No One Mourns the Wicked (Anton Clayworth)

[Substitute Author]

Curiouser and curiouser
Roundabout the way
My soul has gone and flown the coop
It?s decided not to stay


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?I finally caught you,? Anton grinned, looking down at the bloodied corpse of a young mouse. Doing an excited little hop-step, he attempted to pick the mouse up, but its weight proved too much for Anton?s young frame.

Several seconds of deep thought later found the wildcat dragging his prey by the tail, proudly marching towards his house. ?Mother will be so proud of me.?

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It was almost peaceful walking among the crew, quietly working to incite mutiny. And then, everything went wrong. First, there was a silencing paw held up by Ashira. Then, from around the corner came the shouts and sounds of stampeding paws frantically pounding the ground.

For a split second, Anton actually entertained the thought that the slaves were running willingly back into the arms of the crew. Perhaps they were so tired and hungry that they actually wanted back. Anton dismissed the idea as soon as it came. Absurd. Those morsels would never willingly come back. Then what??

The unearthly howl a moment later answered any questions Anton had about what was happening. His blood turned to ice in his veins. Every time he had heard that howl, somebeast had disappeared.

About him, the crew was slowly beginning to back up, muttering nervously to each other. Even Ashira looked a bit daunted. Not one blade remained in its sheath. The tension in the air was almost palpable.

Suddenly, Cricket appeared from around the corner, and everything seemed to happen at once. Among the shouts of the Big Evil, what was left of the escaped slaves barreled past the bewildered crew. Just as Anton was contemplating gathering his wits, a howl again sounded, this time much closer.

And there it was: the Big Evil. Its midnight fur brushed the ceiling, blending with the shadows and making it impossible to tell just how large the creature actually was. Its yellow eyes glinted as it stopped and stared at this new group of creatures. A toothy grin showcased its very large teeth.

Somebeast let out a most-undignified squeak, and set off running back up the tunnel. This seemed to spring the rest of the crew into action. A retreat began, Anton in their midst. For a moment, the creature didn?t move.

?Oh, this is fun!?

It talks! Pounding steps behind began again. It?s chasing us and it talks?and it?s huge! Monstrous! Despite Anton?s terror, his mind was racing furiously to figure out how he was going to make it out of this. Up ahead, he could see a few of the woodlanders. If only we could get it to chase them! No wait, I just need it to not chase me!

The wildcat looked frantically about, searching. Finally, he saw what he was looking for: up ahead, the passageway forked. A smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth. Here we go! As the tunnel drew near, Anton veered sharply to dart through it.

The sound of footsteps right behind him brought a bout of silent cursing. Gripping his sword tightly in one paw, he whirled and cut down the weasel and stoat following him, reveling in their surprised looks. ?Farewell, mates!? Spinning back around, he kept running, the light of the dropped torches from the two crewbeasts slowly giving way to darkness.

After several minutes of flat-out sprinting, amazingly keeping his footing the entire time, Anton slowed to a walk, breath coming in gasps. Glancing nervously behind him and seeing nothing but blackness, he reached for the pouch at his waist. Pressing it firmly to his nose, he took several deep breaths.

The effect was both calming and exhilarating. He was able to catch his breath, and his senses became hyper-sensitive. Easily moving forward through the darkness, the feline straightened and began whispering elatedly to himself. ?You did it. I did it! I got away.? He chuckled a chuckle that slowly grew into laughter ? long and loud laughter.

The echoes bounced every which way off the walls, reverberating back at Anton. His ears twitched and his laughter abruptly died away. Through the echoes of his own cackling, he could have sworn he heard another voice. Glancing again behind him, he took another whiff from his pouch. I must have imagined it. I had to have imagined it. No rational creature would have come after a measly three creatures when the other path leads to so many more. A chill went down his spine as it occurred to him that perhaps he wasn?t dealing with a rational creature.

Another chill ran through him as his outstretched paw touched cold stone. Or maybe it?s completely rational, and it knew this was a dead end. Scrabbling about, Anton searched frantically for an opening of some sort. No! No, there has to be an opening here somewhere!

The definite sound of pawsteps could be heard now; measured pacing that clearly indicated whoever they belonged to was in no hurry. Next came the howling, the eerie sound penetrating to the wildcat's very core. Anton pressed his back to the wall, staring wide-eyed at the darkness. He couldn?t tell from which direction the noise was coming from, and he suddenly regretted having smelled his herbs. He knew the creature was drawing near. He could feel its presence; smell its stench. Anton?s tail was fully fluffed-out.

The howling stopped. Fetid breath brushed the top of his head, and something wet dripped onto his fur. He nearly passed out right there.

?I finally caught you.? A deep voice, like a purr pulled unwillingly from a dying wildcat. Anton tried to ignore the accompanying image. ?Mother will be so pleased with me.? A monstrous paw slowly closed around his neck.

Anton?s mouth opened wide in a silent scream.

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Once the hunter
Now the hunted
Feline cunning
Easily defeated
In the belly of the beast
Shall my ragged body lay
This putrid grave is all that?s left
Nevermore the light of day