LIAR

[Noonahootin]

Liar

The moon, full and silver in its star-dotted blanket, reflected off the snow that lazily drifted down from the sky. Life barely stirred that night, if it weren't for the round-faced ottermaid and her pine marten companion wrestling about. Their noises, soft yet full of life, reached an audience of only one, the rest of the party dreaming of warmer beds and hot food. Captain Noonahootin of the Yew Guard, unlike his weary companions, could not sleep. Instead, he had found a low-hanging branch to perch upon and sadly watched Vanessa learn to manoeuvre and balance without both her paws to help her. She was smiling, laughing as Zevka attacked and dodged and they played in the snow together, but the owl knew his youngest Guard suffered.

A shudder passed through his bones as he remembered, when he had been wounded, the suggestion that his wing be cut from his body. He had been spared the indignation and the pain, forcing his comrades to make-do with a sick bird who needed field surgery, and they had provided him with the best that they could under the circumstances. Vanessa...she had been so much more valiant. She had sacrificed what she was to save her friend, and to atone for what had been perceived as a slight against the ermine. Accepting her abscission had proven her far more worthy a soldier than he, guaranteeing Zevka's life in but a split second's time. He, well...he had guaranteed nothing accepting the surgery.

The tired grey owl sighed heavily, closing his amber eyes. Emptiness flooded his chest, his heart burning more fiercely than the hunger in his gut. His talons reached up, dipping into his Yew Guard's cloak, and fished for but a moment. When Noonahootin withdrew his talons, scraping them against his silver flask, they pinched tightly at the base of a falcon's blue feather.

Blue. Blue, blue, blue. Where once it had brought him immense pride to don his uniform, the colour suddenly disgusted him. Blue was the colour of his lord's banner, a banner that had represented decency and safety in Northern Mossflower for years. It was the colour of Istvan's uniform, but no kindness had ever been shown to the tattooed priest by his own comrades. Blue was what Vanessa's brave father had been wearing when he had been sold out and murdered.

Noonahootin's eyes narrowed, a very soft growl snaking up his throat. If Aster truly was a traitor, than the blue of his authority, and the Guard itself, was nothing more than an illusion. Lord Cedar's legacy would be dashed. Hells teeth, his own life, working to make a safer and better land for his friends and family and the citizens of his town, would be for nothing.

Now, there's...there's no proof of any of that...

But there was. Nyika's conversation with the spirit Quiggley. Aster's blue feather, held tightly in his own talons.

Noonahootin's cloak, greasy and covered in blood and filth, itched like a thousand ants crawling over his skin. The urge to rip it off and burn it filled him, but he needed to stay warm, and boiled wool would do that for him. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. There would be an appropriate time to dispose of his cloak the closer to Carrigul they got. He had more pressing matters to deal with, and gave the feather a pointed glare.

It can't be Aster's. It just can't be. He can't fly any more. He wouldn't, nay, COULDN'T murder a family of owls...smash the little eggs up...How...

Yet through it's dampened musk, it smelt like his Lord. It was the perfect shade of blue-grey for the merlin falcon. When Aster had escaped his captives, he had somehow made it home from Carrigul, a trek that was taking Noonahootin weeks, even with a group of caring beasts to surround and support him. How had an injured Aster even made it back to Yew, devastated by his sudden lameness and with no supplies?

He must have had help. That was all there was to it, and even when the captain disregarded the murder of the snowy owls, how else would Aster have managed to get home than without help?

Someone had gotten to him.

When dawn broke through the snow clouds and the moon shifted to make room for the sun, Noonahootin was still deep in thought on his perch. Vanessa and Zevka had long since fallen asleep, curled up beside Poko, Nyika, and Istvan. When the pine marten stirred first, she awoke with a snuffling cough and Noonahootin quickly stuffed the feather back into his cloak. No one could know about it until Aster could be confronted in person; Carrigul had forced a once strong clan of ermine into servitude and effectively ruined their way of life. If they had gotten to Aster, the leader of the Yew Guard, then the possibility of danger was too great to get ahead of himself.

If only there was a way to know, to be certain.

?Good morning!? the captain hailed from his branch, spreading his good wing and then, more tentatively, his healing wing. He dropped from the branch and swooped low until his feet hit the ground, quickly tuckimg his wings into his body while disguising his look of discomfort.

