Blue on Blue

[Noonahootin]

The sun was peaking over the mountain's craggy horizon, and with it came a canvas of red and pink and blue. The dawn, barely etched in the sky, was a reminder to Noonahootin how restless the disastrous mission had turned out to be. His eyes had barely closed in the wee hours of the morning, the owl at last succumbing to well-earned sleep...and then he was being awoken by a stammering still-drunk otter and a flabbergasted, dry-mouthed pine marten.

?What were you thinking?? Noonahootin groaned, pinching the bridge of his beak with his talons. Before him, Vanessa stood crookedly, trying very hard to keep her balance but swaying despite herself. She was blinking heavily, and Noonahootin wondered if she was seeing double.

?Ah didnae mean tae, Cap'n, Ah just... et just happened.?

?Things do not 'just happen', Guardsbeast Fern,? Noonahootin said, and then sighed heavily. ?Why were you drunk on duty? What could have possessed you to act so...so irresponsibly in our current situation?? His tone was level. Years had taught the owl that patience was a far more useful tool than a temper could ever be when it came to reprimanding a beast. The more upset they were, the worse everything seemed, and patience was his kindness to his charges. He stood drawn up to his full height before the sheepish otter maid, expression completely blank and unwavering save for the hardness in his eyes.

?Start from the beginning, Guardsbeast. Tell me what happened that lead you to drop our food bag off the side of a cliff.?

Guardsbeast Vanessa Fern had been a matter of concern to the owl for a while. Noonahootin had watched her turn away from her less destructive habits upon the murder of her father, and he had done nothing but hope she would overcome the tragedy, not carry a chip on her shoulder the rest of her life. He had let her be, and instead let her do things in her own fashion. Now, he could not recall a time before this that he more regretted his lack of influence. He had hoped their earlier conversation would have helped her along somehow, but it appeared not to be the case. 'Yet', if the captain had his way about things.

?Ah...Ah didnae...? Vanessa seemed unable to speak right then, her eyes not daring to look at the owl any higher than his feathery belly.

?It wasn't entirely her fault,? Zevka intervened for her otter friend, stepping forward as though she were a sacrifice. Captain Noonahootin was unimpressed, and turned his head smoothly to look at the marten. 

?With all due respect, Miss Blackbriar, I am speaking with Guardsbeast Fern at the moment. I will speak with you when I have dealt with my own.?

A chill went through the air for, although Noonahootin had meant well, there had been the unmistakable voice of chastisement in the owl's words. Slighted and annoyed, Zevka crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her footpaw upon the ground in a show of impatience and remaining pointedly silent while she glared at the back of Noonahootin's head. There was a point, however, where the growing light became too much for the marten, and she slung an arm over her face, grumbling about the pain in her head and wondering grumpily where Risk was.

?Guardsbeast Fern, we are all waiting for you to explain yourself,? Noonahootin's tone grew pressing, and became more than expectant. The entire group was gathered around, watching the exchange between Officer and  Guard. Istvan stood beside Noonahootin with a scornful look upon his maw as he glared as his fellow Yew Guard. Zevka stood behind the Captain, a shivering Nyika at her side. Poko sleepily blinked from beside a decidedly cross Gashrock. Greenfleck had tutted once, choosing to sit back and merely watch while everything unfolded before him.

"Ah just, Ah dinnae ken..." Vanessa stuttered, her eyes beginning to brim with tears.

?Look at me when you are speaking, Guardsbeast,? Noonahootin commanded, his voice gentle but still authoritative.

Shocked, Vanessa's eyes widened and she sniffled involuntarily. Slowly, she lifted her head and forced herself to look at the owl's face above her. Glaring through her tears, she ran her tongue along her muzzle and, when she spoke, her voice became very quiet. ?I didn't mean tae drop the food o'er the cliff. Ah'm sorry...? Her body was radiating heat from her shamed blushing, and Noonahootin sighed very quietly as he stared hard at the young otter maid.

He had to punish her, it was protocol, but it hardly seemed worth it in the desperate situation. She was practically punishing herself, such was her shame after their conversation from the night before about her wanting to prove herself...He had been the one to upset her so gravely, and she was still somewhat out of her mind, currently unable to even comprehend the severity of her infraction. Still... Guardsbeast Fern had dishonoured the Yew Guard name within a group that the blue tunics had only tenuous control over; with Zevka constantly influencing the younger ones, Istvan frightening them with his religion, and Cookie turning out to be none other than Risk the damn Cutter, chaos was easily latching its claws into the already compromised mission.

