Anchovies [open]

[Shor]

((This is an open thread, though I'd much rather one of the protagonists join. I'd like Lachie to meet with the desperate group of escaped slaves.))

---

A young sea otter limped slowly through the trees and brush. He looked to the sky, hoping to see the orange or pink light of the morning reflect off of a stray cloud. Nothing. It was still too early. The moon peeked out from behind a particularly tall tree as he passed by, enough for the large obstruction to move to the left of the shining disk.

"That's right, I'm a seer. . ." Th otter's loud voice drew more attention than his sister was comfortable with. She pulled him aside.

"Lachie, you've gotta stop doing this. . ."

"Doing what?" muttered the sullen creature. He shifted his path to the left in order to avoid another tree. Stupid trees. Why did these woods have to be so thick? It was nothing like Ruddaring.

"Doing this!" she retorted. She was irritated; there was no doubt in his mind about that. "I know ye like to play pretend, an' I've always played along with yer liddle shenanigans, but c'mon! These beasts are--"

"These beasts are wot?" He found himself yelling. It wasn't safe here. Mayhaps he'd best keep quiet. . .

"They're dangerous, Lachie!"

"Tch. An' I suppose that old hogwife o'er there is too, aye? D'ye think she'll beat me with 'er cane?"

"Lachie, lissen!"

He stared into her eyes. She was serious.

"I know who they are, an' ye don' wantae ge' involved with them."

He opened his mouth to reply, but she continued.

"I go along wi' you every time you're hired for somethin' ridiculous, an' I've always been there ta help you when you get intae trouble. Why can't ye lissen t'me just this one time?"

He frowned. It wasn't that he didn't want to listen to her, but he was already so close to succeeding this investigation. Mr. Spaffort was waiting for an answer. Why on earth would she want to stop now?

"They're just beasts. An' besides, I'm coming so close," he pleaded.

"That just it, Lachie. You're coming too close."

At first, Lachie had thought that his sister knew something, was hiding something, or harbored some vital (yet evidently dangerous) information, but it was clear that she was simply concerned for his wellbeing, or rather, his being itself.

He let out a deep sigh. "Fine. Fine. We'll tell Bruff tomorrow, but you'll do all the apologizing."

She smiled warmly. "No, nono, you're the seer. I'm just theee. . . I don' know wot I am, but I'm not responsible!"

Lachie caught her relief, and returned the smile. "Ye jus' talked me outta helping a mouse find the beast that burned down 'is 'ome! I'd say ye're a'least a liddle bi' responsible, Lachina."

"I'm not the one looking fur anchovies." She referenced a previous incident, wherein Lachie had been looking for something that wasn't there, nor supposed to be found.

"Fine, fine. . ." He chuckled. "Now would ye stop tapping yer paws, 'tis drivin' me mad. . ."

The sea otter trailed off abruptly as he realized that he was alone. His heart sank, and for several moments, he simply stood there amidst the trees. Most of them weeping willows. Funny. He kicked a fallen branch sharply. Two smaller sticks thudded on the soft earth, a result of the branch's impact on the bark.

Angry murmurs emanated from the young male's chest, growing progressively louder until he was almost yelling. "Been searching fur this stupid Fort Nashy fur weeks, now, an' 'aven't foun' anythin'. . . Walked over the river, an' through the freaking woods, but gramma's 'ouse is invisible!"

He stopped as something caught his footpaw, causing him to fall, executing a perfect face-plant. While Lachie was certainly the beast to appreciate such flawless form in the art of embedding one's countenance in the boggy earth, he didn't laugh. Did he just trip over somebeast? He rubbed the dirt out of his eyes, and turned to look behind him. Woah. Tree. A few memories shot back into his consciousness. Camp Willow, maybe? Looked a lot like the picture. . . He turned to whomever he had treated as an all-too-friendly house cat, and prodded him (or her) with his cane.

"Excuse me, Mr. or Mrs. Somethingorother. . ."

His first thought had been concerning his location. His second thought, which would have really, in anybeast else's mind, been the first, was the wondering of what this stranger was doing lying on the ground. And why there? Why not leaning up against a tree, or perhaps in the branches of said tree. Why here, in some random spot on the ground?