?You shouldn't be doing that, Captain. It's too soon,? Zevka chided him gently, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

?True, true. Still, I am restless, and eager to return to the skies!? Noonahootin answered, and Zevka scoffed.

?You won't be returning to the skies if you try too soon.?

?Leave him alone, mum,? Nyika groggily chimed in, her eyes still closed as she rested with her good arm behind her head. Her tail uncurled from around Vanessa's and as she sat up she stretched her legs out, toes splayed wide apart. ?What did those stoats give us for breakfast??

?There's some fish left, but only enough for one bite each,? Poko mumbled tiredly, digging around in the sack Takis had given her. She pulled out a strip of smoked fish and passed it to Nyika who began severing chunks out with her claws and passing them to each beast. The wildcat seemed extra tired that morning, and the bags beneath her eyes betrayed a terrible sleep.

?A nightmare, Miss Nyika??

The seer looked up into his face, blinking blearily and shrugging. ?A little one. About the snowy owls from the village.?

?Ah.? Noonahootin nodded sagely, accepting the strip of fish Nyika passed him. ?Would you like to talk about it??

Nyika shook her head and smiled. ?It's nothing, really. I have night terrors all the time.?

?All the time indeed,? Noonahootin said quietly, grateful that he never had to face the undead whilst awake and asleep. His eyes suddenly narrowed and a talon came up to thoughtfully twirl his moustache. ?You must learn a lot, though, from the terrors??

Nyika squinted at the owl, cocking her head the side quizzically.

?I mean,? he began to explain, ?The things the spirits must tell you about themselves, their families...their customs, and secrets...? The grey owl shrugged. ?That sort of thing.?

?I suppose. Yes, yes, I do. Although sometimes I wish I didn't,? Nyika agreed.

?Of course, of course! Hrmph! The things the dead must take with them to the grave,? Noonahootin said gently, patting her tender shoulder with his soft pinfeathers. His tone became a little sterner then. ?I don't want to give you the wrong idea, now,? Noonahootin said, pointedly looking into Nyka's eyes. ?When we're inside Carrigul, I mean. I shan't condone any beast running off, trying to investigate things for themselves.?

Nyika's brow furrowed for a split second before her face returned to normal. A thought had clearly passed her mind. She shrugged in a disinterested way. ?Wouldn't dream of it, Captain.?

?Good lass!? the owl cheerfully said, and then flipped his fish into the air and caught it in his beak. He tilted his head back, his spine straightening, and with a few quick twitches of his throat muscles, the fish slid down and was never seen again.

?It's so strange that birds don't have teeth,? Nyika mused.

?If we did, we'd never stop smiling,? Noonahootin hooted, and together they shared a laugh.

Breakfast proved just as short-lived an affair for the others. Noonahootin patiently held his tongue and his talons, struggling against the urge to help Vanessa as she woke and buttoned up her coat with her solitary paw. Her pride would have been wounded, yet the old owl could hardly hold himself back. Instead, he busied himself preening.

?How long, do you think, 'til we get there?? Poko asked, handing Vanessa a small slice of fish.

?Can't be much further, Miss Poko,? Noonahootin remarked, and then without missing a beat he spread his wings and took off. It was sloppy, his body teetering dangerously as one wing worked harder than the other, but when his talons clamped tightly around a cedar branch he felt as accomplished as he had the first time his father had taught him how to branch.

?Oh my,? Noonahootin breathed, his eyes directed towards the north. It really wouldn't be much further at all. The scout saw the forest broke at one point and was moulded around a road. The ground-walkers would only have a couple hours longer to walk before they reached the massive city wall that seemed to rise up out of the snowbanks that smothered its foundations. The walls were icy and made of large grey stones; torches burned along the parapets, and even from a distance, Noonahootin's keen eyes saw movement along the ramparts indicative of patrolling beasts. A large bastion surrounded a wide wooden gate that, at such an early hour, was most noticeably closed.