To think I had been starting to trust the crooked fellow...We'll never see him again, though. To top it all off, I'll have to tell the Dewhurst kit and the rat about their companion's departure... The owl snorted angrily, turning away from Vanessa and pacing back and forth in a short circle.

?Look, it was my fault for offering her a drink in the first place. If I had known she-?

?MISS Blackbriar,? Noonahootin said, his voice raising to a very authoritative volume. ?If you please.? The owl punctuated each word with a beat, warning her that his patience was not for her. The pine marten flinched painfully at his loud voice, but Noonahootin knew from the roll of her eyes that she wasn't afraid of him.

Turning back to Guardsbeast Fern, the old owl stared at the otter and frowned, his pupils contracting and dilating as he thought about what to do. The food was gone, which meant even if hey started dying in the cold, one by one, they weren't any better off than they had been before with measly crumbs. They would have to hunt and scavenge more, which meant the journey would take even longer. To make matters even worse, he had been unable to convince the group to wait for his wing to heal so he might fly back to Yew. Blackbriar had them all thinking that Carrigul was a viable option, never mind the cold and hunger...and now moles...

?Well, what are you going to do, then? Don't torture her! Can't you see she's shaken up enough?! SAY SOMETHING TO HER!?

?I'm thinking,? the owl said, clenching his beak hard in irritation.

?Think faster.?

She was pushing him. That damned marten was pushing him, and Noonahootin was far too cold, far too hungry, and far to tired to let it go.

?Miss Blackbriar, since you seem so eager to take the blame, perhaps I will deal with you, right now.? Very quickly for an old bird, the scout was right in front of Zevka, leaning down so his wickedly sharp beak was directly in front of her face, amber eyes focused unblinkingly on her. ?Do you have something to say to everyone?? He cocked his head in mock curiousity. ?You're the one who is to blame, was that it? You're the one who coerced my Guard to ignore her duties and get drunk on shift? If it hadn't been for your irresponsibility, your indiscretion, this would not have happened!?

The owl's voice had been rising until he was just short of screaming at her. His booming voice, already naturally demanding, was nothing short of frightening to the Yew Guards who had never heard their Captain ever get quite so mad. Hastily, Vanessa took a step backwards, her brows shooting up when Zevka stared right back at the owl and upturned her lip.

"You want to talk about responsibility, Noonahootin?" Zevka leaned towards the owl, tired and narrowed eyes seeking out his. "Well, let me ask you something: do you really, seriously believe that Istvan doesn't go around killing or maiming beasts for his religion when you're not watching him?  What, exactly, do you do to make sure that a beast who openly proclaims his obligation to kill for a higher authority than you isn't actually doing so? If the answer is 'not much,' than how much of that blood is on your talons??

Beside him, Istvan quivered, losing his composure momentarily as his glare grew all the more intense as Zevka spoke. ?Insolent heretic! I am no murderer,? he hissed.

?Stand down, Corporal,? Noonahootin growled, resisting the urge to block Istvan with a wing. He did not want to give any fuel to the fire Zevka was trying to ignite. Obediently, Istvan snapped his maw shut.

?Corporal Istvan has been a loyal, hard working member of the Yew Guard since he first took the blue. If he went about murdering anybeast he deemed less than fit, the Guard would hear about it, and never approve.? The words came, hoarse and less confident than they should have. Zevka did not miss his faltering.

?Officially or not?? Zevka sneered, her twitching ears pinned down against her skull. It appeared every spoken word caused her to wince, but her spirit was evidently feeling much better than her head.

Ignoring her, Noonahootin continued. ?Even in the face of many years worth of bullying, Corporal Istvan has remained true to his convictions, all the while performing his duties to the Guard without question or hesitation. Such dedication is admirable. If a thief loses a paw, so be it; is that not the standard punishment in many civilized towns? He follows his orders to a tee. I know how to handle my guards, Miss Blackbriar.?

?I beg to differ, you overstuffed mantle decoration!,? Zevka snapped, her voice raspy. ?If you knew how to handle your Guards, this wouldn't have happened! When I found her last night she was very upset after talking to you! You upset her! You're supposed to take care of your own! I bet you don't even know where Risk is!? 

From behind them, Gashrock quietly muttered in a rather solemn tone, ?I bet you he don't, for that...well...?

