Author:
Dakkan, being absentminded...again
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 21:43:38 10/28/02 Mon
In reply to:
Dakkan
's message, "Oh..." on 20:15:43 09/13/02 Fri
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE MASK
The rats yelled in surprise and panic as they frantically searched for their weapons, but not fast enough. Mask excelled in speed and agility even without his rudder, and stabbed half of them to death before they could lay paws on their spears and blades. Those that were left hefted their weapons and attacked, but Mask’s ferocity and strength outmatched them. Before long, every rat had been wrestled to the ground and slain.
The gray otter uncorked his canteen and washed the blood from his wounds away. They were minor and would heal in a few days. After bandaging the worst cuts, Mask set off for his new home.
Near the river in a dense section of forest was a huge hollow log. The tree that it had once been was several hundred seasons old when it fell, so Mask didn’t even have to duck to enter its gutted shell. The gray otter hung up the rat muzzle and tail on the wall next to all his other disguises. The false tails, muzzles, ears, and teeth of foxes, rats, ferrets, stoats, weasels, squirrels, hedgehogs, and hares decorated the entire right wall of Mask’s log home. The other wall sported clip-on ear, nose, and tail jewelry along with every imaginable type of goodbeast and vermin clothing. For now, Mask kept on the heavy tattered black tunic and silk cloak he’d been wearing as a rat. Grabbing a pole with a net fastened to the end, the otter headed toward the River Moss, licking his lips. He felt like having a good trout for lunch.
Chibb had deduced that the most reasonable place to find an otter was the northern length of the River Moss, so he flew as slowly as he could above it, searching the water and the banks thoroughly. Around noon he perched in an elm by the bank and ate several nuts from his sack. He’d been flying for several hours now and needed a break.
There was a splash in the river about fifty feet off. Chibb swallowed the chestnut he was eating and craned his neck to see what was going on.
A creature was shoulder-deep in the water, splashing around. Curious, the robin flew down to the bank and watched. The gray-furred beast suddenly splashed ashore with a full net of fish. Chibb recognized it as an otter, but was confused at first because it wore worn vermin-type garb and seemed to lack a tail. He met the creature as it stepped up onto the bank.
“Hrumph! Ahemhem, sir! Garrumph, ‘scuse me. D’you know of an otter in these parts by the name of Riverwyte?” He cleared his throat again because he was nervous.
Mask pondered. “Riverwyte, y’say? Yes, I know the beast. What d’you want him for?”
Chibb was strangely unsettled by the peculiar otter’s gaze. Perhaps it had something to do with the paleness of his eyes – they almost matched the gray of his fur. Suddenly something about Skipper’s description of his brother rang true and the robin realized who was standing before him. However, he decided to not let Riverwyte know of his flash of insight. Instead he hopped from side to side, expressing his apprehension. “Why do I want him? His brother, Skipper, is worried about him. The poor beast wants to be sure, ahem, Riverwyte isn’t dead.
Mask smiled slightly. So somebeast still cared about him. He didn’t doubt that Skipper would want to visit, so he told the robin, “Yes, Riverwyte’s all right. I can tell you where he lives so this Skipper beast can find him. See that island?” He pointed to a small deposit of rocks and mud with a young tree cresting it in midstream. “Well, you travel due east from it and eventually you’ll find an ole hollow log. That’s where he lives.”
Chibb nodded vigorously, wanting to leave the presence of this odd creature. “Yes, harrumph, thank you…sir. Well, I must go, Skipper will be very pleased to know that!” Turning quickly, he performed a short run before flapping his way into the air. Like an arrow the robin sped back to where Camp Willow was located.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: REUNION
Skipper used his javelin to push aside a tall fern. Before him lay a huge hollow log. The sight brought a satisfied smile out of the big otter. It was the day after Chibb had returned with his news. Skipper had left as soon as possible, wanting more than anything to see his brother again. Cautiously he moved forward, not wanting to surprise Riverwyte. For all his brother knew he could be a vermin, after all.
Without warning, a tall, lean, and very tough-looking male squirrel dropped down in front of Skipper and folded his paws in a businesslike manner. “What are you doing here? This is Spearbrush territory,” he challenged the otter tersely. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at Skipper intimidatingly.
