Gimme that back!? Rousseau shouted, grabbing for it. Her sketches were meant to be seen by her and her alone. They weren?t supposed to be seen by anybeast else. And they were definitely not supposed to be seen by Reginald.

The king pulled away and continued turning the pages. Rousseau saw everything she had made as he explored its contents, the gray drawings screaming for her to erase them.

Everything that had happened to her in Mossflower was shown to her once more in a flashing of simple gray sketches. A tree, another tree, a sketch of Clutus, the lake inside of Rexim?s tunnel, the glade at the end of it, Vulpuz, a tree, Kotir, a sleeping picture of Mirdros, Willump, another picture of the weasel, a third that was stained with tears, Morleo, a dead Morleo, a bust of Calder, Mirdros drawing his picture, a headshot of Calder, Calder, Calder, Clutus with wings outstretched, Alan frowning at something, Tobias, Calder, Willump in his infirmary bed, Calder, Calder, Calder, Calder, a smiling Mirdros, The Crimson Lass, Mirdros and a seagull, Calder?

?He?s goin? with ya, I take it?? Reginald said, closing the book and putting it back in its place. He glanced back at the parchment marked Calder Sharkskin at the top margin, his quill pen hovering over the line marked King?s Signature.

?Aye, he is.?

?Do ya love him??

Rousseau hesitated, unsure of how to answer. ?I do,? she answered simply.

Reginald didn?t say anything for a few heartbeats, his eyes still fluttering over the parchment. With a sudden flash of some emotion that Rousseau could only imagine to be rage or sadness, he scribbled King Reginald Frostfang at the bottom of the parchment. He shoved the paper aside and sat down his quill.

Rousseau stood up and gathered her things.

?I love you,? Reginald said, ?far more than ?e ever could.?

?An? I love ?im that same amount,? she answered. ?Thank you.?

He nodded sullenly. ?Me name?s Reginald. King Reginald Frostfang. But you can call me Regi. What?s yers??

He wanted to start over. Completely. Though the idea was like poison on her lips, she could give him that satisfaction. Rousseau adjusted her sketchbook under her arm and replied with, ?Rousseau. Just Rousseau, though you can call me whatever ya want as long as it ain?t an insult.? It felt odd to say. Just Rousseau. No, captain or first mate, or anything before it. Just Rousseau.

?An? does ?e make ya happy, Rousseau? Does he stop the cryin? at night??

?Aye, more an? anything.?

He nodded. ?Good.? Reginald smiled at her and brushed something from his eye. ?May the winds blow through yer sails an? take ya where ya need t? go, Rouss, an? may the Fates bless ya, wherever that is.?

The old Terramort Navy farewell caused Rousseau to smile. ?Good luck t? ya, Regi. Maybe one day they will blow me back ?ere. Who knows??

?Only Vulpuz.?

She nodded, the black fox?s face creeping back into her head unwelcomed. ?Aye, only Vulpuz indeed.? The rattess gave him one last look and smile, pausing for a moment in hesitation, and pushed open the door.

She stopped at the entrance. ?Regi? thank ya.?

He nodded. She heard him cry.

?I?ll write,? she offered. ?Tell ya how I?m doin?. Tell ya I?m okay.?

The sniffle?s ceased for a moment. ?I?d like that,? he said. ?Send me a picture every now an? again.?

?Aye, I could manage that.? She lowered her head. ?Goodbye, Regi. May the Fates bless ya.?

?Goodbye, Rousseau.?

She closed the door behind her.

She was free?

She was free!

With a sudden skip in her step, Rousseau practically sprinted like a hare across the smooth, marbled floor, throwing out an occasional twirl for good measure. The rattess felt an impulsive desire to jump as high as she could and she humored it, leaping clumsily over a diamond shaped design etched on the floor. ?Hehehehe,? she giggled to herself, giddy with adrenaline and excitement. She turned for another twirl, abruptly stopping as she laid her eye on a trio of guardsbeasts. One of them, a tall stoat, raised an eyebrow at her, while the others chuckled to themselves. She cocked her head at them and bared her teeth. ?Wot are you lot starin? at? Ya ain?t never seen another beast walkin? before??

