The Monster of Mossflower Woods

[Minerva]

Alternatively Titled: Culture Shock



"I-Is this the place?"

A chilled spring wind blew through the weasel's fur as he picked at the shiny buttons on his new blue uniform. Looking up, the beast turned his gaze anxiously towards his commander, but the marteness kept her eyes forward and fixed on the line of trees in front of them. From thick ropes on the lower boughs the bodies of four vermin swayed like puppets in the soft breeze, their flesh rent by the claws and teeth of some unholy monster.

"Is that a question?" Metal chains rattled together at the marteness' waist as she turned towards the mass of creatures huddling at the base of the foothill behind her. For once, none of her charges flinched as she drummed her claws against the handle of her whip. Each of them stared past her at the mangled corpses and the forest beyond, whispering tales about the Monster of Mossflower Woods.

Her scouts stood guard over the slaves and the marteness looked towards one she knew to be experienced. "Jenson, you're with me. Bloodfang, you as well. Everybeast else," she said, scanning across the crowd of slaves, "make sure this lot gets fed and keep them in line. We'll be back."

"Commander Nix," the weasel beside her protested. "Ar-Are you sure? You've heard the stories, right?"

Nix's chosen scouts made their way to her side and she glanced towards the greenhorn. "Aye, of course I have. Everybeast has, including Nire. Imagine the crowd this monster will bring." The slaver proceeded past the weasel and beckoned him to follow. "Now come along, rookie. You're with us, too."

The weasel gulped and hesitantly started after her, his paw quivering at his sword hilt. As he trudged forward, his gaze met that of another weasel's, it's eyes missing from its sockets and face twisted in agony. He squeaked and quickly stumbled forward to catch up with his commander. Nix gave him an annoyed look before stepping towards the carcass and inspecting it.

"For a creature with such sharp claws," she said, running one of hers along the beast's wounds. The marteness looked to the cluster of shallow punctures by the beast's neck, "it sure has some tiny teeth." She turned to the rookie beside her.

"Before I was a scout for Nire, do you know what I did?"

"Y-you were in the arena right, ma'am?" he stuttered.

"Aye, and let me tell you the most important lesson I've learned from both jobs. Everyone, whether beast or monster..."

A smile crept to the marten's lips as she fitted a dart into her blowgun.