?We'll make it by lunch,? Noonahootin announced, trying to sound happy. Instead, his voice came out strained and hollow, betraying his apprehension. Intent on entering the city and finding their long-awaited answers did not dampen the anxiety of the task ahead. The closer they got, the more danger they would be in, and their problems were already so numerous and deep. Turning back was not an option; there was far too much at stake for each of them and they had become far too invested to give up. 

No surrender, the owl told himself. No surrender. We finish this, for everyone we've lost. Miss Gashrock, Captain Flax, the ermine, the snowy owls...I'll figure this out. I'll make it right.

?Mister Noonahootin!? Poko shouted from the bottom of a tree. The owl looked down at her with a snap of his neck, bobbing his head up and down to get a better perception of the young ferretmaid.

?Yes, sweetheart!? Noonahootin glided down from his perch, landing and smiling at his favourite strategist. ?How may I be of assistance??

?Since we're so close, I figure the closer we get, the more chances they have of seeing the Yew Guard uniforms.? Her eyes went to his cloak.

?Indeed. I shall dispose of it immediately. I'll have Vanessa and Istvan do the same.?

?But you'll be cold,? Poko protested.

?Only for a little while,? Noonahootin promised her, but Poko shook her head, clearly unimpressed with his tenacity.

?I've been to Carrigul before, with the Dewhurst Players. My poppa and I found this store, it's really great. It has all these second-paw costumes and they mix their own make-up! I bet I could find you all some good, warm clothes...and something for your feathers, maybe.?

?Ah yes,? Noonahootin said dryly. He hadn't forgotten how enthusiastically Poko had suggested she turn him into 'a different owl'. A necessary inconvenience, he knew. ?Vell, mein little friend,? he spoke, leaning down towards her. ?Ve can't haff you vandering Carry-gool alone.?

?I'll go with her!? Nyika's appearance, unexpected and unusually loud, caused both owl and ferret to jump. ?I mean...I'll go with her,? she repeated herself, smiling bashfully and lowering her voice. ?I have some coins. No one will look twice at a couple of young maids out shopping.?

I'd look three times at your scars, sweet kitten, Noonahootin thought sadly, but his attention was suddenly grabbed as Zevka violently shook Istvan awake. The three waited until the commotion passed before they all huddled conspicuously together.

?Miss Blackbriar vill never let either uv you go,? Noonahootin whispered.

?Maybe.? Nyika, looking politely puzzled, shrugged. ?She doesn't have to know. We'll slip off.?

?Yeah! Pretend we're exploring the woods, like beasts our age do. We get curious,? Poko jumped in enthusiastically.

Nyika's whiskers bounced as she smiled. ?I'm particularly good at being curious.?

?Haha! Because you're a cat,? Poko observed, smiling widely.

?Und how vill you explain new clothes, hm? You found dem??

Unphased, Poko shrugged. ?Maybe. Sure, why not??

?Ja, vell, er, ah, HPMH, we'll have to come up with something sure, something a little more...? The owl paused, gesturing with a wing as he tried to formulate the words. His eyes settled onto his pinfeathers, and a dawning expression of realization spread across his face. ?How would you feel about helping me branch??

Both youngsters looked at him quizzically, and Noonahootin spread his wings out widely. ?I'm stiff. I'm restless. My wings need to feel the air beneath and above them!?

?But you can't fly! Not yet! Your wing isn't healed yet! Your stitches are still in!? Poko protested frantically, hoping from one foot to the other. ?Zevka was saying you shouldn't even be flying up to those low bran-Ooh...is that what branching is??

Noonahootin grinned.

~*~

?But we're so close! Too close for this nonsense!? Zevka snapped, the intensity of her voice causing both Poko and Nyika to lower their ears against their skulls.

?We won't be in any danger!? Poko insisted.

?It's not that, Poko. I'm very anxious to find Mekad,? the pine marten answered more gently.

?Then stick to the road. We'll keep up alongside you,? Nyika answered with a calculated solution.

?No, this is stupid. He shouldn't be trying to fly anyways,? Zevka said, her tone short as she restrained a snarl. Pointedly, she gave Noonahootin a glare, but the old owl merely smiled as sweetly as he could.

?Oh, please, Miss Blackbriar,? Noonahootin pleaded childishly, stamping his feet on the ground and prancing from toe to toe. ?Oh please, please, please, please, please!? At one point, his head had begun to turn, and Zevka looked horrified when the owl's face was upside-down on his body. He blinked up at her, and asked once more with a quiet hoot. ?Please??

