Mynede Fan-Fic

By SolegaleMoon

Chapter 5

The little shack Mynede was in began to change in her eyes. The dust and decay disappeared, the bookshelves righted themselves, and everything became neat and orderly. Bright sunshine filled the room and cut through swirling dust motes. Birdsong could be heard through an open window. And there, underneath the window, was a mouse. He was an old mouse; his fur was turning gray. He was rather unkempt and his clothing was in a state of disarray. He sat hunched over a desk, scribbling furiously with a quill pen on a piece of bark parchment. He mumbled to himself as he wrote and at times would chuckle as if someone had said something funny. Ferath, Mynede thought to herself, that was the mouse’s name.

* ~ *

“Ferath! Ferath!” A shrill voice cut through the peaceful scene. The old mouse looked up and sighed deeply.

“Ferath, I know you’re in there! We need to talk. Ferath!” The grating voice was now accompanied by someone pounding on the door.

“Coming, sister dearest,” Ferath replied in a weary voice. He rose slowly and made his way to the door. “What is it this time?” he muttered to himself. He opened the door and was greeted by the angry face of a younger female mouse. Her blue eyes glared up at him with a fierceness he had lately grown accustomed to. Her bonnet was crooked and her body verily quivered with rage.

“Ferath, just look at what your precious child has done!” The accuser held up several pieces of broken dinnerware. Her hands shook visibly.

“Why, Cornelia… Are you, aahhh, quite sure?”

“Sure?! I saw her do it! She was caught in the act—one of many, I might add. This is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg! My house has literally been destroyed. Explain that, oh brother of mine, I’d like to see you defend her now.”

“Now calm down, Cornelia, surely it can’t be as bad as you say… You do tend to overreact at times. I’ll talk to her and make sure she fixes whatever—“

“Overreacting? You think I’m overreacting?” Cornelia was livid. She threw the remnants of her treasured dinnerware forcibly to the ground. “I’ve had it with you, Ferath! You’ve lost your head to this…this…foul pet of yours. I warned you—yes, we all did, but did you listen? No! She doesn’t belong here, Ferath. She’s not one of our kind. You can’t change her no matter how hard you try. You’re only going to bring trouble to yourself and everyone else if you let her stay on like this.”

“Cornelia, I realize it has been a long, tough road, but I assure you there is nothing to worry about. You can’t expect her to act like one of us after living with those of her own. But she is still young, Cornelia. I promise you I can change her…things will get better. You’ll see—someday she will be one of us. It just takes time.”

“Time. You think two and a half years is not time enough? Ferath, she’s worse now than when she came here! I don’t understand why you insist on treating her like a helpless babe when she is perfectly capable of murdering us in our beds.”

“Now, Cornelia, let’s not be drastic. She has pulled some awful pranks, but she would never hurt a fly.”

“But I have.”

Both mice turned to face the speaker, a young female weasel. She had large, beautiful, innocent-looking light brown eyes that searched both of them with a questioning glance. She cocked her head to the left and wiggled back and forth slightly as she spoke, painting the deceptive picture of a perfectly sweet dibbun.

“I’ve killed a lot of flies, and other things as well. It’s nothing.”

Ferath frowned down at her. “Mable, I do not wish you to speak of killing in such a manner. Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ferath.”

“Now, that’s better. Would you like to explain what you have done to Mrs. Forrester’s house, among other things?”

“No,” the big-eyed dibbun replied. Ferath pursed his lips.

“Mable, tell me what you did.”

“Why?”

“Because I am your father.”

“No, you’re not. My father is dead.”

At this Ferath’s eyes flashed. “Yes, your real father is dead,” Ferath said in a queer voice. “But I am your adoptive father. I take care of you now. So…tell me what you have done.” Ferath placed a stern gaze on his adopted daughter. After a few moments of silence, she replied.

“I broke the dishes.”

“Is that all?”

“No.”

