Homing in on Friends (open)

[Keleanth Windspiral]

A low whistling whipped through the tall grass of the meadow, chasing the breeze that preceded it. It was enough to cause birds to lift their heads and take notice, but not enough to push them into the frantic flight that signaled danger. That was reserved for the appearance of the beast that had been the source of the sound.

The otter looked up with as she heard the thunder of wings, pausing in mid-step to watch the sparrows take flight. The whistling died away under the sound, and she gently lowered her footpaw to the ground in front of her. While she meant the birds no harm, she didn't need their companionship either. No, let them go. With the sun nearing the horizon they'd be needing to find a roosting place anyhow. Thorn sighed, then looked at the sun before continuing on. She needed to find her own place to roost for the night.

She didn't stop until she reached the point where Pearl Meadow met the Jade Forest. By this point the sun had nearly disappeared, making it slightly more difficult to see where she was going. The mahogany-furred beast set her pack down with a sigh, then let her staff rest beside it. She looked around, then stretched from head to tail-tip before allowing herself to sit down. Thorn knew where she was now. If she really pushed herself she could make it to the portcullis of Emerald Bay tonight, but why bother? She was safe enough here, and the weather was mild. She might as well enjoy one final night alone before reaching her destination.

One paw began to rummage through her pack in search of the food she'd stowed inside. She pulled out a small wrapped package, then lifted an eyebrow. It was a good thing she would reach the fort tomorrow. Her supplies were running low, and while she could live off of the land here and there, it wasn't her preference these days. Brown eyes again lifted to the sky as the otter began to eat, taking in the sun's final rays. She would rest here tonight, and move out again in the morning.

It had been a long time since Thorn had seen her friend Brooke. While she didn't think she had changed, the otter had to wonder about her friend. Commanding a military fort was a big job, and though Brooke had a mate and commanding officer to stand beside her, it was bound to take its toll. Then again, this was Brooke. A smile crept onto Thorn's muzzle as she shook her head. Her friend had an indomitable spirit, and never failed to be optimistic. Surely she'd find her in perfectly good health.

After a quick meal the riverbeast pulled out her cloak and spread it over the grass. Her pack was set out to use as a pillow, and her staff and dagger were placed close to paw. She settled herself down on the cloak and folded her paws beneath her head. The stars were out now. A stray thought, something told to her once by her father, floated through her mind.

"Watch the stars...an' they'll always bring you 'ome," she muttered. Home. Right. She had no home these days. This place, with her friends Brooke and Moontouch, was the closest thing to home she had left. Maybe that was why, when all else failed, she felt her footpaws turning towards the south. Another smile floated across her muzzle, then Thorn let her eyes slowly close as her mind wandered towards sleep.

[Bowen Lark]

ooc: I hope this is alright Kel. For ol' times sake?

Home.

And yet not. The unparalleled beauty of the South welcomed him with the bask of summer warmth and growth. Flowers and tiny budding fruits were equally dispersed along riverbanks and foot trails, and the weather remained a long memory of bright sun and blue skies. It was enough to stir a bard's muse into song.

Still, the languorous clime was hard-put to shift a horde of dark memories from Severin Beck's mind. His gaze was bleak, the colour of storm clouds on a distant horizon. His thoughts drifted in the same scattered direction that the black otter had employed on his wanderings – no purpose, no destination, only the passionless thrum of marching paws. Every step or so the bracket clutching his left knee creaked, briefly returning the knight's attention to the trail. A flash of sunlight through the trees glanced across his eyes; Severin paused and shielded his face with a hand, squinting as he made out the tall spires of Fort Emerald Bay in the distance.

This was a home and not a home, just as the otter was the same and yet changed. At thirty-five, he was approaching the planes of middle years, yet still retained the same sinewy form and lithe muscle from his youth. Veins of premature silver coursed through Severin's short-cropped headfur, branching out from his temples, splitting the tuft of beard on his chin. His face and muzzle were sculpted of sharp planes and arches, making the otter appear austere even in leisure. The knight wore the same onyx-pommeled sword and dagger that he had for twenty years, adding only a signet ring bearing the Beck family crest to his possessions. The knight's clothing was well-made and tailored, an indulgence he was fond of. He carried a belt-satchel of coin and papers, and a larger haversack of supplies, disdaining any sort of transport on his journey to the fort.

Giving his head a savage twist, Severin broke off from ruminating and quickened his pace from lackadaisical stroll to a ground-eating march. The bracket on his knee, a contraption of leather straps, magnets, and steel, kept the old wound from aching any deeper than a slight twinge. It hindered his riding enough for Severin to have made the decision to keep Lady Night boarded with an old friend. He missed the mare's company, but using her like some pack mule rankled the knight's dignity. It was better that he go alone, unburdened, and return to the place that had housed him after Glennkara's destruction. How much has changed?

How much have you changed?

Severin sneered at his reflection in the river, and tugged at the high collar of his white gambeson. The approaching dusk had cooled the air enough for the otter to shrug into a light leather jacket, hiding his dagger from view. Caught in thought, the otter had failed to notice the forest thinning and giving way to the meadows. The sun had vanished too, leaving enough light for Severin to see that gaining the fort would not be happening until the morrow. He swore beneath his breath – dazzling as the landscape was, the South was still home to all matter of villainy. A scatterbrained traveler wandering the meadows at night was an easy target.

The otter turned from the meadows and went up the nearest rise, putting the river to his back. He put his pack against a rock and settled down to lean against it, retrieving a flagon from the pack's depths. Mulled ale soon spiced his tongue and sent a tendril of warm gold into his belly. Heedless of any presence nearby, Severin produced an apple from the haversack and bit into it with a satisfying crunch.

[Keleanth Windspiral]

OOC: By all means!

Sleep temporarily eluded the road weary otter, try as she might. So she settled for keeping her eyes closed, opening her ears, and letting her mind drift. It started with thoughts of the fort, and her last stay within her walls, then moved back to the ever-present commanders, Brooke Briar and her mate, Rockpaw Steeleye. Rockpaw. Now that was a beast Thorn had not missed. While she was glad he made her friend happy, and she knew he had a good paw when it came to running the fort, he and Thorn had never seen eye-to-eye.

Then again, she didn't see eye-to-eye with most beasts these days. Thorn shifted quietly on her cloak to find a more comfortable position, then opened her eyes. She stared blankly up at the darkening sky as she dwelled upon her own outlook on the world. She had very few she called friend. In fact, she might be down to Brooke and Moontouch, as she hadn't see her other friends in several seasons. There were more beasts she considered acquaintances that could be semi-trustworthy, but where did that leave her? She could open herself up...make an effort to be warmer and friendly. She doubted that would happen though. How could she do that when she feared the pain it could bring?

A subtle sigh escaped the resting riverbeast and she let her eyes close again. Better not to dwell on that right now or she'd never get any sleep. Doing her best to stop the train of thoughts dead in its tracks, she instead focused on the sounds of the night around her. Crickets chirped their songs to one another across the gently waving blades of grass. Birds had settled into the trees with quiet rustling of wings and feathers. The breeze whistled its gentle lullaby as it brushed over the meadow and headed north, towards the river. And last, but not least, the solid crunch of someone biting into a ripe apple.