[Treble Tiderunner]

"Been searching fur this stupid Fort Nashy fur weeks, now, an' 'aven't foun' anythin'. . . Walked over the river, an' through the freaking woods, but gramma's 'ouse is invisible!"

"Now, now, laddie..." Tam caught the footpaw as it swung towards her, lifting it up and over herself and unintentionally causing the boy to fell. She dug her elbows into the snow, levering herself off her back and into a sitting position. Ouch. Looked like he'd faceplanted into the cleared area. That packed dirt had to hurt.

"Excuse me, Mr. or Mrs. Somethingorother. . ."

"Stop that!" She swatted the cane away, glaring up at the strange otter. "Really! Just because I 'tripped' you is no reason to go prodding with the stick!" She female otter looked rather comical, sitting in snow up to her waist, glaring up at the otter-with-a-stick.

"Now what do you want?"

[Shor]

"Stop that! Really! Just because I 'tripped' you is no reason to go prodding with the stick!"

Lachlan almost smiled as he drew back the cane. Its foot came to rest directly before his own, one paw resting atop the cane, covered by the other.

"Now what do you want?"

The young otter shook his head in slight confusion. "Well, to start with," he began as politely as he could muster in such a mood as this, "I'd rather like t'know why ye're layin' 'ere inna snow. . . Could really 'urt a beast if 'e don't see ye thar. . ."

He offered a big paw to help this ottermaid to her footpaws. A stranger stranger than he'd met in a while.

---

((Takin' this one a little slower. . . Sorry for the word play. ))

[Treble Tiderunner]

Tampa eyed the retreat of the cane with something like approbation. She nodded once, quickly, then began to brush the snow from the sleeves of her long-sleeved tunic.

"Well, to start with," he began as politely as he could muster in such a mood as this, "I'd rather like t'know why ye're layin' 'ere inna snow. . . Could really 'urt a beast if 'e don't see ye thar. . ."

“First off,” she said with some asperity, “not many beasts walk so close to the Willows.” She accepted his paw, rising to her feet slim and tall. She had, after all, filled out much since her voluntary captivity. No longer did her ribs stick out under her fur, or her eyes and cheeks sink into hollows.

“I was waiting for someone, and resting.” She looked closer at the young otterlad, obviously younger than she, perhaps by two or three years. No haunted wariness lurked behind his eyes, no ancestral sadness. So not a Mossflower otter. There was something though, some sadness and residual anger that lurked. Finished with her perfunctory assessment, she stuck a paw out.

“Tampa Tiderunner.” She’d never been to the sea, in fact neither had her parents. According to her uncle, who knew the traditions of old even if he found them inconvenient to their present life, a Tiderunner visited the sea early on in their teens, where they swam the Tides and truly earned their familial names. She wondered briefly if that tradition would continue, or if she and all the rest of the rebels would die in the upcoming conflict.

“And ye are, laddie?”

[Shor]

“First off,” she said with some asperity, “not many beasts walk so close to the Willows.”

Lachlan shrugged, helping the ottermaid to her footpaws. He raised an eyebrow. She was around his age, though a few seasons older. The ottermaid was also rather attractive, though there was something about her he just couldn't place.

“I was waiting for someone, and resting.”

Waiting? Lachie was officially curious, though he knew that he couldn't focus on that now.

“Tampa Tiderunner.”

He accepted her paw in greeting. Tiderunner, eh? Lachie knew of the Tiderunners. It was a wonder that one should be this far east. . .

“And ye are, laddie?”

"Lachlan Stromness. . ." He introduced himself with a friendly smile. There followed a short, awkward pause. To break what uncomfortable silence that might ensue, Lachie cut straight to the point. "D'you, mayhap, know, er, where Fort 'Tashi is? . . ." It was an odd question, he knew, but necessary.

---

((Bleh.))

[Treble Tiderunner]

"Lachlan Stromness. . ."

Tampa nodded politely, an acknowledgement of his name, but something drew her attention north, towards the camp. She blinked away the foreboding that rose within her when Lachlan spoke again.

"D'you, mayhap, know, er, where Fort 'Tashi is? . . ."

“Do I?” Her lip quirked with a certain irony and distaste. “That fort has been a scar on our woodlands for forty-one years.” And three months, and twelve days. Her eyes snapped to his, sharp with question and defense. “Why are you searching for that hell-hole?”