?OH, FINE! Just put your head on straight!? Zevka cursed, throwing her paws in the air and shuddering as she walked away. ?Bloody birds!?

?Ye stay within sight, ye ken,? Vanessa said jovially, her mood improved. Istvan crossed his arms and nodded beside her.

?Stay with the Captain,? the tattooed otter ordered, and Poko and Nyika both leapt into the air and clapped their paws together with a loud ?YES!? Even Noonahootin gave a small cry of delight as the young maids each took hold of a wing and pulled him into the woods.

Once they were sure they could not be seen, Noonahootin put a wing around each of his conspirators, and said very sternly, ?Stay. Safe. Don't talk to anybody, even if you know them. Especially if you know them. Get in, get what we need, and get out. Proper military fashion, hmph.?

?We'll run all the way there,? Poko said, testing her weight on her footpaw. ?And all the way back. We'll be fine, Captain!? The ferretmaid gave a salute before taking off. Nyika lingered for a moment, only leaving when the owl gave her a little wink.

As Noonahootin watched the maids run off, he kept close attention on Nyika. Doubt clouded his mind as to whether or not she'd truly be alright. Would the young molly find a knife in Carrigul and cut herself again, or would Poko keep an eye on her? Would she be haunted by some terrible spirit in the city?

Yet it was too late to turn back, their decision made. A small amount of shame burned in him, for as the responsible adult he should have discouraged the two maids as much as he knew Zevka and Istvan would have.

Still, he thought, if they could just get back safely it will have been worth it.

Fooling Zevka would be no easy task. He got to work. Picking a branch that had cracked under the weight of the snow and dipped to the ground, Noonahootin clambered up until the reached the tree trunk. Scaling the tree, he picked his way to the very top. There, he saw a flash of Nyika and Poko as they darted through the forest. Turning his head to look the other way, he picked out his two guards and their marten companion.

The owl opened his wings, and dived.

?Well spotted, Miss Poko!? Noonahootin called, passing by the trio of mustelids on their path. He swooped into another tree, out of sight and off the path, and gulped down air, his wing twitching as he struggled to keep it from folding on him. After a few minutes, he swooped quietly by again, making sure they felt the breeze as he went by. ?How's this, Miss Nyika? Haha!?

The pattern continued, Noonahootin disappearing for a good few minutes before swooping by in sight, occasionally using his loud voice to hold an imaginary conversation with the youngest of the troupe. When nobeast approached to investigate or check up on him, he assumed his plan had worked, and began taking his time, resting his wing between flybys. Time began to pass, but not easily, for every minute brought them closer to Carrigul and Nyika and Poko were not back.

Just as the owl was beginning to panic and considered confessing to their terrible trick, there was a rustle from the bush. Noonahootin tensed, every muscle in his body a tight string of reaction waiting to explode. First Nyika, then Poko burst forth, wheezing and gasping and giggling like a pair of dibbuns who just stole the cookie jar. Nyika had found herself a hooded cloak and slung over Poko's back was a plump haversack.

?We...? Poko struggled to speak, heaving heavily. ?We...got...things!?

?Many...things...? Nyika confirmed, crashing to her knees and mewling through the leg cramps.

?You really did run all that way,? Noonahootin said proudly, fanning the girls with his wings.?Good show!?

Proudly, Poko dumped the bulging sack and the contents spilled out into the snow, followed by the ferret as she excitedly sorted through everything. ?I found all the right stuff, I think. A poncho for you, and clothes for both Istvan and Nessa to change into.? She passed an enormous and broad cloak to Noonahootin, who accepted it uncertainly. At first, he thought she had brought him a curtain. When he unfolded it, it was a bright gold colour with deep red lining and green leaf designs embroidered into it. 

?Gashrock would be delighted,? Noonahootin approved warmly, and Poko beamed.

?Oh would she now??

?Oooh, not good,? Poko mumbled, and hastily began scooping her prizes back into the bag.

?Where did you get that cloak?? Zevka's face had never been sterner, and even rivalled Istvan's deep scowl.