Wait a minute.

Apple?

Thorn's eyes snapped open and her paw slid across her cloak towards her dagger as she realized she was no longer alone on the meadow. It seemed whoever was out there had yet to make the same realization about her. Maybe she could get the drop on them. The otter rolled very slowly off of her cloak and onto all fours, making sure to stay low in the tall grass. Her staff would be too cumbersome for close combat, so she left it, along with her cloak and pack, as she began to ease forward. She'd have to make do with her dagger and the sling wrapped around her waist if it came to a sudden fight.

Each paw was placed with the utmost care as the otter practically slithered towards the source of the crunching. Her brown eyes scanned the area as she moved, watching for guards or beasts keeping watch for a larger group. It seemed unlikely, but she wasn't about to allow herself to be taken by surprise again. The tall grass offered little enough in the way of shelter or camouflage, but she'd made do with worse. It took some time, but she finally stopped, sensing she was close to whomever was enjoying their late evening snack. Here she waited, weighing her options as she held perfectly still.

There was the choice to rush the beast ahead of her and hope that she could overcome them simply due to the surprise advantage. Still, she would prefer to know who or what her opponent could be before making the attack. Thorn knew that the fort sent out patrols to cover the lands around its walls day and night, but that didn't mean such a patrol would be within hailing distance should she have need of assistance. No, better to circle around and see if she could catch a glimpse of this creature first. With that decided she started to slide forward again, this time drawing up in the direction of Severin's left side and slightly behind him.

Unfortunately fate decided to work against her this time. Her paw landed on an unsteady pebble and twisted unceremoniously, causing her to drop onto her chest with a thud. 'Gates! The otter rolled and leapt back onto all fours, then crouched with her dagger held in one paw. Let the other beast come to her then, since they had to know she was here by now. If they were a friendly creature then this would all be a big misunderstanding. If not...well, they'd find she was well-prepared to defend herself.

[Bowen Lark]

The mulled ale put Severin into a better mood, and the apple dulled his appetite. He had no desire to dig around in the dark putting a meal together, so supper would be a sparse collection of whatever fruits he had purloined on his wanderings, and the occasional packet of mix. The shy thrum of the river current ate up any silence, but years of training and unconscious vigilance forced Severin to search outside of the river's rush and burble, the birds' night calls. He listened, eyes half-lidded, bringing the ale to his lips every few breaths. It was a good brew, and infused with enough willowbark to quiet any remaining aches in his knee. The black otter had learned to mix his own tonics and tinctures to avoid pointless run-ins with healers. By distancing himself from the spoiled knight he was in his youth, Severin had further removed himself from any sort of companionship. The more self-sufficient he became, the more his solitude deepened.

Still fool enough to get caught without dinner and without shelter, the knight mused, the hard lines of his face twisting into a wry grimace. He was combat-trained, an expert in wartimes, but commanding himself aptly was not something Severin Beck had quite learned how to do.

The knight left off his musings and put his head back to finish the remainder of the ale when a brief rattle of grass caught his eye. He made no move to survey the movement, closing his eyes and letting the willowbark leave him pleasantly devoid of pain. After a moment, Severin opened his eyes a slit and tried to track the ruffling grass. Whoever – whatever – was nearing him moved with expert caution, so that in the dark the otter had a difficult time pinpointing its location. His hand settled on the dagger's dark stone pommel.

A dull thud and the brief clatter of pebbles and other debris snapped the tension holding the knight still. He let out a breath and rolled his eyes before settling them on the creature's location. Severin pushed away from the rock and onto his paws, lurching slightly as the bracket on his knee kept it from bending entirely. He was unable to crouch, and hobbling along on all fours would be just as tiresome. So the black otter let out a sigh and raised his eyebrow at the spot the thud had come from.

“If you've come to kill me, at least do me the honour of being bold about it,” he said in a bored, coolly disdainful voice. “If you haven't come to kill me, then stop tramping around the bushes like a dull-witted quail and introduce yourself.”

Severin had long ago buried any fears he had of dying. An old wound – garnered in the Jade Forest seasons ago – served as a reminder of the limits of his mortality. It had been a waking moment, lurching into death to find no one waiting for him at End's Gates, coming back with the ravenous desire to put as much distance between himself and his past as he could. Now death was merely a period at the end of whatever history the knight had written. If he died and no one was there to welcome him again, then that was the way of it. Not that I blame them.

He held still for a moment, and then let out an irritated growl. In the days before his leg wound had worsened, the otter would have met whoever was stalking him already with the edge of his blade. He felt slow and old, passed any sort of usefulness. Severin had no hope of enlisting the in fort's regiments – his military service days had gone. His hands were still good, still skillful, and the knight had a lifetime of knowledge in the dark crevices of his mind, but the rest of him could not compete.

“I'll start,” he said finally, voice now crisp with anger. “You have the pleasure of confronting one Sir Severin Beck. I have little use of my leg and absolutely no desire to draw this out, so come out of hiding. If you run, I will not chase you. If you attend to me, I cannot promise I won't kill you, but one of us might get lucky.”

[Keleanth Windspiral]

“If you've come to kill me, at least do me the honour of being bold about it. If you haven't come to kill me, then stop tramping around the bushes like a dull-witted quail and introduce yourself.”

Dull-witted quail? Well, Thorn could honestly say she'd never had that label applied to her before this moment. It was fitting though, after the idiotic paw placement that had so obviously attracted the other beast's attention. She remained frozen in her crouch, eyes fixed on the location of the anonymous speaker. There was something very familiar about his voice, but she couldn't quite place a claw on it. So she waited.

The irritated growl only drew a smug grin onto the female's face. For whatever reason her unknown-yet-familiar companion was not going to come after her. That was fine. It gave her time to figure out who she was dealing with before it came to blows. Or she could just turn and go back to her things, gather them up, and leave well enough alone. It wasn't likely she'd take that option, but it was available. The otter let her rudder-like tail rest on the ground to help balance her as she continued to wait. If the growl was any indication of the other beast's mood she might learn more just by sitting here.

“I'll start. You have the pleasure of confronting one Sir Severin Beck. I have little use of my leg and absolutely no desire to draw this out, so come out of hiding. If you run, I will not chase you. If you attend to me, I cannot promise I won't kill you, but one of us might get lucky.”

Now that was an unexpected surprise. Thorn's eyes widened as she listened to the ultimatum being delivered by the knight. Oh yes, she remembered Sir Severin Beck. The otter with ghosts that haunted him as much as her own haunted her, and a caustic wit to match her sharp-edged tongue. She bared her teeth in a silent grimace, now caught between two somewhat difficult choices. There was the option to leave. Oh yes, Beck had even declared that he would not follow should she decide to run. However, the very thought rankled the female. It wasn't in her nature to run, and for better or for worse she usually ignored the idea.

