A Matter of Trust

[Bellona Littlebrush]

?Run, rabbit. Run.
Dig that hole. Forget the sun.?


?Keep quiet,? Sailpaw commanded in a low whisper as Bell tugged her chainmates up and down the line of escapees, showing them how to hold their chains to keep them from rattling. The weapons hut they?d managed to find proved quite effective as a planning ground, though it was a bit close. ?We?ll have t?travel acrooss open ground t?get t?those caves. It?s high morn with the cap?n flown away, though, so I reckon the wee vermin beasties?ll be takin? an early break. If luck is on oor side, we?ll make it t?the waterfall an? beyond with no? a guard the wiser.?

?But, what if we are spotted?? asked the tough-looking squirrelmaid who had complained about her hammer.

?Kill the beast before he can shout if you?re close enough,? Bell replied directly. ?If not, run.?

The stoat manacled next to her bristled noticeably at this and growled softly. The dormouse felt her fur bristling right back. Why the vermin had seen fit to replace her perfectly respectable chainmate with this... No time for that now. She?ll have to do. Like the pine marten.

= ~ = ~ =

Bell took the lead, cracking open the door to the weapons hut and surveying the camp. She kept her eyes wide -- the harsh glare of the sun reflected on too bright sand hurt, but she didn?t want to miss anything important -- and swiveled her ears. A few voices emanated from the surrounding huts, but nobeast was in her immediate line of sight.

?Well?? the marteness hissed from behind. ?Are we just going to stand here all day??

The dormouse didn?t bother to answer such an impetuous beast and instead pushed the door fully open. She held up an arm, then pointed it forward clearly in the direction she wanted to take. It was circuitous, granted, but she had her reasons. Those huts, there, had been filled with torchlight just two nights ago when she?d first attempted escape from the vermin encampment.

Five sets of three escapees and one pine marten stole across the blistering sand, chains held tight in sweating paws. They passed a fox snoozing lazily in the shade of one of the huts, rounded a cluster of palms, then struck out for the waterfall pool.

Bell had almost breathed a sigh of relief at their good fortune when there was a cry and she was dragged off her footpaws and laid flat on her back. Grimacing, the dormouse flipped over onto her paws and glared at her chainmates. The stoat looked mildly dazed and their third companion, a mole native to the Oasis, looked absolutely horrified.

?Oi bee'm sorry, miz! Oi bee'm gurtly sorry! Oi tripped an?-?

?Up. Now!? Bell gritted through clenched teeth and stood, reaching out to help him up while another chained trio assisted the portly stoatmaid.

With luck, nobeast would have paid any mind to the-

?Hey!? a squeaky voice accused. The dormouse turned around sharply and drew her dirk. There, just out of range, stood a skinny male stoat with a claw pointed dramatically in their direction. ?What are you doing??

The stoatess chained next to her began waving at him and smiling, opening her mouth to reply.

Bell quirked an eyebrow and yanked Revel's arm down, cutting her off mid-"hallo". Not the sharpest blades in the set, these two.

?Run!? Sailpaw gave the order just as he had two nights ago. The escapees charged for the caves behind the waterfall, leaving the vermin shouting angrily at their dust.

= ~ = ~ =

?I can hear them,? an old hare muttered as they proceeded quickly through the first tunnel, raising a paw to his gray ear for emphasis. The close stone walls magnified every breath, clack of a footclaw, and rattle of a chain so loudly that Bell wondered how the creature could hear anything at all over the din. They might be able to achieve some level of stealth if they went back holding their chains properly, but after reaching the dark of the caves, a number of beasts had foolishly let their paws loosen in relief. Now they would pay the price. ?Those vermin. They?re not but a stone?s throw behind, wot.?

?Mind the echoes,? Bell cautioned. ?They can trick the ears.?

?Quite right, miss! But a hare who?s ears have grown up and lived underground the past 50 seasons can account for these things, I think,? the lapine replied with a wry smile that the dormouse could just make out in the dimness. Holes in the ceiling and wall provided minimal light so their journey was not a completely disorganized tromp through the dark.

?Why would you live underground?? the marteness asked with a sneer of disgust.

?Safer,? he replied matter-of-factly.

?Oi! I see ?em!? The shout came from back the way they came and Bell froze, staring around with the others. A torch illuminated a small contingent of vermin marching toward them with the troublesome stoat at its head. A sudden shudder shook the tunnel throwing everybeast off his footpaws.