?Oy, is that a kilt?? Vanessa eagerly stopped Poko's paws from tying the sack shut. Poko's smile returned when she handed the otter a kilt of red and green checks with brown strips of eel leather, along with a plain off-white blouse. ?If any of ya don?t like what you got, you can get somethin? else once we?re in the city. I won?t be offended. This is just to get you in.?

?What we got?? Zevka tapped a footpaw impatiently on the ground. ?I still don't understand what's going on. Why are those two so out of breath and...sweaty? Where'd the clothes come from??

?Doesn't matter, doesn't matter,? Noonahootin quickly answered. ?It is what it is, luck and providence and all that, hmph!?

?Luck and...Did you steal those from somebeast?? Zevka immediately looked around as though she expected the victim of Poko's thieving paws to spring out and challenge them.

?No!? Poko barked defensively. ?Nyika-well. Erm.?

The ferret's eyes wavered between the wildcat and Noonahootin, each of them with wide eyes. They watched the gears visibly turn in Zevka's head. Poko wouldn't be offended if they didn't like something she gave them. Poko didn't have any money, but Nyika had coins on her. The way they both were so out of breath and looked so desperately towards Noonahootin, who had been...branching...

?You lied to us!? Zevka shrieked, and smacked a paw right across Noonahootin's face. The owl blinked, not sure if his face was stinging from the cold or Zevka's wicked southpaw. ?You lied to us and let them go into Carrigul by themselves! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?! They're just children!?

?We weren't alone, we had each other,? Poko argued, her brow furrowing. ?And we're not children.?

?We're fine, Zevka. Really,? Nyika said, her gaze firm as she looked the marten in the face. ?It was necessary.?

?NECESSARY?? Zevka shouted, her hackles raised. ?NO IT WAS CERTAINLY NOT! I would have gone into Carrigul and gotten the Guards some clothes! I would have-?

?Gotten carried awee an' woond up lookin' for Mekad,? Vanessa interrupted, awkwardly slipping into her kilt with only one paw to help her. When she finally got it on, she twirled around and leaned back to admire her tail end. ?Damn, that's a good look, aye...Wotcha think, Isty??

Istvan blinked up, disturbed from his most contemplative of stares. ?Yes. It fits you. Good colour.?

?There, you see? We all know it would have happened, Miss Blackbriar,? Noonahootin said matter-of-factually, nodding in approval as Poko handed Istvan a pair of breeches, a tunic, and a cloak that had an appropriate amount of thread to it. ?I would have rotted in the trees before ever seeing you march out of Carrigul without Mister Mekkad.?

?Of all the sleazy-?

?Try it on, Cap'n Hooty!? Poko cut Zevka off, positively glowing with importance. Noonahootin smiled broadly and unclasped the brass buttons down his uniform tunic, chuckling as Zevka swore and ground her teeth together. He eagerly slid it off, shifting his shoulders as though a weight had at last been lifted from him, and handed the dirty uniform to Poko's outstretched paws.

A single feather fluttered from of the out-turned tunic.

It was the long blue feather of a merlin falcon.

Aster...

?No,? Noonahootin breathed, watching in silent horror as the treacherous feather once again plagued him. It landed in the snow, silent and unmoving until Noonahootin's quick talons snatched it up and curled into a tight ball around it.

?Captain...? Istvan very carefully pointed a claw towards his commanding officer. ?What was that??

?Nothing,? Noonahootin smiled, his sore wing shaking suddenly. ?Just a feather. I'm full of them, haha.?

?You're full of something,? Zevka growled, crossing her arms bitterly over her chest.

?It wasn't one of yours,? Nyika said, biting her lip as she peered closely at Noonahootin's clenched talons. ?It was blue. Grey. Blue grey. Like a...?

?Like ah falcon,? Vanessa finished Nyika's sentence, her snarl barely restrained.

?Let me see that,? Zevka demanded, holding out her paw expectantly.

?No, really, it's...it's one of Prosecutes'.? It had spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The mere mention of his son would make them believe; old Noonahootin would never use his children to lie to his friends. ?It's the only one I have, please. I keep it as a token.? The grey owl's expression and voice grew dark. ?I won't let you have it.?