?I had no intention of upsetting Guardsbeast Fern! If she would start using her brain more than her liver, she'd realize that! Never mind the ferret, either! Cookie-Risk didn't need my protection!? Noonahootin spluttered, his feathers rising alongside his temper. His use of the past tense did not escape Zevka, whose eyebrows shot up at the owl's acceptance of Risk's demise. ?That murdering scoundrel didn't deserve my protection! I've heard the ballads, heard the stories told time and time again! All that bragging he no doubt did about murdering the badger prince is nothing but testament to his cruelty! Prince Whitebeam was Lord Cedar's nephew, and heir apparent of Salamandastron! The child had more greatness in his whiskers than Coo-Risk had in his whole body and soul!?

?Who's to say? The boy's dead now, and Risk killed him. It was a different place, a different time,? Zevka said, waving a paw dismissively. ?He was a different ferret then, doing what he had to. Beasts change. You should know that; you're old. Far too old to be heading out on long journeys, if you ask me. You didn't even fall with the rest of us at the road, yet you've managed to acquire more wounds than most! While we were scared and dying, you were flying around, safe as can be.?

?I was looking for survivors!? Noonahootin spat, although the marten's comment had cut him deeply. He had been plagued by the thought that it had been unfair, so unfair that he had so easily escaped death while so many others had had no other choice but to fall to their doom. The nightmares had been keeping him awake, and the simple fatigue of thinking about his garish dreams had cause the owl to start resenting sleep. Soon sleep had begun to elude him in return.

?Survivors? All you found was a white owl and a bunch of savage moles who would like nothing better than to kill us all! Some scout you are; all you find is trouble.?

?I'll have you know, Miss Blackbriar, that I-?

?Save it, grey beak. By the time you finish talking, you'll be dust and I'll be whiter than the owl that handed you your own tail feathers.?

?You insolent wretch! How dare you accuse me of being unfit for duty! I am sworn to protect those under my command. You can't even find a way to help the children you elected to protect get along! The one grown beast you get your paws on is immediately turned onto a destructive path!? The owl reeled, clacking his beak as he pressed on, pulse racing and words pouring out of his mouth faster than he could think of them. ?All that fancy academy learning at your proud vermin school and you can't even keep control over a pair of dibbuns! Do you seriously expect you can lead these beasts to Carrigul?! You honestly think, marten, that you are better suited to lead these beasts to safety than I, a Captain of the Yew Guard and Chief Scout, who has flown these woods for years??

?You think you can lead us to safety? Think we'll be fine if we follow you, bird? Risk told me you wanted to die in ?glorious? battle! You can't even be trusted to keep yourself alive, let alone seven others, chasing after the white owl as you seek out your legendary end!?

Noonahootin winced, his former conversation with Cookie coming back to bite him.

Trust a vermin to use what had been said in camaraderie for spitefulness...

?Don't you dare assume I take my life for granted,? Noonahootin warned, his face very serious and his tone incredibly dark. His brow was furrowed deeply and his amber eyes were glaring hotly at the pine marten. ?I want everyone safe. I can't keep everyone safe or get them to a safe place if I'm dead! Perhaps if Risk-? Noonahootin stopped before he could betray himself. Ear tufts fully erect, the owl was puffing up, his tail splayed entirely as he crouched, wings beginning to unfold from his back as he ground his good talons into the snow. ?You think Risk didn't enjoy the ballad about the murder of Prince Whitebeam, sung by vermin across the lands? Hm? His legacy??

?Risk is too valuable to our survival for you to go picking on him now,? Zevka growled her own warning, her paws scrunching into fists. ?Considering you were getting chummy with him after that flop of a scavenging mission you two went on, I'm surprised you still think he's so evil. Besides,? Zevka pressed on, thumping her finger against Noonahootin's chest, ?Everyone with half a brain in their skull knows that when royals fight, they cull their own line to keep the competition at bay.?

?Watch your tongue, lass,? Noonahootin said very sternly, though his voice practically dared her to keeping talking herself into a horribly deep hole. How dare she?! How dare she draw conspiracy out of such a tragedy as the murder of a young child?! ?The royal line of Salamandastron has never treated its own so perniciously.?

?How do you think a single ferret was able to get into the same room as the prince, let alone kill him? Clearly, somebeast didn't like the line of succession. You think badgers can't be cruel, bird? Think they don't treat their own kind with scorn? Vermin, woodlander, it doesn't matter in the end. You know what all those battles where the commander goes down in a blaze of glory have in common?? Zevka paused, sneering at the owl while she squinted one eye against the rising sun. ?The commander gets a ballad if he's lucky. The rest of the beasts around him just get dead." Zevka's lip curled aside. "And that mindset didn't work out well for Prosecutes..."

