Golden Fools

[Gashrock]

?What in waves and blazes...?

Gashrock blinked and blinked again, staring down at her right leg. There was a deep gash on the limb, blood at its edges having already caked over.

?Glad tae see yer awake, rat. Ah didnae fancy havin' die on me after Ah dug ye out of that landslide.? An otter wearing the livery of the Guard was looking down at her.

?Thanks?? Gashrock tried to stand, shifting her weight to it, but as she steadied herself felt a twinge of pain in her right arm. Holding it out at a distance, she turned it over slowly, shivering as she looked for any injuries. It seemed to be unscathed, and yet, after a few tentative steps, it flared up again.

Well, it had always been her weak arm. Things could have been worse, she reasoned. She'd just have to make like a proper actor and improvise. That was what they always said. She hoped it had something to do with improv-ement, however, because as she staggered forward, she still felt dizzy.

Maybe the scar would be so ugly, Dewhurst wouldn't make her dance again. Gashrock had never liked dancing.

?Mah name's Vanessa Fern--call me Nessa, though. How far kin ye walk?? the otter asked. Well, she had saved Gashrock's life. That was their job, she supposed. Protection from all sorts of threats.

Except, Dewhurst had never warned her that the entire ruddy mountain might give way. If Gashrock had wanted her entire world to jostle up and down on occasion until beasts felt sick to their stomachs, she'd have gone to sea and become a proper sailor.

?This many steps, and further iffen I'm chucked down a ruddy ol' mountainside, innit,? said Gashrock.

Fern took a step back and sniffed. ?Oh aye... jus' tryin' tae help.?

Perhaps in spite of yourself, Miss Fern, Gashrock thought. Trying to ignore another twinge in her arm, she sputtered out the first thing that came to mind. ?So, who d'yer think dunnit??

?Done what??

?Ex-ploded the whole ruddy road. Or,? she went on wildly, ?do roads in this part of the world normally rear up and blast the lot of folk to?to pieces?? Pieces, at best. The scar was ugly, and if the dried blood falling to the ground was any indication, liable to rip open again. But at least she was alive. Where were Whitepaw and Cookie and the troupe? Dewhurst...Dewhurst's talents for organizing and providing plays and paying beasts, Gashrock might mourn. On the other hand, the vixen could be so distractable sometimes, it really would be just like her to sleep through her own death.

?Oh. Er... Ah dunno. Thought things like that happened in these mountains. Ah've ne'er been far outside Yew afore. Ye've been tae Carrigul afore, though, haven't ye??

?I had. We all had, and nothin' went wrong. So, what in blazes is happenin'??

?Weel, Ah reckon et could be this blimey weather we're havin'. Ye wanna rest??

?I think,? said Gashrock, rubbing her head with her stronger paw, ?I've had more rest than I know what to do with for the day. Where's the troupe??

The otter looked uncomfortable, ?Weel...Poko here says she knows ye.?

Gashrock turned and forced a smile at little Poko. The poor thing was almost clumsy enough to have caused more trouble than she could get out of, but Gashrock doubted even she could have incited a crash without meaning to. The pine marten flanking her, however, was certainly not her family, nor even part of the troupe. One of the merchants, presumably?

?And the rest?? The merchant wouldn't have known who to inform Gashrock about, and Poko looked too numb to pass along any sort of news.

?Ah'm nae sure?? Fern began.

?Then do yer not think it'd be a fan-tastical idea to get sure??

?We've all been lookin' after ye. Care fer the livin' first, 'tis one o' the first rule Ah was taught. ?

Gashrock looked down, past her travelling cloak?a thick brown, with deep pockets for whatever supplies she might want to bring along?to the floor. ?What were I gonna do?? With her left paw, she felt at her pockets. Needle tucked inside a large spool of thread?she'd been doing green hems, before?dagger in a scabbard, another empty scabbard. All, impressively, still there. ?Well,? she went on, ?what about our kits and owt??

?Yer kits??

?My sewing kits, you outrageous otter, we'll be wanting to put together what we can.?

?If ye can walk, ye can help out.?