[Tirael]

“Why are you searching for that hell-hole?”

"I'll tell y'why, Miss Tampa," came a voice from nearby. "He wants a job, is why! He's headin' there t--ouch!"
"Land's sake, Able, what kind of idiot assumption is that!? I'm thinkin' of taking you off patrol duty entirely! Honestly, Brend here's doin' twice as well as you, and he's only been on the job for three hours!"

A trio of creatures emerged from behind two trees. From one came two squirrels, a male and a female, with the former rubbing his head and muttering mutinously. From the other came a young shrew who, like Tam, had filled out a bit since his enslavement and having a javelin pulled out of his back, none the worse for wear. "Hiya!" Brend said cheerfully, adding a quick wave for good measure. Ever since his escape, he'd been almost a different shrew; his past pessimism was almost nonexistent. Moving over to place a paw on the youngster's shoulder, the female squirrel spoke, first to Tam, then to both the otters. "Mornin', Tam. Sorry t' have disturbed both of you. We were just on patrol when we heard somethin' and figured we should check it out."

Now turning her full attention on the supposedly less-strange stranger, she stuck out a paw and said, "Nice t' meet ya. I'm Treesage, this is Brend, and Mr. Doom 'n Gloom over there is Able." Dropping her voice, she added, "You just ignore whatever 'e says now." After a nice, firm pawshake, she said, a little more seriously, "Tam did have a legitimate question, though. Why are you lookin' for the Fort? Y' won't find any welcome save for chains and hard labor." Brend shifted uncomfortably, still not ready to think about the life he'd left behind only a short time ago. Who would be?

[Shor]

“Do I?” Her lip quirked with a certain irony and distaste. “That fort has been a scar on our woodlands for forty-one years.” And three months, and twelve days. Her eyes snapped to his, sharp with question and defense. “Why are you searching for that hell-hole?”

Lachlan nodded, waiting for Tampa to finish expressing her distaste. He'd heard this before. Frequently. The Fort wasn't the most popular place, even among sea otters (who weren't really affected by it at all, themselves). But just as Lachie was about to explain himself, somebeast volunteered to do so for him.

"I'll tell y'why, Miss Tampa. He wants a job, is why! He's headin' there t--ouch!"

"Land's sake, Able, what kind of idiot assumption is that!? I'm thinkin' of taking you off patrol duty entirely! Honestly, Brend here's doin' twice as well as you, and he's only been on the job for three hours!"

Lachie observed the trio, comprised of two squirrels, and a shrew. Great, more people. And Lachie supposed he'd have to learn their names too..?

"Hiya!"

Lachie raised his paw with a cheerful expression to greet the shrew. It wasn't sincere, but as far anybeast else knew, it was. He was still impatient to get to the Fort, find what he was looking for, and move on. In and out -- how hard could it be?

But, of course, they kept talking. "Nice t' meet ya. I'm Treesage, this is Brend, and Mr. Doom 'n Gloom over there is Able. You just ignore whatever 'e says now. Tam did have a legitimate question, though. Why are you lookin' for the Fort? Y' won't find any welcome save for chains and hard labor."

Lachlan looked down at his cane to make a point. Returning his gaze to Treesage's eyes, he lowered an eyebrow. "I don' know that I'd make much of a slave, wot wi' mah, er, condishun, but. . ." he wondered for a second what the Fort would make of a limping otter, "I'm jus' lookin' for somebeast, an' I've reason t'believe they're at the Fort. 'f Ah don't find wot I'm lookin' fur, then I'll just leave an' look someplace else. . ." The young sea otter wasn't entirely aware of the difficulty such a task had presented these beasts. He knew leaving wouldn't be a bed of roses, but it couldn't take longer than a few months. At least, for a seer, it mightn't.

[Tirael]

"I don' know that I'd make much of a slave, wot wi' mah, er, condishun, but. . ."

Treesage shrugged, muttering, "They're not picky..."

"I'm jus' lookin' for somebeast, an' I've reason t'believe they're at the Fort. 'f Ah don't find wot I'm lookin' fur, then I'll just leave an' look someplace else. . ."

