The Beast with a Secret

[Zevka]

Category: The Beast with a Secret
Name: Black Jasmine
Species: Rat
Age: 15
Gender: Female


"T-this won't do," said Jasmine. "Rope is yucky."
 
All three stoats turned on their giant, black rat hostage with muzzles agape. Shreds of Jasmine's rope gag sprinkled along her face, and she smiled a sharp, crooked smile. The thieves found a cabbage in the candlelit storeroom, but she cleaved the vegetable with one bite.
 
"Only fancy foxes eat cabbage," said Jasmine. "Let me out and I?ll make a couple-a little pillow puffs. Chef Chuffy taught me for when I got Hungry. She'd help but you s-s-shot her. I saw it. You shot her, and Merry Molly, and Fast Flintpaw, and-"
 
"Quiet, monster."
 
"I'm not a monster! Chef Chuffy says I'm a whole lot of love with a little sick. Chef Chuffy says if beasts treated me-"
 
A backhand from the large stoat silenced Jasmine.
 
With great effort the large stoat dragged the bound ratmaid from the storeroom, through a pub?s kitchen, and to the front. Barkeeps and patrons alike lie skewered along the common area, crossbow bolts riddling their bodies. Jasmine folded her large ears over her eyes, and trembled in time with her chair skittering on the floorboard. Outside the window town guards erected barricades, and directed bystanders away from the standoff.
 
"Pick one." The big stoat threw Jasmine before the front display. "Might be your last if these bellringers don?t pay ransom."
 
Confections stuffed the pub?s display case. The aroma broke Jasmine's tremble and set a slather along her muzzle. Her nose pointed from the rhubarb tarts, to the mince pheasant sweeties, and ended on the sugar cookies. Each cookie took the shape of a savory stoat, or a fruity ferret, or marshmallow marten.
 
Jasmine licked the crown of a cutout stoat, but the cookie did not satisfy.
 
"I want..." The tremble returned. "No. Chef Chuffy said only bad rats got Hungry."
 
The large stoat shouted at the guards outside, ignoring his captive's muttering.
 
"Better pay up!" screamed the stoat. "A pouch of rubies or I turn this massive wench into a hedgehog!"
 
The stoat fired, catching a young fox in ill-fitting armor upside the head. The guards pulled back further still, until not a soul stood outside the windows.
 
"B-but these are bad beasts?"
 
As the stoat chuckled he didn?t hear the gnash of teeth, the snap of rope, or the drip of saliva onto the floorboards.
 
Darkness fell by more than the setting sun outside.
 
Back in the storeroom the remaining stoat duo stuck prybars into every angle the pub?s strongbox. Neither mustered the strength for freeing the coin within. The youngest, missing most of his fur, broke away to find their largest.
 
He found his brother in front of the oven. Not all of him, but the dregs of two shorn limbs, still twitching as the meat settled on the matted floor.
 
Droplets from above speckled the stoat's shoulder. The young thief could not, would not, look up.
 
Darkness fell by more than the tide of time.
 
Screams filled the pub. Back in the storeroom the last stoat, a spindle female, pried open the door for a peek. She did not see the youngest behind the kitchen preparation table, but the slams and gurgle of split tendons told her all she needed.
 
The last thief shut and barred the storeroom door. She clutched the candle close as the wood and metal entry buckled from the outside. She screamed as the door burst open and the candle extinguished.
 
The darkness, the slather, then nothing.
 
By dawn the guards outside stormed the pub?s commons. Not thieves, but the stench of iron, rot, and crisping pastry filled the besieged establishment. All ran quiet until the clatter of metal on stone rang from the kitchen. They drew their weapons, formed up, and kicked open the kitchen door.
 
"Oh! Just in time."
 
A ferret guard at the front vomited. A few others ran. Many only stared. A cake of viscera lined the kitchen's lanes, sinew and hide streaking from corner to corner until all ran red.
 
Black Jasmine, smiling at the storm's center, pulled a tray of pillow puffs from the oven. Medics with the guard stormed past, searching source of the gore. When they found none they inspected Jasmine for wounds, but the giant rat pushed them aside like a dibbun scattering leaves.
 
"Patience, p-patience. There's enough for everybeast!" Jasmine bit a puff in half, the meat gnashing along her bloodstained fangs. "You can have mine. I'm f-full."