"...has a weakness."

~~~?~~~

Winter had given way to spring but the water was still cold to the touch- not that young Fable minded. The otter cub stood up to her knees in the shallows of the stream, watching with wide, mystified eyes as adventurous minnows peeked out from the reeds and swam around her footpaws. Falling through the tall, tall trees above, light danced on the water's surface and shepherded the young one's gaze towards the opposite bank where a single pink flower bloomed.

The minnows scattered as Fable splashed deeper into the stream towards it and dipped below the surface. Arching her back like her mother showed her to do, the young otter then kicked out her footpaws and shot straight like an arrow through the water. She surfaced only a few moments later on the other side and quickly claimed the flower as her own. Fable held it to her chest and admired it as she returned.

It was a water lily, her mummy's favorite. A pretty one too. Only a few nights before, mummy had a sad look on her face, but this would cheer her up.

"Mummy, mummy! Lookit what I found!" Fable called as she splashed back onto the bank. Holding it carefully lest its petals get damaged, she bounded through the brush and back towards the footpath, nearly crying out in surprise when a paw grabbed her by the scruff and pulled her to an abrupt stop.

Minerva held her daughter there for a moment before dropping her back on her footpaws and sighing in relief. "Fable. What have I told ye about runnin' off like that? Ye're s'posed t' stay where I can see ye, remember?" the otterwife chided, her paws resting on her hips. "And ye got int' the stream again too, I see. It's barely spring, lass. One of these days, ye're gonna catch a cold."

Water dripped from the young one's fur as she looked up towards her mother with a mischievous grin. "I'm an odder, an' ye ain't no odder without no wadder," she said, reciting a verse her mother often said.

"Yer a rotter's what'cha are, ye little scoundrel." Minerva grinned and ruffled her daughter's headfur. She looked down at her paws. "And what have ye got right there?"

Fable beamed and held out the flower for her mother to take. "I got ye a wadder lily. This one's pink."

"Oh? Another one?" Minerva chuckled. "I dunno if I can take any more, Fable. I've already got so many."

Her daughter's whiskers drooped. "But... you love wadder lilies."

"Aye, aye. I do, but, maybe... maybe you should have this 'un." The otterwife knelt down and pressed the flower lightly against the young one's chest. "How about this? How about we put it on yer dress like this? That way, whenever I kin see yer smilin' face, I kin see it, too. How does that sound? We could do it together."

The Dibbun paused to consider for only a moment before nodding her head furiously.

Fable rocked on her heels in anticipation as Minerva reached into her apron pocket and produced a thin needle and spool of thread. "Now, now, settle down and hold still," she said as she fit the thread through the eye. When she calmed, Minerva pressed the flower to the lapel of her daughter's dress and sewed the first stitch, making sure it went through both the fabric and sepal, before holding the needle up for the young otter to take. "Yer turn," she said.

Fable's expression twisted in concentration as she took the needle from her mother. "Gently. Carefully. Easy does it." She sewed the second stitch. Together they continued, passing the needle between each other until Minerva was sure it was secured well enough. It likely wouldn't last very long, but it was at least something the otterwife could look for should she wander off again. "There. A pretty flower fer a pretty maid."

The otterwife rose to her footpaws before taking the smaller of two baskets on the ground behind her and pressing its handle into her daughter's paw. "Now, I've a game fer ye. Would ya like t' play?" At the young one's nod Minerva knelt back down to her and put on a roguish smile, continuing only in whispers as if she were telling Fable some grand secret. "If you can get more blueberries in that basket than yer belly, then maybe, just maybe, when we get back t' the farm... we can bake a pie together fer supper. Think ye can manage that fer me?"

"Uh-huh!" Before Minerva could stop her, Fable twisted around and scurried off towards the blueberry bushes down the path, nearly stumbling over her own rudder in excitement.

"Fable, wait! Don't run off! Don't ye want me t' see yer flower?" Minerva called, but the young one was already lost to sight in the clusters of trees and brush. The otterwife sighed and shook her head, listening as her daughter's negligent giggling carried through the woods.

There wasn't any reason to worry, Minerva supposed as she picked up her own basket and followed after her. Most vermin hardly dared step foot into the thick woods surrounding their farm. They saw the bodies that were hung at the edge of the wood and turned tail in the other direction. Even travelers and goodbeasts simply passing through moved with haste, lest they met the Monster of Mossflower Woods. It was all of course just a rumor, but beasts didn't need to know that. So long as it kept the both of them safe, Minerva didn't mind the nickname.

As Minerva continued down the path, she ceased in her tracks suddenly. The forest around her was silent, but while the woods were always quiet, Fable was not, and her giggling stopped. The otter began to run.

