To Keep Fur 'n' Bone Together

[catseye]

[[ For Lorna, Tirael :D ]]

Kortu Catseye was cold, hungry, and lost. None of this was new to the thin rat, however. He'd been lost since last season, and hunger was a constant companion to a former corsair with little knowledge of woodlands. And as for cold... well, the nippy fall weather of Mossflower was nothing compared to the grim bone-gnawing chill of the northern mountains. Still, this knowledge did not prevent Catseye from shivering in his once-elegant frock coat as the sharp-edged breeze hinted of winter soon to come.

The ex-pirate trudged wearily on, one calculating yellow eye on the sky as it slowly darkened with the approach of evening. He'd hoped to find shelter and a little food before night fall, but it was beginning to look like a lost cause. Suddenly, his right footpaw sank with an unpleasant squelch and Kortu sprang back with alacrity. He watched as the imprint slowly filled with brackish water and looked across at the territory he had been about to stray into. Marshland.

Foolish--not watching where he was going--he could have sunk without a trace! Urgh. Catseye shuddered, his dark fur going fluffy at the unpleasant thought, and gingerly picked his way back to the old, faded track he had been following. Scouting about, he found a half-fallen tree trunk that would do well enough for a brief resting place and flopped down in the rich brown loam with a tired sigh. He was so weary that he couldn't concern himself with the slightly damp dirt that would undoubtedly stick to his coat. He hadn't slept since the day before, nor had he eaten, and it was showing, both in his actions and in his lean face. Kortu rummaged half-heartedly in his sack, knowing he had nothing but a bit of water, which he drank, reserving a drop to bathe his eyes. It was amazing, he thought to himself, the complete lack of travelers and life in general in a land most touted as soft and bountiful.

"Bountiful, hah! Hellsteeth," he swore to himself, yellow eyes narrowing in distaste.

[Eastpaw]

"Bountiful, hah! Hellsteeth."

"You are foolish." Spoke a voice from up and to the right, the owner was a lithe fox perched casually in the broad fork of a tree. She aimed carefully and threw a crust of bread to bounce off the head of the rat.

Almost conversationally the fox continued, but her sharp eyes and ears missed nothing. "As soon as the light began to slip towards the horizon you should have stopped and scouted a good place to stay and adequate food."

She waved her paw as if brushing something away. "It gets darker faster in the woods than the open sea."

[Tirael]

Tirael was lost. There really was no other way to put it; he had been wandering for over a day now and still hadn't found the path. Picking his way over a mossy outcrop, he remembered his narrow escape from the snake. He felt himself enveloped in fear as he thought of the slithering, rustling coils, the slick scales, the sinister hissing voice, those horrific eyes...he had never run so quickly in his life. Trying to forget the encounter, he hummed snatches of whatever songs he knew. The melody was muffled by the swamps, turning it into a lonesome sound more eerie than the dark marshland he was in. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he looked ahead and saw something-

"The path!" Joy flooded the otter's mind and body as he stumbled to the relatively safe-looking strip of dust and loam. Hugging himself in pure and utter relief, he closed his eyes and allowed the temporary feeling of security to calm him. Temporary because, upon opening his eyes, he looked up and found himself directly between a fox and a rat. His insides turned icy cold with fear, and he froze with widened eyes staring at the rat. Though his mind screamed at his body to move, his paws remained firmly planted on the path, as though they were too fond of it to leave. He couldn't even twitch his rudder; he simply stood as stock-still as the trees of the forest.

[catseye]

Kortu swore again, a little more foully, as a voice drifted down unexpectedly, followed by a crust of bread, which he caught deftly as it bounced off his hat, and (after a brief inspection to make sure it wasn't poisoned) wolfed it down. Ah, a little better... He gazed up to his right to meet the eyes of the slender fox who had been so kind as to toss him the crust, his eyes glinting warily in the dying light. She was a pretty thing, in the way a deadly dagger in the hands of a professional killer might be called pretty. There was something of the corsair about her, but it might have just been the earrings, which any gypsy might wear.

"Aye, well..." the rat responded reluctantly, "that was th' plan." Although, it had been food first, then shelter. Perhaps that's where he'd gone wrong.