Of course her other option was to confront the knight. While she wasn't sure it would be the best idea, it was certainly preferable to fleeing with her tail tucked between her legs. Besides, he had flat out stated he had little use of his leg, and it wasn't like they hadn't met before. Their meetings hadn't always been pleasant, but that was as much her own doing as his. Thorn rolled her eyes and shoved her dagger back into its scabbard with a rough motion. Might as well get this over with. Then she could grab her things and find another place to sleep for the rest of the night. She crossed her arms over her chest as she rose up and into a standing position, allowing Severin to get a good look at his 'assailant'.

"Was that s'posed t'be an intimidatin' speech or somethin'? Cause if so I can't say I'm too impressed." Thorn let her heavy tail thump against the ground, then shot an impish grin in the knight's direction. "Should I return the favor o' introducin' meself? Thorn Silentpaw, at yore service."

The female gave a mocking bow. She figured Beck would probably remember her, though it had been quite some time since their last meeting. She kept her distance, in case the knight had some sort of lapse in memory or judgement, but otherwise she seemed unfazed by his presence. She was also doing her absolute best to ignore the fact that she'd made an obvious blunder in her attempt to sneak up on him.

"Didn't 'xpect t'see you 'round these parts again. Y'get tired o' chasin' after maids in distress somewhere else?"

[Bowen Lark]

Severin waited for a reply, thoughts growing darker with each passing breath. The otter narrowed his eyes to slits and drew his lip back enough to reveal white fangs, face the very mask of brooding frustration. He crossed his arms over the smooth cotton chest of his gambeson and stifled another growl. Whatever creature was dancing around in the meadow clearly meant to make a mockery of the knight.

“Finally,” Severin snapped, watching the grass part as another body emerged. “I was thinking we'd be here all night.”

Something nagged at the corner of his mind – the stranger's shape, the brief glimpse he had of dark brown eyes. One eyebrow went up, but there was not enough for the otter to discern an identity.

Until...

"Was that s'posed t'be an intimidatin' speech or somethin'? Cause if so I can't say I'm too impressed. Should I return the favor o' introducin' meself? Thorn Silentpaw, at yore service."

Severin grit his teeth to keep from babbling out a string of questions, thunderstruck at the ottermaiden's appearance. He looked her up and down, confirming Thorn was the same Thorn he had last seen seasons ago at the fort. Finally his voice bypassed any shock, slipping out acerbic, like the flame-heated edge of a new blade.

“Praise the Fates for my luck,” he quipped, limping down the knoll to get a better look at the mahogany otter. “Here I am ready to die and instead here you are, spying on me like some lovesick maiden.” A dagger-sharp smile crossed his lips. “I always could see right through your dour little ruse, milady Silentpaw.”

Severin stopped a ways off from the maiden, leaning back on his good leg. He smirked.

“Although you did a very good job of letting me know you were here, and a very poor job at staying silent, milady Silentpaw.”

"Didn't 'xpect t'see you 'round these parts again. Y'get tired o' chasin' after maids in distress somewhere else?"

“The old knee does make rescuing hapless virgins a tad labourous, admittedly,” Severin said, showing a flash of teeth. “I though my life would be better spent spreading good cheer to my fellow citizens here. I do love a taste of the mundane now and again.”

He looked at Thorn and noted that she had never been anywhere near mundane, balancing perfectly between being liked and being hated. I can relate, the knight thought, a wry twist to his smirk. He returned the dagger to its scabbard, belted low on his hips. Severin tilted his head and favoured Thorn with a narrow-eyed stare.

“I may as well assume that you have returned from your wanderings as well, Thorn. Do you suppose the South can handle two vile tempered otters, or ought we to fight for the territory here and now?”

[Keleanth Windspiral]

“The old knee does make rescuing hapless virgins a tad labourous, admittedly. I thought my life would be better spent spreading good cheer to my fellow citizens here. I do love a taste of the mundane now and again.”

Thorn barked out a laugh, despite her intention to remain silent. Mundane was not a word she would have paired with the otter knight standing before her. He was much too sharp of wit for that particular phrase to apply. She shook her head as she folded her own arms across her chest, unthinkingly mimicking Severin's stance.

“I may as well assume that you have returned from your wanderings as well, Thorn. Do you suppose the South can handle two vile tempered otters, or ought we to fight for the territory here and now?”

While the question did not draw another laugh, it did pull a wry smirk onto Thorn's muzzle. She inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the truth behind the knight's words. They never had quite managed to see eye-to-eye, but for all that they did seem to share a similar outlook on life.

"Oh, I s'pose the South c'n deal with the two o' us f'now. 'Sides, there's a whole lot o' territory 'round 'ere. I'm sure we c'n find diff'rent paths t'follow."

Thorn raised an eyebrow, then unfolded her arms so she could stretch. She looked past Severin to his makeshift camp and decided it was time for her to return to her own items. There was no danger from the black male, and everything else seemed quiet enough for the time being. She gave another mock bow before opening her mouth to speak. Before she could utter a word there was a clatter and the sound of someone else struggling through the tall grass towards the pair. With a swift motion the female drew her dagger and spun to face the sound while a guarded expression fell onto her face.

"Were you followed mate? 'Cause I didn't think I was..."

There was an undignified growl, then a teenage otter staggered into sight, toting along a sword that was too big for him. He stopped as he saw the pair before him, then growled again as he hoisted the sword up with both paws and leveled the tip at Severin before starting forward again. The sword wavered in his grip, and its weight had the younger male unbalanced, but he was determined, and he didn't stop until he stood between Thorn and Severin.

"If you're going to fight her you'll have to fight me first!"

It was difficult to tell what thoughts were running through Thorn's mind. Her stunned expression, however, made it quite clear that she not only knew this otter, but that she certainly hadn't expected to see him here, let alone with a sword. The fact that he was supposedly ready to fight for her was a preposterous notion. The paw holding her dagger lowered to her side as she stared at the teenager, who was still doing his best to hold the sword upright as he squared off against the knight. The meadow around the had fallen completely silent now. It remained that way until anger got the better of shock and surprise and Thorn took action.

"BRODERICK JESSOP!"

The sound shattered the silence. Thorn shoved her dagger back into its scabbard as the otter standing before her dropped the sword in alarm. He yelped as her claws descended on his ear to grab it.

"Owowowow! Leggo!"

"What are you doin' here? Didn't I tell you t'stay home with yore family?"

"Yes, but-"

"An' didn't I tell you not, under any circumstances, t'follow me?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then what are you doin' here? An' where did you get that?"

She gestured roughly towards the sword, which was now lying forgotten at the teenager's footpaws. He yelped one more time before she released his ear, which allowed him to clap a paw to it and rub it in an attempt to erase the memory of her claws. Neither looked at Severin. In fact the knight was momentarily forgotten in the heat of the words being exchanged.

"I know you told me to stay home, Miz Thorn, but I didn't want to. It's boring there, and Ma and Pop don't need me. They've got my brothers to help them."

"Brody..." There was a warning note in the female's voice, as if she didn't like his explanation.

"They do! I'll be they don't even miss me!"

"I doubt that. An' the sword?"