"Fable. Fable!" she called as she charged through the brush. In the blur of brown and green there was a flash of pink, and the otterwife stopped and sighed with relief when she saw her daughter standing beside the blueberry bushes. As Minerva approached, she saw that the young otter's head was cocked to the side and she looked towards a cusp of trees. Standing there, was another beast.

Minerva instinctively reached for her sling, cursing when she realized it wasn't at her side. Only a few nights before, the otterwife had dealt with some vermin who were skulking around their farm. Thinking them gone and the woods safe again, she left the weapon at home. However, as she inspected the beast closer, her paw relaxed. It wasn't a vermin, she realized, but a hedgehog.

The beast noticed them from the corner of his eye and turned, looking at the both of them curiously before donning a friendly smile. "Ahoy! Fancy meeting other beasts out here!" the hedgehog called with a wave. At Minerva's silence, he added. "Apologies if I've given you ladies a fright."

The hedgehog stood partly in the brush ahead, and Minerva looked him over as she stepped to Fable's side. The beast was lean for a hedgehog and wore a simple blue jerkin, and he seemed friendly enough. Clearing her throat, the otter replied, "Oh no, sir. Sorry, it just ain't often we see other beasts through here is all. Are ye a trav'ler, Mister...?"

"Ah! Sorry, marm. I forgot my manners. The name's Jenson, and, aye, I'm a traveler of sorts," he answered her, chuckling lightly. Before the otter could say anything else, he continued on. "So you live here then? Must be perilous for you two, what with the Monster and all."

"Aye! We gotta farm-"

The otter quickly clamped her daughter's mouth shut with her paw and cautioned her to stay quiet. Lowering her paw, Minerva turned back towards the stranger. The words still hung in the air and the otterwife had no choice but to finish them. "Aye, we got a farm a little ways north of here. Ye must've missed it. And aye, it's perilous, but the Monster don't bother us so long as we don't bother it. It only goes after bad beasts. Ain't that right, Fable?"

The young one nodded tentatively.

An amused smile came to Jenson's lips. "Well, ain't that convenient!" he said with a hearty chuckle. "Must be nice having a creature like the Monster of Mossflower Woods protecting you. I envy you actually. All I've got is this dagger." From below the brush, the hedgehog drew a blade that Minerva hadn't seen and her paw snapped in front of Fable instinctively. "It's nice and sharp though. Makes sleeping in the cold open all the more safer," Jenson explained. He held the knife straight up, seemingly admiring it as he turned it in his paw. Left then right. Left then right. Minerva watched as light glistened off the blade.

The otterwife took a step back, keeping her eyes on the stranger, and began to guide Fable back with her towards the trees "Aye. Well, if ye're lookin' fer someplace safe, it ain't here. Redwall's back the way ye came."

Jenson put the dagger away and stepped out from the brush, his eyes tracing along the battle scars on the otterwife's paws and arms before finally settling on the shining silver fishhook she wore around her neck. "Oh, no no. I think I already found what I'm looking for."

From the corner of Minerva's vision came another flash of blue.

"Fable. Back to the farm. Now. RUN!" The otterwife turned and shouted to her daughter. The young otter faltered for a moment in confusion before the look on her mother's face caused her to stumble back in fright and flee on all fours towards the trees.

Minerva turned quickly back to the slaver and she gasped when she saw he already drew a weapon, a blowgun, from his belt. Then she realized it wasn't pointed at her. Without a thought, the otter leapt in the way of the dart aimed for her daughter, wincing as it buried itself into her shoulder.

Ba-bum. Her heart beat within her chest only one time before, suddenly, the forest began to tilt and turn around her. The trees grew distant as if they were a mile away and then began to blur. Two Jensons started towards the reeling otterwife, both putting away their blowguns and reaching for the manacles at their waists.

"Seeeeee, what'd Nixxxx teelllll youuuu, rooookieee. Everyyyybeeeeast'ssss got aaa weaknesssssss," the hedgehogs said, their voices slow yet echoing through her ears as her eyelids began to fall shut and she struggled to keep her footing. Turning to the distant woods, they raised their paws and pointed with a claw. "Nowwww gooo findddd the puuuuuppp."

As the order echoed in Minerva's ears, visions of her daughter bound in chains and cowering at the mercy of a cruel beast's whip appeared in her head. The trees grew closer then and the Jensons merged back into one. Her mind buzzed and the world around her still felt as if it were being carried on a ship in stormy waters, but the otterwife shook her head and kept her eyes open.

Jenson turned towards her as Minerva pulled the dart from her shoulder and threw it to the side. "Still awake?" the beast asked. "Come on, marm. Make this easy." The otter ignored him, her gaze darting to the forest floor in search of anything that she could maybe use against him. Finallyl, it settled upon a stone lying on the ground. It was impractical, nearly half the size of her head, but it was something.

"Rookie, get back over here," the hedgehog called. He raised his paw to his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. "She's gonna need another dart I think. Bigger beasts sometimes do. Why don't you do the honors? Get some experience?"

