Free Time (Open!)

[lorki]

The day was cold, a few beams of sunlight shot down through the light gray clouds onto the sparse area of the forest, where most of the trees were evergreens and spaced apart with little undergrowth or debris safe for fallen pine needles and twigs. A creature sat among the shaded forest floor, her back pressed up against the trunk of a tall tree. A spear of sunlight emerged from over head, dappling her and the ground and trees around her in light.

The ferret, matching in coloration to the clouded gray sky above her, stared calmly at the knife and sharpening stone in her paw. Gleaming newly cleaned and sharpened weapons spread out in a wide arc around her. Most where throwing knives of different styles, two short swords lay directly in front of her pulled up legs, three daggers, tipped in the badgers tails, sat closest to her. Her dark eyes followed the knife’s angle along the stone.

This was where she liked to be, alone, calm, fixing up her bloody over-used weapons to be perfect and balanced. No matter the squirrel’s body that she’d left covered and hidden a few hours ago. It was miles away by then, and she’d sharpened meticulously until the rage had left her. Rage at the beast for shooting it’s long bow at her without so much as a word, her reaction had been automatic and deadly and perhaps, had she taken more of a moment, would not have ended in such a bloody mess.

Sleetfang pulled the dark cloak tighter over her chest, pulling her eyes away from her task and letting them wander. She put the sharpening stone down and eyed the throwing knife. Letting out a small sigh she pulled her arm back then propelled it forward, letting the blade go as he arm lay perpendicular to the ground. The low flying knife thudded dully into a tree trunk about 60 feet away. She smirked and let he head fall back against the tree trunk.

[Tirael]

[[You said heads, so without further delay, here's-]]

Tirael stood stock-still, staring wide-eyed at the quivering knife in front of him. Had he arrived a second earlier, he would currently be in all manner of pain, resisting the impulse to rip the knife out of his arm, allowing himself to bleed to death. Instead, he was turning slowly to look at the ferret who'd thrown it.

"...hi..." What was he supposed to say? He'd never been alone with a ferret before, and even he wasn't open-minded enough not to be disturbed by the near-miss. Glancing back at the knife, gingerly touched the handle, as though he needed to make sure it was real. Given the array of other weapons surrounding this strange creature, he had to assume it was. He also assumed she must be good with them; nobeast wandered around with a bunch of weapons they had no idea how to handle.

"Was...that...supposed to..." He'd been jumpy in the woods ever since he'd heard about Tampa Tiderunner's story; he had no interest in meeting hostiles when he could barely take care of himself. Reflecting that a life at Redwall had made him a bit vulnerable, he tried to appear a little less so. "Uh...anyways, you are?..."

[[Not the best, but at least he's there now.]]

[Shor]

((Normally, I would place this comment at the bottom of my post, but I feel it need be warned that I'm starting out with a flashback (italics), then abruptly jumping to present time. No, Lachie isn't within earshot yet, let alone close enough to see, but I don't plan to interfere until later.
But trust me, you'll be glad I waited. ))

---

The mouse shifted nervously in his seat, conscious of the beasts in the room now watching him.

Leaning forward, he spoke quietly to Lachie. "Look, I don't know wot ye're trying to do here, but I'd appreciate it if ye'd just leave me be."

There was a hint of menace in that. Lachie, too, leaned closer, and spoke quieter still. "I know who stole yore sword, an' burned yore 'ouse."

Shock registered on the Bruff's face. "But, 'ow did you...?" He glanced around at the now-disinterested beasts once more. "So, you're a real seer?"

Lachie smiled.

Minutes later, the three were walking outside, the two otter twins following Bruff as he lead them to his house.

They passed by five beasts during the entirety of the conversation. The first two were sitting on a bench built into the outside wall of the inn; there was a male otter on the left, immersed in a book of some kind. Lachie counted eighty-three pages -- eighty-four, now that he'd turned the page. The other beast was a female hedgehog, staring intently at the sea, which lay in the general forward direction. She fiddled her twitchy paw incessantly, and her footpaws swung freely below her, not quite long enough to make contact with the ground. She planted them lightly on the ground by sliding forward in her seat, just as her image left Lachie's field of vision.
Another three were simply a group of young males, likely the sons of local sailors. They spoke with each other, and it was evidently quite a fascinating discussion, two would take turns speaking animatedly, while the third nodded his head, a paw touching his chin as he soaked up the information. Lachie read their lips, but thought little of the conversation.