The three, still chuckling to themselves, moved about their business while Rousseau performed another twirl. She paused in her stride only to stare at the painting of herself still hanging on the wall, its oiled surface shining with the brilliant light that shone from the window at the end of the corridor.

The light, or maybe just her mood, made the whole picture seem more vivid than how she had originally painted them. The pearls hanging around her neck shone brighter, their smooth, silk-like surface reflecting the flickers of a tiny candle she had set on the desk?s more intensely as if it were a furnace in front of her, the same light giving her two eyes a brilliant sheen of blue. She could see the intricate details, the woven fabric of the dress seemed more rich and expensive, her fur bristled with some sort of anticipation instead of nervousness, and the small droplet of moisture forming below her right eye, a tear of joy.

Rousseau let out a laugh, still staring at the picture of her former self, that shell of a beast who hid from the world, too afraid that everybeast would betray her. Maybe her parents and Reginald to some degree, but there had never been a cause for it, had there? Calder, Willump, and Mirdros, no, they?d never desert her. Even now, they were looking for a boat in the harbor to buy with the mounds of gold and silver the rattess had given them from her storage. She hoped they found a good sized one, big enough to where Mirdros wasn?t cramped or cooped up all the time, and it was smooth so that she could paint with some degree of precision. Hopefully it would have a decent sized galley or kitchen for Calder and maybe a? a ?What did Willump like to do?

She scratched her head, thinking over the question. Never mind that. Surely there was something they could find with the money she?d given them. If all else failed, she could teach him to paint. Or Mirdros even. He had seemed somewhat enthusiastic about it when they had painted together. That was a thought.

Rousseau continued thinking over every detail as if it were one of her paintings that she was trying to create.

?I?ll ?ave t? bring me easel an? buy a ton o? supplies, brushes, canvases, charcoal, everythin?? I got plenty o? money fer all that, I just gotta think o? everybeast else. Mirdros will need some things definitely? an? we?ll need t? figure out where we plan on goin? an? what we plan on doin?? do we keep sailin, do we wanna try our chances on land???

Whether it was a trick of the light or not, Rousseau didn?t know, but from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the portrait smile.

-.-.-

?No, no, yer doin? it all wrong. Hold the brush lighter, like this, an? flick yer wrist slowly then layer it over the base. That?s the best way t? make fur. Ya have t? give it some height. No, like this. Watch me. See, it?s easy.?

A light wind, chilled slightly by its tender touch with the waves, brushed through Rousseau?s fur and made it bristle as she leaned over the sheet of canvas she had lain over the deck of her new vessel, a smallish thing that skimmed across the waves that Willump had named The Scarlet Wench as a sort of memento for the ship they had all left behind. It had just enough room for everybeast aboard: cabins for all four of them, a smooth deck and sturdy mast hoisting a single square sail, a small but stocked galley, and a storeroom to house her collection of painting supplies and the other?s belongings.

Rousseau laid down the sheet of canvas on the ship?s deck, leaning over it and applying brushstrokes with vigor.

?This is stupid,? Mirdros, garbed in an oversized painter?s apron, said from his position next to the rattess.

Rousseau frowned. ?No, it ain?t. Yer jest not good at it yet,? she put it bluntly. ?Ya need t? practice. Take the brush.? She shoved it back into the little rat?s paw. ?Now, do like I do.? She motioned with her paw, indicating light brushstrokes and where they needed to go. ?See, that?s better.?

?Oh, leave the kid alone, Rouss,? Calder said from where he was sitting at the tiller. ?Yer torturin? ?im.?

?Shut it, Cal,? Rousseau snapped back to him. ?He?s the one who asked me t? teach ?im, so if I?m t? be his teacher, I?m gonna make sure ?e learns it right.?