Minerva turned as a weasel in blue appeared from the blur and looked towards her with a frightened grimace. "What's... a hedge'og doin'... workin' with vermin... scum?" the otter rasped out in confusion.

Jenson shrugged. "Got a family to feed."

"Then plant... and grow."

"You've your talents, I've got mine. Besides, planting doesn't pay off the collectors." The hedgehog turned to his companion as the weasel lifted his blowgun to his lips. "Right, it's an easy shot. She ain't even moving."

Minerva once more forced her eyelids open, watching as the coward took aim towards her. His paws shook. Her legs trembled. He took the shot.

The dart whizzed through the air, straight and true, before burying itself in a tree trunk behind the otter. Before the inexperienced weasel could load another dart and correct his mistake, Minerva leapt towards the stone and swung it wildly at Jenson, but the hedgehog jumped out of her reach. She flailed her weapon in front of her to ward the slavers off and stumbled backwards, pressing her back against a tree.    

Minerva cursed as the leaves rustled and a third beast, a fox, appeared from the brush, twirling his blowgun in his paws carelessly. "Oy, is this the beasst?"

"Aye, to think the Monster of Mossflower Woods..." Jenson started with a cocky smile, "is just some homely otterwife. She's got fight in her though, I'll give her that. Of course, not much left. Maybe we don't need that second dart after all, rookie."

The otter knew he was right. Her eyelids drooped and she had to shake herself to keep awake. The stone in her paws began to slip, but she tightened her grip, knowing if she dropped it all three of the slavers would be on her in an instant. She had to think of a way out. Minerva's eyes bounced between all of them: the careless fox, the inexperienced weasel, and then the hedgehog and his cocky smile.

Minerva let her legs give out then. Stumbling backwards, she fell against the tree behind her and slid down its trunk to her rump. The otter hung her head, murmuring over and over to herself as she shut her eyelids, and her grip on the stone loosened.

"Hrm... See, sometimes it just takes a bit longer to get through bigger beasts' systems," Jenson said. He stepped forward with the manacles.

"Be careful," the rookie advised.

"Nah, she's out like a babe." Jenson crouched over her and stretched the chains, smiling as a whispering murmur reached his ears. He looked towards the otterwife. "I can't hear you, marm. Speak up." The hedgehog leaned his head closer, listening as the whispers became words.

"Stay awake. Stay awake. Stay awake."

Minerva's eyelids snapped open then and, before Jenson could react, the stone collided with his skull with a resounding crack. The careless fox yelped in surprise and his blowgun spun from his paw to the ground. The otter went for him next. Rising to her footpaws, she rushed forward and charged into the vulpine, pinning him against a tree before she brought the stone crashing down on his head. He fell in a heap and didn't get up.

Minerva panted and turned to the weasel. "You were lookin' fer the Monster of Mossflower Woods, right?" she spat, brandishing the bloodied stone. "You found her."

Before the weasel could draw his dagger, the otter swung her weapon into his side and knocked him to the ground. She stood over him and raised the stone.

"I wouldn't do that..."

Minerva turned towards the sound of the voice and a lump rose in her throat. The world shook and churned around the otter, but one thing was clear: a fourth beast, a hulking marteness, had appeared and stood with a sly smile on her face and a dagger in one paw. In her other, cradled in the crook of her arm, was the still form of an ottermaid with a pink flower sewed to her lapel and a dart in her arm.

"Commander Nix!" the weasel gasped. "S-she killed them!"

"Aye, I see that, rookie, but if she's smart, she won't kill anybeast else," the marten stated in a flat tone. She turned the dagger in her paw, placing its point closer to Fable, and looked towards the panting otterwife. "You wouldn't want this pretty flower to lose a petal now, would you?"

Minerva lowered the stone without a word and let it fall to the ground, glaring coldly at the slaver. At a look from his commander, the weasel squirmed out from under her and panted in relief.

"Aye, I thought not." Nix moved closer, smirking when Minerva's cold stare followed her every step. The marten paused, looking quickly at the bloodied stone and the two dead beasts crumpled on the forest floor. "Hellgates," she said with a surprised smile. "Nire's going to love you."

A gleam caught her attention, and Nix turned her head to the fishhook around the otter's neck. "Oh? What do you have there?"

Nix kept her dagger tucked under Fable's chin as she stepped forward with curiosity. Minerva clenched her teeth as the marteness leaned over to get a better look at the object. "Is this how you did the claws and teeth?" she asked with a smile. "Clever."

Without warning, the marteness reached forward with her dagger paw and ripped the cord from around her neck. Minerva snarled and started forward but Nix backed away, waving her weapon. The otterwife glared at the slaver sullenly and stopped. "Give me that back," she growled.

"No, I don't want you poking anybeast's eyes out. I think I'll hang onto it," Nix said. "Besides, this is your end of the trade."

"Trade?" Minerva asked.

Nix ignored her and turned back to the panting weasel.

"Get her in chains, rookie. We've got a long road ahead of us."