"You two still 'aven't told me your names yet," said Bruff simply, still a little too uncomfortable to make eye contact. Goodbeasts were never seers. It wasn't right.

"My name's Lachlan Stromness, and this is my sister, Ima Fox."

"But she's an otter."

"I know."

A moment of silence passed, Bruff's brow furrowed. After a long, uncomfortable exchange of expressions, the mouse shook his head, and resumed walking.

"So, you're a Stromness? Ye must be rather wealthy."

"I like to think that, aye."

“I had no idea psychics did so well," replied Bruff, probing for information about this bizarre otter.

Lachie and Lachina responded in turns. “Most don’t.”
“Some do."
“Many try.”
“Few can.”
“I have.”

This was becoming increasingly frustrating. "Look, I'm not going to play games with you!" Bruff finally exploded. "Just tell me who burned down my home!"

---

It just so happened that the world's least tolerable beast was passing through the area as the dull sound of knife striking wood sounded nearby. Fortunately, this was not Lachie.

Tirael, on the other paw, was having quite the confusing time newly acquainting himself with some random chick who threw knives around like so much confetti. Lachie was not yet ready to go as far as to pity the healer, but were the situation to escalate to the proper degree, he thought it possible for needs be for him to step in, and by "step," I mean "wheel."

And what had Lachie been doing this entire time? Why, following Tirael, of course! Now, it is quite a difficult task, moving about in the forest stealthily in a wheelchair, but it was possible, especially when one knows most of Mossflower country like the back of his paw. Lachie actually traveled through the woods quite often, knowing that someday or another, he'll need to know the land as well, if not better than its native inhabitants. Someday, the otter would walk again, and when he did, he should know the land in which he lived. It didn't take much, though, for Lachie to learn the features of Mossflower, on account of his nearly perfect memory -- he was beyond mere photographic memory.

Now, this particular stretch was, well, particularly easy to maneuver through, as he encountered very little fallen debris. Evergreens were oh, so helpful in that respect. On the other paw, it was slightly more difficult to track Tirael.
And now comes the question, "Why track Tirael?" Simply put, Lachie needed some way to exercise his observational and deductive skills. For the fifteen seasons before this, his father would challenge him with some new test that would force the young otter to delve into his brilliant mode that allowed him to see beyond the objects that were physically present. Rather, he examined actions, purposes, and possible futures.

Alas, would he were more mature!

Lachie did hear the sound of a thud, and quickly sorted through multiple memories, focusing on the audio aspects. Within a second or two, he had concluded the noise a knife striking wood, now quivering. He felt a sense of urgency then, judging Tirael's distance to be near the place that the sound seemed to originate. Tirael didn't have any knives...

Lachie pressed forward a little more, choosing a path intended to circle around widely until it reached the area the healer was likely in, though from a different vantage point. I do believe the trees are thicker this way... though he.

Lachie had to be careful, however; he was there to observe, not interfere.

[lorki]

Oh... something was there. In a flash of movement the three black and white tipped daggers to her side disappeared away from sight. Those were certainly the weapons that often got her in trouble, as soon as a beast saw them they could either recognize her or at least know she was up to no good. Her eyes skipped back to the otter fractions of a second later. He didn't seem particularly dangerous, more frightened, but then again he had just had a knife nearly jut into him.


"Was...that...supposed to..."

She held a paw, clearly he was not a threat and she actually felt a bit guilty for scaring him so much. "No, no, I didn't see you there... Might not be the best to sulk around in the shadows like that though, otter." Her voice was flat, sincere but with a slight hiss of annoyance as well. She dropped her paws to gather up her blades and begin tucking them away.

"Uh...anyways, you are?..."

She looked up again, steel clinking together as she gathered up the various knives. She'd half expected- or perhaps hoped- that the otter would fade out just as quickly as he had faded in, but apparently not. "Hm... Sleetfang," she answered awkwardly, she was quick to step up and add in her usual sharpness to her words, "but it's generally polite to introduce yourself first, for future reference." She peered through the shade at the otter, slipping her knives away without looking, she'd done it so many times before. She watched his moves carefully, her body still and her expression blank- perhaps the smallest bit curious.

