Chapter Three
        It was interesting, that Bullthrush's light-hearted teasing could prove so accurate.
What it came down to in some ways, was that Brand and Browntip where, in some ways, in very similar circumstances. Brand had learned to read a beast pretty well, and he was very sure that Browntip had lost something. He finally decided to ask her what.
It was in the messhall one evening. Most of the beasts there where quite a ways into their meal. Brand was sitting beside Browntip, and he waited until a moment when their conversation had slackened off.
"Browntip, what is it that you've lost?"
The brownish-beige otter stared at him blankly.
"Have I lost something?"
Brand considered how to clarify the issue.
"Perhaps the question should be have you lost someone?"
Browntip looked at him, and her eyes narrowed in anger.
"How do you know about that?" She demanded.
"I'm supposed to be able to read other beasts. I'm pretty you've lost someone or something important to you."
She looked at him for some time before speaking. When she spoke however, her voice was well-controlled.
"Three someone's actually. A group of friends."
"A group of friends? Who were they?"
"Basically, they where my three friends. My three true friends. I've known others as acquitances but they weren't quite on the level of these three."
        "Perhaps you could refer to these three as your best friends."
        She looked at him and nodded.
        "All right, my best friends then, if that's the term that you want to use."
        "How did they die?"
        Browntip's composure started to slip.
        "Well, as far as I know, only one of them is dead. But the other two are pretty well lost. The one I know was killed was killed in the invasion, the other two, well, one was tossed out of this place after being crippled in an accident. I don't know if she's alive or not. As for the other one, that one at least escaped."
        "Escaped?"
        "Ronscazar sometimes sends fishing expeditions to the river. One of the few mistakes he ever made was letting squirrels on the expedition. They're in their element out in the woods. My friend and a few others dashed up some trees, all I know is that later they started shooting at some of Ronscazar's soldiers, so they're no longer considered just escaped slaves. I really don't think they'll last long."
        Brand gazed at Browntip.
        "That's a sad story, Browntip."
        "Not as sad as yours. At least my dad and a few of my lesser friends are still alive."
        "But my family is still alive."
        Browntip looked up at him with a slightly challenging expression.
        "Are they? How do you know? And if they are, what difference does it make to you? You don't know who they are, or where they are."
        A combination of sadness and anger welled up in Brand. Browntip's expression softened slightly.
        "Sorry. I didn't mean to crush you."
        Brand fought back against the threat of tears.
        "You didn't crush me, you only hurt me a little."
        "I'm not trying to brag, but I think I'm an important enough part of your life right now for that to have hurt you quite a bit."
        Brand looked at her.
        "I should apologize as well. For bringing back memories."
        Browntip's response took him by surprise.
        "Why? It actually felt good to talk about it for a change. Friend."
        Brand smiled.
        "Okay, friend, would you mind shifting your muzzle away from my nose just a touch?"
       
Brand and Browntip grew rather fond of each other as spring progressed. They sat together at many meals, and Brand even began to find her garlic-breath somewhat pleasant though he still preffered her breath after she had chewed some mint leaf.
What Brand did discover about Browntip was that she was good at finding humour in things-including herself. She was also fiercely intelligent and slightly erratic. It was her tendency to tease that made Brand wonder about one incident, however.
        Brand was walking back to his cell one night when Browntip fell in beside him. That sometimes happened, but tonight she did something rather different. When Brand reached his cell, Browntip suddenly kissed him on the cheek.
        "See you tomorrow, Brand." She said as she walked of down the corridor.
        Brand stared after her dumbfoundedly. He furiously blushed then he felt a rising anger. Was this all a joke? Another one of her tricks? If so, he though, it was a cruel one.
        He related the incident to Galon that night. Galon seemed to be a bit older than Brand, though Brand really wasn't all that sure exactly how old he was. The dark-furred otter's eyes widened.
        "She kissed you? She never kisses anyone!"
        "So do you think she was teasing me?"