The look on her face increasingly betraying the inner thought What is he thinking?, Treesage shook her head and sighed, "I'm sorry, but going to that fort is not a good idea. If you really need to know about who's there, you can ask him." Gently pushing Brend forward, she laid her paws on both of his shoulders to keep him from feeling too uncomfortable. "He was a slave there for a good while, he'd most likely know." As much as he preferred not to think about the Fort, Brend nodded, realizing it would be unfair for him not to try and help.

"Who're you looking for?"

[Shor]

"I'm sorry, but going to that fort is not a good idea. If you really need to know about who's there, you can ask him. He was a slave there for a good while, he'd most likely know."

The shrew nodded. These creatures were nice. It was unusual for Lachlan, who was unaccustomed to such cooperative, friendly beasts.

"Who're you looking for?"

Lachie, purely due to force of habit, studied the shrew. A little weak for a slave, which indicated a lack of outdoor work. Brend couldn't have done much else than various butler-like jobs during his seasons as a slave. It was also obvious that he'd gone through a lot more than slavery had to offer. --My mother was murdered-- A horrible image flashed into Lachlan's mind as though it was his own memory. The seer placed a paw to his head, betwixt his eyes, as though experiencing a headache, though to be honest, he had to admit that it was to cover up the pain of the vision. Why did everybeast have to have such horrid, dark pasts? Couldn't they just live boring lives, for once? Or, at the very least, couldn't Lachie's visions be about something -- I don't know -- less gruesome?

But back to the matter at paw. Who was Lachlan looking for?

"While you were there. . ." began Lachie. He hesitated, unsure as to whether to ask for his father, or the ferret. Well, what were the chances that his father would be at the Fort? . . . One in. . . How much was infinity? "Did ye 'appen t'see a ferret? I knew 'is brother, an' Ah thenk 'is name was, er, Farrow Kegget?" Lachlan asked hopefully.

Farrow Kegret, as the ferret was actually named, was, in fact, working at the Fort. He was a watchman, however, and seldom entered the actual building. Oftentimes, he slept on the walltops, though the night watchmen who recurrently tripped over him didn't much approve. Some considered tossing him over so that he would not wake up, he on the wrong side of his bed. . .

[Treble Tiderunner]

"I'll tell y'why, Miss Tampa," came a voice from nearby. "He wants a job, is why! He's headin' there t--ouch!"
"Land's sake, Able, what kind of idiot assumption is that!? I'm thinkin' of taking you off patrol duty entirely! Honestly, Brend here's doin' twice as well as you, and he's only been on the job for three hours!"[/b]

Tam rolled her eyes, suppressing a groan as she recognized Able’s voice. That squirrel seemed to have a vendetta against the world, and thought the worst of friend, foe and unknown. A wave of relief also came over her as she heard the unmistakable voice of Treesage. A sensible squirrel, the female was often paired with Able, for the sole reason she was the only one willing to put up with his dribble. And not much of that, for she often put paid to his attempts at trouble with a well placed fist or tap of her bowstave.

"Mornin', Tam. Sorry t' have disturbed both of you. We were just on patrol when we heard somethin' and figured we should check it out."

“It’s ok, Treesage.” Tam smiled at the older squirrel, her eyes crinkling into brief triangles of amusement. “After all, I was merely getting’ myself tripped over, wooohahaha!” Suddenly the amusement of her situation when tickled her, and she laughed her characteristic, earsplitting laugh. She winked at Brend when he looked at her, a look of surprise on his face.

"While you were there. . ." began Lachie. He hesitated, unsure as to whether to ask for his father, or the ferret. Well, what were the chances that his father would be at the Fort? . . . One in. . . How much was infinity? "Did ye 'appen t'see a ferret? I knew 'is brother, an' Ah thenk 'is name was, er, Farrow Kegget?" Lachlan asked hopefully.

“Farrow Kegret?” Tampa said almost immediately, her manner back to the somber. “Not that old nimchen? Ye can’t be lookin’ for ‘im!”

[Shor]

“Farrow Kegret?” interrupted Tampa.

Lachlan shifted his weight from his cane to his good footpaw. Hm. He missed an "r." Ah well. Pay attention, for once. The tone with which she spoke of the ferret implied a general dislike, not that anybeast would like their own captor. . .