[Tirael]

"No, no, I didn't see you there... Might not be the best to sulk around in the shadows like that though, otter."

Nodding blankly, Tirael turned back to look at the knife buried in the trunk. Grasping it, he pulled it out with a sharp tug and-- okay, I'm sorry, that's a lie. Grasping it, he tried to pull it out with a sharp tug. Instead, it moved about half a centimeter and remained otherwise undisturbed. A slight frown forming on his face, the otter grabbed the handle with both paws and began pulling as hard as he could, wiggling the handle back and forth slightly as he did so. For a few seconds, it refused to budge, but after about 7.284 seconds of effort, it came loose all at once, causing Tirael to launch back a bit and bring his fists, still clasped firmly around the handle, speeding directly into Sleet's shoulder.

Fur rising as he realized he'd just hit her, the healer immediately took on a look of embarrassment and horror. "I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I didn't-" He babbled quite a bit, holding out both paws defensively; the last thing he wanted was to upset this ferret. Practically thrusting her knife back at her (handle facing her, of course), he looked away and sighed. "I'm really sorry, I've never used a dagger before..." Remembering that he didn't even remember all of his life, he amended, "That I can remember, anyway," though he did doubt that a four-year-old ottercub would have been taught how to use a blade. "Sleetfang..." he said quietly to himself, sounding out the name. Somehow, he didn't feel like it fit the ferret standing in front of him...

[lorki]

Sleet's blank expression broke into amusement as the otter tried to yank the knife out of the tree, a task she could easily achieve, walking past it with one paw. A half smile broke over her features and her head tilted sideways and suddenly her eyes grew wide and she attempted to flip sideways away from the out of control otter. Of course she moved to late and his paw, luckily not the knife he held, thudded into her shoulder.

He recoiled just as quickly as her other paw shot up to touch the spot he'd smacked. It didn't hurt particularly bad, but the suddenness of it had surprised her. "I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I didn't-" The otter babbled away, waving his paws in the air as if he was trying to wash the action away from the atmosphere. He held out her knife to her and the small smirk of amusement returned to Sleet's face as he did. "I'm really sorry, I've never used a dagger before..."


"It's a throwing knife," she corrected, "and... well I guess it was nice of you to get it for me." The otter's politeness was refreshing, she knew it may be partially out of fear- if he had no real knowledge of defending himself being sweet to the scary vermin in the woods would be the way to go. But still. she occasionally liked to think there may be some general kindness out there.... certainly none of it came from her.

"Did you manage to mention your name between shamelessly failing to pull out that knife and then punching me? I must have missed it."

[Tirael]

"It's a throwing knife," she corrected, "and... well I guess it was nice of you to get it for me."

"It would have been, at least," Tirael said ruefully, a hint of relief tinging the statement; at least Sleet didn't seem upset. In fact, he couldn't detect any hidden malice in the way she was acting, or smiling. He'd seen vermin smile, and it was one of the most unnerving things he could think of. Sleet, however, was definitely coming off as anything but vermin. Beginning to feel a bit more comfortable, he nonetheless found himself fiddling with the edge of his habit sleeve. Again. For some reason, he always did it when he talked to most creatures, though he hadn't the slightest idea why.

"Did you manage to mention your name between shamelessly failing to pull out that knife and then punching me? I must have missed it."

Wincing ever so slightly as Sleet nutshelled the portion involving the punch, the otter thought briefly before shaking his head. "No, you didn't miss it. 'It' being Tirael." Making an odd expression as he realized how bizarrely he had worded that, he added, "...weird grammar aside, that's my name. Tirael." As if that sounded any better. Holding his paw out to distract from that, he wondered what exactly prevented the clear, rational thoughts in his head from translating simply out of his mouth.

[lorki]

"It would have been, at least,"

Sleet pursed her lips together to contain a small chuckle. She nodded in agreement however, allowing her lingering suspicions of the otter to slip. Over the years Sleet had learned to sense when somebody wanted to kill her, clearly that was not currently the case. In fact even the sense of fear she'd felt like this otter had at first seemed to be fading. She reminded herself sternly that if he knew even the slightest about the metaphorical shadows where Sleet lived her life and the patterns of death that followed her he would not be acting the same... but that would always be true, she might as well enjoy it as she could.