The marten's easily slung words stung Noonahootin's ears and made his heart beat so hard against his chest that the owl briefly entertained the notion he was about to explode. Quicker than lightening, the owl bellowed a screech and launched himself forward, knocking Zevka onto her back and pinning her there with his curved claws. She sputtered, heaving as she tried to draw a breath, the wind knocked right out of her. Tail writhing, she curled and groaned underneath Noonahootin's foot, her paws beating at his leg helplessly.

?Now listen up,? Noonahootin hissed dangerously, his words cutting through the loud protests of Vanessa. Poko had made to run forward and fight off the larger owl, but Gashrock flung an arm out to stop the young maid, hushing her while trying to contain her own startled expression. ?I am Captain Noonahootin of the Yew Guard, son of Abracham of the Birch Woods and Delaney of the Court of the Seven Winds. I have fought in countless battles, lead countless campaigns across high waters and hellfire, and I DO NOT GIVE A HOOT WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE, BUT YOU ARE NOT FIT TO LEAD SCAT THROUGH A SEWER!?

Somewhere behind him, Poko gasped.

?GUARDSBEAST FERN, FRONT AND CENTRE!?

Vanessa scrambled, her eyes wide. Her normally very complacent and jovial Captain had suddenly turned into a raging beast, insane with anger, and she was not eager to become his next target nor willing to risk his ire by being slow. Sobering up very quickly, Vanessa threw a salute and swallowed back the lump that had been forming in her throat.

?YOHOO are NOT to spend ANY more time with this...this...THIS TRASH,? Noonahootin seethed.

?How in blazes are we supposed tae survive if' Ah cannae work alongside Zevka?? Vanessa asked, her nervousness wiped away in the rebellion that bubbled up from her chest in face of losing her friend.

?THAT'S AN ORDER, GUARDSBEAST!? This time, Noonahootin was sure Vanessa understood how serious it was, screeching right into the otter?s face and eliciting a small gasp from her as she recoiled, raising her paws in defence as though to push away an attacker.

?So much for 'we're all in this together', eh, Captain.? It was Greenfleck, lazily murmuring aside to no one, his words just loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to suggest he was somewhat reluctant to be registered. Noonahootin's head twisted to look behind him at the toad, indignant fury shaking the bird and sculpting his marred face into a wrathful mask. With a snarl of frustration, Noonahootin let Zevka up, whirling about and stalking away. He shouted miserably over his shoulder, ordering Istvan to organize a scavenging party while he went and kept watch for any sign of the harfang. He had to get away from these wretches. Greenfleck had hit the mark, and Noonahootin knew he had gone too far.

With a few quick beats of his wings, Noonahootin took off, seething so much that he barely registered the shudder in his shoulder. The cool air calmed him almost immediately, and he drew deep breaths as he sought out a solitary place to land. His outburst had been worse than Vanessa losing the food bag, worse than Istvan attempting to press his religion onto Poko...Noonahootin had worked himself right into a conniption like a hysterical child! How had he let the damn marten get to him so effectively? She had known just where to prod, and he had swallowed the bait like an empty-headed fish.

?It's my fault...I know,? Noonahootin sighed to himself, shaking his head in defeat. He had upset Vanessa, bringing up her father as he had the previous night. The otter couldn't be any happier with him than she was now, having ordered her to stay away from the only beast she had really been connecting to since Kent had died in the road collapse. Worsening the clenching of his gut, Noonahootin had seen the fear in Vanessa's eyes as he had yelled at her so violently, and the grey owl was sorely ashamed.

?Captain Fern would be disappointed with me,? the owl sagely theorized. He had let Vanessa lose herself after her father's death when he should have instead stepped in and offered the daughter of his long-time friend the guidance she so sorely had needed. Instead, he had only managed to upset, anger, and scare her. Any trust that had been there was gone now, and the scout knew it would take a long time and much work to repair the shattered bond.

?Ah, Kinnikinnick, my love...? Noonahootin mournfully groaned, looking up to the greying sky in askance. ?What would you say if you could see your mate now, shamed and fleeing from a pack of floundering fools...whom he outfooled...?

The owl spotted a rotted tree, barren of much except brown skeletal branches and dried and flaking nettles. Down the centre of its trunk was a wicked scorch mark, black from the heat of the lightening that had struck the wood. He landed on a branch, adjusting himself by the thick trunk, and sat down before he began to preen the feathers on his injured wing.

I suppose I'll have to apologize to the marten for loosing my temper. She'll probably hold it over my head. Oh yes, no doubt about that. Such miserable thoughts hounded Noonahootin's mind, and so it was with great reluctance the owl answered when his name was called from the ground beneath his perch.