?What was that about safety, idiot?? the marten demanded as she scrambled to right herself.

?Just a bit of a rumble to get us started!? the hare shot back as everybeast struggled to find his balance after the shake. ?Now, go!? He waved the other escapees away as he looked to one chainmate, then the other. Each one, an otter and a shrew, nodded in turn.

Oh, Fates. Don?t! Not this early.

?You don?t have to. We can still-? Bell began, fumbling for both a viable alternative and footing, but the older creature sliced through her protests like a sharp blade through a wildcat?s belly.

?Hah! ?Twould be an honor and a pleasure, miss!? He flashed a ferocious grin. ?We?ll draw you out some time to get lost before those vermin are on you, wot! Go?n find your friend and kill off that fox captain for me, eh? Never did get to see my lad run off to join the Fire Mountain because of that blaggard and his crew capturing me. Dead inconvenient. Right then, you lads, let?s give it the old what for!?

?Aye!?

?Thank you.? Bell steeled herself and nodded to the brave creatures. She would have insisted on taking their place herself, but she doubted her chainmates would be keen on the notion of a last stand. No sense in having unwilling fighters.

?Wait! Are you mad?? the marten interjected, her ears laid back in consternation, but her eyes narrowed in?anger? Annoyance? ?You?re just going to run off to die?? The dormouse sensed more to that sentence, but the marten had bitten her tongue before giving whatever scheme she had cooked up away.

?Nay,? Sailpaw intoned. ?They?re runnin? off so you c?n live, lassie.?

The hare winked. ?Righto! See you in Dark Forest, then, wot wot! Blood?n?vinegaaar!?

As the perilous beasts sprinted to meet the vermin, Bell and the others turned and fled farther into the dark caves. The screams behind made her footpaws feel both terribly heavy and disturbingly light. When other beasts acted so selflessly?

That won?t happen to Damask! She would make certain of that.

= ~ = ~ =

Some twenty odd twists and turns later, Bell and the rest found themselves panting and resting against the water-cut walls. They had found a relatively large patch of light and were trying to decide how best to proceed now that they had escaped immediate recapture. The mole manacled to her had introduced himself as Rugger and claimed to have an intimate knowledge of the caves.

?Oi doan?t roightly know whot ?causered ?ee tumblin? o? rocks, but it bee'm loike that fer seasons naow,? Rugger explained.

Rugger had grown up in the Oasis, he should know. Bell removed her concerns over the quake from her conscious thoughts. If a mole said something underground wasn?t of consequence, she trusted the judgement.

?No ?arm, though,? the mole continued. ?Naow, Oi reckon ?ee burdy wudd take ?ee varmints every which way, but there bee'm only one place Oi knows where all ?ee tunnels lead, burr aye. Th?Pitcher Mount?in.?

? ?Pitcher Mount?in??? Giddy parroted back in confusion. Bell had to admit the mole?s accent was giving her a bit of trouble. She had known one mole in her life and he had adopted a Highlander brogue early on to fit in with his companions.

?Picture Mountain, he means,? the hammerless squirrelmaid -- Birch. That was what the hedgehog had named her right before getting run through. And me just watching? -- translated. ?Dunno what that is, though.?

"Fancy lot, you. 'S a picture of a mountain," the stoatess said with a derisive snort. "Of course."

?Don?t be a fool,? the marten huffed, her amicable fa?ade fast fading. ?It obviously means a mountain with pictures on it.?

?Pictures like that?? Bell had been puzzling over the blobs on the cracked wall above her companions? heads as they squabbled and now she could make out the image of a rabbit stabbing a fox with? A fish? Her brows knit together as her gaze travelled along a series of paintings, each raising the fur on the nape her neck a little more with the audacity of their implications.

A squirrel and weasel shook paws over a banquet table. Otters and rats swam together in a pool. A hedgehog lifted a barrel with the help of a ferret. A mouse happily watched over several vermin children.

Without knowing when it had happened, the dormouse found herself on her footpaws, heart beginning to pound and ears filling with the thrum of a body called to fight. She laid a paw on her dirk.

?Leftenan?.? Sailpaw said sharply.

They had made a pact with the nearby vermin tribe because there was nobeast else left to turn to. They seemed agreeable enough. Nashald had tried to exterminate them, too.