"...weird grammar aside, that's my name. Tirael."

Maybe he was still nervous, she thought as he stumbled over his words. But the truth was the majority of creatures in this forest couldn't say a sentance right to save their lives. "Right, Tirael." She paused and glanced over him quickly, certainly not a warrior, quite likely not a traveler. Probably one of the many not-particularly-skilled beasts that huddled behind the red stone walls of the Abbey. "So Tirael, what are you doing out here? Not to offend but you don't look like much of a wanderer?

[Tirael]

"Right, Tirael."

"...yeah." He wasn't sure what she'd meant by that; it could be anything. But, he'd been told not to dwell on things like that out of concern he might miss the next thing, so he brought himself out of his thoughts in time to hear her question.

"So Tirael, what are you doing out here? Not to offend but you don't look like much of a wanderer?"

"Oh. Umm...no, I'm not," Tirael said with a slight hint of confusion. Why did nobeast ever manage to identify him by the green habit he wore? Certainly, it seemed like more proof than anything that he was an abbeydweller, as though his lack of tactical skill wasn't a sure enough sign. "I'm from Redwall...I just came out to get some...herbs...and stuff..." he trailed off. To be honest, he wasn't actually low on anything; nobeast was ever injured, and sickness was so uncommon that he felt like he didn't even have a job most of the time. These little excursions into the woods were simply a way of both breaking the monotony of sitting in the infirmary day after day, and he generally enjoyed them.

For meeting Sleet, he was finding this particular trip all the more interesting.

"And you? Besides flinging sharp objects at the foliage, what are you up to, exactly?" That sounded a bit interrogative. Great. "N-not to say you have to say, I mean, if you'd rather not..." Giving himself a mental forehead smack, Tirael simply looked at Sleet as though he wasn't quite so awkward.

[lorki]

"I'm from Redwall...I just came out to get some...herbs...and stuff..."

So She'd been right in her assumption. She tilted her head, "Redwall, huh? What are you- the tea maker or something?" She'd heard of some pretty ridiculous 'careers' coming out of that place, so she wouldn't really put it past them.

"And you? Besides flinging sharp objects at the foliage, what are you up to, exactly?"

She raised a brow at the question as he quickly covered his tracts and assured her that she could go without answering. He was tip toeing around her, she knew that, but it didn't bother her. She'd rather he tip toe than attack, a normal reaction to Sleet was all but impossible- they just didn't happen. She waved a paw at him as if to shush his nervous chattering.

She pulled back her cloak just slightly to let his see the lines of knives along her waist. "I was sharpening," she said honestly. It was sort of a half truth, she did not include that she was sharpening with the intention of running off later that night to track down a particular fox an ex-warlord blamed for his fall from grace. Nor did she include that she'd also been cleaning the blood from, not only the most resent incident, but also what was left from the ones that had come before it. Sleet knew what to leave out. She hoped this otter would make his own assumptions, be it that they may be true, rather than asking further.

She did add, in hope to guide his mind away from the worst possibilities, "I do travel, quite a bit, so these are important for me... probably just as important as your herbs are for your... well whatever you do."

[Shor]

Meanwhilst, Lachie was wheeling his way through the "path" he'd chosen. As he made his way quietly to his destination, his eyes darted hither and thither in an attempt to scan the area effectively, no detail overlooked. Nothing just yet stood out to the otter, but he--

There! It appeared that somebeast had been through the area, but then, that much was obvious what with the previous sound of knife striking a tree. Nevertheless, it was nice to confirm the theory.

"I was sharpening..." came a female voice.

Lachie finally came within earshot of the conversation that was taking place. Already, he was suspicious. Sharpening? I mean, evidently she's talking about knives, but why. . .? As he thought to himself, he approached the scene as silently as he could. He came within Tirael's line of sight at that moment, actually quite close to the scene.

Immediately, the seer began using the sight he was given, examining the area with careful... er, carefulness... He identified the female as a ferret with silver fur (weird), a slim build, a lack of half her left ear and tail, and knives. Lots of knives. . .