        "I really don't know Brand, she's a little erratic. I sort of doubt it though."
        The dark otter grinned and added.
        "Maybe she likes you."
        "Galon, you're a friend, and this is rather important to me."
        Galon sighed.
        "I'm afraid you're a bit out of my league mate. Sorry."
        The dark otter closed his eyes.
        "Oh, and get some sleep. It will help."
Brand lay awake for quite some time as he mulled things over in his mind. Finally, the big otter lapsed into sleep.
        It was the next morning that Brand's position began a drastic shift. For almost a season, he had kept himself somewhat well controlled. But on that day his temper broke, and the effects where violent.
        Beasts who where there had trouble remembering what the incident was about, but the effect of the incident stuck.
        Brand tackled Gultur, knocking the burly ferret off his feet. The Task Leader gave a shout of alarm, then he thudded against the stones of the parade ground. Brand attacked savagely, but Gultur retaliated. The two combatants rolled across the rough stones of the parade ground, clawing and biting.
        Brand sank his teeth into Gultur's ear, then he jerked his head up. The ferret screeched and clutched his ruined ear. Brand seized the opening, but Gultur kept up the fight. The big otter grappled with the ferret a little more but guards moved in and beat him with spear poles. Gultur made a fast exit from the area, but the squad of guards that had beaten Brand just stepped back a little.
        Brand twisted around. Behind him stood a group of guards armed with crossbows. He twisted back forward and waited tensely, not making any fast changes in stance. Finally, after several minutes, a major authority figure did arrive.
        Ronscazar surveyed the scene with a rather impassive looking gaze. Gultur returned in a rage.
"Permission to kill this blasted riverdog, my lord?"
        "Denied." The fox looked at Brand. "Put him in one of the cells. I'll figure out what to do about him later."
        "And make it one of the really slimey cells without a window!" Gultur added. He wilted under Ronscazar's gaze, but the fox took no retaliatory action. Ronscazar left with his guard of stoats in following.
        An officer signalled. A large group of spear armed guards who had arrived on scene moved towards Brand.
"On all fours, riverdog. Don't try any funny business."
        As the guards herded Brand back into the Stronghold, Gultur moved his head in close to Brand's ear.
"You'd better not like anyone here to much, Otter, or they'll hurt for this."
The guards marched Brand back to the slave's cells, but this time they did not stop at Brand and Galon's usual cell. They continued down to the very last cell, which had no window, and was poorly maintained.
        The heavy door of the cell slammed shut and there was the click of a lock. Brand sat on the bench and gazed into almost complete darkness. The next few hours where tense as he waited for someone to come and announce his fate.
***
        Most of the slaves where in their cells for the night as Gultur walked down a corridor towards the cells. He was very, very mad. He would have revenge on the otter for his ear! And no beast would stop him!
        The guards at alcove near the entrance to the dungeons saluted, but they barred Gultur's path.
        "What's your business here, Task Leader?"
        The two guards had been part of the squad that had helped beat off Brand. Gultur had checked the roster and recognized their names. He showed the guards a flask of wine.
        "Figured I ought to reward you boys for helpin' me out there. This is damson wine. Though you might like it."
        The two guards eyed the bottle greedily. One of the guards snatched it and took a swig.
        "Thank you sir! It's very good!"
        "Well, you did a good job out there. You deserve it."
        Gultur walked off. In about an hour the guards would be fast asleep from what had been in the wine. Gultur would smash some bottles of drink and make it look like they had drunk themselves into insensibility. Then he would take his revenge on the Otter.
***
        It was late night when Gultur came creeping down the corridor to the deepest cells. He had the keys to the cells in one paw and a torch in the other. He opened the door to the otter's cell, it creaked loudly, but the creature on the bench hardly stirred. Gultur smiled. He clipped the keys onto his belt, laid down the torch, and drew the long blade on his back. Then, with the sword raised yet point down, he stood over the otter, ready to deal out a horrible punishment.
