Interlude: The Broad Stream

[Bellona Littlebrush]

Authors: Damask the Minstrel, Deadtail, and Bellona Littlebrush

The ragged troupe had been bobbing down the river for only a few minutes when the yells from the riverbank faded out of earshot. A collective sigh rose from the boat as beasts began to settle onto the floor of the vessel. Sailpaw made sure to place himself between the vermin and the rest of his crew and Bell remained alert, eyes fixed on the shore for any runners. As if sensing the tension beginning to return, Damask fluttered to a landing next to the only ?welcome? vermin in their midst.

The bird made a show of leaning down, well within paw's length, and striking up a conversation. "So, err, Deadtail was it?"

"Aye." The rat tried to hide the fact that he was impressed; by learning his name, the bird had done more in an afternoon than many of Deadtail's onetime fellows managed in a season.

"So, what does bring you along this length of river?" the bird queried. Damask might have the manners to remember a name, but he did not want to be responsible for bringing a possible enemy into the fold.

"You shouldn't bother getting to know that one, Damask," Bell interjected. "He'll be leaving soon." If I have my way, the cold glare she shot in the rat?s direction added.

"Now, now -- any port in the storm, right?" Damask chided. And another body between me and the arrows, he added silently, then flinched as a splash landed between his eyes. He shook it off and regarded the smirking dormouse with a soggy frown. "After all, the enemy of our enemy could be our friend." The robin turned to Deadtail to add, "Couldn't he?"

"Of course." Deadtail eked out a smile. "That said, I don't mean to be a burden--I'll be fine to go my own way as soon as we disembark."

"Good on you, then, rat." Bell settled back in the longboat, dividing her attention between the northern bank and the dubious pair beside her. Damask's acceptance and comfort with vermin had been an advantage when enlisting his services, she reflected, but now... The dormouse?s eyes wandered to Sailpaw for a moment. She wondered what the Captain could be thinking to let the bird talk him into bringing the vermin aboard. ?Honor? got beasts killed. The squirrel ought to know that by now.

Another splash from the river sent Damask diving for cover from the rim of the longboat. He landed next to the dormouse and tried to whisper encouragement under his breath. "Please, Miss Bellona..." Within a moment, however, he was back to his outgoing self, turning his full attention to Deadtail. "So... you were just telling us what brought you to our rescue, yes?"

"Ah...that's right, I was." The vermin hastened to remember how much of the truth he had decided to tell. "I'm a scout, I am. Was lookin' ahead for my army, but I'd gotten turned ?round in the dark."

"Oh... another army." Damask?s cheery tone faltered.

"Vermin are like weeds in a garden," Bell explained with a dry smile. She found herself drawn to the conversation at the mention of another possible threat. "You chop them down and ten more spring up in their place. As you're not part of Nashald's lot,? she continued, addressing Deadtail, ?who's your commander?" She ignored the annoyed expression on Damask?s face at the sudden shift to an interrogation. The bird would have to learn that these sorts of things were necessary. It was better to know the next enemy Martin?s Shadow would face.

Deadtail wasn't sure how far Moffa's reputation had spread. It would make little sense for such a "legendary" horde to send somebeast as incompetent as he was portraying himself to be out as a scout. Then again, Bulgam's army wasn't sensible enough. "Bulgam's his name."

"Bulgam." Bell nodded, storing the information away neatly before demanding in rapid succession, "Numbers? Location? Vulnerabilities?"

Damask watched the exchange with worried, furrowed brows -- it had all the stability of the river beneath. "Perhaps we should..." His voice trailed off when Bell directed a brief warning glance at him.

Deadtail didn't know what the robin's train of thought was, but he guessed it would be more appealing than the dormouse's questioning. "Should we what, Da...mask, yes?"

"Well, we don't have to interrogate you, is all." The robin's last few words were barely audible as he continued to avoid eye contact.

The dormouse sat up, ignoring her avian companion?s discomfort as her ears came forward and she bared her teeth. "I asked you a question, rat. Answer me."

"Aye," Sailpaw added menacingly from further down the boat. "We'd all like t'hear wha' ye have t'say, laddie." He gestured to the rest of the woodlanders. "We all want t'know a wee bit moor about where oor fine savior came froom."

Deadtail vaguely waved his left paw. "North or west or summat. Upstream, not headin' this way."

"Soom scout you are!" Sailpaw snorted. "Dinnae ken where yer army is. Get lost in the dark. Tell me, laddie, d'ye ken where ye are now?"

"I wouldn't ask such difficult questions, sir," Bell quipped. "Might be too much for somebeast who can't keep his lies straight."

Deadtail had to stop himself from bristling at Sailpaw calling him ?laddie?, before looking up and squinting at the morning sun. "I'm on the South Stream, aren't I? Headin'...east."

"Broad Stream." Bell quirked an eyebrow. Most of the vermin she had known and killed over the seasons would have started waving a blade about by now. She had to admit that this one was remarkably calm -- not the average, brainless ?scout?.