By the look of the depressions in the earth and grass, she'd been sitting up against a nearby tree. Lachie's gaze shifted to the tree Tirael stood closest to, marking the cut left by the flying blade. Judging the locations of both marked areas, she'd thrown the blade out of boredom as she slumped against the tree. Tirael had been walking by carelessly when the knife had struck the tree now behind him. How else would these two end up having this conversation?

Lachie's thoughts were interrupted as a speck of red caught his attention. It was nothing, really. Sunlight reflected off of a minuscule flake of scarlet clinging to a single blade of grass. It was almost dark enough to be mistaken as black or dark brown. In an unconscious effort to understand what he was so entranced by, Lachie's mind began to free-associate, flooding his consciousness with visions of what could have, did, would have, would happen. Red. . . blood. . . knives. . . hunting. . . murder. . . vermin. . . fox. . . ferret. . . Sleetfang. . . Tirael!

Lachie snapped out of his trance as the urgency of the situation hit him. The healer whom he had spoken to only days before was in a dangerous position. As long as Tirael did nothing to provoke Sleetfang, he should be fine. . . hopefully. . .

---

((*sigh* Sorry. It's not so good. Quick synopsis: Upon seeing a stray speck of blood that would have otherwise been overlooked, Lachie figured stuff out about Sleetfang (like her name and occupation and intentions), and is now within eyesight of Tirael, though not Sleet, whose back is facing him. If this works out properly, there could be a nice potential Shawn moment for Lachie. Try not to give away his position ... *sigh* I ramble...))

[Tirael]

"Redwall, huh? What are you- the tea maker or something?"

Tirael ignored the obvious jibe; life had taught him that his first impression didn't tend to impress anyone, something to do with him being short and completely non-threatening. He just assumed it was a trade-off for...something.

Whatever that 'something' was that was worth looking every bit as defenseless as he actually was, he didn't know.

"I was sharpening."

"...sharpening." He didn't have any real reason to distrust Sleet yet. After all, goodbeasts had to sharpen their blades too...but somehow, the way she said it made him uncomfortable. He was distracted, though, by the site of something unusual behind Sleet...

"I do travel, quite a bit, so these are important for me... probably just as important as your herbs are for your... well whatever you do."

Forcing himself not to look directly, Tirael tried to figure out who it was that was eavesdropping. "Uhh...yeah...oh! I'm a healer, so...yeah, the herbs would be important." Suddenly, a bolt of realization ran through him. Lachie!? What is he doing out here!? He had no idea how anybeast confined to a wheelchair was supposed to be able to move around a forest, though it wasn't his main concern now. His main concern was why Lachie would need to follow him...

[[Eh...]]

[lorki]

"...sharpening."


He must repeat things that made him uncomfortable. First it had been her name, a harsh and vicious name that was not unlike many other verminish names she had heard. The simple word sharpening implying of course that she was a weapons beast, a potential killer. He had no reason not to be uncomfortable, she reminded herself, but the little tick she'd noticed amused her... well either that or he just repeated things that started with S's.

"Uhh...yeah...oh! I'm a healer, so...yeah, the herbs would be important."

"Oh, well that's not nearly as useless as a tea maker." She said, a humorous relief in her voice. She admired healers, it was never something she'd put any effort into. That was unfortunate for a beast such as her, it seemed like every other day she had a whole new bloody beating to deal with. Sleet's methods were simple- alcohol, some to drink and some to clean the wound. Done. Luckily sickness was albeit unknown to Sleet, her immunity so built up from years in the harsh out doors not to mention the hundreds of poisons she'd handled. She'd made a point to ingest and and on many occasion nearly die to gain immunity against the toxic weapons she favored.


She looked hard at Tirael as his eyes flicked about the forest behind her. She figured, nonchalantly, that he was probably just paranoid she had a squad of killers waiting to ambush him. But her ears tilted back to listen more carefully to the forest behind her anyhow. "Do you normally make a point of stalking around the woods, maybe curious to see if one day a knife will just hit you? Of are you just looking for some good conversation with a beast such of myself? That must be easy to come by." She spoke in dry sarcasm.