        It was interesting, that Bullthrush's light-hearted teasing could prove so accurate.
What it came down to in some ways, was that Brand and Browntip where, in some ways, in very similar circumstances. Brand had learned to read a beast pretty well, and he was very sure that Browntip had lost something. He finally decided to ask her what.
It was in the messhall one evening. Most of the beasts there where quite a ways into their meal. Brand was sitting beside Browntip, and he waited until a moment when their conversation had slackened off.
"Browntip, what is it that you've lost?"
The brownish-beige otter stared at him blankly.
"Have I lost something?"
Brand considered how to clarify the issue.
"Perhaps the question should be have you lost someone?"
Browntip looked at him, and her eyes narrowed in anger.
"How do you know about that?" She demanded.
"I'm supposed to be able to read other beasts. I'm pretty you've lost someone or something important to you."
She looked at him for some time before speaking. When she spoke however, her voice was well-controlled.
"Three someone's actually. A group of friends."
"A group of friends? Who were they?"
"Basically, they where my three friends. My three true friends. I've known others as acquitances but they weren't quite on the level of these three."
        "Perhaps you could refer to these three as your best friends."
        She looked at him and nodded.
        "All right, my best friends then, if that's the term that you want to use."
        "How did they die?"
        Browntip's composure started to slip.
        "Well, as far as I know, only one of them is dead. But the other two are pretty well lost. The one I know was killed was killed in the invasion, the other two, well, one was tossed out of this place after being crippled in an accident. I don't know if she's alive or not. As for the other one, that one at least escaped."
        "Escaped?"
        "Ronscazar sometimes sends fishing expeditions to the river. One of the few mistakes he ever made was letting squirrels on the expedition. They're in their element out in the woods. My friend and a few others dashed up some trees, all I know is that later they started shooting at some of Ronscazar's soldiers, so they're no longer considered just escaped slaves. I really don't think they'll last long."
        Brand gazed at Browntip.
        "That's a sad story, Browntip."
        "Not as sad as yours. At least my dad and a few of my lesser friends are still alive."
        "But my family is still alive."
        Browntip looked up at him with a slightly challenging expression.
        "Are they? How do you know? And if they are, what difference does it make to you? You don't know who they are, or where they are."
        A combination of sadness and anger welled up in Brand. Browntip's expression softened slightly.
        "Sorry. I didn't mean to crush you."
        Brand fought back against the threat of tears.
        "You didn't crush me, you only hurt me a little."
        "I'm not trying to brag, but I think I'm an important enough part of your life right now for that to have hurt you quite a bit."
        Brand looked at her.
        "I should apologize as well. For bringing back memories."
        Browntip's response took him by surprise.
        "Why? It actually felt good to talk about it for a change. Friend."
        Brand smiled.
        "Okay, friend, would you mind shifting your muzzle away from my nose just a touch?"
       
Brand and Browntip grew rather fond of each other as spring progressed. They sat together at many meals, and Brand even began to find her garlic-breath somewhat pleasant though he still preffered her breath after she had chewed some mint leaf.
What Brand did discover about Browntip was that she was good at finding humour in things-including herself. She was also fiercely intelligent and slightly erratic. It was her tendency to tease that made Brand wonder about one incident, however.
        Brand was walking back to his cell one night when Browntip fell in beside him. That sometimes happened, but tonight she did something rather different. When Brand reached his cell, Browntip suddenly kissed him on the cheek.
        "See you tomorrow, Brand." She said as she walked of down the corridor.
        Brand stared after her dumbfoundedly. He furiously blushed then he felt a rising anger. Was this all a joke? Another one of her tricks? If so, he though, it was a cruel one.
        He related the incident to Galon that night. Galon seemed to be a bit older than Brand, though Brand really wasn't all that sure exactly how old he was. The dark-furred otter's eyes widened.
        "She kissed you? She never kisses anyone!"
        "So do you think she was teasing me?"
        "I really don't know Brand, she's a little erratic. I sort of doubt it though."
