A Day in the Life (Modi "Shelby" Twotongue)

[Substitute Author]

"I read the news today, oh boy,
About a lucky man who made the grade,
And though the news was rather sad,
Well I just had to laugh."
---

As Tassle made her way across the room, Shelby closed her eyes briefly. This isn't a good idea, you know, she wanted to say; but she knew that it was useless. Over the course of the voyage, she had swiftly picked up on the fact that her shrew oarmate was nothing if not obstinate. So instead she held her peace and looked away, apprehension twisting in her gut. What if they were caught? What if??

No. She wouldn't get anywhere if she just tormented herself with anxiety and ?what if?s.
Worries are like gnats, and your mind is like a pool of water in summer, Ander had said to her once. If you don't keep fresh water flowing through a pond, then it will become stagnant and a perfect breeding ground for the insects. So if your mind is a pond, then you have to keep fresh thoughts flowing through it, because otherwise it will become ugly and infested. He had always been one for dispensing wisdom like that, Shelby thought; he hadn't always (often) made half as much sense as he thought he did, or been half as profound as he thought he was. But it had always made her laugh ? and, she noted, she still couldn't just forget about him already. Pathetic, she thought, a faint sneer curling her lips; she was used to her own weakness by this point, so the bitterness was old and familiar.
The clank of metal against stone brought Shelby back to reality, and she looked over at Tassle again. The shrew was glaring at her, and Shelby glanced down at the chain which was dragging on the ground and shrugged, lifting it up again. This time, as the shrew climbed up the pile of logs, Shelby forced herself to pay attention, narrowing in her focus like a blade.
As Tassle and another slave shared a brief exchange, Shelby remained alert, straining her ears. She had always maintained a certain pride in her acute senses ? in fact, she had always maintained a certain sense of pride in general, even through all the degradation. She didn't care about what they thought, so while they could touch her body, how could they touch her mind? In the makeshift slave pen, she could hear one of the others shuffling his or her paws across the wood; her own breath; and then, there, footsteps?
?Guard, Tassle!? Shelby hissed, tugging at the chains for emphasis. She was relieved to see the shrew scramble down with haste; at least she wasn't stupid enough not to be afraid of being caught. At Tassle's thanks, Shelby just nodded curtly and just beckoned her to come closer; words of thanks were poor currency and barely worth acknowledgment.

Shelby eyed the ferret warily as she approached. ?Well, my poor dears, how are you this morning? Have they been treating you well? Really, it pains me to see you looking so ragged and downhearted.? Shelby almost wanted to laugh, watching the ferret with well-hidden disdain. You think you're so great and special, she thought, able to terrify everyone, reveling in your sweet and concerned act. But people like that were an acorn a dozen, in Shelby's experience; she cast her mind back to Lady Whitney, who had been exactly the same way.

Lady Whitney...
But Shelby shook her head, as if to clear it, refusing to think about her past and current situations. What had happened had happened; there was no use in regretting anything. As the ferret proceeded to antagonize the young vole, Shelby looked on impassively. The theatrics didn't impress her.
Once the ferret had left, Shelby looked back at Tassle, opening her mouth to speak, but she was preempted by one of the other slaves: ?What did 'ee hear??
?Someone's gone missing,? Tassle said. ?The captain's brat, I think. He was causing a fuss about it and they're getting a party to go look for her.?
?Good riddance,? muttered a squirrel, his expression surly and a bit satisfied. ?Let her rot.?
Tassle, however, seemed less resignedly triumphant about this news; her look was fierce with determination. ?It's wonderful news!? Shelby almost flinched ? although she knew the shrew's voice wasn't that loud, the stoat was edgy, half-expecting a guard to barge in, his or her attention drawn by the shrew's voice. ?Don't you see? This will be our chance.? Oh, no, not chance, thought Shelby, shaking her head silently. A chance wasn't good enough. She could already guess what her oarmate was going to say even before Tassle ploughed on: ?If enough of them join the search, we'll stand a chance at escaping.?

It was always the same tune, wasn't it, Shelby thought bitterly. Weak-minded idiots without patience, thinking they could escape, not thinking about what would happen if they died...

?Don't you want to escape?? Tassle was saying. ?Can't you wait to get rid of these chains, to be free again? We can do it! Quit lying around, waiting for a miracle to happen. We just need the courage!?

No, thought Shelby. In an escape or a rebellion, you needed strength of numbers and body, tactical superiority, better weapons, and espionage and blind luck were always helpful. But instead of snarling that at Tassle as she might have liked to, Shelby schooled her expression to careful neutrality and said: ?Tassle, there's nowhere to escape to. We're on an island.? In case you somehow forgot.

But, of course, it made no impact, not that Shelby had really expected it to. ?So? We'll figure that out later! Anything is better than sitting here waiting for them to get tired of taking care of a bunch of oarslaves when they don't have any oars left for them to pull!?