"It gets darker faster in the woods than the open sea." Catseye shook his head in wry amusement mixed with a touch of irritation, and muttered, "I knows that, after wand'rin' these woodlands like an addled duck fer a season or so."

Their friendly little chat was soon cut short, first by a faint cry of "The path!" at which Kortu perked his ears in surprise, and then by a sturdy-looking young otter who stumbled onto the path out of the gloom, an expression of what appeared to be relief quickly transforming into fright at the sight of two vermin.

"Well, ain't there a wealth o' creatures out and about alluva sudden," Catseye drawled sardonically, though a twitch of his tail betrayed his nervousness. And to think, mere moments ago the rat had believed the region to be utterly devoid of life!

[Eastpaw]

"Aye, well..." the rat responded reluctantly, "that was th' plan."

Lorna flicked her ears to show her opinion of his execution of the plan and finished the bread she held in her paws. Leaping nimbly down from her perch, she flicked her tail and set about gathering firewood.

"I knows that, after wand'rin' these woodlands like an addled duck fer a season or so."

“Hard to tell, t’way you were bumbling about like a drunk badger.” Lorna muttered sarcastically, dumping the wood gathered by the fallen tree. “Since you’re occupying my campspace, can you start a fire?” Her skeptical tone led to the interpretation that she doubted he could without burning the forest around their ears.

"The path!"

Lorna dropped the dead branch in her paw and turned back to the path. She smiled pleasantly at the young otter. “Lost, were you, young’un?” She recognized him, from the barn, a week or so ago. He hopefully wouldn’t recognize her, her being in the dark loft the entire time.

"Well, ain't there a wealth o' creatures out and about alluva sudden."

Lorna flicked her ears quickly in acknowledgment of the corsair’s comment.

[Tirael]

“Lost, were you, young’un?”

Lorna was lucky; Tirael didn't recognize her face, though her voice was disturbingly familiar. At first he just thought the way she spoke reminded him of the snake; the connection was enough to make him take a step back. "No..." Mentally going over the situation, he realized with a mental groan that getting out of this wouldn't be as easy as running from the snake. No, this would require more thought, though he decided firmly in his head he wasn't going to end up their slave or something. As he began plotting, the wires in his head connected, and he remembered who the fox was.

"Oh, it's you." He said the last word with disgust, remembering her snide attitude. Oddly, the contempt he felt eclipsed some of his fear, and he began to feel more confident about getting out of this alive.

[catseye]

“Hard to tell, t’way you were bumbling about like a drunk badger.”

At that snide remark, the thin rat's ears flicked with the beginning traces of irritation. "Yes, well, Mossflow'r in late fall isn't exactly the same thing as Mossflower in high summer," he grumbled, half-forgetting his corsair accent as his flighty temper got the better of him.

“Since you’re occupying my campspace, can you start a fire?” This question, however, Catseye deigned not to answer at all, biting back his own sarcastic response with a scowl ("'Course I can, wot sorta galley cook would I be... could start a fire in th' teeth of a gale wid only 'arf a paw... don't care much for yer campfire technique, dumpin' that wood down like it was pick-up sticks..."), which was probably a good thing considering his current condition. It wouldn't do to try and pick a fight with a sleek, healthy looking fox when one felt (and probably looked) like a wilting weed. Instead, the ex-corsair snorted and fished out a bit of flint, and crouching over the pile of wood (which he rather fastidiously rearranged to be more efficient), soon had a little fire going.

Sitting back on his haunches, with the fire beginning to warm him, Catseye peered curiously at the tense young otter, a slow grin exposing fang tips at the expression on his face. "We ain't gonna eatcher, y'know," he said quietly as the otter took a pace back. He wasn't that hungry, after all.

But no; perhaps the otter had stepped back for a reason other than fear, going by how he seemed to recognize Lorna. The skinny rat kept quiet, yellow eyes reflecting the cheerful light of the fire so that they seemed to glow. The first thought to enter the bloody-minded rat's brain was, is there going to be a fight? The hostility in the otter's voice was hard to miss. But some of the tenseness in the otter had faded slightly. Catseye shrugged mentally and pulled his coat closer around him. Fight or not, either way, it didn't matter, as long as he didn't get pulled into it.