“Please continue; tell me everything you have done.”

“I ripped the drapes. I threw the ashes from the fireplace all over everything. I dumped all the food on the floor. I broke the candlesticks. I toppled the chairs. I started to rip up the flower garden, but Mrs. Forrester caught me.”

Ferath looked deeply hurt. He glanced at Cornelia but was greeted with an icy glare. After a few moments he regained his composure.

“My child, why did you do this?”

”Because I hate her.”

Ferath was not prepared for such an answer. The child had said it with no remorse in her voice whatsoever. Even more disturbing was the fact that there was no anger present. It was said simply as if it were a most normal thing to say.

“Mable, hate is a very strong word. Surely you do not mean what you said.”

Mable simply shrugged.

“You see, Ferath, the child has no morals whatsoever. Who knows what she may do in the future!”

“Yes. Who indeed. Especially if I cease to care for her. Cornelia, for all the problems she has caused I could never abandon her. That would be wrong. I admit I may not be the best father for the child, but I am certainly better than nothing. Perhaps my lack of parenting ability is the reason she has not yet learned our ways. I know progress still needs to be made, but I can’t do all of this on my own. I’m trying my best, but I need the support of everyone, support that has repeatedly been refused me. I may seem mad to you all to have taken her in, but…how could I do otherwise?” Ferath sighed wearily. “I am sorry about all this, Cornelia. I promise you amends will be made. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mable and I need to have a little talk. I thank you for your concern.” With that Ferath shut the door.

The old mouse was just about to turn to his young charge when—

* ~ *

“Mynede?”

Mynede woke with a start and looked around in confusion. Jessup was standing over her. Apparently she had dozed off for a while. Immediately the memory of the dream filled her mind. How strange, that she should dream a memory so vividly and so accurately. It was very unnerving.

“Milady, it is eventide. Do you want anything?”

Mynede suddenly felt a terribly hunger. Pushing the dream and all the thoughts that came with it to the back of her mind, she stood up.

“Yes. Bring me some victuals—plenty, in fact. We shall spend the night here. We may or may not leave in the morning.”

“Yes, milady.”

“I will be over there, near that clearing.” Mynede gestured with her paw. “Please stay close by as there are some things I may wish to discuss with you.”

”Yes, milady.” And with that, Jessup again departed.

Mynede too left the shack. She wanted to sit and think. Not only did certain things, like where to travel next, have to be established, she wanted to sort out everything this dream had awakened. Mynede shuddered as an image of Ferath floated through her mind, although she was not sure why. She walked through the peaceful woodland, reacquainting herself with the real world.

Chapter 6

Jessup made his way back to the center of camp. The warm evening was unusually humid. There was a heaviness to the air that made Jessup move at about half his normal rate. The sun was once again a bright orange disc dipping below the horizon; its warm rays did little to invigorate Jessup’s weary limbs. The weasel tried to fight off a yawn, but failed. It had been a long day for Mynede’s second-in-command. Jessup shook his head and slapped his face in an attempt to wake himself up. There was still much to do.

Several vermin were hanging around the center of camp, keeping an eye on the rations. There was really no official guard for the provisions, as everyone wanted to make sure his neighbor did not get more than his share. A few of the group threw Jessup a distracted salute. Most were intent on looking over the pitiful loot they had found.

Jessup approached the pile of food packs and selected a particularly large one. He could sense several covetous eyes following his every move. He was just making his exit when a high-pitched voice broke the silence.

“An’ where are you goin’ wit those victuals, yer lordship?” A rat with an idiotic grin sidled up next to Jessup.

“Don’t call me that, ‘tis not me title.” Jessup continued to walk.

“You didn’t answer my question,” the rat said with a smirk. “Whatcha doin’ with those vittles? Rations ‘ave already been given out. This isn’t yer private store, y’know.”

“They are not for me. They are for her Ladyship.”