The big otter took a step forward, but the squirrel set his chest against Skipper’s and pushed him back forcefully, bristling slightly. “I said what are you doing here? Who are you, anyway?”
Skipper looked over the squirrel’s shoulder at the hollow log ahead. “I’m Skipper of Camp Willow, here to look for my brother, Riverwyte. He supposedly lives here.”
The squirrel smiled. “Ah, I see. Here, I’ll show you in.” He gripped Skipper’s shoulders and steered him into the log.
The big otter looked around expectantly. “Where is he?”
The squirrel grinned again. “He’s here now! I am the Mask,” he told Skipper, extending his paw.
Skipper shook the beast’s paw distractedly. “Yes, yes, thank you…but where’s Riverwyte?”
Mask sighed as he shed his false ears, whiskers, tail, and teeth, unbuttoning the tunic and pulling it off to reveal his normal vest and kilt. “Ah, I remember you, Skipper of Camp Willow. As I said, I am the Mask.”
Skipper shook his head. “The Mask? I thought you were Riverwyte.”
Mask smiled slightly. “I am. Once I went by Riverwyte, but that name is gone now. I am the Mask, master of disguise and subterfuge. I’ve dedicated my life to using my skills for the slaying of vermin.” He sat down on a rock and Skipper noticed something else that was different.
“Ri- er, Mask. Mate, where’s your rudder?”
Mask ran his paw over the place where his tail had been. “Lost it,” he stated matter-of-factly. “In battle,” he added as an afterthought.
Skipper put a paw on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. How do you swim?”
Mask sighed, allowing some emotion to surface. “I don’t, at least not much. I only get in the water to fish these days. All because I was fool enough to attack seventy ferrets single-pawed.”
Skipper smiled proudly. “Well, you lived through it, at least!”
Mask nodded. “Yes, but now I live only to rid my part of the woods of vermin. I can infiltrate them easily.” He stood up and grabbed several things from the right wall. “I can become a fox, ferret, stoat, weasel, rat, or anything I choose. I join their band and run with them long enough to figure out their fighting strengths and weaknesses. Then I turn on them when the time is right and kill them all.” He turned around as a tall, scarred weasel with an unreadable tattoo on one cheek.
The disguise was so realistic that Skipper’s subconscious urged him to attack. As it was, he’d laid his paw on the sling tied about his middle without even thinking about it. Forcing his warrior spirit into submission, Skipper stepped forward and clasped the weasel’s paws. “Mask, you don’t have to live here alone. You can come back and live at Camp Willow with me and the others. We’re trying to get another force together to overthrow Verduaga sometime in the future. I think our new plan might work!”
Mask quickly reconfigured himself so that he was an otter again. He put his paws on Skipper’s shoulders and stared him eye to eye. The gray otter felt his brother shift uneasily and smiled wryly to himself. “That’s okay, Skip. I don’t think I should come back, though. I enjoy the solitude up here, and knocking off a villain every once in a while is good for my warrior spirit, saves me from going insane. Also, I can feel your nervousness. I know my eyes, and especially the recent loss of my rudder, will unnerve many of the other otters. Some of the nicer ones may try to make me feel included, but I don’t want anyone treating me differently just because of my unfortunate experiences. I will continue to live up here and rid the woods of vermin, but you can visit if you like. I don’t mind.” He leaned close to Skipper’s ear. “And if you’re ever ready to attack the wildcat, send for me. I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”
Skipper smiled understandingly. “Right, then. I’ll head back to Camp Willow, but I’ll be back at least once every season. Good luck with your hunting, my brother.”
Mask embraced Skipper in a tight hug. “And good luck against ol’ Greeneyes, Skip. I’ll be here when you need me.” The gray otter watched Skipper as the big otter turned and began walking south. Long after his brother had disappeared into the distance, Mask was still watching the spot where he’d lost sight of him. Suddenly, he lifted his head and sniffed the air. A band of ferrets was nearby. The gray otter put on a fake muzzle and ears, choosing a false ferret tail and dusting dark marks over his eyes. Donning a ragged tunic and a feathered beret, he left his log with a spear in his paw.
Mask was on the hunt again.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
|
Feedback: 
