Silver and Cold

[Rousseau]

Rousseau pushed on blindly through Rexim?s secret escape tunnel, huffing and puffing as she chased after the fleeing shadow the ragtag group had encountered.  The rat tightened her grip on her rapier hilt as she listened to the pitter-patter of the beast?s footpaws echoing off the cold stone floor and the splashes from the tiny puddles he skirted through.  She clenched her teeth in concentration, hearing the sounds grow louder with each step she took.  She smiled in satisfaction.

Smack.

Somehow amongst the confusion and excitement, the rat had forgotten that she was in a pitch dark cave separated from her companions and their torches, and she had a distinct lack of an eye on her right side, leading to a painful collision with the side of a stone column that forcefully stole the breath from her lungs and knocked her to the floor.  Rousseau recovered in an instant, pushing herself back to her feet.  She huffed out a breath and paused.

The sounds had stopped.

Rousseau drew her blade frantically, holding it at the ready as she surveyed her surroundings.  Nothing.  There were no surroundings around her, she realized, just a perpetual blackness and the faint edge of the column that she had run into.  The rat held out her free paw in front of her and could just dimly make out the pale pink outline of her claws and palm.  The rat wondered if this was somewhat what if felt like to be blind.  She couldn?t imagine the feeling.  The entire thought of not being able to see, to lose the ability to see color and create her art, was a nightmare.  Already she felt almost unable to move, resorting to twirling back and forth and trying in vain to locate her invisible enemy.  She clenched the sword hilt tighter.  She had already lost one eye and she wasn?t going to lose the other, nor would she allow herself to die again.

Out of some natural instinct and fear, Rousseau reached to protect her eye with her free paw just as the point of a blade pierced through the darkness at her.  The rat yelped and flailed her blade in front of her at her assailant.  Steel met steel as both beasts were joined in the deathly art of combat.  Rousseau removed the paw from her eye and stared down her attacker, dimly making out the grayish-brown outline of a rat like herself.  She gritted her teeth and parried a thrust from the beast, returning the blow with a swift slash.  The other rat stumbled but blocked the blow, saving his life for another moment.

The other rat, a water rat she had realized, was a novice.  She grinned.

Rousseau?s paw was at her hip in true fencer?s fashion.  She paused, surveying the beast that had attacked her.  She could just barely make out the blade he was using: an old and rugged cutlass.  She smiled.  Clumsy weapons, cutlasses were.  They were thick and crude, the weapon of a true barbarian and bruiser.  She much preferred her rapier with its hilt and blade that were true works of art in themselves, and the light weight of it that felt much like wielding one of her very own paintbrushes.  In her head, the blade was a brush and the fur, skin, and flesh of the beast it tore through was the canvas.  

All previous fear erased, Rousseau gripped the hilt of her rapier and sent the beast?s cutlass spiraling from his paw, into the blackness with a single flick of her wrist.  It was over.  With a final thrust the water rat fell dead at her footpaws, another masterpiece.  

Rousseau panted and ripped off a tiny piece of the dead rat?s tunic.  She leaned against the rock column and began cleaning her blade with the makeshift washcloth as she waited for her companions to catch up.  The rat glanced at the dead beast on the floor of the cave, a pool of crimson blood spilling out of the hole in his chest, and realized that he looked somewhat like her king, Reginald.  He was even somewhat fat.  She grinned.  

Rousseau pointed a claw at her eye patch and, as if the dead Reginald look alike could hear her, said, ?An eye fer an eye.?

She went back to cleaning her blade.

Suddenly, the dark wasn?t as frightening.

-.-.-

And then Clutus ate her.

Rousseau walked sullenly behind the owl, ignoring the bird as he walked ahead of her and bickered with Rexim.  Although he had only thought it was her he was eating, it still made no difference.  Clutus had eaten her. And as it was expected, she had obviously been blamed for the fact that the rat had been killed instead of captured despite the fact that the owl had EATEN the body, consuming whatever else could have been on the body that might have been a useful clue.  Despite all of this, it was obviously the beast with the rapiers fault.  Rousseau knew she was a foreigner, but she never had the idea that defending herself was a crime in these parts.  

She crossed her arms and matched pace with Luka ?the Limper.? The beast, true to his name, limped slowly behind the other two beasts and carried a bright torch in one paw.  The fox looked as if he was struggling to keep up with the group.  

Trying to pass the time, Rousseau asked a simple question.  ?Do ya need help??

The graying fox nearly tripped over a loose stone. ?No.?

Rousseau nodded in agreement and reached her paw out to take the torch from the beast.  

Luka sighed. ?Alright then, missy, you win.?  He passed the torch over to her without another word.  

?Do ya need a cane or somethin???

?No, that won?t be necessary.?

Rousseau pulled her rapier, sheath and all, from her belt and passed it to the vulpine.  ?Here, a cane, maybe you might be able t? walk jest a little faster now.?

?And I suppose you?re going to try and help me regardless of what I say then, right?? Rousseau nodded.  The Limper chuckled and tested the weight of the blade against the ground.  ?Kinda small for a cane though.  Well, a small cane from a small beast, I suppose.  It?ll do.?  