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Character Name: Thrayjen
Species: Rat
Age: 35
Gender:Male
Category: Beast with a Secret

The two hedgehog babes clutched each other in horror, their bedsheets pulled tight to their chins. Orange light danced across the rat?s pointed features, accentuating his scarred and sneering face. He approached them, claws reaching out as he growled menacingly.
 
?I smell hedgehog blood?? the rat began to chant. ?I smell hedgehog blood??
 
He began to crawl on all fours, snuffling about the floor and grunting as he went. He came to the foot of the hedgehogs? bed and, just when he was hidden by the footboard, paused.
 
?But then, suddenly??
 
The rat sprang up, brandishing a fire poker like a rapier and dancing from foot to foot.
 
?Captain Goldyhard!? the babes cried out happily, shrieking and giggling as the rat frolicked about the room in full mock combat.
 
?Yes!? the rat cried. ?Captain Goldenheart appeared with The-?
 
?Long Patrol!? the babes squealed.
 
?Yes! And they clobbered the Dread Pirate Blackwhiskers, freed the slaves??
 
The rat collapsed onto the end of the bed, his weight sending the laughing babes sprawling.
 
?And they lived happily ever after,? he finished.
 
?Unky Thrayjen,? one of the two hedgehogs, a wee maid, crawled forward. ?Why is pirates allaways stealing slaves??
 
?Cheap labour,? Thrayjen answered quietly before he got up and began to tuck the babes back into their blankets. ?Pirates are bad, that?s why. Bad beasts don?t value the life of another. They use beasts like you or I use a spoon.?
 
The young hedgehog scrunched her face up, clearly not understanding. Thrayjen sighed and rubbed his nose. ?I?ll?tell you when you?re older.?
 
?I uses a spoon to eat oatmealies!? the small boy said through a yawn.
 
?Perhaps we?ll have some for breakfast. Now, you?ve had your story, so close your eyes and dream up a tale of your own.? The rat made sure the window was locked, and quietly began to turn away.
 
?Good night!? the babes loudly proclaimed in unison.
 
?Good night,? Thrayjen murmured.
 
Low light warmly illuminated the cozy room. Thrayjen tiptoed towards the hearth on the other side of the shack that made up his home. Already there, an old hedgehog crone used a towel to pull a black kettle off the dying coals.   
 
?How?s the soup, Nan?? Thrayjen asked as he settled himself by the hearth.
 
?You naughty rascal!? the grey hedgehog chuckled as she shakily poured a cup of tea. ?It?s blackberry tonight. Nice and sweet, like you!?
 
?You don?t know that,? Thrayjen replied. He blew away the steam rising from his cup.
 
?Nonsense,? Nan scolded him by pinching his cheek. She ignored his indignant mewl of protest and arranged a knitted blanket over her shoulders. With an enormous sigh, Nan settled into a thick rocking chair.
 
?When you first showed up on my door, half-drowned in the rain and skinny as a quill, I hadn?t any idea what to do. I?d just been saddled with the wee pests-?
 
Unsubtle giggles arose from the hedgehog babes as they pretended to sleep.
 
?And now I had a great, big, dirty-whiskered rat on my doorstep. My, oh my!?
 
?Thank-you,? Thrayjen quietly said around a sip of tea. ?For helping me.?
 
?Oh, enough. We?ve been through this before. It?s nothing to be kind. You?ve been a blessing!?
 
Thrayjen set his cup down upon the stack of old books that acted as their end table. ?You didn?t have to help me. Could have taken one look at me and turned away a vermin.?
 
Nan clucked her tongue chidingly, staring into the embers. ?You?ve never done anything to prove such old minded thinking. Not to us, at least. That?s good enough for me.?
 
?Still, I?m glad I found your kindness,? Thrayjen cordially said. Quietly, he added, ?I don?t deserve any of it.?
 
?Whatever you buried that night, I hope it stays buried. You don?t deserve anymore punishment.? Nan?s paw reached out to gently pat the same scarred cheek that she had squeezed earlier.
 
?What?? Surprised that the palsied old hog knew anything, Thrayjen?s eyes widened for but a moment before narrowing.
 
?Behind the old stone fence? The night you arrived, I saw you bury something. It was small, no bigger than a broom handle. I never asked. Didn?t feel right, prying.?
 