"An? ye still havenae answered the rest o? the Leftenant?s questions,? Sailpaw growled. ?Numbers an? vuln?rabilities, laddie. Jist ?cause they're no? headed toward us now, dinnae mean it?ll always be tha? way."

Damask finally snorted as he unbuttoned his beak.

"Oh, will you two stop it?" He waved a wingtip under the Captain's nose to stifle the interruption that had already made it halfway up the squirrel?s throat. "Deadtail's done us a good turn and we've repaid it by not leaving him to Nashald?s horde. He's entitled to a spot of rest like the rest of us." The bird radiated smugness as he settled back. "Besides, it's not as if you can attack him in the boat with that great frogsticker of yours if he refuses."

"It's not the Captain he needs to worry about." Bell did not bother to place a paw on her dirk, but shot the bird a look instead. She knew that his sort of self-satisfaction should come when a creature fully knew another. Damask knew nothing about her.

The robin huffed into his feathers, "You, either. He's not shown any inkling for killing or looting, has he? No threats. No menacing or cursing." He let one eye -- gleaming devilishly -- rest on her, as he added, "And here I thought you were the sensible one."

"No inkling for killing?" Bell's mouth curled into a humorless smile. "You have a selective memory, sir Robin."

"Killing us. I'm not shivering in fear of you because you've killed."

"Maybe you should." The dormouse felt her hackles rising. What does he know? Bell snarled inwardly. Nothing! Damask knew nothing about what it was like to spend every day wondering about the next beast you would have to kill before he killed you.

"That's rich!" The robin began shifting restlessly on his perch, eyes scanning the horizon for a quick escape. "What a change of tune. ?Oh Mister Damask, please help us save our children from destruction. And by the by, here's a nice threat for your trouble.'"

Calm down. Bell ordered herself before she could say anything more she would regret. The constant running without a proper rest was obviously telling on the dormouse?s nerves if she was barking threats at an ally.

She realized that Damask was right. He had been nothing but helpful since his arrival. But he doesn't understand.

Bell wondered how anybeast who hadn't lived through season after season of vermin attacks and raids and destruction could. Prince Nashald was a tyrant bent on taking over Eastern Mossflower. Martin's Shadow was all that stood in his way. And now they numbered eight. All the 'children', as Damask called them, were in Dark Forest or on the way there. They had the vermin to thank for that.

And my orders, she thought with an inward wince.

"I'm sorry.? The fight fled from her like a vermin before a sword. "You're right, sir Robin. You are an asset to Martin?s Shadow. The rat is yours to do with as you please. Keep it out of my way." She returned her gaze to the shore, but kept her ears alert to further conversation. Bell decided she could tolerate one rat for a few hours, just so long as she knew where it was and she had her weapon close to paw.

Oh, well said, that little reckless voice piped up in Damask?s head as Bell turned away, just drive off the only beast who's given two ticks of care about you within this whole lot. Or anywhere?

"I'll gladly get out of your way, ma'am." Deadtail stood and stepped away from Bell, wishing the boat was larger.

"Sit still, laddie," Sailpaw called from the back in irritation. "This boat's no' big enough t'be hoppin' about on. Ye'll rock us int' the river."

"Of course." The rat sat down again, this time next to a young ottermaid, who eyed him apprehensively.

"Er...thanks fer savin' us back there, mate," the woodlander mumbled, trying to avoid the frown Sailpaw shot her for her display of appreciation. "Not many vermin as would do that."

"Yer welcome." The rat had not set out to save a pawful of woodland brats, but he found no reason to tell her that.

Damask let the tension ease from his shoulders, settling back in next to a shrew. Good, the robin thought. This was good. Tense, true, but at least no one was yelling or bleeding or worse. "So... anyone know how far this stream goes?"

"T'the edge o'Mossflower." Emboldened by the rat's acceptance of gratitude, the otter continued, "Holt Dantor?s down he..." she trailed off. ?I mean, me holt used t'have family down this way. Said the Broad Stream traveled on past th'known map, aye."

"Tha's where we're headed, then, Arendell, lassie." Sailpaw grinned enthusiastically. "Past the edge o' the map where we'll find a merry band o' beasties t'lend a paw t?Mar?in?s Shadow, aye?"

"Aye!" The ragged cheer rose.

Damask gave a wide yawn, blinking with bleary eyes as a sudden fatigue hit him. "Sleep first, though, I think."

Deadtail nodded his agreement, then thought better of it. While the vermin had been craving sleep, he was suddenly wary of it. Outnumbered on a boat full of woodlanders who were going to sail beyond the map, confident they would find allies? It was less than ideal for him, but he realized that he couldn't face anything if he was too tired to think clearly. Perhaps sleep would do him some good, he reasoned.

"Rest well, then, sir Robin," Bell said at length. Despite her annoyance with the bird, she knew how crucial good relations with a spy could be, especially one so flighty. "We'll mind your...friend." She cast an eye on the weary rat.

"He could be your friend too, you know," the bird replied. He nestled down into his faded chest feathers and began to softly hum a lullaby to himself.

Deadtail looked up and caught Bell?s gaze for a moment.

"Not likely," they both muttered under their breaths.