~~~?~~~

It was only after they had secured a set of manacles around Minerva's wrists that she was given back her daughter to carry. Two thin lines of chains extended from the iron collar forced around the otterwife's neck, the ends of each being held by one of the slavers as they led her through the trees. Holding the end behind her, Nix yanked her back whenever she walked too far forward or her eyes strayed, while the weasel made sure she never lagged behind. Minerva held Fable close, keeping their pace as well as she could lest the two vermin thought it a reason to take or threaten the young one again.

Minerva adjusted the unconscious child in her arms. It had been an hour since they started walking and, while the effects of the dart were beginning to wear off on the otterwife, her daughter still hadn't woken. She clenched her teeth, hating how helpless she was, as she braved a question. "How long will it take fer her t' wake up?"

"Depends on the beast usually," came Nix's answer from behind her. "For larger beasts like you or me, it can take a whole two darts before they keel over, and then they're out for at least a few hours. Stronger beasts can take more though. It took three for me." Minerva looked over her shoulder, confused, but a sharp pull at her neck from the marteness reminded her to keep forward. After a pause, Nix continued. "For smaller beasts- mice, shrews, and the like- one dart is usually all it takes to knock them out cold for most of the day. Should be the same for her."

The forest began to thin as they reached the end of it. Even though Fable was unconscious, Minerva instinctively covered the young one's eyes as they passed by the hanging corpses.

Only a season ago, Minerva had been careless and hung one just too close to their farm and Fable came across it while playing. Her poor daughter came running home wailing and it took hours to finally calm her, and, though she assured her that the Monster of Mossflower Woods protected them from bad beasts, she had become plagued with nightmares all the same.

Minerva hung her head. It was her own carelessness that had given Fable her nightmares when she slept, and now it was carelessness that would make them a reality when she woke.

She paused at the end of the wood for only a moment to gaze at the mountains in the distance and the forests beyond. In the many seasons/years she had lived on her farm, she had never left or had the desire to. They had been safe, secure, and comfortable. But it was then, with the tug of a chain at her neck, that the Monster of Mossflower Woods was pulled forcibly from her home and into the world.

At the base of the foothill, there were a mass of beasts who had been captured before her. Each of them stared at Minerva in confusion as she was led past. Even the beasts in blue who stood guard whispered in disbelief amongst themselves.

"Commander Nix," a rat called, rushing to the marten's side. "Is - Is this the Monster? It can't be. Where's Jenson and Bloodfang?"

"Dead," was all Nix said.

The answer only brought forth more whispers and Minerva stole a glance towards  the mass of slaves. Among them she saw mice, hedgehogs, squirrels, and all manner of other goodbeasts. What confused the otterwife however was that a number of vermin stared back at her as well. A tug brought her back facing forward and she pressed on, confused. Why would vermin slavers capture their own kind?

And why would goodbeasts be helping them? As she walked among the clusters of caravans and wagons, Minerva realized that Jenson wasn't just some wayward soul. Among the beasts standing guard, she counted just as many woodlanders in blue uniforms as vermin. Who were these beasts?

A rush of hot air hit her shoulder and it startled Minerva out from her revelry. She turned and then fell backwards, struggling against the collar and chains and nearly shrieking in terror at the creature that loomed over her and Fable. The beast was larger than a badger, standing on four legs, and with short black fur and a mane that trailed down the length of its broad neck and spine. Dark beady eyes hardly blinked at her as it sniffed at the young otter in her paws with its strange flat nose. A set of long dagger-like teeth protruded from the creature's lower jaw and curled around the outside of its snout, and it snorted as Minerva covered her daughter defensively.

Wuh-psshkkk! Nix cracked her whip. "Back! That young 'un isn't for you." The creature squealed as the marteness cracked her whip again and it retreated back away from Minerva, staring at her before turning and ambling away. Nix panted and looped her weapon back around her belt. "Rookie, get her up."

"What- what was that thing?" Minerva stuttered as the weasel pulled her to her feet.

"It's called a boar. Ferocious like a badger in Bloodwrath and more unpredictable. If you've heard of the seals in the Western Sea, boars are similar. They might not be able to talk like you or I, but they're smart as a whip and very good at remembering faces, so you don't want to tick one off," Nix explained. "Oh, and, before you get the idea, Monster, I'd advise you sit tight and throw away any escape plan you might have. Every last one of these creatures is trained to chase after you should you run, and, let me tell you now, they are faster than you, and, whether they bring you back healthy or in a bloodied heap they've never shown much preference."

"Oy, commander. Maybe we should've brought one with us. She'd've surrendered right then, heh," the weasel joked in front of her.

"Or been slain."

Still trembling from her encounter with the boar, Minerva was led towards a cluster of carts near the center of the camp. "Right, this is good," Nix said, pulling her towards an empty one and motioning for the otter to step into it. An iron spike stuck out from the wooden floor of the cart with a short chain fastened to it. Minerva grimaced as the shackle at the end was secured around her footpaw. A sharp tug at her neck forced her to turn and face her captor.

"Now listen here carefully, Monster. You killed two of our scouts. The beasts in the last town back who did that we had stretched and tied to the top of one of the carts to bake in the sun for the day. No food, no water. It's torture to most beasts," Nix said. "What's torture to me though is a wailing child who can't find their mother. So play nice and keep her quiet, and I'll forgive you this once, otherwise I can always put her up there instead."

Minerva growled. "You vermin are scum."

"I don't know what world you're living in," Nix said with a snort, "but everybeast is scum. You're going to find that out quick in the Crater." Minerva gasped as the collar fell from her neck. The marteness passed it and the chains to the weasel. "Put those back in storage and tell everybeast we're done here. It's time to go home."

The marten strode away then, leaving Minerva alone.       