[Shor]

"Uhh...yeah...oh! I'm a healer, so...yeah, the herbs would be important..."

Lachie noticed Tirael noticing him. Well, that was good; now, he wouldn't need to get his attention. He began waving his arms frantically, pointing quite animatedly to his left (though the direction wasn't really relevant). He was trying to communicate that the healer should, quite bluntly, get the heck away from the crazy psycho-ferret.

He paused a moment as he listened to Sleetfang (even holding up a paw to indicate Tirael give him a moment) as she responded to Tirael's awkwardness, which must have been a commonplace for the healer.

"Oh, well that's not nearly as useless as a tea maker."

Around the time the ferret got to the word "a," an idea sneaked its way into Lachie's head, making quite a scene as he finally noticed it being in his mind. Impulsively, he began tapping his footpaw rapidly, stopping when Sleetfang uttered the third word of the next sentence, which was when the seer realized that it might draw attention.

"Do you normally make a point of stalking around the woods, maybe curious to see if one day a knife will just hit you? Of are you just looking for some good conversation with a beast such of myself? That must be easy to come by."

... No, that was too casual a voice. Nothing revealing in the tone. He thought back to the first thing he'd heard her say. "I was sharpening..." followed by... "I do travel, quite a bit, so these are important for me..."

He mentally analyzed the voice, searching for something in the tone. He hadn't been able to study her face, so would have to focus completely on the sound. How would Lachina handle this? Living with a wealthy trade merchant who associated with goodbeast and vermin alike, he and Lachina both studied beasts carefully, Lachina as a polygraph, and Lachie simply to gather general information about them. While Lachie couldn't read voices nearly as well as Lachina, he could remember Lachina in the act. He flashed back to various incidents along the fifteen seasons Lachina had been alive. This would have normally been a tedious task, but Lachie knew he could narrow it down to anybeast whom Lachina had caught lying. It took about five seconds for Lachie's worries to be confirmed. Based on experience solely, Lachie could guess that she was a murderer. To make things worse, she was clean and practiced, which were far more treacherous than the usual thieves and murderers with only half a mind to. . . well, half a mind.

No, it wasn't solid proof, but when put together with the billions of knives she carried, the deadly accuracy with which she hit the tree (striking dead center, knife almost horizontal was pretty good for a throw born of boredom), and the small piece of dried blood stuck on the blade of grass (what hinted at her cleanliness as a killer), it all seemed to produce a rather uncomfortable feeling. Lachie wasn't completely certain, and wasn't ready to provide an argument for the matter, but. . . she was probably a murderer. Besides, she was vermin. Murder was practically in her genes, and not the denim kind.

Placing a paw to the side of his head, and raising an eyebrow (Lachie's signature gesture when preparing to divine something), Lachie looked at Tirael knowingly. He then proceeded to perform a series of pantomimes to explain to Tirael to run away, apparently to the left, before she stabbed him a lot, slit his throat, and Tirael died. Though, the slitting of the throat might not have been literal, just a way to clarify the final pantomime.

---

((Sorry 'bout the quality. Got a little difficult to explain myself.))

[Tirael]

"Oh, well that's not nearly as useless as a tea maker."

Tirael swelled up a bit with pride; Sleet didn't seem like the type who would be impressed with anybeast, and him in particular. Looking away, he scuffed a footpaw. "...thanks."

Out of the corner of his eyes, he continued to observe Lachie, who was doing some odd thing with his head. What exactly was going on!? Tirael knew that Lachie had a reputation for being random, and he had no interest in being swept along in some bizarre impulse of his. However, the sea otter seemed very intent on remaining hidden from Sleet, and he began to get the feeling that this was serious. His sheepish feeling gave way toward concern, and he had to suppress any startled looks when he realized how hard Sleet was staring at him. Ears laying back in fear, he shrank back from her a little before he realized he was, and tried immediately to regain a normal composure.

"Do you normally make a point of stalking around the woods, maybe curious to see if one day a knife will just hit you? Of are you just looking for some good conversation with a beast such of myself? That must be easy to come by."

