Respect Is Earned, Not Given

[Goragula]

The hare guard?s uniform was covered in blood, but it would serve its purpose.

They found him a few minute?s walk from where they?d buried Poko?s parents. Cookie had picked up the younger ferret?s pawprints in the snow and insisted they go after her. Goragula trailed reluctantly behind in the resignation that he must accept the ferret?s demands, or face the wilderness alone. Both creatures came to a sudden halt as they stumbled across the stricken hare that lay in a broken tangle among the rocks. In the bitter air, the contortions of terror had been frozen into a gruesome twist across his face, and his paw was outstretched in a final effort to push away his unseen foe. Goragula flicked his gaze from the sword stuck fast in the hare?s belly to the gaping wound that oozed clots of blood at his throat.

So this was where the screaming had come from. The toad?s mouth twitched into a smirk. It hadn?t been a full day since the landslide, and already they were slitting one another?s throats. Like a sapling that flourished in loose mud, the proclaimed morality of hotbloods was uprooted at the first storm.

None the less, Goragula knew that Yew invested well into its Guards? equipment. The hare?s cloak and jacket would be made from a decent quality wool, and that was enough to merit the effort of stripping him. When a hotblood declares he?s freezing, it?s always a little trite ? when a toad says the same, matters are urgent. There was nothing he wouldn?t try. Beside him, Cookie watched in confusion as the toad peeled away the rat?s pelt and replaced it with the guard?s clothing.

?Ah, that ain?t gonna be much warmer, you know. What, did your rats have fleas??

?We don?t get your fleas,? Goragula said curtly. ?No. You?d be surprised at how much Yew spends on its uniform ? it?s a lot warmer than rat fur. Not to mention the fact that if we bump into anybeast else, and they see me wearing an inside-out hide, they?re going to think I?m a bloody psychopath.?

?You?re not?? Cookie said. He shrugged and took the fur for himself.

Goragula did not dignify him with an answer. The ferret certainly had a fair few witticisms up his sleeve ? it was a pity they were about as original as a drunken mole?s excuses for missing payday. The toad would have cast him an acerbic glance, had his brawny physique, array of knives and bloodied garb not given him the look of a demonic warrior prince. It would be better not to step on his paws. Cookie had no need to worry about looking barbaric, but for Goragula, there was far more at stake. It would be suicide to reveal his true identity. To whatever remaining survivors there may be, that made him nothing more than a toad ? a wretched, primitive creature with no more worth than a louse. If he was going to get a scrap of respect, ?Greenfleck? had to maintain all the appearance of civility and decorum.

As they trailed the scattered pawprints in silence, Goragula?s thoughts turned to the two dead ferrets. Cookie had kissed the mother, but it was not the lascivious drunken mess that the toad had seen tavern hobs doling out to the hussies they caught on their knees. It had been so delicate that his lips had barely brushed against her fur. He?d never seen anything like that.  ?I don?t understand why you bothered burying him,? he finally said.

?Just ? my way of payin? him back, I suppose.?

?But he was her husband. Your enemy.?

?Nah.? Cookie shook his head. ?He was a decent enough beast. ?Sides, if you start thinkin? of beasts in his position as your enemy, you?re never gonna sleep easy.?

A decent enough beast? That was laughable. Cookie did not know that Goragula?s ratguards had not been ?decent enough beasts.? Whether they were or not was irrelevant. He didn?t know them, so the thought had not even crossed his mind that they may deserve something better than having their bodies stripped and dumped in the rubble. Another fine example of the hypocrisy of hotbloods. While Goragula was well aware that many disapproved of his methods, at least he could say he treated friend and foe alike.

?I?ll never understand how you work. You?ve all got so many double-standards.?

?Well, we don?t all have the same sense of ?standards?.?

?Obviously.?

The snowfall was beginning to thicken now, swarming in the sky like an explosion of gnats on a wet summer?s eve. Goragula realised he was losing warmth faster than the torch he carried could provide it. How far could that damn ferretmaid have gone? The toad pulled the hood of the Yew Guard?s cloak further over his head and began to scan the ragged mountain range for signs of life, but it was fruitless. Everything was lost to the grey haze of the blizzard.

