Desertion

[Deadtail]

Deadtail never volunteered for scouting duty, and nobeast in Bulgam's horde asked him to trek ahead. There were some scouts, of course, or at least those who noticed the signs that shrews were camping nearby. Compared to other armies, though, Bulgam's was an insular lot.

Which was why it was strange how much Deadtail had been hearing about the skirmishes in the forest. Half of it or more was lies, he assumed, a reasonable enough approximation under any circumstances. Young rats whispering at night, telling tales of how they'd root out the woodland brats up north. Or how some big army had been defeated well to the east. Harmless enough chatter for any horde, but it just seemed odd that so much of it was floating around.

The rumors made him complacent, reluctant to move even as the tone of the evening conversations subtly changed. Oh, he could leap away from trouble in a battle?his paws were tired, but not so feeble as to give way. But by and large, he was comfortable to take his chances under Bulgam rather than venture elsewhere. With that kind of talk, there would be plenty of dangerous beasts in the forest?beasts that would be quick to assume an unfamiliar old rat was on the wrong side.

But, while the specifics of the young beasts' talk rolled over him, their tenors grew louder. It had begun, perhaps, when Moffa had been named captain in Halfnose's place. To the new officer's credit, he'd managed to stay alive and in charge?in fact, he was particularly popular with his underlings. ?Moffa's Minions?, they called themselves, the bravest of the brave. And the most moronic of the morons.

Every battle, when Deadtail was busy staying out of the way, Moffa would march at the head of his own platoon. Of course, the shrews would overpower him before they could reach anyone else. The Minions charged in to rescue their captain, usually losing one or two of their number in the process, but Moffa would somehow emerge in one piece. Perhaps two; sometimes, he'd lose a patch of fur and gain a scar that looked far worse than it hurt. When he wrote it off, claiming it was nothing, he was actually telling the truth.

In better times, Deadtail would have seen the incidents as warning signs, particularly when Bulgam praised Moffa night after night. But the rumors kept him in place. He had no desire to be a Minion, after all, and nobeast was forcing him to do so.

So the state of affairs would have continued, had it not been for Garnel. He had been at Moffa's side when they avenged Halfnose's death, but Bulgam saw no need to promote both of them. Garnel was the unofficial leader of a small group of rats, but grew resentful as Moffa gained fame throughout the horde.

In order to regain the fame they had so briefly shared, Garnel waited until the middle of a battle. The horde had come across an unfamiliar tribe of shrews, from farther upriver. From what Deadtail had gathered, they were seeking revenge for some death or another that had happened before he'd joined Bulgam. Compared to their southern counterparts, these shrews were more organized, and better fighters. They also had the Minions cut off from the rest of the horde.

?I'm comin' for you, matey!? Garnel grinned as he charged towards the opposite side of the battle. Those with him followed, and the entire right flank crumbled into chaos as the shrews poured forward.

Deadtail nervously looked around, trying to assess the situation. Garnel was as good as dead, but they outnumbered the shrews. And perhaps the Minions were better out of the way; if the shrews had been attacking them on purpose, then they were almost as foolish as Moffa himself. Or even more foolish; Moffa strove for his own glory, but the shrews believed he truly had some. With the young idiots distracting the enemies, the veterans had a strong chance.

On the other hand, there were never many beasts behind Deadtail when blood was being shed. They wouldn't notice if he took off, and by the time they finished, he'd be too far gone for them to find him.

But if the shrews somehow won...

Garnel had fallen, and the rats near the front lines were in disarray. Bulgam, his face possessed by fear, was near the back. Things had to be going poorly if he wasn't that far ahead of Deadtail himself. Why wasn't he doing anything?

?Push forward!? Deadtail called, his best imitation of a young rat not particularly convincing. ?Connect with the ones up there, the shrews are busy on the left.?

?Moffa will fight 'em off!? called a confident ferret in front of Deadtail.

With the stench of battle clouding his mind, and even long after it had subsided, Bulgam's mood changed erratically. ?Aye, but we'll strike while they're busy,? the weasel decided. ?Forward!?

And forward they charged. Deadtail gripped his sword tightly, holding it close to himself until the very last instant. Then he struck, the blade slicing upward through an unfortunate shrew's chest. He yanked it out and proceeded on. The rat was relying on instinct as much as anything else; the skills he had learned through the seasons came automatically even when he was too tired to remember them.

The plan, too, worked. The few survivors of Garnel's gang were inspired by their comrades' rush to join them, inspired enough to renew their strength and defy the odds. They took more shrews with them than Deadtail had expected before they were ultimately overrun.

The shrews eventually took off, but it was a testament to their skill that even Moffa had no desire to chase them. He was bleeding heavily by then, and it was clear that this scar would plague him for some time. Solemnly, without their usual gusto, the horde made camp. The sun had gone down before the more vocal thoughts turned to replacing Garnel; Deadtail wondered whether taking so long had set a camp record.

Bulgam was clearly listening to his troops' discussion, but said nothing for some time. As the conversation reached a lull, he asked offhandedly, ?Who was it that suggested we push forward??

Knowing it was too dark for them to see him, Deadtail winced. It had been done out of desperation, in the hopes that a convincing victory would provide the high spirits needed for his absence to go unnoticed. But the shrews were still out there, somewhere to the north. Where could he go? Maybe nobeast had seen...

?It were that old rat, Deadhind or summat,? called the ferret. ?Weren't it??

There were mumblings as one beast looked to another, trying to remember who it was. ?Yar, Deadtail, it were,? one of them finally decided, to general agreement.

?Deadtail, eh?? smiled Bulgam. ?Aye, that it is. You've seen plenty in your days, mate, you know how to fight. I reckon you more than deserve to be an officer. What say you??

?...Ah.? The fight had taken its toll on his nerves, but he felt just as scared surrounded by his allies. ?It's an honor, but...? Accept? Decline? What would make them forget him most quickly, after he was gone? ?There are a lot of brave young fellers out there. You yerself,? he nodded at the ferret, ?You'd make a fine captain.? Certainly in Moffa's mold.

?Do you really think so?? The ferret's eyes danced with sickening fervor. ?Me??

?Who do you think you are, makin' decisions over my head?? growled Bulgam. ?I haven't given you any power yet.?

?Oh, no sir!? Deadtail's rushed apology was genuine. ?Beggin' yer pardon sir, I never presumed, it's only that there are some more deservin' than meself.?

?You're a humble beast, Deadtail, a brave soul. Perhaps this has been too long in comin', but I'm to blame. Let's welcome Captain Deadtail to the ranks, eh??

A half-hearted cheer went up from the gathered horde, many of whom clearly had more worthy candidates for promotion?such as themselves?on their minds. Deadtail smiled thinly. ?Well, now that I'm the captain, I get to say that there are plenty of other deservin' beasts out there. And when I ever spit at the gates, one of you can have my job.? May that day be seasons in the making, he silently asked whatever might be listening. ?In the meantime, I suppose I'd better show you all that I'm cut out for it. Sir,? he half-nodded, half-bowed at Bulgam, ?do I have yer permission to scout out to the south? Maybe find a more peaceful campsite for the morrow??

?Of course,? Bulgam smiled broadly, ?Captain.?

So Deadtail trouped south. Making suggestions?in the heat of battle, no less?and volunteering to scout; it had been an unprecedented day for him. He'd rarely been that far south, either. Perhaps never as far as wherever he was going, though he had no idea of where.

But one thing was for certain. When it came to leaving incompetent hordes behind, nobeast had more experience than Deadtail.