"Easier than I'd like," he said distantly, remembering that he'd narrowly avoided trouble in these woods more than once. Eyes widening as he realized she might think he regretted meeting her, he said, "Waitwaitwait, I didn't mean it like that, I promise!..." Placing his face in one paw, he said unhappily, "I think you can tell why I avoid conversation..." Looking up at her embarrassedly, he noticed that Lachie was beginning to flail about. At least, that was what it looked like. There was something that looked like a direction to go, then...was he rolling dice?...What was that? The slitting throat was easy enough to und-

Wait, what!? Sure, Sleet was loaded with enough knives to...to...to do something we'll determine at a later juncture, but there was no indication she would kill him yet, was there? As Lachie 'died,' Tirael tried to decide what to do. Maybe Lachie could tell him! Subtly undoing the clasp on his bag's shoulder-strap, he let out a surprised "Oh!" as bag 'unexpectedly' fell, a few of its contents spewing across the loam. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, he looked directly at Lachie and gestured that he had no idea what to do. As soon as the signal was completed, he bent over and said in a 'silly-me' voice, "Looks like the clasp undid itself. It is an old bag, I guess..." and began collecting the spilled jars and scraps off the ground.

[lorki]

Sleet's gaze didn't miss the movement, her ears swung further back, listening carefully to the forest behind her. Tirael seemed to be paying a finite amount of attention to something that certainly was not her.

"Easier than I'd like,"

Sleet raised her brow before the otter shot off again into an explanation of his behavior and how he hadn't meant it that way. She only tilted her head slightly, watched his eyes more that anything else and continued her careful monitoring of the forest. Something made her uncomfortable and she was becoming just as suspicious of this otter as he was quickly becoming of her.

All of a sudden things toppled from his bag, Sleets eyes flicked downwards before catching the suspicious placement of his paw and quickly flying back just in time to catch the end of him silent motion to Lachie.

In all honestly her initial reaction was fear. Her back was pressed up against a tree, would looking behind her get her an arrow to the face? She'd seen tricky plows by bounty hunters before, but sending an (apparently) unarmed beast out to bring her into an innocent conversation wasn't one she'd seen before. It annoyed her that without any ill meaning she could still find herself in a situation such as the one she now figured to be in. She didn't let on that she understood, in fact quickly looking away as Tirael finished his communication with whatever was behind her.

"Looks like the clasp undid itself. It is an old bag, I guess..."

She'd have to test her guess, if this beast was in fact innocent and perhaps whatever behind her was just some random passerby or if it was something, she suspected, much more dangerous. As he reached for a jar that had toppled out beside where she sat her paw struck out, grabbing at the front of Tirael's habit, she held it firmly but without much actual malice violence. Waiting until his attention was fully on her she furrowed her brow and spoke in a steady calm voice, "Is there something that I might want you to tell me right now, Tirael?"

[Tirael]

Grabbing at a jar of lavender, Tirael's attention was literally pulled away from herbs as Sleet grasped his habit. Still clutching the little container, he stared fearfully at the ferret, wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into. Clearly, Lachie had been very worried; for such an irreverent creature, that evidently meant something. Maybe running would have been a good idea...

"Is there something that I might want you to tell me right now, Tirael?"

At least it wasn't a snarling, threatening tone. Still, the calm in her voice was just as frightening, and it took a good amount of discipline to not panic. "...t-that would d-depend on what sort of things you want to be told..." Well, what a perfectly stupid answer. Sleet didn't look like she was in any mood to be toyed with, but what was Tirael supposed to say? He couldn't lie, that much was obvious. He was a terrible liar, always had been and always would be. But he didn't want to reveal Lachie's existence to a creature that not only had more knives than a professional kitchen, but perfectly functioning legs as well.

"I-I-I don't have any harmful intentions, if that's what you mean," he said in an attempt to placate Sleet. It was the truth, and he poured as much sincerity into it as he could, despite the initial stutter. "Besides, I honestly doubt I even could..." It was a rather pitiful sort of diplomacy, but hey, sometimes pity works, right?

Glancing down at his chest, he said quietly, "You can let go of my habit now."

[[Bleh.]]

[lorki]

"...t-that would d-depend on what sort of things you want to be told..."

The scowl turned quickly to a snarl, bright fangs clearly visible.