?Long-eared owls aren't blue, Captain, not naturally,? Nyika softly replied, concerned over his reluctance to give it up. ?It's not your son's. Lord Aster, he's a blue bird. A falcon. I've seen him in passing, back at Yew.?

?It's-?

?Show me the feather, Captain!? Zevka barked again, enunciating each word.

?It's-?

?Where did you get it?? Nyika asked sadly, a very alarmed look crossing over her face.

?It's-?

?Where'd it come from??

?Where'd you find it??

?Give me the feather!?

?I FOUND IT IN A SNOWY OWL NEST!? Noonahootin bellowed. He stared long and hard at them each, his amber eyes wide and face a twisted mask of rage as he silently dared them to interrupt again. When he continued, his voice was a dangerous whisper. ?I found it in an abandoned nest back in the ermine village. Nyika spoke with a spirit who saw a falcon smash the eggs in the nest and brag about murdering the parents. I took the feather and hid it so I could figure out what happened. It smells like Aster. It's the right colour. No one really knows how Aster managed to make it home from Carrigul when he...escaped.? The word came out like bitter poison, sliding off his tongue and greasing up his mouth so that speaking became difficult. ?No one knows what happened. He never spoke of what they did to him, save that they broke his wing beyond repair. He never let any of our medics take a look, or anyone ever help him...he's rarely seen these days, squirrelling himself away in his hall for weeks on end. He pushed for this expedition, knowing full well it's the stormy season!?

A sigh, heavy and quivering, slipped from the grey owl's chest. In that moment, he felt old, and weak, and foolish. His mouth tasted like ash. The heat of rage that had struck him at the mere theory there had been a traitor in Yew died and went cold.

?I never pressed him for answers because...? Amber eyes flickered towards Poko's foot without its toe, than to his own shoulder, and finally rested upon Vanessa's gruesome stump. ?Because he's a cripple. It was...bad form and...? He drew another deep, shuddering breath as his head sagged lower and lower to the ground. ?He's ruined the Guard. He's ruined everything I...ever worked for...my son died for...? Noonahootin swallowed back a lump in his throat, blinking rapidly as he realized the dampness in his eyes was the brimming of tears. ?He betrayed us all.?

Looking up, Noonahootin flinched when he saw Vanessa's expression of pure fury, her entire form shaking. He realized that he, himself, was shaking as well, violent tremors wracking his body and shaking his bones. ?He probably had a paw in your father's death, Corporal. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, if I had just stayed back instead of flying ahead that day, I could have helped...could have at least died with some honour, trying to save him.?

The air was cold as death around him, and his violent shaking didn't end with his confession. His beak clacked, but not in threat. They were staring at him, he could feel their burning glares beating into his mind, tearing at his skin. He couldn't bring himself to meet their hateful faces. This was his fault. He had failed. He hadn't protected them or led them to safety or even managed honesty. He turned away.

?Burn the uniforms. They're worthless.?

No one stopped him as he took off, wings beating quicker than necessary as he fled.

He wanted to fly far away, find a dank hole to crawl into, and die, but fate intervened. He made it as far as their old camp site before his wing cramped. He screeched as he plummeted, falling face-first into the snow-covered ground, and lay there, motionless. He stayed there for what was surely days, the light snowfall covering him in soft winter crystals, convinced that they had left him behind.

I deserve nothing less.

When pawsteps approached, he didn't lift his head.

?Captain? Captain Noonahootin??

It was Poko, sweet little Poko. Poor thing probably drew straws to see if he was dead or not.

?Captain?? She drew nearer; he could hear her paws crunching in the snow. Her shadow fell over him and Noonahootin stared straight ahead, determined not to look at her.

?Cap'n Hooty??

?I'm no captain,? he mumbled, sick of hearing his rank. It had identified him, defined who he was for so long that it had become his very name. Now it was nothing but a filthy curse.

?Oh,? Poko whispered. She considered him for a moment before putting something heavy down beside her. ?Noony??

Noonahootin lifted his head and sadly shifted away.

?Mister Noonyhooty?? Poko's tone had become hopeful, and she moved around him until he could see her ankles. He closed his eyes. Poko sighed, and plopped herself down beside him.

?I'm cold,? she muttered bitterly, rubbing her paws together. ?I'm so sick of being cold. My tail is cold. My nose is cold. My toes are cold. Well, what's left of them!?