The otterwife groaned, rubbing at her sore neck. She walked to the center of the cart and leaned down to inspect the spike in the floor. It was firmly nailed down and, no matter how hard she pulled on it or the chain, neither budged. And where would she have gone if it had? If what Nix had said was true, then the boars would be on her the moment she tried to run. And with a child...

Minerva slumped to the floor and held her head low in defeat, tears beginning to trickle down her face. She shook them away quickly. Hope may have been gone for the both of them, but she had to stay strong for Fable's sake. "It's gonna be okay, sweetheart, it's gonna be okay. I won't let nothin' happen t' ye," she rehearsed, stroking her daughter's head and holding her close.

From the edge of her vision, Minerva caught sight of another slave kneeling in the grass near the cart. The beast, a female stoat, stared at her and Fable as if in a trance. "Keep yer eyes t' yerself, vermin," the otter growled at her.

The trance was broken then and the stoat blinked twice before scowling at her and turning away. Minerva glared at her a moment longer before looking back to her daughter.

The cart shifted with a slight weight as another beast climbed within it. It was a vole carrying a quill and bottle of ink in her paws, and wearing a dark linen cloak with intricate golden designs of poppy flowers stitched along its hem that the otterwife couldn't help but admire. Seeing though that she wore no chains, Minerva remembered Jenson and protectively pulled Fable closer.

"Are ye one of them?" she growled.

"I'm not wearing blue, am I?" the vole answered. "No, I'm a prisoner like you. My name is Adeen Tullus.  That marten, Nix, caught sight of my tools, so I'm tasked with taking inventory. It's not so bad, I suppose. It staves off boredom and helps me know my fellow captives. May I know you?"

The otter stared at Adeen suspiciously before sighing. "Minerva," she answered. The vole pulled a scroll from the bandolier she wore and unfurled it, before dipping her quill in ink and beginning to write. Several seconds passed as the scribe scratched her quill against the parchment, dipping its point into her ink well multiple times. More seconds passed, and Minerva spoke. "I'm not really the learned type, but even I know my name don't take that long t' write."

"My apologies. If a beast has a title, I was told to include it as well," Adeen answered.

"A title?"

"Yes. You are the Monster of Mossflower Woods, correct?" she said, more of a statement than a question. The vole continued writing, speaking as she did, "On nights when my twins fussed, it was always tales of the Monster that stilled them." She paused there, staring at her inkwell in silence for a few moments before setting it to the side. "The Monster of Mossflower was the first queen of the forest, before Martin took up the sword, before vermin were vermin and woodlanders were woodlanders. She shared its bounty with nobeast, and decorated her boundaries with fallen poachers. Tired of losing their hunters, the goodbeasts of the plains banded together and took back Mossflower tree by tree. Though defeated, the goodbeasts showed mercy and left her one last grove which she jealously guards. Those who wander near are taken...or worse."

Minerva couldn't help but smile at the sheer enthusiasm in the vole's words.

"But some days, 'days like this one', her hunger for revenge swells, and she searches for naughty pups who stray from their parents. 'So, hold my paw, little ones, and mind your manners, lest the Monster decide to come for you tonight,'" Adeen finished. "That was my version at least. Others had different stories, though I'm sure none ever even considered you were just an otter, and a mother at that."

"Aye, that was the idea. It kept beasts away, kept us safe for a good long time. Until now at least." Minerva looked over the vole and asked a question of her own. "Did these scum take your children as well?"

"No."

"That's good t' hear," Minerva said with a sigh of relief.

"No," the vole said again. "They've passed."

"Oh," the otter said, shamefully looking away. "I didn't realize. I'm... I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Adeen picked up her quill. "May I ask your age?"

"Thirty-two."

"Height?"

"Three taillengths."

"Weight?"

"What sort of slavers need to know my weight?" Minerva asked. Remembering what Nix told her, the otter asked another question. "That marten said we were bein' taken to the Crater? What's the Crater? Who are these beasts? Do ye know?"

"Have you not heard of it?" Adeen wondered. "It's a grisly place- an arena- ran by a beast named Nire Borean. Every season his scouts search for reputable beasts, strong fighters and the like, so that they may be captured and made to fight one another to the death."

Tearing beasts from their lives and homes to fight to the death? What sort of evil beast would do that? Slavery was heinous but Minerva at least understood the purpose. What purpose did this serve?

Minerva asked the question on her mind.

"Entertainment. From Southsward to the Highlands, beasts travel to see the show Nire's 'gladiators' put on. Some to cheer for the winners and champions, others... to watch beasts fall," the vole explained. "The spectacle fills Nire's pockets as his fighters fill graves."