?I can,? she said, as if trying to throw her voice across the stage. It was that or throwing up the remains of breakfast, having inadvertently caught another glance at her leg, and given the potential dearth of supplies Gashrock was more partial to the first view. ?I  mean, iffen it's mountains we're at, I weren't no squirrel even afore all this biz-ness. But I'll try.? The others were hardly going to leave her. She hoped.

?Let's get back to the cart,? said the pine marten. Blackbriar, that was it. ?We'll be wanting to sort through the supplies.?

Gashrock glanced at her. ?Yer've got a sack??

?There's not much in it. Not enough food to go around, and no flint...?

No flint. They'd need to cook, and maybe have to do it without Cookie. The thought made her shake. Or maybe it was the pain in her arm, or the chill of the mountains, she didn't care.

He'd shown her some things, hadn't he? Back when they'd had a few cups of grog each, and were trying to have a midnight snack? Admittedly, there was no grog in sight, but the pain couldn't be a much greater distraction. Albeit an unwelcome one.

?I'll see what I can do,? Gashrock ventured. Improvisation, wasn't it? ?If there's wood...?

?It's right here,? Blackbriar repeated. ?C'mon.?

There was no room for pride, slowly pacing alongside a numb ferret with a limp, barely more than a kit. The oversized hedgehog's outfit had been her own idea. Well, maybe Poko could fold it over and give herself an extra half-layer in the cold.

They reached a pile of splintered wood, and Gashrock found with a scowl downwards that it really had been a moment's worth of distance, not a trek at all. ?Start stackin',? she demanded, without looking to see whether anyone was following directions. She picked through a pile of chips, trying not to get a splinter in her hand, though on balance it scarcely would have hurt any worse.

?Do yer need a hatchet?? Blackbriar offered.

?For what??

?Chippin' away at the wood. It'll go faster.?

?It's under a ruddy boulder, I ain't in no rush. This is all rubbish, anyway??

?Er...?

?Where's my...? she caught a glance at Fern and decided to make things clear, ?sewing mat-eeryuls??

?This was a cart,? said Nyika, the wildcat taking a few steps to join them. ?Maybe not your cart, though.?

Gashrock glanced down the mountain, squinting at the tiny trees below, the rocks, the snow...the players' cart could have landed anywhere. Trying not to think of her friends, she found herself saying quietly, ?Okay. Gimme a hatchet.?

It would feel good to smash things.

Blackbriar warily complied, and Gashrock took a few swings at the cart. This was triply satisfying; the wood was eminently smashable, in her peripheral vision, it was just as eminently stackable by the others, and it provided a sizable hole through which she could reach a thin paw and retrieve a slim chunk of golden metal. Scarcely worth a good meal, nor even bendable into a suitable prop. All the same, if she remembered enough of Cookie's antics, it might be worth its weight in a proper precious metal.

?Right, then. I'd had plenty o' grog the last time I tried this. Don't get yer hopes up,? she said, tossing it onto the pile of wood before turning around. Carefully removing her dagger, she began battering the blade against the rock, trying to alternate sides so that it didn't get bent out of shape. She would hate to ruin her best dagger. It was also, at the moment, her only dagger.

But the others didn't need to know that.

?Oh--you're tryin' ta make sparks?? Poko asked.

?Are you mad?? Gashrock blurted, banging down the dagger.

?Er--I just thought--? Poko lifted a small velvet case from an inner pocket and opened it, revealing a little carved pipe, complete with a tiny quartz and pyrite striking set.

Gashrock waited a moment to see if Poko was going to do anything useful with it, but when the ferret made no motion, reached out and seized the strikers herself. Oddly, the rhythmic motion of tapping them against each other seemed to dull the pain slightly. But not until the fire had started was Gashrock able to calm the thoughts of the wrong ferret got lucky.

After tilting the wood pieces until they caught flame, Gashrock sat back, resheathing the dagger and pocketing her trinket after a brief consideration. For a moment, there was no sound, just the memory of the metallic strikes fading away in the midnight darkness.

Then Poko spoke up. Well, that was stretching the truth a bit. She made an ?Er?? and Gashrock turned.

How are you old enough to smoke without choking on your pipe? ?Here you are, then,? she said, handing it over with no sign of gratitude.