"I found it." Thorn rolled her eyes at the weak excuse.

"You found it? A sword like that? I 'ope you have a better story, mate, cause it ain't likely someone just left that thing lyin' around f'you t'find."

Brody looked down at his footpaws as he scrambled to come up with another answer. He obviously didn't want to reveal the truth. It was equally obvious that he didn't want Thorn to send him home. He finally turned a pleading look on Severin, silently begging with the knight to help him.

[Bowen Lark]

Severin recoiled slightly at Thorn's laughter, not accustomed to having much success piquing the ottermaiden's humour. Seeing her again had pushed him far enough off of his guard, rocked him with the ready prickliness and sardonic expression he remembered too well now. A faint cold smile moved across the knight's mouth as relief fluttered somewhere deep in his chest. Relief at...what? A rare aligning of kismet and the sudden jolt of normalcy, enough to replace any lack of familiarity Severin was experiencing with the South. The more things change... His gaze fell on Thorn again.

"Oh, I s'pose the South c'n deal with the two o' us f'now. 'Sides, there's a whole lot o' territory 'round 'ere. I'm sure we c'n find diff'rent paths t'follow."

“Curious how our paths always seem to cross again,” he replied, rubbing an invisible blemish from the pommel of his sword.

Although I cannot confess any disappointment.

The knight shifted his stance to relieve his caged knee and kept a cool eye on Thorn. He welcomed her bow with an obvious eye roll, face contorting into a snarl, ready to counter her next cutting remark. A breath passed...

Severin bent into an agonizing crouch as the clatter broke through the silence. Pain flooded his leg, forcing a curse from between the knight's clenched teeth. He mimicked Thorn and pulled the dagger free from where it was sheathed at his hip, angling in the same direction she was facing.

"Were you followed mate? 'Cause I didn't think I was..."

“I see your confidence in my abilities has not waned,” Severin grated. “No, I was not followed.”

The growling sharpened his focus. Difficult as it was to maintain a defensive crouch with his knee, the knight held steady until the younger otter broke through the darkness. His clumsy attempt at shielding Thorn prompted another hacking curse from Severin. The black otter dragged himself over to the nearest rock and collapsed in a sit onto it, his braced leg held stiff before him.

“You jape,” Severin said, voice thick with mockery. “If you have managed not to kill yourself in the next few breaths, I will be impressed enough to surrender.”

He turned to Thorn and smirked. “You never struck me as the type to leave your own defending to others, milady Silentpaw.”

The heated exchange between Thorn and Broderick filled Severin with a sort of strangled glee. A sharkish grin flit across his muzzle as the ottermaiden chastised Brody – a task she was well-suited to, in the knight's opinion. When Thorn's attention fell to her young acquaintance's acquisition of his sword, Severin paid closer attention.

With Brody's pleading glance, Severin pushed himself from the rock and limped over to the pair. The ale had made him somewhat more sociable.

“As much as I find it relieving that you have diverted milady Silentpaw's considerable charm from me to you, I must confess a similar interest in how you came upon this sword, Broderick. Although your intentions were noble --” Severin said this with as much kindness as he had available, softening the normal sharp edge of his tone – “if you have borrowed the sword, then we need to be aware in the event the owner comes looking for his possession.”

[Keleanth Windspiral]

Brody didn't know what to do next. The young male had to be all of thirteen or fourteen years old, and this was his first time away from his family. While he'd known Thorn might have been angry with him for just showing up, he certainly hadn't expected the extreme response the female had given. All he'd wanted was an adventure and a chance to see something besides his family holt! The otter shifted on his footpaws as he lingered under Thorn's scrutinizing gaze. Panic was starting to flood through him. He couldn't tell her the truth. That would only make things worse! Just as he was about to stammer out something to fill in the void the knight stood. Brody's eyes widened as Severin approached, and he looked like he was seriously beginning to contemplate the idea of running away from both adults.

“As much as I find it relieving that you have diverted milady Silentpaw's considerable charm from me to you, I must confess a similar interest in how you came upon this sword, Broderick. Although your intentions were noble -- if you have borrowed the sword, then we need to be aware in the event the owner comes looking for his possession.”

Borrowed? The bands of pressure that had been squeezing Brody's chest suddenly released. Yes. He had simply borrowed the weapon. He visibly relaxed as his mind began to compose his excuse for the presence of the sword laying at his footpaws. The blade itself was finely made. The double-edged blade was shining in the dull moonlight, revealing that its former owner had had the presence of mind to care for it. A fine pattern was engraved along the base of the blade and wound around the hilt. The pommel was enhanced by a polished onyx globe, indicating that a decent amount of coin had been spent to purchase the blade. The teen's paw finally fell away from his ear as he took a deep breath and prepared to recite his hastily composed answer.

"I did! Borrow it I mean. Fio-...I mean, the owner wasn't using it, and I figured it wouldn't be missed."

He nodded slightly to back up his story, then looked from Thorn to Severin and back again, hoping they would buy his words. Thorn narrowed her eyes, having caught his slip of the tongue. She wasn't as grateful for the knight's intrusion in the mostly one-sided conversation she'd been having with the young male. If anything he'd just given Brody the excuse to feed her more half-truths and fantasies.

"Fio...y'don't mean Fioran d'you?" There was no mistaking the flash of alarm in the eyes of the teenage otter upon hearing the name. "You borrowed this sword from Fioran[/]? 'Gates!" She spun and stomped a few steps away from the two males currently keeping her company.

"W-well he wasn't using it! Not really..."

A muffled growl was the only response from the infuriated female. She let one paw run over her head as she glared at the tall grass that surrounded Severin's chosen campsite. Her back was to the pair of males, but her posture indicated that she was anything but happy. She'd exchanged blows with Fioran on more than one occasion. The most recent had left her pride bruised and battered, since the fox had called a few of his cronies in to help him after she'd chased him away from Brody's family.

The tip of Thorn's tail twitched once, the only indication that she was about to act before she spun to face Brody and Severin again. They couldn't stay here now. If Brody had managed to follow her then there was no doubt that Fioran wasn't far behind. While the mahogany female was tough, she wasn't in any mood to deal with the fox tonight, especially not with the younger otter in tow. Her steely gaze landed on the shorter male, causing him to cringe before she shifted it to Severin. Thorn trusted the black knight more than some, but less than others. They had never quite managed to agree with one another, but in the few times they'd met in battle he'd been worthy enough. The tip of her tail twitched one more time, then she held up a paw and addressed the pair.

"You," she pointed at Brody, "stay 'ere with him." The paw drifted in Severin's direction, though her eyes didn't leave the teen. "You will listen to what 'e tells you t'do, an' you'll do it without askin' any questions, d'you understand?" The words ended in a twisted snarl of warning before she shifted her attention back to the knight.

"I...ain't goin' t'tell you t'do anythin'. Tha's yore decision. Stay here if y'like," she hesitated, hating that she was going to have to ask this of the dark otter. "Aye, stay if'n you want. But I'll recommend y'head for the fort t'night...an'...I'm goin' t'ask if you c'n keep an eye on him 'til I get back." Thorn jerked her head in Brody's direction in conjunction with those final words. It was obvious that she was reluctant to even ask, but she didn't think she had much choice at the moment. Hopefully she could get back to her things and get to the fort before Fioran showed up. If not...well, she wanted Brody well out of the way so she could deal with the fox and his cronies.