Some way ahead of them there was a brief flicker of movement among a cluster of tall rocks. Then, the sudden sparkle of a fire. The new light illuminated the bodies of at least three creatures, but it was snowing too heavily to make out what manner of beasts they were.

?Over there!? Cookie said, starting towards them.

?She?s not your daughter, is she?? Goragula said, following hastily.

?Hell's fang, no. That was her father back there.?

?Then why do you want to find her so badly??

Cookie looked at him in disbelief. ?I thought it was obvious. We take care of each other. Never needed Pyracantha to teach me that.?

?You?re different to the ferrets I?ve met.?

?Then you?ve been mixin? with the wrong types,? the ferret replied with a grim finality. ?Hurry up.?

* * * *

They were all jills, huddled together under their capes and pressed close to the rocks in a hapless attempt to shelter from the wind. There was a pine marten, an otter dressed in Yew Guard?s uniform, an injured rat, a young wildcat ? and a ferretmaid who could only have been Poko. Goragula sat as close to the fire as he could bear, and gave them a critical once-over. Apart from the marten, they looked like a bunch of scraggy molls.

?Gashrock!? Cookie said, noticing the rat. ?I thought you were dead.?

She gave a weak laugh. ?C?mon, Cookie. Y?know I?m tougher than that.?

But Goragula?s eyes were on the ferretmaid. She was dressed as a hedgehog, of all things. Beneath the soft cotton hood, the young ferret?s vacant eyes stared past the fire into empty space. There were no tears. Goragula had seen that look before ? it was the soul?s last attempt to stave off an impending surge of grief. When it did hit her, it would hit hard. But it was strange to see it this way, when he?d taken no part in bringing it about, and could observe it objectively. She?d have to get over it quickly. Nobeast would want to drag a bawling brat all the way to Carrigul.

Cookie swallowed uneasily as he thought of something to say. ?We gave ?em a decent burial, Poko.?

?Leave it. She?s had enough.? It was the pine marten, holding her paw up to silence him. ?I?m Zevka Blackbriar, and this is Nyika.? She cocked her head to the scrawny wildcat.

?Cookie. An? this ugly lump?s Greenphlegm.?

?Greenfleck.?

?Cookie, eh? Cooked any rats lately?? the otter said, casting a rather sarcastic glance at the grisly pelt daubed over the ferret?s shoulders. ?Name?s Nessa, bah the way,? she added, offering her paw. For Goragula, she managed a curt nod. Ungracious wench.

?Does anybeast know what happened to Pyracantha?? Cookie said.

?Ain?t seen ?er. No sign o? Whitepaw or owt either.? Gashrock looked down and licked her dry lips. She took a deep breath and made a sound that might have been an attempt to laugh it off. ?Think we?re all that?s left o? the Dewhurst players, mate.?

There was an uneasy silence. Goragula could not partake in whatever they were feeling, but he could read their eyes. Every one of them, Cookie included, had a look of numb weariness tinged with an unspoken grief. It was the otter who spoke next.

?Ah Saw Captain Noonahootin earlier, said ?e was goin? tae look fer more survivors an? a way back. Ah say we stick together ?till he shows up.?

Goragula took an instant dislike to the Yew Guard. He'd already caught her glancing at him when she thought he wasn't looking, and her fascination was clearly fuelled by revulsion. The marten called Zevka was similarly unreserved in her curiosity.

?Funny who survives, isn?t it?? she said. ?So many capable warriors have died, yet you seem to have sustained hardly a scratch. Who could have predicted this??

He gave her a cold stare. ?We?re tougher than we look.?

She leaned towards him, her eyes narrowing. ?I?ve never actually seen a toad this close up before. Is it true, what I?ve read about your kind? You can?t make any heat for yourself, so you need an external source??

?Oh, you?ve read about ?my kind?, have you?? His voice was thick with derision. ?Yes, it is true. But you shouldn?t think it so strange. For all your tricks in winter, none of you can outlive a toad.?

?Perhaps. But how do you propose to stay alive out here??