?Feels right to ask now, does it?? Thrayjen asked with a teasing tone, but he was sure Nan saw him force his smile.
 
?Naughty rascal?? Nan mumbled. Hypnotised by the glowing of the coals, she dozed off, her tea left unfinished.
 
Thrayjen double-checked the windows and door were locked tight before he himself went to bed.



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Character Name: Nokki Avaartin
Category: The Beast with a Secret
Species: Beech Marten
Age: 40
Gender: Male

No one turned their heads when the white-breasted Beech Marten with a bald patch on his back leg entered the tavern. No one gasped, and no one stared. No one whispered rumors in the corner about anything a friend had told a friend that morning. No one stopped drinking, hollering, gambling, or fighting. It was as though he wasn?t there at all.

He awkwardly took a seat at a table as the barmaid, casually and without blinking, took his drink order, like old times. He sighed. The creaky wooden stool shook underneath him as his knees bounced. He stared intently at the flame of the small candle on the table, to avoid any risk that someone would make eye contact with him.

He noticed a small chip on the middle claw of his left paw, and quickly hid the paw under his cloak. Then, realizing it might attract attention if he continued wearing his cloak indoors, he slowly took off the cloak and quietly laid it on the seat next to him while sneaking his left paw between his stomach and the table. His head immediately felt exposed without the hood of the cloak, so he held his forehead in his right paw and ran it through the fur on his head as though it needed brushed. He shifted his legs and tried to think about the ale in front of him.

He didn?t notice Ragschild the weasel walking up behind him, carrying a large mace.?Nokki, mate! Ya made it back!?

Startled, Nokki spilled the ale all over himself. He grabbed his cloak to try to soak it up, though he already had felt it soak into his underclothes.

?How y? been? How?s the old lady??

Nokki couldn?t speak. His jaw was clenched. He could only breathe, rapidly, trying to hold eye contact without blinking, all the while still dabbing up the ale with his right paw. He winced as the weasel patted him on the back.

Ragschild laughed. ?Good as always, then, old friend? So good to see ya.? He smiled and took the seat previously occupied by the cloak.   ?So, y? need to know something about Drenthen.? 

Nokki didn?t care, but he raised his eyebrows anyway.?While you were off havin? a good time,? Ragschild winked, ?Old Drenthen turned traitor on us. Sold us out. Handed over the hostages without so much as a sliver of copper for us?? 

Nokki tried to listen to the saga of treachery and injustice. He couldn?t understand the words, but listening to the music of each syllable helped relax him. Ragschild interrupted himself at last.

?But it?s good to have y? back, really, mate. Hey, what?s say I make an announcement??

?No?. please, no??

Ragschild leaped on the table and shouted to the room, narrowly avoiding spilling the ale a second time.

?Oy! Guess who?s back, everybody! Master Avaartin!?Nokki cowered over his plate of mashed fish livers and gravy. Mercifully, everyone acted as though they were not at all interested, or hadn?t even heard his name before.

Ragschild shouted louder.

?Aw, c?mon mates. It is the neckbreaker, the shrewslayer, the sultan of skullsmashing! Back from a bit of a hiatus . . .   an? celebratin? his 10 year weddin? anniversary. Let?s giv?im a hand!?

There were a few scattered claps from a young tavern rat he had never met, and from a couple of the older martens who always sat in the loft over the bar, whose memories went back more than a decade. Everyone quickly returned to drinking and eating, and occasionally fighting.

Nokki cleared his throat. ?Ragschild, can I ask you a favor??

?Can ya? Why, I owe y? m? life, boss! O? course!?

?Do you know where I can find some work??

The weasel raised his eyebrows. ?Honest work? Cause you?re askin? the wrong w? ?

?No. Paying work. Any leads???Y?sure ya want t? go back to that, Master Nokki? It?s fine fer a bloke like me, but . . . y? got a pair o? dibbuns now, an? some respectability, mate.?

?Yes. Exactly.?

Several hours later, Nokki left the tavern. His gait was now confident and steady. His knees were solid, his gaze uplifted. His bare head was exposed to the cool sea breeze and his left paw was clasped firmly around a dagger.
He wouldn?t be home tonight, but he wouldn?t be lost.