?Up here, Corporal Istvan.?

?Any sign of the white owl, Captain?? the tattooed otter asked, his deep voice steady as always.

?No,? Noonahootin replied shortly. ?How goes the foraging??

?Gashrock and Poko are trying to find something to boil water in. Some sort of nettle tea while they wait for Risk to return.?

?It's something,? the owl said sadly, although his interests had been perked. Warm, comforting tea would be rather nice right about then...Perhaps it would make breaking the news of Risk's almost certain doom easier if it were done with warm bellies.

?You did the right thing, keeping Corporal Fern away from Blackbriar,? Istvan suddenly said, looking up at the captain and maintaining his gaze. It was respectful, Noonahootin supposed, but somehow it just didn't translate properly from the otter and instead only caused Noonahootin to feel less comfortable than he had been before. ?The marten is a terrible influence on Guardsbeast Fern. On everybeast. It is beasts like her that lure the innocent away from the All-Mother's way.?

All Noonahootin could do was hum in acknowledgement, pretending to be preoccupied with scanning the skies.  He swallowed down his regret, and instead responded very lightly, trying to seem as unconcerned as he could. ?It isn't plausible. I was angry, far too angry to be throwing my authority around like that. I shall have to apologize to Miss Blackbriar, to the group, and to Guardsbeast Fern. I let the frustration of our endeavour get to me, and behaved very inappropriately.? The owl swivelled his head to look at Istvan, tilting his chin down towards the ground-bound otter. ?We cannot survive as a group if we are divided, which is precisely what I foolishly attempted to do.?

?Admirable as your humbleness is, Captain,? Istvan pressed tersely, suddenly very keen. It was a trait the owl was not used to seeing upon the priest unless he was speaking of his beloved deity, and Noonahootin was not sure he liked how eagerly Istvan leaned forward. ?It is undeniable that the pine marten is guiding the young ferret and the blessed cat down a dark path that their youthful minds can not see past. She is taking advantage of their-?

?She's manipulating them, you mean?? Noonahootin interrupted, and Istvan nodded eagerly. ?Into what? What intention does a blue-blooded scholar like Miss Blackbriar have with a wet behind the ears ferret and a disturbed wildcat? No, Corporal, here is where I must admit my old gizzard isn't always honest when it comes to her kind. She's a vermin, true, but she's from an old family. The Blackbriar line can be traced back farther than even Ashleg of Kotir. She's educated, and it shows; she has a head on her shoulders, and although she chooses to use it for less than pleasant games, as is sometimes the case...? The owl paused, and twirled his moustache with his talons, spinning the long feathers encompassing his beak around his curved claws as he struggled to find the proper words.

?Well,? he began again, ?I realize she got as agitated as she did only when she perceived my behaviour towards Guardsbeast Fern to be unacceptable. And her head was suffering. And she was right.?

?Captain, she's trying to manipulate us all,? Istvan insisted, spreading his paws wide as he pleaded for his superior officer to see the writing on the wall. ?Cozying up with Guardsbeast Fern so that the Yew Guard will trust her, pretending to care about the young ones, sympathizing with the murderer-harbouring Dewhurst players! Captain! Surely you see it!?

?I see a long journey ahead, and plenty of time to observe your suspicions,? Noonahootin said decisively, weary of another argument with one of his own. ?For now, in these early days, we must simply find a way to maintain our luck. Somehow, we must survive.?

As his words came out in a steady current of time-earned confidence, the owl had spied something in the sky. There were clouds, grey and heavy with snow, where before the sky had been barren, but there was also a single white speck gliding smoothly around the mountain where the group had camped not long ago.

?The harfang,? Noonahootin gasped, and hastily commanded the corporal to find cover. Istvan dove behind the tree into a snow bank, and remained completely still. The owl watched the white fleck in the distance, concentrating all his efforts onto figuring out the silent devil's pattern: how she used the air currents to guide her path, how she lazily circled and swooped only enough to frisk the warmer air found at road level, how she stayed within a marked area and explored every inch of it from the air before branching out just slightly..

?She's hunting us,? Noonahootin breathed. ?Corporal, get back to the others as quickly as you can. Tell them the harfang is out. No smoke, no fire. I don't want her coming back this way.  If she thinks we've gone farther than we have, good. Gives us precious time. We'll lay low for now. Tea will have to wait.?

?And Risk, Captain??

The owl stared hard over the mountain range. ?I don't believe Risk will be coming back.?