?Tit for tat. I need help, I won?t deny that. But I?m sure there are things I can do to help you.?

She had no idea, as yet, the full extent of what he could do ? but the slight arch of her brows betrayed her curiosity. As she leaned back, there was a faint twinkle in the pine marten?s eyes. ?Interesting,? she said.

They fell into silence. Goragula was almost taken aback that the jill hadn?t leaped at the opportunity to experience his generosity. But then, why should she? None of these beasts had any respect for him, and he had done nothing to earn it. To them, he was nothing more than an old merchant, incapacitated by the snow. If he didn?t prove himself useful in a way that didn?t involve digging up graves like an addlebrained peasant, then that was how it would remain.

There was a remarkable dissonance in one of the wealthiest creatures in Mossflower being undermined by a clown and a few jills. Goragula had to accept the irony of it. All his life, he'd learnt to control money as a means of survival, but now, at the turn of Fate?s whim, his gold meant nothing. The value of money disappeared alongside civilisation. He couldn?t buy their fear. They?d slit his throat as soon as they heard the jangle of two coins together.

Goragula felt the old twitch of dread begin to stir in his stomach. He was no stranger to near death experiences. The rhythm of a toad's life is beaten out by the snapping of death?s jaws: adders, pikes and herons, and the merciless sting of Winter. But he felt closer now than he?d ever been. Carrigul was many leagues away, they had lost all their supplies, and without the support of the survivors he?d die within hours. If they knew his real name ? it had to be in their consciousness, somewhere ? their faint disgust would turn immediately to hatred. It was a strange feeling, to be so vulnerable. Invigorating, in fact. Every second he remained alive filled him with a new vitality, so that more than ever, he felt the burning of that primal desire to survive. Journeying alongside these hotbloods would prove a dangerous task, but if he could survive the fall, he?d survive its aftermath.

He had to earn his place among them. He may be weakened, but he?d worked his way up from the bottom once before. He had it in him to do it again.

The silence was broken by a small cough from Poko. ?What d?we do now?? the ferret said, wringing her paws with a long huff.

Zevka answered her. ?We?ll hold out for the night, and be on our way come morning.?

?In the morning?? Cookie frowned. ?Place?ll be swarmin? with crows by then.?

?And?? said Zevka. ?They?ll be too interested in the corpses to bother with us. It?s too dangerous to travel at night.?

?Noonahootin will be comin? back soon,? offered the otter ? Nessa, was it? ? ?He?ll know what tae do. Ah vote we rest fer now.?

Finally, the young wildcat spoke. ?But ? somebeast needs to keep watch while we sleep. Who knows what?s out there!?

There was once again an uneasy hush. The hotbloods looked at each other in uncertainty, none wanting to volunteer to remain awake as the cold night pressed closer around them.

Goragula considered it for a moment. It was an opportunity, at least, to maintain an air of willingness. ?I?ll do it,? he said. ?I?ve the best eyes for it. Unless the wildcat thinks she?s up to it.?

She flinched away as he locked eyes with her.

They needed no further discussion. One by one, the jills curled up beside each other, nestling into their fur and coats for warmth while Cookie took a comforting seat beside Poko, resting his thick arm around her tiny frame.

Goragula stared into the fire until they were silent. Save for the gentle pulsing of his throat as he breathed, he was as still as the surface of a forgotten lake. He was mulling over the thick knot of thoughts in his head, picking apart each thread as a plan began to form. The marten had an air of ambition, and he liked that. She would live.

The others, he would see off. Not yet. But somehow. It was necessary, he reasoned; his business in Carrigul had to be carried out in utmost secrecy, and he had agreed with Roghar that he would bring nobeast but himself. Goragula was always a beast of his word. They may be useful to him now, but if he made it to Carrigul with them in tow, they could only cause problems. He?d have to get rid of them.

It would be no mean feat. He certainly could not overpower them himself, especially not with a beast like Cookie at their side. However, the strength of their youth paled in comparison to the wisdom and cunning of the toad?s seasoned years. Though he could not fight them, he knew he could outwit them at any game of the mind.

And he would.

But first, he needed to gain their trust.