Brody opened his mouth to protest, but a withering look from the determined female quickly caused him to snap it shut again. In her mind the teen was in no position to be arguing anything at the moment. In fact, he was part of the reason her quiet night was now going to be cut very, very short. Her brown eyes returned to Severin as she waited for the knight's response. If he refused to watch out for Brody she'd have to think of something else to do, and quickly.

[Bowen Lark]

"I did! Borrow it I mean. Fio-...I mean, the owner wasn't using it, and I figured it wouldn't be missed."

Severin caught the slip amidst Brody's fumbled reasoning. The young otter's tone had a note of falsetto in it, anxiety squeaking in around the first exclamation. Severin looked sidelong at Thorn, ear twitching to her growl. The boy was lying. Or at least peddling half-truths. A long sigh slipped up the knight's throat. His knee panged and the pleasant fuzz left by the ale was beginning to thin. These little dalliances are always so inconvenient.

"Fio...y'don't mean Fioran d'you? You borrowed this sword from Fioran? 'Gates!"

"W-well he wasn't using it! Not really..."

Severin raised one brow and looked down his nose at Brody. Behind him was the scratch of Thorn's stride and her breath coming in short, controlled bursts. Her anger was palpable, though she hid it well – Severin had known Thorn a long time, enough to know when her tail-twitching indicated a deeper fury. He waited for Thorn to sift through her thoughts. Brody was not her son, or any blood relation as far as Severin could tell, but he had a notion that Thorn felt some weight of responsibility for the young otter's safety. The knight felt a tug of conscience too – he was a knight, sworn member of the guild to uphold justice and secure a peaceful existence for all.

He listened to Thorn's demands for Brody's obedience and watched the young otter out of the corner of one eye.

"I...ain't goin' t'tell you t'do anythin'. Tha's yore decision. Stay here if y'like. Aye, stay if'n you want. But I'll recommend y'head for the fort t'night...an'...I'm goin' t'ask if you c'n keep an eye on him 'til I get back."

Severin shifted off his bad knee and stared at Thorn. He had a stronger urge to follow her into the dark woods and sort out the business between Fioran and the borrowed sword, but she was as near to asking for a favour as she would get, and the knight felt a sharp obligation to acquiesce.

“I'll mind the boy,” Severin said. He moved a hand down to the dagger on his belt and smiled a faint, dark smile. “I did take an oath – being a bitter cripple does not excuse me from duty.”

The knight looked at Brody.

“Do not be alarmed, master Broderick. Although a cripple, I can still heave a sword with some dexterity. Perhaps even more than you managed to demonstrate a moment ago. Now, let's attend the Lady Silentpaw and go on to the fort. I will most likely leave you in the care of the gatekeeper Keleanth, if she still holds the post – her mothering skills are so much better than mine.”

The otter limped up the small hill to collect his few supplies. He frowned down at the empty ale flask, hoping to find another hidden by the grass. This is turning into a two-bottle night. Severin lifted his small pack over one shoulder and walked back down to Thorn and Brody.

“Will you be...alright?” he asked, letting a sliver of warmth invade the usual rust and ice of his voice. “I will take Broderick to the fort, and then I will come back to find you.”

Severin did not want an argument from Thorn. He gave her another long look before turning and beckoning at the young otter with a wave.

“Be safe, milady. We've only just begun this wonderful reunion.”

A low laugh followed Severin into the dark.

[Keleanth Windspiral]

Thorn practically counted the seconds as she waited for Severin's response to her request. She was actually hoping for once that he would agree. It was not a normal desire, but this time the female knew Brody would be much safer in the company of the knight than he would be with her. If Fioran was lingering close by then she would need to be able to focus on him, and not on the teen.

“I'll mind the boy. I did take an oath – being a bitter cripple does not excuse me from duty.”

Some of the tension holding Thorn in place eased, and she sent the black male a nod of appreciation. She might not entirely trust Severin, but she knew enough about him to know that if he gave his word he would not break it. He would mind Brody, and that would take one worry off of her mind. She sent one final glance in the teen's direction, then crouched down and wrapped her paw around the hilt of the purloined sword. The weapon, while it suited her better than Brody, was still too long, and she scowled as she tried to figure out what to do with it. Leaving it here was not an option, as Fioran might decide to track Severin and Brody if he found it. So it would have to come with her.

“Do not be alarmed, master Broderick. Although a cripple, I can still heave a sword with some dexterity. Perhaps even more than you managed to demonstrate a moment ago. Now, let's attend the Lady Silentpaw and go on to the fort. I will most likely leave you in the care of the gatekeeper Keleanth, if she still holds the post – her mothering skills are so much better than mine.”

Brody swallowed, but just nodded and moved over to join the knight. The tables had been turned on the young otter, and now events were unfolding faster than he could manage to follow. He watched as Thorn started to retrace her steps in the direction of her makeshift camp, then shot another nervous look up at Severin. This was all his fault. He should have just left the sword alone.

“Will you be...alright?"

Those words caused Thorn to stop in mid-step, and she turned to level an incredulous look at the male standing beside her young charge. She lifted one eyebrow before allowing a confident smirk to draw across her muzzle. The confident light had returned to her brown eyes, along with a tinge of mischief.

"Don't you fret yore liddle head 'bout me. You'll be seein' me long 'fore yore ready."

"I will take Broderick to the fort, and then I will come back to find you.”

This time the knight's words were met with a derisive laugh and a shake of the female's head. As long as Brody was well tended she would be fine. This wasn't the first battle she'd sought, and it wasn't the first time she'd faced the fox currently tracking her. Things would sort themselves out one way or another.

“Be safe, milady. We've only just begun this wonderful reunion.”

Thorn watched the pair of males depart, mystified at the laughter and the stubborn insistence that Severin would return. She didn't want the help, nor did she feel she would need it. As long as he tended to Brody she would be satisfied. Whatever happened to her would happen, and she'd deal with it as it came. The mahogany otter was independent, strong-willed, and all too happy to rely on her own paws and plans to get herself out of trouble. She didn't have many in her life that were willing to come to her assistance when called, so she never expected to have help. And while she considered Severin an acquaintance, she certainly did not expect him to risk his life for her.

With a final shake of her head the female turned and began to slink back towards her belongings, sword in tow. As she got closer to her cloak, pack, and staff she slowed. Her eyes examined the shadows that lingered around her things, doing her best to penetrate them to be sure she had not been found. Seeing nothing Thorn darted forward and quickly began to pack up. If she was lucky she could take another route around to the portcullis and make it there by dawn.

Luck was not going to work in her favor.

"Well, well, well...what do we 'ave 'ere? A t'ief. I figgered you might 'ave somet'in' ter do wit' me sword missin'."