?Oh, Poko...?

Excited from receiving a response, Poko sat up straight and clapped her paws together. ?It's alright! Less is more!?

?No, no, that's not right.? Noonahootin raised his chin, looking up at Poko with large doe eyes.

?There you are,? Poko cooed, and smiled sweetly at him. She gave his head a gentle pat, resting her fingers between his head feathers. ?It's alright, Noony. No one's mad at you any more. They're worried and want you to come back.?

?I can't go back. I'm a liar and a fraud.? 

?No, no! Well, okay, we made one little white lie, but I got you got to admit, that cloak is fine!?

He couldn't help himself and let out a single breath of laughter. Poko giggled as well, thrilled that the owl was coming around.

?Please come back,? she pleaded, and reached behind her. She pulled over the haversack and opened it up. His new gold and red cloak was folded neatly inside, and resting on top were small white ceramic jars. The ferret sprite eagerly pulled one out.

?Wait?ll you see what I found to help with your disguise!? Poko was quick to unscrew the lid. Inside was a white paste. ?It?s theatre paint! The shop used to use powder, but they started making this 'grease paint' now. We can use it to lighten up your face where the orange is, and maybe your chest feathers too! I also got black for around your eyes.?

She looked so happy, showing him the paint and pulling the cloak out by its corner. For a moment, Noonahootin saw what Poko's smile looked like before her parents had been taken from her, and he realized...she didn't blame him.

He took a deep breath. ?Very good, Miss Poko. This should do nicely.?

?And?? Poko reached into the sack again after extracting the black paint and withdrew a pair of sheers, snipping them together twice with glee. ?For your trim!?

His ear feathers quickly tucked down onto his skull. ?Oh my.?

?Will it hurt?? Poko asked, tilting her head. ?I mean, your ears...?

?No, no,? Noonahootin chuckled. He slowly dragged himself from the ground, sitting up and crouching on his legs. ?My ears are here, and here.? He gestured to one side of his face, close to his eye, and then on the other side of his head by his jaw.

?Owls are strange.?

?Indeed. Let's paint, Miss Poko.?

The paint lived up to its name. It was greasy and clumped when the sprite used too much at once. She smeared white stripes all over his orange face, spreading it with her paw pads, and added a band of pure white around his face in four long segments. She dipped her claws into the black and carved trenches between his feathers so the paint appeared speckled and striped. She greased his feathers up heavily around his eyes until the sun glancing off the snow no longer forced him to squint. She lightened his chest and belly, and added trailing edge to his wings.

When she finished with her paints and had put them away, Poko rubbed snow over her paws to clean them and inspected her work. ?Not bad! There's just one or two things left.? She reached into the sack again and withdrew a pair of sheers, snipping them together twice with glee. ?For your trim!?

Noonahootin flattened his ear tufts, eyeing the ferret wearily. She was too happy with those scissors, and he didn't like the way she was eyeing his moustache.

?No, not that...any thing but that,? he pleaded. Poko smirked, shaking her head.

?No surrender!? Poko cheered. ?Now comb it out while I take a little off the top.?

He feigned fear and did as he was told, perking his tufts and restraining a wince when the distinct snip snip came from above his head. The sprite then turned her attention to his moustache, and Noonahootin put on his best brave face, his beak quivering just slightly as she carefully snipped away.

?There! Beautiful! You look beautiful!? Poko exclaimed when she put her shears back. He took the cloak, sweeping it back and around his shoulders for her to admire.

?Thank-you,? Noonahootin murmured softly as Poko buttoned the collar around his neck. ?Really, Poko. Thank-you.?

The ferret gave him a gentle smile. ?It's alright, Noony.?

It wasn't enough that she had spent so much time working him into another bird. There was one last thing the old owl required of her.

?I want to you name me.?

?What?? Poko asked, taken aback by the abrupt request.

?Well, we can't go around calling me 'Noonahootin' or 'Noony' in Carrigul, can we?? The owl shook his head. ?No. That won't do at all. The plan was to get the Dewhurst and Merchants into Carrigul and have the other guards disguised while I waited with a small troupe outside. Now that I find myself a spy, I need a new name, something...something foreign. Something fierce, that no one will question.?