Gashrock tried to rest, as the columns of smoke slowly wove apart in every direction. Through her fatigue, she caught whispers of other conversations. ?...how far can you walk on that??

?Well I made it up here, didn't I??

It was an earnest, if plaintive cry, and Gashrock risked again another glance at her own leg. Maybe it had started to heal already. More likely it was a trick of the dim, intermittent light.

Behind her, voices. ?...ask her if she'll sew it.?

?Aye. Gashrock! Will you try sewin' it??

Gashrock turned around, exhausted. ?Aye.? Trust them to have finally remembered what she was good for. Sort through wood chips? Oh, here's a hatchet, marm. Try and light a fire? Look what I've found! ?Although I ain't sure what lookin' nice is good for, at a time like this.?

?Well,? Poko went on, ?it'll be easier to walk.?

That, Gashrock supposed, was probably true?if a hemline or something was draping on the ground, things were that much more difficult.

?An' maybe it'll hurt less.?

Kits. Even after what they'd just been through, thinking a torn gown was the worst of their injuries. ?Yar, yar. Shut yer clap and gimme the thing, and if yer worried about your mah-desty at a time like this I'll clock you one.?

?Er...? Blackbriar looked on. ?You might want to, to borrow some of my alcohol.? Don't I ever. ?Poko? It'll make it hurt less.?

?Wait a tick,? said Gashrock. ?Borrow yer alcohol? How d'you reckon you'll pull that off? Because I'd just as soon be unk-onshiss again when you, eh, repay your debt.?

?Oh quit whining and see to her toe.?

?...her toe??

Very gingerly, Poko stepped forward.

Gashrock squinted, then opened her eyes. She didn't particularly care to see the way the ferret's toe hung on, drooping at an angle below the rest of her foot. ?Waves and blazes! And you expect me to sew this back on??

?It shouldn't be too different?? Blackbriar sputtered.

?Yer all mad beasts. If you have any grog on you at all, aye, give it to thissun. Pref-rably so she goes back to sleep.? Once again Gashrock tried to think about how young she must have been. ?And even with that, I'm not in the bizness of makin' no promises.?

?Er. I'd say we should start with less. Particularly because I have something a little more, ah, savory than simple grog in store.? said Blackbriar.

?Well it's an honor, innit, being surrounded by experts with such in-tell-ect. And drink.? She rooted around in her pocket. Curse the beast, but she'd given her foolish word and she'd see it through, the best she could. Without looking at Poko, she said, ?I hope you like green.?

Poko whimpered, but made no distinct reply as Blackbriar fetched her some drink, as Fern and Nyika huddled by, as Gashrock reached for her. The ruins of another cart wheel served to prop her leg up, as Gashrock carefully folded the toe, supporting it with her right paw and holding the needle in her left.

Costumes were intended to move, she thought, as she slowly made her way across, stitch by terrifying stitch. ?Owwww!? came Poko's moan, as Blackbriar held her out of the way, offering her a drink to have something else to bite down on. You could fold them up and stack them in a cart and trek across the mountains, well, you could, in principle. ?Yowch...stoppit...? Better, you could doff them and don them in a matter of a moments, you could whip something out of a pocket or plunge it back in. ?Hellgates, Gash...? You could dance across the stage with it trailing in your wake, if you were a git who liked to dance, or you could fling it to an admirer in the audience. ?Whaddreyouat??

?Don't squirm,? said Gashrock, ?only makes it harder for me and worse for you.?  Everything she made, she made to fold, to bend, to wave. Except, Poko's sweat warm beneath her, she'd been called upon to sew something that would stay still.

?That's once around,? she whispered, voice dry.

?Well that's good,? said Blackbriar, ?I doubt we can take much more of this.?

?Is that all? Cause I can go back once around, for good measure, but like heck am I doin' the same thing from the inside out.?

?Leave it be for now. How much thread do y'have??

?More than?I thought I knew what to do with.?

?That'll do.?

Gashrock gave a haggard nod as she turned around. Behind her, the flames were rising higher into the sky. Maybe they'd be enough to stop her from shivering. Maybe not.