The voice slithered out of the darkness like oil on water, and Thorn actually shuddered as it reached her ears. She curled her lip before looking up and into the tall grass that surrounded her chosen campsite.

"Fioran, you no good, flea-bitten, mongrel bag o' bones...I know it's you. Show yoreself!"

Quiet laughter flooded the air as four shadows separated themselves from the night and stepped into moonlight. The leader was a large dogfox with patchy gray fur. His right ear was mangled, while his left sported a gold hoop. Joining him were a ferret, a rat, and a weasel, each looking equally menacing.

"Very good, T'orn. I t'ought you'd remember me."

"Aye, I 'member you. What d'you want?"

"Dat's easy. Me sword. Oh...an' da pup wot stole it from me."

Thorn let one paw close around her staff as she studied her position. The fours beasts had her surrounded, and all were armed, with the exception of Fioran. He was only carrying the empty scabbard that was meant to house the sword lying by her side. She grinned, then shook her head.

"Ain't no pup 'ere, bucko. Just me. An' y'ain't takin' the sword that easy. From what I 'member, you an' me have a few things t'clear up after our last meetin'."

"Aye...dat we do. But first I'll take me sword. An' as fer da pup, well, I'll be takin' 'im too. 'E jist don' know it yet."

Again the laugher rippled through the area as the four creatures began to move in on their chosen victim. Thorn quickly stood, staff held ready as she prepared herself for a battle she did not intend to lose.

She was not going to be alone in her fight. At the far edge of the meadow four other beasts waited for Severin and Brody to draw near. They were neither patient or careful, but they were well-armed and well trained.

(ooc: Bowen, feel free to auto those vermin waiting for Severin and Brody!)

[Bowen Lark]

Severin set a good pace, despite the pain in his knee. It was a deeply furrowed ache, shifting through the joint like an ever-present storm. His oldest friend and constant companion. Severin smiled as the light press of Thorn's footfalls faded behind him, leaving only Brody's clambering steps and the odd creak of his knee brace. The knight let out a stifled breath – leaving Thorn was against his judgment, although the young Broderick was certainly in more need than the mahogany ottermaiden. It rankled Severin to choose between them, but he had (and perhaps always would) acquiesce to whatever Thorn so desired at the time. She had been his first lifeline in the south. He had never forgotten.

The stillness in the night air gave birth to a cold disturbance in Severin's chest. He felt the weight of dread in his belly and cursed it. There was something ill in the meadow, and it smelled whomever Brody was running from and Thorn running into. The knight slowed his pace and pulled Brody back, gesturing for the younger male to keep behind.

“If you wish to do well by Thorn, keep silent and stay behind me, Broderick. It will not do for our blood to decorate the meadow this night.”

There was the faintest shift just ahead, a rustle of cloth against cloth, and Severin knew. He made his face blank and pulled the sword slowly from its scabbard. It was too late to run.

“Do not interfere if you can help it, boy.”

The moon left enough light to see by. Severin watched four shadows separate from the solid black of the meadow and step in front of them, blocking the path to the fort. He turned once more to Brody.

“If there is any one chance to run, you take it. Run for the fort. Run hard.”

“Won' be much runnin' ah'm afraid,” a slurry cold voice broke through.

Severin straightened and rolled his eyes, picking out the speaker from the four.

“I wasn't addressing you, dimwit. Kindly wait until your betters have acknowledge you before speaking.”

A dismayed snigger slipped from one of the other shadows – a weasel, Severin noted.

“'e's got a mouth on 'im, Stell.”

The slurry voice, belonging to a coyote with pierced ears, cut through again.

“Mebbe we cut 'is tongue out then. What d'ye say, Silvertongue? How's tha' suit?”

A shiver went down Severin's spine and back up it, making the knight break out in a delirious smile. His white teeth flashed in the black night. The sword gleamed when he held it aloft. The moon broke through the clouds and over them, illuminating the four cutthroats, Severin, and Brody. Perfect.

Three swarmed him and one went after Brody. Severin held his ground as the coyote, weasel, and an eye-patched ferret darted forward, hefting short blades and a bludgeon. He ducked a blow from the bludgeon and cut the sword up across the ferret's chest. The ferret dropped back to avoid the slash and Severin stepped into the vacant spot, gaining enough space to club the weasel with the hilt of his sword. The weasel cursed, stumbling to one side. Severin finished him with a quick jab, curling around to prevent the coyote from assuming a better stance.

“Ah'll nail yer 'ead to Hellsgates, cur!” the coyote spat, lunging forward with the blade aimed at Severin's gut.

The knight sidestepped too slowly to avoid a gash on the forearm. It burned, no worse than his knee did, but with the fresh acid of a new wound. Severin's breath came out a gasp and he had to transfer the sword to one hand. The ferret had recovered. He charged Severin, catching the knight across the abdomen with the bludgeon. Heavy pain flooded Severin's belly and chest. He stumbled, raising his sword enough to catch a decapitating chop from the coyote.

“Brody, run!” the otter roared, clambering to his paws. He stabbed at the ferret, scoring a gash.

The coyote circled around and aimed a kick at Severin's legs.

“We gorrem now, mates!”

[Keleanth Windspiral]

Brody listened to the negotiation between the older pair of otters in complete, and utter silence. True, honest fear was beginning to replace the bravado that had brought him this far, inspired by the somber expressions and careful words that surrounded him. He was beginning to realize that his idea, grand as it had been, was about to get them all in a lot of trouble. The young male swallowed hard as Severin and Thorn made their decision, then fell in behind the otter knight without complaint.

His mind roamed over everything that had happened so far. While his journey up to this point had been relatively easy, Brody was beginning to realize that his luck had run out. The reception from Thorn had been anything but pleasant. Severin's presence, and subsequent reaction, had only served to add to the runaway's problem. Now, on top of everything else, he was in the care of the black knight, who looked anything but happy to be shuttling him to the fort.

“If you wish to do well by Thorn, keep silent and stay behind me, Broderick. It will not do for our blood to decorate the meadow this night.” Brody looked up as the words jolted him out of his sullen, fearful train of thought. What did the knight mean by those words? “Do not interfere if you can help it, boy.” Brody opened his mouth to question Severin, but before he could four shadows suddenly appeared before them.

A chill ran down the younger otter's spine at the sight of the quartet now facing them. Suddenly time seemed to speed up, and he watched in horror as three of the shadows separated from the fourth and attacked his protector. Brody watched as the battle began to unfold, both terrified and awestruck by the way Severin moved to counter the vermin trio. He was so caught up in their skirmish that he forgot about the fourth beast, a mangy ferret. He caught a glimpse of the ferret just as it moved to tackle him, which gave him the briefest moment to scramble desperately out of reach.

“Brody, run!”

Though he didn't want to leave the knight behind, Brody did as ordered. He spun on his heel before the ferret could right himself and took off as fast as he could towards the forest. He had no idea if he was heading in the right direction. He just wanted to get away from the vermin and to some relatively safe place. A strangled curse followed him, then the young otter heard heavy pawsteps. The ferret had managed to get upright and was pursuing him. On the edge of panic Brody pushed himself harder as he finally caught sight of the fort's walls. There. He just needed to get within sight of the wall guards. It couldn't be much further, right?