"I-I-I don't have any harmful intentions, if that's what you mean,"

It didn't seem like a lie, but Sleet knew better. Her grip tightened on the fabric in her paw.

"Besides, I honestly doubt I even could..."

She doubted it too... The snarl faded a bit but she kept her rigid stance. This otter looked scared, he was stuttering and without much fight. Not only that but nothing had immediately attacked her (she had planned on using Tirael to shield from a possible rush or an arrow.) All of this pointed to the idea that he was being honest... or at least partially so.

"You can let go of my habit now."

"No," She answered shortly, the same calm growl in her voice. She angled her other arm back against the tree and carefully pushed herself up. keeping her body in line with the tree and also keeping a firm hold on Tirael. In one quick movement she stepped forward and swung her paw holding Tirael in front of her so that he could block her from any possible attack.

Behind him was... a wheelchair bound otter? A smile cracked across Sleet's face. Not a small half amused smile, but a wide downright happy smile. Not only was she safe, not about to fight for her life, but the thing she'd been so fearful of... was an otter on wheels!

She tried to keep it down but finally a giggle broke through her clenched fangs, "You... heh, you didn't... hehehe... want to tell me that... hah... he was behind me?" she looked back at Tirael, grinning widely. "aha...what did you think I'd do? Hehehehe, kill him? Kill you?"

Her speech broke and she began laughing uncontrollably. Mostly out of relief, generally whens eh thought she was going to have a problem she did. Partially out of pure amusement that this entire altercation had even taken place. She still clung to Tirael's habit, now using it as a means to keep herself from falling to the ground with laughter. "I'm sorry," she managed in between giggles, "I'm sorry but that is so funny...hahah... really?" and then she was off chuckling again.

[Shor]

Lachie rolled his eyes as Tirael pretended to accidentally drop the bag. "Oh!" That almost brought a laugh. The seer flinched when Tirael looked directly at him. That was dangerous.

So, the healer clearly didn't quite understand. Lachie began to attempt to communicate more clearly, but Sleetfang had already grabbed Tir's habit. She was suspicious now, and Lachie shook his head sadly as the predictable series of events followed. The ferret spun around, hoping to use Tirael as a shield, noticed Lachie, and began laughing. Lachie sighed. One didn't get as much respect without the ability to walk.

In all honesty, Lachie did not have any reason to believe the ferret would kill Tirael. No, as a matter of fact, it was quite unlikely considering Tirael posed little or no threat -- most likely the latter. Nevertheless, she was a killer, and beasts generally leaned toward avoiding such creatures -- at least, that's how it worked back in the day. What was the world coming to? . . .

"You were going to use Tirael as a shield? Really?" he asked with a hint of disappointment in Sleet. He wheeled closer to the two, running over one of Sleet's blades in the process. He thought nothing of it at the time; his main concern was Sleet. Had he seen her before? . . .

---

((Well known as she is, I figure Lachie would have heard something about her.))

[Tirael]

Tirael felt his stomach twisting rather unpleasantly as Sleet levered herself up. He'd never felt this endangered, considering he'd always kept a wide berth from potential threats. Sure, that made his little excursions a little less likely to gain him friends, but it also kept him from situations like this. He was also reminded of why he had a tunic for when he was out of Redwall. Aside from branding him as a defenseless abbeydweller, it was also much harder to hold on to...

It was difficult to continue feeling scared, however, as he realized what Sleet was doing. Her knives stayed sheathed; apparently, he was just going to be a shield. Considering that he was "defending" her from Lachie's "wrath," he wilted slightly and rolled his eyes. This should be embarrassing. As he was swung around to block non-existent arrows, spears, and rockets, he gave his friend a little, awkward wave.

Sleet's fit of hysterical laughter didn't improve his mood much. For one thing, she still hadn't let go of him, so he was forced to bend slightly as she stooped. It also made him feel like an idiot, though that wasn't hard to do.

Good times.

"You were going to use Tirael as a shield? Really?"

"Looks like it," Tirael muttered. Turning to Sleet, he said, "Really, you can let me go now." Just as long as Lachie didn't go blabbing about this to everybeast in Redwall, he might just save some face. Might.

[[Bleh. I blame this bad post on Shor, Grace, and cattle prods.]]