And at that, Shelby knew it was hopeless. Reflecting on Tassle's words, she thought that the shrew did have a point; but there were always ways to ingratiate yourself with those stronger than you, make them value and appreciate you, weren't there? Shelby knew that she, for one, was good for doing much more than just being an oarslave; and if any of the others weren't, well, then if they were killed, how big a loss was it?

?Burr, aye, Miss Tassle, Oi be with 'ee. But don' 'ee need a plan?? Shelby's eyes flickered over to the mole. Well, at least Tassle seemed to have some support from the general slave populace...

Did Tassle have a plan? The answer came soon enough, as the shrew took a breath and said: ?Don't you see, Brooga? Now is when we have our chance. We just need to reach out and take it.? Oh for goodness sakes. ?As for a plan...? Shelby followed Tassle's gaze over to the badger, and an expression of mild surprise ? with both apprehension and appreciation mixed in in equal measures ? crossed her face. The badger? Now there was an interesting thought.

Badgers were strong, and powerful ? other beasts died around badgers... unless they were on the badger's side... Cursing mentally, Shelby bit her lip, and as Tassle headed over to the far side of the room she looked away. Now she was torn, undecided, and she hated not knowing what to do. No, think, she told herself. It all depends on what the badger chooses...

?Burr aye,? a voice intruded on her thoughts, ?Miss Tassle be moighty determined, if Oi do so reckon.?
Blinking, Shelby looked over at the mole, who had inched to her side. ?Yes,? she said finally, and left it at that. Brooga, however, was undeterred by the monosyllabic reply.

?If'n she gets the help o' that thurr badgery-beast, them varmints don't stand a chance, Oi'd say.?

At that, Shelby's eyes narrowed a little bit, before she wiped all traces of expression from her face. ?Maybe,? she said, as blandly as possible, turning away from Brooga. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the mole blinking at her curiously. ?Badgers are pretty powerful... then again, I won't comment on the marten's crew, but those slavers don't seem to be deadbeats themselves.?
?Arr, Oi s'pose so,? the mole agreed, nodding. Then she crinkled her nose, tilting her head to the side. ?Oi'd forgotten that ye're a varmint yerself,? she said in a tone of mild surprise.

At that, Shelby let out a soft noise that was half laugh, half snort, and with just the faintest tinge of humour. She closed her eyes. ?Yes. A 'varmint'. Hmm...? She glanced over at Brooga sidelong with a sly, calculating expression. ?I never liked the taste of mole very much... but in desperate times...? She trailed off with a faint smirk.

Shelby heard Brooga draw away a bit, and opened her eyes again, looking over at the now-wary mole. ?I'm joking,? she said flatly. ?Except without the ha-ha.? Once again, her eyes flickered away, gaze now directed at Tassle and the badger. ?Usually I'm better at jokes, but as an oarslave I haven't had much chance to practice.? She paused, and when Brooga didn't respond, added, ?I'm not planning to eat you, even if I could. I can't say that 'I don't like the taste of mole' because I've never eaten mole before, and don't ever intend to.?

?Are 'ee a good varmint?? queried Brooga.

Shelby hesitated momentarily. ?Sure,? she said finally, tone casual.

After a few moments, Brooga nodded slowly. ?Oi see,? she said, examining Shelby with dark button-like eyes. ?So did 'ee make jokes lots before 'ee was an oarslave??
?When it was called for,? Shelby said, staring straight ahead. ?I was still a slave. But one meant to give entertainment, not to pull oars.?
?'Ee be arfully noicely-spoken fer a slave,? Brooga remarked.

?Thank you most kindly.? Unfortunately I can't return the compliment.

For a few moments, Brooga was silent. Then: ?So are 'ee hopin' Miss Tassle's plan works??
?I guess so,? Shelby said slowly. ?But it's also risky, don't you think? Those rats seemed very afraid of something, and if we broke free we might only be more threatened by it. Then again, it's probably just superstition.?
?Well, Oi don't know 'bout no superstishuns, but Oi kin tell 'ee this furr sure: this place bain't all roight. Oi kin feel it in moi diggers.? Chains clanked as the mole waved her paws slightly.

After a minute or two, Shelby looked away. ?... right,? she said, and lapsed into silence. Digging claws, superstitions ? she didn't care. She wouldn't let anything harm her...

... least of all Tassle's rebellion. A thread had started to form in her mind, however ? a plan. The badger was certainly a powerful ally, and Shelby didn't want to be on the side opposing him; but she didn't want to be fighting against beasts like the ferret slaver. But a little bit of espionage never hurts, does it, she thought with a brief, satisfied smile. Allegiance only to herself, able to convince both sides that yes, she was really, truly, with them?

It was perfect, if she could just find the right opportunity.