Across the meadow Thorn sent a vicious grin in the direction of her own attackers. A maniacal glint had crept into her brown eyes as she examined the vermin that were doing their best to surround her. Some called the otter reckless. Others just said she was insane. It didn't matter to her. She refused to back down from a fight, especially when the vermin facing her had gone down under her blows in the past. This time, however, it was even more important that she win. Severin and Brody were in danger, and despite her odd relationship with the knight, she didn't want either male to be injured.

Seeing that neither Fioran or his lackeys were in a rush to attack the female smirked. The dogfox had lost to her more than once, and apparently the stories had filtered down to his cohorts. Thorn shifted her grip on her staff as she winked at the vermin before beginning to taunt them.

"C'mon mateys, let's get this done. What's the matter? 'Fraid o' one liddle otter? Aw...Fioran...y'shouldn't 'ave given away me best moves. Looks like yore crew thinks they can't handle 'em!"

The mahogany female threw back her head and uttered a carefree laugh before taking the attack to her reluctant opponents. Moonlight broke through the cloud cover, illuminating the small group and giving her just enough light to ensure her accuracy. One end of her staff bounced off of the weasel's sword, allowing her to bring the other end around and ricochet off of one of the rat's knees. The rat squeaked in pain and dropped for the moment, giving the riverbeast a hair more breathing room.

A low snarl warned her of Fioran's impending approach. The fox had managed to retrieve his sword while Thorn was fending off the weasel and the rat, and he struck at her side, forcing her back so she could parry the blow. He was swiftly joined by the weasel, and the flurry of attacks forced the otter back several feet as she defended herself. In the meantime the rat had gotten back to his footpaws and he joined the ferret, who had been forgotten by Thorn in her eagerness to attack. The pair made their way to the edge of the meadow, where the trees began to encroach upon the open land, and in the general direction that Fioran and the weasel were forcing Thorn to take.

There was a resounding crack as the otter's staff suddenly gave way under the constant pressure from fox and weasel, and she blinked when she found herself holding two pieces of fractured wood. Thorn ducked a strike from Fioran, then used one of the broken pieces to shove the weasel back before retreating again.

"I 'ope the spirits take you t'Hellsgates, Fioran! That was me best staff!" she growled as she ducked another strike. One of the halves was thrown at the fox's head, forcing him to stop his attack as he tried to duck. Unfortunately he wasn't quick enough, and the end of the piece of hardwood struck his muzzle, leaving him momentarily stunned. The weasel hesitated when he saw the fox go down, then attacked again, once more driving Thorn back towards the trees. She cursed as she felt the wood in her paws starting to splinter even more, realizing that perhaps this wasn't going to work as well as she'd planned.

That realization led her to notice that the rat and the ferret were no longer attacking her. She bared her teeth at the weasel and landed a blow on his ribs with her broken weapon before looking around to find the missing duo. Seeing them waiting under the trees behind her Thorn cursed again. A sharp pain in her shoulder drew her gaze back to the weasel, who had been rejoined by Fioran. It was the fox who had drawn blood, and Thorn leveled a glare at him before coming to the conclusion that she might need to find another way out of this mess.

Another crack from the weapon she held cemented her decision. Fioran and the weasel weren't going to let her return to her things, so she'd have to get through the rat and ferret. After a brief attack to thrown the fox and weasel back she spun and bolted towards the rat, figuring he'd be the weakest of the group. Thorn drew the dagger at her belt as she ran, then, knowing that she was probably making a mistake in throwing away her final weapon, she flung it at the rat. The dagger struck true and buried itself deep in the rodent's throat. He went down with a quiet gurgle, leaving her path free and clear to make a run for the river.

Or so she thought.

Thorn hadn't planned on Fioran and his crew arriving at her campsite before she had returned. She also hadn't figured that he'd be smart enough to learn from their past encounters. So while she was able to club the ferret over the head and get past him with only another scratch across her ribs, she was not able to escape the net they had carefully hidden while waiting for her to return. The otter hit the tripwire at a dead run and catapulted over it, right into the middle of the net, which was already starting to rise. Within moments she was twisted within its woven strands, caught as neatly as any fly in a spider's web.

Quiet laughter filled the air below the female as she tried to make sense of what had just turned her world upside-down. She struggled against the net, but that only succeeded in tightening its grip until she was unable to move. Only then did the otter stop her fighting, and she glared down at what she could see of the ground below her. The net spun in mid-air, revealing the ferret, who was holding a paw to his bleeding head, the weasel, and Fioran all standing beneath her. The fox laughed again, then tilted his head.

"What's da matter T'orn? Did you t'ink we'd really let you go so easy? No...we ain't playin' dis time. Dis time we gots you, an' you ain't gittin' away."

"Go boil yore 'ead in rotten cabbage soup, y'three-eyed toad!"

Again the laughter filled the air, and Thorn felt the net gave a slight shake. A moment later the rope holding her up in the air snapped, and she hit the ground with a thud that knocked the air out of her lungs. The last thing she saw before being knocked unconscious was Fioran's footpaw flying towards her head.

[Bowen Lark]

Severin tasted blood as the hilt of the coyote’s sword clipped across his muzzle. The pain in his gut had slowed him, making the knight’s swordwork choppy. Severin moved quickly to keep his guard, letting out a savage bark as the ferret’s booted paw connected with his knee. The brace encircling it groaned. Pain lapped up his leg, dulling the mechanisms in Severin’s head. He caught the tip of his sword on the ferret’s wrist and sent the beast squealing back without his bludgeon. The coyote was faster – parrying a chop, he opened a seam of flesh on the otter’s ribs. Severin staggered back and tested the wound with his free hand: it was not like to be lethal, but deep enough to bleed freely and sting like Hellsteeth.

“Singin’ a different song now, are we?” the coyote sneered, wiping the blade on his pants. “Ye do a good turn wi’ that sword, boyo, but ah’m still going see th’ steam from yer innards ‘fore we’re done.”

“Really?” Severin grated. He splayed his paws to keep from wobbling. “I’d think a coward of your kind would vomit at the sight. Maybe you should let your friend handle this.”

The coyote’s eyes flicked over to the ferret, who was humming softly and licking blood from his split wrist. In a breath, Severin lunged forward and brought his sword down across the coyote’s chest. Blood flew in an arc, black in the moonlight. The coyote yelled, falling against his comrade. He waved his shortsword in frantic swings, his breath a wet bellow. The ferret rolled away and retrieved his bludgeon. He whipped around and threw, sending the heavy weapon spinning through the air.

Severin turned too slowly, half of his sword still embedded in the coyote’s chest. The bludgeon struck him in the side of the head, creating an explosion of lights in the otter’s vision. He fell forward onto the dead coyote and managed to shift enough to avoiding drowning in the canine’s blood. A rough hand clutched Severin’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back. The ferret’s single-eyed face loomed in his fading vision.

“I’m gonna enjoy slittin’ yer throat, whoreson.”