The dormouse drew her blade.

?Leftenan?!? More insistent now as Sailpaw rose to match her.

She found one of Freyr?s pots first, painted with the most beautiful scene of a mouse couple watching a sunset. But it wasn?t finished. It never would be because the potter was in pieces on the floor like so many of his creations. The one part of her life untouched by war lay shattered at her footpaws. The vermin weren't to blame. They only did what came naturally. So, she would do what came naturally, too.

?Bellona Littlebrush!? Sailpaw thundered and Bell stopped immediately, her dirk a hairsbreadth away from the stoat?s muzzle. The vermin?s teeth were bared and her eyes scrunched in a feral snarl. The dormouse pulled away in time to avoid losing a paw or doing more serious harm to the creature. Sailpaw stepped forward and cuffed the mustelid?s ear hard enough to rock her head to one side.

?None o? tha?, now!? the Captain chittered. ?An? away with yer frog-sticker, Bell. Nae need t?be givin? tha? beastie a trim when we shood be plannin? t?save tha? worthless spy o?yers.?

The dormouse became uncomfortably aware of the creatures staring at the spectacle she?d made of herself while she tried to regain her composure. She sheathed her weapon and slumped back down.

?Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,? she muttered, not bothering to address the stoatess who was still recovering from the squirrel?s smack. Where had that come from? The paintings were just nonsense, anyway. And attacking a beast she was chained to? Stop acting stupid! she chided herself. The present was infinitely more important than the past. At least the former she could change.

?Rugger.? Bell shifted her gaze from the floor to the now-wary mole. ?Lead us to the Picture Mountain.?

?Yes?m!?

= ~ = ~ =

Once they had a destination in mind, Rugger led them with ease through the winding passages, muttering about how they need to mind their heads here, step over the crack there, the old tunnels just weren?t holding up like they used to. When they started hearing echoing voices from up ahead, Sailpaw called a brief halt, and again Bell assisted everybeast in holding his chains to mute the rattling. They slunk forward with the whisper of scratching claws to mark their passage.

The mouth of the tunnel opened onto an enormous cave with large pools of light illuminating the room from the ceiling where hundreds of stalactites hung. Some hung as thin as worms while others could rival a full-grown oak in girth. The counterparts to these were scattered about the floor of the cave like spikes in a pit.

Just offset from the center of the room rose the largest of the stalagmites. Reaching well above two badgers in height, its polished surface rioted color in the beige world of sandstone.

Bell consciously willed herself not to look at the magnificent monstrosity and focused on the group of vermin huddled about its base. Plus one robin. Damask flitted and fluttered awkwardly, obviously tethered, as he occupied the vermin with some lie or another.

?What now?? Giddy wondered close by.

?We?ll charge ?em. Take ?em by surprise.? Sailpaw nodded at his plan, but turned to look at Bell when she said nothing. He sighed. ?A?righ?. Wha? were ye thinkin?, Leftenan???

?The terrain?s too irregular to risk a frontal assault, sir,? the dormouse replied without looking at him, her mind already sifting through alternatives. ?I suggest moving forward silently and launching an assault as they are heading off to their next destination. There are only three tunnels along the wall here, so I suggest we concentrate our forces around the two largest ones. Damask will likely enjoy a grand exit.? Her mouth twitched into a smirk, but she sobered again almost immediately as she heard the bird?s pitch heighten in either fear or pain? or both.

?Righ?.? Sailpaw agreed. ?Giddy, ye coom with me an? we?ll stake oot tha? tunnel o?er there.? He pointed to the largest of the tunnel mouths where a deep fissure ran from the top of it toward the roof. ?Bell,? his tone softened. ?I?ll see ye home, lassie.?

?As always, si--?

?Oi fink I c?n see light ahead!? A voice hollered, making the escapees stiffen and the creatures in the cave turn sharply. ?Hey, it?s ?em slaves!?

Caught between two enemy forces, Bell did the only sensible thing she could: drew her weapon and prayed that the Fates had mercy rather than the sick sense of humor they?d been displaying of late. As if in answer, another rumble sounded ominously through the cavern, this one accompanied by more violent shaking that did not let up. It was just as she watched a stalactite break free of the ceiling and gore one of the vermin near the Picture Mountain that the dormouse began to appreciate her position.

Maybe the Fates had a good sense of humor, after all.