“Not that old nimchen?..." she continued.

Tampa had a nice voice. Stop it!

"...Ye can’t be lookin’ for ‘im!”

Right, so Farrow was not the most competent beast alive. The ferret took after his brother. Seriously, who steals four ships and expects to get away with it? Still, he had to maintain some level of intelligence, or Lachlan wouldn't have known of him. Mayhaps Kegret specialized in something else -- undoubtedly not thievery.

Lachlan shrugged. "Aye, Ah'm not impressed either, but 'e's the o'ly beast alive wi'the infurmaishun I need. Plus, I need a translator, an'. . ."

He halted mid-sentence, tilting his head at what could only be assumed a noise of some sort that he'd caught. Lachlan's brow furrowed, and he turned his gaze to Tampa. Something was amiss, and whatever it was, it involved the ottermaid. He held up a paw to indicate that they should wait a moment.

---

((. . . Aaaand there goes my train of thought. . . I'll just. . . let you take it from here, Grath.))

[Tirael]

"While you were there. . .Did ye 'appen t'see a ferret? I knew 'is brother, an' Ah thenk 'is name was, er, Farrow Kegget?"

Brend was about to answer when he realized he had no idea who this Farrow ferret was at all, and his mouth snapped shut. He'd almost never interacted with the wallguards, and at most saw them a few times a month. Not exactly the best situation for gathering information on them. After shaking his head, he glanced at Tampa as she cut into the silence.

“Farrow Kegret? Not that old nimchen? Ye can’t be lookin’ for ‘im!”

Well, as luck had it, she seemed to, so Brend breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Now his time was free to figure out what a 'nimchen' was (maybe he could ask Laila later...). Able, meanwhile, muttered something about being able to care less about ferrets, and stalked into the trees. Watching him go with a look of supreme irritation, Treesage slapped a paw over her eyes and groaned. "Brend, stick with these two," she murmured. "There's no way I'm leaving him by himself." Watching her follow her partner, Brend almost followed. But she was taking to the trees now, and there was no way he could catch up. Given that, it would be safest to stay with Tampa until she decided to go home, too...he just hated the notion that he still had to wait for others to escort him everywhere. Sometimes he wished he was older...

[Treble Tiderunner]

Lachlan shrugged. "Aye, Ah'm not impressed either, but 'e's the o'ly beast alive wi'the infurmaishun I need. Plus, I need a translator, an'. . ."

“What are you looking for, Lachie?” Tam said, unconsciously looking towards the Fort, a prickling began at the base of her spine and ran up. Her eyes turned icy and she renewed a promise she had repeated every day since the big escapes. She’d get them out, if she had to die to do it.

She turned back just in time to catch Treesage’s tail disappearing up a tree. She looked at Brend, then at Lachlan. “Well, Brend, looks like you’re stuck w—” Lachlan held his paw up, and she turned to him, a question on her lips. “Wha—”

A mouse burst through the leaves, gasping. “Tam! Tam!” He bent over, bracing his paws on his knees, gasping in breath. “Tam! Come quick! Its Skipper, he got shot.”

Tam, reaching a paw out to the young mouse, froze mid-step, words choking in her throat. Slow minutes went by before she finally blinked and threw it off. “What?” Her voice was low, tight. “Who and how?” She rapped the words out rapid fire.

[Shor]

It all happened rather quickly. The mouse appeared, spouted the news quickly, and Tampa was gone. Lachlan didn't know what to think. He was certainly startled, but he was at a loss as to what to do. The otter mentally ran through what he did know, in order to sort out the confusing mess of events.

This area's Skipper had been shot, probably in an assassination attempt. Based on the messenger's breathlessness, it could be safely assumed that it had happened very recently. Tampa's reaction meant that she was related to the Skipper. Lachie guessed that she was his daughter.

While Lachlan's initial priority was to find Farrow Kegret to learn the whereabouts of his father, he felt that it wouldn't be right not to help. He felt especially attached, as his own family had died, leaving him completely alone, and if he could spare Tampa that pain, he'd at least feel a little more at peace about his own.

He took a quick glance at Brend, then hobbled along as quickly as he could in the direction Tampa had run.