"Fills his pockets with what?"

Adeen looked towards the otter in confusion. "Copper, silver, gold. Money."

Minerva furrowed her brow. "What's money?"

Adeen gave her the same look. "How long have you been in those woods?"

Before the otterwife could answer, a blue-uniformed rat beat on the side of the cart and shouted towards Adeen. "Oy! We're movin', mud mouse! Finish yer bus'ness and report back t' Commander Nix afore I put ye back in chains and drag ye there myself."

The vole turned to Minerva and began to pack away her tools. "I must go. They won't make you walk until the morning so, I'd suggest you try and sleep now before your child wakes. It'll be hard to carry her when she tires if you're just as exhausted."

"Wait!" Minerva called. She held Fable tight to her chest. "And what about her? I can fight. But her? She's hardly more than a babe."

Adeen paused mid pack and visibly gave the matter some thought.

"I don't know. Stay strong and keep her close for now."

Without another word, the vole left her alone.

Minerva slumped back down to the floor of the cart and stroked Fable's head. Cradling the young otter, she remembered just how tired that dart had made her. Adeen was right. She needed to sleep so that she could stay strong.

But despite the fact that her daughter slept now in ignorance to their troubles, Minerva knew as she let her eyelids slip closed that it would be her having nightmares this night.

~~~?~~~

Fable's eyelids fluttered open when the morning sun was just beginning to crest the horizon. "Good mornin', young 'un. Did ye sleep well?" Minerva stroked her daughter's head as she yawned and looked around her.

"Where are we?" she mumbled, seeing the cart walls.

Minerva felt a light tug at the chain on her leg, turning to see a blue-wearing beast looking at her expectantly. The otterwife looked back at the young otter and smiled. "We're goin' on a little trip."

The weeks following were long and tiring as the slavers led their charges towards the Crater. From dawn to dusk they were forced to walk while scouts, riding on the backs of boars, circled around the procession and kept guard. Minerva did her best to keep Fable calm during the journey, carrying her when she grew tired, playing guessing games, and telling stories. The stoat slave from before sung quietly to herself, and Minerva copied the tunes of her songs, humming them to her daughter and stroking her head in the times it looked like she was about to cry. In the evenings when they were made to stop, she would take the flowers Fable collected during their walking and sew them quickly to her lapel when nobeast was looking.

All the while, the otter's observant gaze passed over every tree and blade of grass as she searched for anything that she could maybe use to help the both of them escape. But with every step, escape grew to be less of a possibility, and eventually the dreaded Crater came into view and the gates were shut behind them.

"...and what a show you're going to give us."

The words of Nire Borean's speech echoed through Minerva's head as she was yanked roughly to the sandy floor of the arena. Hardly a moment after the lynx finished speaking, Nix's guards swept through the crowd of slaves and began forcing collars around the necks of everybeast who didn't have one. The otterwife jumped back to her feet, biting and snapping at the two guards in front of her who had dared pluck the crying Fable from her grasp and were now forcing one of the collars around her neck. Another beast, clutching a length of chain, desperately held Minerva back as she struggled.

Just before the collar was sealed around her daughter's neck, the otter lurched forward and the chain slipped out from her guard's paws. The other two stumbled backwards in surprise as Minerva rushed towards them and swept Fable tightly into her arms. She wiped away the young one's tears and snarled at the both of them. "Keep yer paws away from my daughter, you scum."

Slaves and guards alike stared slack jawed towards the spectacle as another one of the Crater guards took hold of the otter's leash and tried to yank her back, but Minerva dug her heels into the sand and held firm. More guards rushed towards the scene and somebeast tried to call for another to bring a dart, but then a different voice rose out among the crowd and halted everybeast.

"That's enough."

Nire Borean made his way towards the conflict with a strange mixed look of satisfaction and impatience on his face as his eyes darted between the two struggling beasts. The lynx cocked his head towards Minerva, who clenched her teeth at him and held Fable protectively against her chest. He smiled at the young otter before clasping his paws behind his back and looking to the guard.

"Is there a problem here?"

"Sorry, Mr. Borean. Blasted wench ain't lettin' us collar the young 'un," the guard said, nearly stumbling forward as the chain in his paws was yanked hard by the otterwife.

Nire smiled with curiosity. Turning, he scanned through the crowd of beasts until he found a familiar pine marten. "Commander Nix," he called. "If I may ask, who is this 'blasted wench?' Where did you find her?"