Severin’s slipped his hand over the dagger tucked into his swordbelt. He let out a long breath and showed the ferret a bloodstained smile.

“No.”

The dagger blade slipped easily into the space between the ferret’s ribs. Severin shoved the beast off of him and watched as the ferret gasped out another few breaths before dying. The knight ran a bloody hand over his face, mouth set into a grim line. The gashed on his arm and side were still bleeding, and his head and knee throbbed with the fervour of an avalanche. Severin raked his gaze over the three bodies growing cold and cursed when he did not see or hear Brody. The fourth cutthroat was gone too.

The knight dragged himself into a slumped sitting position and wondered how Thorn was faring. This was not the reunion I had first envisioned, he thought, letting a dark smile flit over his mouth. Severin cast a critical look at the cuts on his body – ugly, but not a threat to him. Yet. The blows to his knee and head were worse, leaving the otter feeling half-paralyzed and dizzy. He used his sword to heave up onto his paws. He coughed and spat blood before attempting a few steps. The brace creaked again, but held. Severin used his sword as a cane and limped to the highest point in the meadow.

He saw a swath of darkness and a few distant torchlights from the fort. To the riverside, Severin saw and heard nothing.

“Brody?” the knight called, voice thick with pain and exhaustion. The echo cracked the silence.

“Hellsteeth, boy, I hope you’ve made it.”

Two possibilities nagged at the knight – he could go verify Thorn’s survival, or he could stagger after Brody and hope the young otter had outpaced his pursuer.

“Fates, I never should have left the horse behind,” Severin muttered, raking a hand through his headfur.

Limping, he had no chance of overtaking Brody or the other cutthroat. And if Thorn had lost, there was laughable little hope for him overtaking Fioran and the rest of his band. He was weak, and the realization scorched him like a brand. The beating he had taken from the coyote and his mates had left him indolent and aching.

Severin let out a snarl. This is no time for wallowing in the piss of your failures – make a decision and do something.

He returned to where the bodies of Fioran’s lackeys were beginning to stiffen. Severin hauled them all into a copse of dense brush, where the moon could not reach – if the fox was alive and looking for his crew, he would be less apt to find them.

“This will buy me time to find Brody,” Severin muttered, clasping his shaking hands together. “If Thorn is...indisposed.”

The blood and strewn-up ground could not be altered. Severin collected his dagger and resheathed both weapons. With a final look to the river, the otter started off at a jagged trot for Fort Emerald Bay.

ooc: Was not sure if you wanted to use Kel once Brody reaches the gates -- I'll be happy to play other reinforcements if needed.

[Keleanth Windspiral]

Run Brody.

Faster.

You must go faster.

Run!

Harsh breathing cut the still night air. It was backed by pounding pawsteps, and broken only by the occasional thud or crash as the young otter stumbled or fell against a tree. Brody grunted as he pushed himself forward through the darkness, guided only by the brief flashes of moonlight able to pierce the veil of shadows wielded by the trees. Panic had overtaken the teen when he'd realized that he was still being pursued by the ferret from Fioran's band, and he'd given thought to nothing except running faster and reaching his destination before he was run down.

With a strangled groan the otter pushed through a final stand of brush and onto the open path that led directly up to the portcullis of Fort Emerald Bay. He hesitated just long enough to glance behind him. A flash of light off of silver caused Brody to squeak, and he was off again, mere moments before the ferret chasing him staggered out onto the path. The vermin snarled, sensing the end of the pursuit was near. He lunged after Brody, closing the distance between them with easy strides.

The otter looked over his shoulder again, just in time to see the ferret stretching out to grab him. Fear added an extra burst of speed to the young beast's footpaws, taking him just out of the vermin's reach. The burst of speed was perfectly timed, for at that moment a whirlwind of black and white descended upon his pursuer with a deafening shriek. There was a pain-filled cry as the ferret was flattened, but it was extinguished when a vicious strike from the falcon's beak tore out his throat.

Another glance over Brody's shoulder revealed a horrifying scene. Keleanth stood atop the broken body of the ferret, talons buried into his flesh and beak dripping with blood. Her golden eyes flashed once in the moonlight, then she spread her wings in preparation for flight. The otter's eyes widened, then he screamed and bolted for the gate, terrified that the ghostly raptor was coming for him next.

The scream was enough to make the falcon pause, and with a sigh she folded her wings back against her sides. Kel knew that the guards on duty at the portcullis would admit the young otter. She also figured that it might be best to allow him to enter and calm down a bit before introducing herself. However, it was odd that an unarmed and ill-supplied young beast would be wandering around outside the fort at night. From what she could recall of his features he wasn't a fort resident, and that meant there could be more beasts nearby. Keleanth frowned at that thought before peering out in the direction of the trees. She wasn't much good at night hunting if it wasn't taking place directly in front of the fort. After a few more minutes of thought she clacked her beak, then spread her wings and leapt into the air. She could send a delegation of guards out to check the nearby woods. If there was anything to be found they could deal with it.

*~*~*

Back at the edge of the meadow Thorn was slowly starting to wake from her imposed slumber. Her head was pounding, and for some reason she felt like she was swaying. That was easily explained, however, when she opened one eye and looked around. The female was dangling from the limb of a tree on the edge of Pearl Meadow. Her paws were tied over her head, and the ropes around her wrists were the only things holding her up.

It took a few more minutes for her brain to pull together the events that had led up to this point, and the riverbeast bit back a groan. A quick look around showed that she was alone for the moment, and that gave her a chance to take stock of her current condition. Her paws were too tightly tied for her to pull them free. The ropes chafed her wrists, and she could already feel the blood draining from her paws and arms and the strain that hanging from the tree limb was putting on her shoulders. Her head was throbbing in time with her heartbeat and one eye was swollen shut. There were numerous small scrapes and bruises all over her body, and Thorn figured that they had probably been inflicted by the journey to her current position.

With that knowledge stored in the back of her mind the otter looked around again. A small fire was burning merrily nearby. Her pack sat close to it, its contents scattered across the ground. Fioran and his two lackeys were nowhere to be seen for the moment, but she didn't know how long that would last. They could just be out gathering firewood, though something told her she wouldn't be that lucky.

A grimace crossed the female's face as she twisted her paws, once more testing the strength of the ropes around her wrists. Nothing gave, and that was enough to tell her she was probably in serious trouble this time. That suspicion only deepened when Fioran came into sight on the other side of the fire. The dogfox sneered at Thorn as he stepped closer. Firelight played off of his gray fur, layering it with shadows and making it look dirtier than ever.

"Well, well, well...yer awake. Good. Now we kin 'ave some fun."

A cracked grin worked its way across his muzzle, though it didn't touch his eyes. Those remained cold and malicious as the canine reached for a hefty log resting by the fire.

"Me friends went off ter look fer yer friends. So dat jus' leaves you 'n me, T'orn."

The log landed heavily on the fire, then the fox stood and turned to face Thorn.

"Let's see 'ow yew likes payback..."

(ooc: Feel free to bring in whatever reinforcements you'd like from the fort to meet up with Severin.)