?Oooh, like royalty!? Poko exclaimed excitedly. ?How about a Duke! I always fancied being a Duchess, but since you're not a jill...Uhm, Duke...Duke von Metzger! My poppa and I met this sable once called Metzger. His accent was like your false one, heehee! He was a fun beast; he could swallow swords.?

?Impressive,? Noonahootin hooted, nodding his head. He liked that name. ?Duke von Metzger. Ja. I am Duke von Metzger. Mein first name?? He paused, then with a flourish spread his wings and bowed low. ?Duke Sigurd von Metzger.?

?Sigurd?? Poko scrunched her face skeptically but shrugged. ?Good to meet ya, Duke!?

They shared a laugh, Noonahootin strutting about and pretending to be royalty, his thick fake accent inconsistent and Poko nit picking playfully. She'd mimic him, folding her arms and walking like the big owl, hooting and harumphing. He laughed heartily, guffawing so hard that he fell over and took the sprite with him.

?We should go back. They'll be waiting,? Poko sighed when at last their giggling petered out.

Noonahootin sighed heavily, and nodded once. ?Indeed.?

It didn't take them long to find the group; he hadn't flown nearly as far as he had thought. When they approached, Zevka jumped to her feet and reached for her sword.

?Whose that, Poko?? the pine marten mercifully asked. Noonahootin smiled weakly at her in thanks.

?It's Duke Sigurd von Metzger!? Poko announced without missing a beat. ?And don't you forget it! He's from the far north, and he's exploring new trade routes in the name of the kaiser of owls!?

?What did yeh let her do tae yer moustache?? Vanessa said from behind her paws, unsuccessfully stifling her giggles.

?I haff no idea vhat you are talking abowt,? Noonahootin declared, flourishing his cloak and parading by them all. ?I must get to Carry-gool. Is deez dee vay??

They cracked, and laughter filled the woods. Genuine laughter, a sound that had been so foreign to them for so long, finally returned.

?Come on then, Duke!? Poko slung her bag over her shoulder and began marching down the road, her chin up and her chest out. She knew she had done well.

Noonahootin lagged behind, watching as the others followed the sweet sprite.

?Captain??

He didn't answer, closing his eyes and focusing on the beast and not the word.

?I mean...Duke? Haha.?

?Miss Blackbriar.?

?I...I'm not going to say I'm not mad. I am. I'm furious with you today. Absolutely furious. I think my brain might just explode out of my nose, I'm so mad.?

She stepped forward, and very unexpectedly wrapped her arms around his waist. ?But I'm also very, very glad you're with us. You've saved us so many times. You brought us to the cave after the road collapsed, got us organized. You've managed to keep Vanessa in line. Nyika and Poko adore you. If it weren't for you, the harfang would have done us in long ago.?

The pine marten withdrew, and realized with a sick expression that some of the still-drying, gloopier make-up had stuck to her clothes. Noonahootin smiled apologetically. Zevka pulled out a cloudy bottle from her pack, and dabbed some of the liquid on the cloth to wipe away the stains. She then paused and considered the bottle for a moment.

?Here,? she offered the bottle to him, but he held a talon up and refused.

?No, it's...it's gin. I know you like it. You're flask has been dry for days, I bet.?

?I am inclined to agree.? Noonahootin took the bottle and held it up to the light. ?Where did you find this??

?In the temple. Nobody else was using it, so I took it.?

?Thank-you, Zevka.?

?Oh, and before I forget...? The marten dug around in her pack again before producing a familiar silver flask.

?Ah!? the owl exclaimed happily, and took the flask between two talons. ?My father gave this to me on my wedding day, you know.?

?Didn't know that. Tell me all about it, then.?

Noonahootin gave Zevka a fond look, knowing full well she didn't care for his long stories. ?It was a windy day. Mrs. Henfeather crashed into a tree right before the tying ceremony, haha! Silly ol' rook she was, never watching where she was going. One time, she got lost for twelve days...?

As they caught up with their companions and the intimidating gates of Carrigul rose up before them, a heat filled him once again. It wasn't the fire of hate, or betrayal, or shame, but rather the warm glow he had felt whenever he thought of his beloved children.