"You won't believe this, sir, but that's the 'Monster of Mossflower Woods'," Nix answered, stepping to his side and crossing her arms.

"You can't be serious." Nire's smiled faltered. "Travelers said that those bodies were ravaged by claws and teeth. How am I supposed to sell that this otterwife is the Monster of Mossflower Woods?"

Nix shook her head. "That 'otterwife' is covered in scars and killed two of my best beasts with a bloody rock."

"And why did nobeast shoot her with a dart?"

"They did."

"Oh. Well... that is interesting," Nire said, clutching his chin in thought. The smile returned as the lynx looked towards the struggling otterwife and the crying child in her arms with a gleam in his eye. "Maybe you won't be so hard to sell after all. In fact, I think I came up with the perfect story.

Nire looked to the guard beside him, still clutching the chain. "Hold that. Don't let her run." The lynx plucked the dagger from the beast's belt and pointed its blade towards three random guards. "You, you, and you..." He tested the sharpness of the blade with a claw. "...bring me the cub."

"What?" Minerva muttered. Immediately the otter turned and struggled against the chain, but three other guards quickly grabbed its end and pulled. She tripped to her knees in the sand and scrambled to grab her daughter, holding her close and covering her underneath her body. Another tug from the chain pulled her off and the three guards seized Fable as she screamed and dragged her towards Nire.

"No, no! Please." Minerva could only watch as the lynx took the screaming child and tickled her chin with the point of the knife.

Nire's smile faded once more, and he spoke in a grave tone as he glared at the otterwife. "Imagine if the Monster of Mossflower Woods had her child stolen from her, taken from this world by the edge of a cruel knife when she rebelled against our scouts. She vows revenge against them and the Crater, but is dragged to the very source of her misery to do battle for the beasts she despises. Yes, that'd be a good story, I think."

Fable shut her eyes and wailed as Nire drew the knife blade towards her neck.

"Please! Don't!" Minerva screamed, tears dripping into the sand. "What do ye want?"

Nire tossed the knife to the side. "I want a good show and that requires cooperation." The lynx passed the young otter over to Nix and then leaned to pick up the fallen collar. "Very soon, this arena will be filled with creatures from Northvale and beyond, all of whom have paid me a lot of money to see you and every other beast here. I simply can't afford delays or inconveniences just because some slave doesn't want to wear their collar. No, I need everybeast to be ready to do exactly as I ask, when I ask.

"Like this." Nire tossed the collar into the sand in front of Minerva. "Put that on your daughter. Now."

Minerva hesitantly took the collar and rose to her footpaws. Trudging towards Fable, she knelt to her level before wiping away the young one's tears with her sleeve. She stroked the back of her head tenderly. "I love you. I'm so sorry." With a click, the otterwife snapped the collar tightly around her daughter's neck.

"Good," Nire said. He then addressed one of the guards. "Get the young one back in line."

"What? No!" Minerva shouted, holding her daughter tightly. "She's stayin' with me."

"If she stays with you, she'll be taken to the gladiator pens and will be treated like a gladiator. She'll have to fight in the arena, and something tells me she won't last long," Nire said. "Let her go."

Fable buried her head in her mother's chest. "I don't wanna go."

"I know. I know, but you have to." Minerva held Fable close and hugged her tightly, knowing well that it could be the very last time she did. "Just do as they ask. Don't cause trouble. Everything will be okay, I promise."

Minerva let go then and painful memories stirred within her as Fable was taken away into the crowd, with no way of knowing if she would ever see her again. It was an all too familiar sight and a pit hollowed in the otter's stomach as she remembered that fateful moment. Raising her paw to her neck, she felt an emptiness.

Realizing what it was that was missing, she turned to Nire. "If ye want me t' play yer game. There's somethin' I need."

"And what is that?" Nire asked.

"That marten, Nix, took somethin' of mine. I want it back."

Nire rolled his eyes. "Nix, if you would kindly return her possessions."

The pine marten reached into her pocket and pulled out Minerva's silver fishhook. "It was sharp. She could have taken out somebeast's eye. You're just gonna let her have it?"

"Please. What sort of damage could she do with that? Besides, I'm sure she won't try anything silly like that. Will you?" Nire asked with a chuckle.

Minerva shook her head and snatched the cord away from Nix. She growled at Nire. "If you hurt her-"

"Will you give me a reason to?" Nire warned. "Or will you play your part?"

Minerva was quiet, considering. "And what is my part?"

"You're the Monster of Mossflower Woods. When beasts fill the seats of the Crater, I want you to live up to that name. Give them a show to remember. But most importantly..."

Minerva tied her fishhook tightly around her neck.

"...I want to hear them chant your name."