Rousseau growled.  She couldn?t possibly be that short. She glanced up and saw that, despite Luka being hunched over slightly, he was still a head taller than her. ?Jest be sure t? give it back t? me later.?

?Aye. I don?t really need it, but thank ya. Mighty nice of you.?  

?I?m not as heartless as ya might think.? It was awkward talking to the beast, but she found a strange fascination with him. She continued the conversation. ?And ya seem like one o? the few bearable beasts that are with me in this little predicament.?

?I guess I?ll take that as a compliment seeing as we're all just pawns in Vulpuz's game.?

?Aye,? she said, not hiding the confusion in her voice. ?So, why do they call ya the Limper??

?My leg.?

?Ah.?

?Why do they call you a captain??

?My ship.?

?Ah.?

Luka ended the conversation for the rat.  ?Oi, Rex, how much further? These old bones can?t go on too much longer without a short break.?

?Aye, how far?? Rousseau found herself saying with him.  

The fox architect turned his head.  ?Well, maybe we would already be back in Koteer eef somebeast here deedn?t keel the beast we could have questioned.?

?An? maybe we could ?ave searched th? body o? the beast, had some bird not eaten it,? Rousseau spat, glaring daggers at Clutus.  

The owl entered the argument. ?I don?t see how any of this could possibly be my fault.  I wouldn?t have eaten the body had it not been dead.?

?O? course ya wouldn?t, featherbag.  Remind me t? get some red paint from ya this evenin?,? she replied.  
?I have no paint to share with you, Rousseau,? the owl responded, not catching the meaning. ?And that reminds me.  With the recent, shall I say, time change that has occurred, the painting that you covered over with black paint would be the first portrait you did of me, not the second.  Meaning you actually must paint me twice.?

The rat did her best not to punch the beast. ?Rexim, how much further??

?An? why should I tell you that??

Rousseau reached for her sword but didn?t find it at her side.  She glanced back to Luka. ?May I have my sword back??

?May I have my torch??

?Aye.? They traded objects.  She looked back at Rexim. ?Because, I ?ave a sword an? you don?t, maybe?  Would ya like another scar??

Rexim spat.  ?Not much further.  Eet?s just up ahead.?

Rousseau sheathed her blade, smiling.  It was good to be in charge.  ?I?m glad we see eye t? eye, Rex, old pal.?

The architect looked up as the roof of the cave began nearing the floor.  ?Thees is eet.?  Delicately he pushed something wooden lodged in the wall until it fell out, revealing the exit of the tunnel.  The motley crew shielded their eyes from the late afternoon sunlight that poured in from the small hole in the wall.  One by one they crawled through the hole until they were all outside in the open and out of the dusty cave.  

Rousseau glanced around her at her new surroundings.  A silent little glade in the forest had replaced the darkness of the cave, a suitable adjustment to her previous environment.  And nestled near the roots of some great tree was a trapdoor disguised as a tree stump that Rexim had shoved aside, concealing the cave perfectly unless one were to go looking for it.  The edges of a river bank were not ten taillengths away from the hole, a shallow ditch leading the way to the water source.

?Eets beauteeful, eesn?t eet?? Rexim said unintelligibly.

Rousseau couldn?t help but marvel at the sight.  Although nothing compared to the underground lake, the glade was indeed beautiful.  ?It?s a wonder I kin understand ya, Rexim, but aye, it is.? She withdrew her sketchbook from her pocket.

?And I made the way here all by myself.  All een secret,? the fox replied. ?I don?t remember thees deetch, though.?  

Clutus chimed in. ?So, what you?re both saying is that we all came here to marvel at the scenery?  Thinking about it now, what were we even looking for to begin with??

?Clues,? Rousseau replied. ?Anythin? that can help us get this job done an? over with.?

?Again, I repeat.  What sort of clue were we trying to find at the end of this tunnel??

Clutus' words rang a sort of truth in Rousseau's ears.  What were they looking for at the end of the tunnel?  What sort of clue could they have possibly found that would have aided them?  The rat snarled, realizing that all of this, all the time she had spent actually working, had been for nothing.

?Well, I think the water rat is good enough,? Luka said, answering her questions. ?And you just said yourself, Rex, you don?t remember this ditch here.?

?Aye, eets eenteresting.?

Rousseau piped up, nearly finishing her rough sketch of the glade.  Although she hated the proverb, hard work had seemed to have payed off.  ?So, our work ?ere is done, then??  She glanced up; the sun was beginning to set.  If she wanted to transfer her sketches to canvas before dark, they would have to leave in the next few minutes. 

?I suppose it is.?

The rat lit up a little inside.     

After a short break and with their newly found information, the motley crew slipped back into the hole of the tunnel. Rousseau paused before entering and glanced around her.  Her ear twitched.  She swore she heard a twig snap.  

?Are you coming, Rouss??

Rousseau paused.  ?Aye.? She couldn't keep her new masterpieces waiting.

Had she waited longer, she would have heard several more.