The sound of a creaking cabin door answered her statement, and Willump strode out upon the deck, a fishing pole held lazily over his shoulder. ?Aye, which is why I said no when ya asked me if I wanted t? learn too. No offense, ma?am,? the weasel answered her statement. Shortly after they had shown her the ship they had bought, Rousseau had offered to teach her former first mate to paint in order to aid in his recuperation. He had promptly refused, saying that his old hobby aboard The Lass would be more than enough to help with that. Fishing, as she was told, had always been one of Willump?s favorite pastimes, and it was he who would often spend afternoons on board the Navy vessel supplying Calder with the cod and other fish for that evening?s meal.

?Shouldn?t ya be in bed?? Rousseau remarked as he tossed his line into the crystal-clear depths.

?Not with the racket you beasts are makin?,? the weasel replied, his sheepish grin plastered as it usually was upon his maw. ?Yer already soundin? like an old married couple with all of yer bickerin?.?

?We do not!? Rousseau and Calder snapped simultaneously.

Willump chuckled. He turned his head to the back of the ship, glancing at the grey island that threatened to disappear behind the horizon at any moment. Rousseau followed his gaze to where she could just barely make out the top of the tallest spire of Terramort Palace sticking up from the grey rock of a country. The rattess imagined Reginald at the top of it, watching with placid eyes as their tiny ship sailed on the horizon, soon to be gone from view.

?So, what now, ma?am?? She heard her former first mate say as their former home was lost to sight. ?Where to??

In truth, Rousseau hadn?t thought that far ahead. The excitement of finally being free from the Navy and Terramort had overshadowed any sort of plans she could have possibly tried to make. ?I don?t know yet, I?ve been lettin? the wind decide t? be honest.? She nodded to their tiny vessel?s single sail.

?Well, the wind?s pushin? us towards some rocks,? Willump remarked, ?so ya might want t? man that tiller.?

Rousseau let out a groan. She gave a look to Mirdros, his paws still busy with the painting he was hovering over, the painting of his father. ?It?s getting? there, Mirdros, keep at it,? the rattess said, untying her stained apron and tossing it aside.

?Aye, it?s lookin? good mate, yer da would be proud,? Calder added to her dismay.

Mirdros wiped away something with his sleeve. ?Aye, thanks,? he mumbled.

Rousseau gave Calder a stern look. He returned it with a shrug and a mouthed out apology.

Rousseau took her spot at the tiller, trying to shut out the thoughts of the malicious rat Mirdros had asked her to help him paint and Vulpuz. Morleo had been nearly forgotten to her, his, Luka?s, and Clutus? dark faces no longer creeping into her nightmares every time she closed her eyes. Calder needed to keep his mouth shut. She regretted that thought. No, she couldn?t erase what had happened at Kotir, it was permanent like her paints, and she knew she needed to remember everything.

Luka.

Rallentando.

Rexim.

Clutus.

Morleo.

Their faces would haunt her, she knew, but things could be covered up as she had learned. The cheerful jokes and laughter she could hear from the beasts she shared her ship with, the beasts she called her friends, her family, the beasts she loved, did well in that regard. And she knew that though Vulpuz had toyed with her, used her and her friends as pieces for his little game of chess against Morleo and The Mother, forced her to watch her comrades die in front of her eye, she knew that when she inevitably cried, wishing she could undue her mistakes, that those beasts would be there to steady her paws. Because she wasn?t alone.

?Somebeast give me a compass!? she called from her position. ?I need t? get a headin?.?

??Gates no, ma?am, you?ll send us into the arctic!?

?Shut up, Will. Where are we goin?, Rouss? Southsward?s nice this time o? year, flowers are bloomin? and it?ll get warm real soon.?

?Aye, where?re we goin? Rosy??

Rousseau adjusted her eyepatch, the midday sun warming her fur despite the cold chill of winter and making her rapier shine in its light. Spring would come soon and the woodlands of Mossflower would be teeming with life, the flowers would be blooming, and the trees would regrow their leaves. It was the scene of a great painting, one that would be a masterpiece. Life was too short to be spent inside her cabin, scribbling at a canvas, and second chances didn?t come often. And she had time ahead of her to enjoy it. Maybe she would have Willump teach her to fish, or try Calder?s ?famous? cod again.

Rousseau, former captain of The Crimson Lass, smiled at the thought.

?Someplace with trees.?