        The dark otter grinned and added.
        "Maybe she likes you."
        "Galon, you're a friend, and this is rather important to me."
        Galon sighed.
        "I'm afraid you're a bit out of my league mate. Sorry."
        The dark otter closed his eyes.
        "Oh, and get some sleep. It will help."
Brand lay awake for quite some time as he mulled things over in his mind. Finally, the big otter lapsed into sleep.
        It was the next morning that Brand's position began a drastic shift. For almost a season, he had kept himself somewhat well controlled. But on that day his temper broke, and the effects where violent.
        Beasts who where there had trouble remembering what the incident was about, but the effect of the incident stuck.
        Brand tackled Gultur, knocking the burly ferret off his feet. The Task Leader gave a shout of alarm, then he thudded against the stones of the parade ground. Brand attacked savagely, but Gultur retaliated. The two combatants rolled across the rough stones of the parade ground, clawing and biting.
        Brand sank his teeth into Gultur's ear, then he jerked his head up. The ferret screeched and clutched his ruined ear. Brand seized the opening, but Gultur kept up the fight. The big otter grappled with the ferret a little more but guards moved in and beat him with spear poles. Gultur made a fast exit from the area, but the squad of guards that had beaten Brand just stepped back a little.
        Brand twisted around. Behind him stood a group of guards armed with crossbows. He twisted back forward and waited tensely, not making any fast changes in stance. Finally, after several minutes, a major authority figure did arrive.
        Ronscazar surveyed the scene with a rather impassive looking gaze. Gultur returned in a rage.
"Permission to kill this blasted riverdog, my lord?"
        "Denied." The fox looked at Brand. "Put him in one of the cells. I'll figure out what to do about him later."
        "And make it one of the really slimey cells without a window!" Gultur added. He wilted under Ronscazar's gaze, but the fox took no retaliatory action. Ronscazar left with his guard of stoats in following.
        An officer signalled. A large group of spear armed guards who had arrived on scene moved towards Brand.
"On all fours, riverdog. Don't try any funny business."
        As the guards herded Brand back into the Stronghold, Gultur moved his head in close to Brand's ear.
"You'd better not like anyone here to much, Otter, or they'll hurt for this."
The guards marched Brand back to the slave's cells, but this time they did not stop at Brand and Galon's usual cell. They continued down to the very last cell, which had no window, and was poorly maintained.
        The heavy door of the cell slammed shut and there was the click of a lock. Brand sat on the bench and gazed into almost complete darkness. The next few hours where tense as he waited for someone to come and announce his fate.
***
        Most of the slaves where in their cells for the night as Gultur walked down a corridor towards the cells. He was very, very mad. He would have revenge on the otter for his ear! And no beast would stop him!
        The guards at alcove near the entrance to the dungeons saluted, but they barred Gultur's path.
        "What's your business here, Task Leader?"
        The two guards had been part of the squad that had helped beat off Brand. Gultur had checked the roster and recognized their names. He showed the guards a flask of wine.
        "Figured I ought to reward you boys for helpin' me out there. This is damson wine. Though you might like it."
        The two guards eyed the bottle greedily. One of the guards snatched it and took a swig.
        "Thank you sir! It's very good!"
        "Well, you did a good job out there. You deserve it."
        Gultur walked off. In about an hour the guards would be fast asleep from what had been in the wine. Gultur would smash some bottles of drink and make it look like they had drunk themselves into insensibility. Then he would take his revenge on the Otter.
***
        It was late night when Gultur came creeping down the corridor to the deepest cells. He had the keys to the cells in one paw and a torch in the other. He opened the door to the otter's cell, it creaked loudly, but the creature on the bench hardly stirred. Gultur smiled. He clipped the keys onto his belt, laid down the torch, and drew the long blade on his back. Then, with the sword raised yet point down, he stood over the otter, ready to deal out a horrible punishment.
I don't lack a life. I lack nine lives. -Darthtabby