“Ohhh. Yore sure, now? I didn’t see you at mealtime. Where’ve you been all day?”

“My whereabouts are none of your business, rat. Now leave me alone.” Jessup knew it was a stupid thing to say, but he had never been very good at disciplining the unruly ones.

“As you wish, m’lord. I wouldn’t want t’be keeping a loyal servant from his task. Now, if someone was bein’ disloyal, that’s a bird of a different feather…” The rat looked knowingly at Jessup. Jessup gave the rat a queer look; what was he talking about? “Don’t play dumb with me! Yer not the only one on the outer patrol, y’know. Did you think no one’d notice yer little, ahhh, slip up?”

Jessup frowned. Could this rat have seen him and the squirrel last night? The weasel was not quite sure what to do. Why did this rat have to speak so strangely, as if in a riddle? Couldn’t he just be straightforward and be done with it?

“It’s okay, m’lord. I’ll give yer awhile to figure it out. Perhaps you’ll be ready to have a chat with me in the morning.” With that the rat gave a laugh and sauntered off. Jessup glared at him as he walked away. He felt like a fool.

* ~ *

“That Jessup, thick as a brick,” the rat muttered to himself as he crossed through the camp. “Hey, Quinty! Lochan! Did you see that?”

Quinty, a skinny stoat with small eyes, grinned. “See what? Was there summat special I was s’posed to see? Why was you talkin’ to Jessup, Scrutul? Nobody talks to him. Did you see my hat that I found?” Quinty held up a wide-brimmed hat with a large feather and waved it in Scrutul’s face.

“Yes, the hat’s lovely, Quinty,” Scrutul said, pushing it out of his way. He turned from the stoat to face an old, gray fox with a black headband wrapped around his eyes. “Well, Lochan?”

“Hmmm?”

“Did you see, er, hear me talkin’ with Jessup?”

Lochan flashed a cold smile. “Hear. That’s better. You must be watchin’ your words, Scrutul. You’ll hurt a poor blind fox’s feelings.”

“You knew what I meant,” Scrutul said with a snort. “Anyhow, what’d you make of it?”

“I’d be careful if I were you, Scrutul. As I have said before, Jessup is not to be taken lightly. He may be a fool in every sense of the word, but he’s also an experienced fighter and Mynede’s right hand. Don’t insult him as if he was deaf and dumb. You’re being too confident.”

“I suppose you’re right. Though why Mynede picked ‘im, I’ll never know. Any more advice?”

“Go ahead and continue your blackmail. That’ll keep Jessup out of your way. But use your time wisely. Show our Lady your skills. Give her a chance to warm up to you before you do away with her favorite.”

“You really think I should kill him, then?” Scrutul was smiling.

“Of course! But not too soon. Take your time, but use it wisely.”

“Thanks, mate. I know I can count on you.” Scrutul grasped the fox’s paws and shook them heartily.

“You can count on me too, Scrutul! I’m your best pal. Here, I’ll let you wear my hat.” Quinty shoved the foul-smelling hat on Scrutul’s head and giggled. Scrutul merely sighed.

“Thank you, Quinty. I appreciate your…support.”

* ~ *

Night passed quickly and soon the vermin band was packing up camp and preparing to move out. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon; the birds had not yet started their morning song, but the grasshoppers had gone to bed. All was quiet and peaceful, except for the activity at the campsite.

“Milady, we are ready to move out.” Jessup stood straight as an arrow, a heavy pack on his back and a large staff in his paws.

“Everything is in order? All signs of our presence here have been taken care of?”

“I have seen to it, Milady.”

“Even the bodies?”

“Yes, Milady.”

“Then let us not waste any more time.”

Jessup nodded and reached for his scimitar in order to salute, only to find it was not at his side. Mynede watched with interest as a look of dismay appeared on her bondservant’s face.

“Is there a problem?” she said with amusement.

“I, er, uh, forgot something, Milady.”

“Well, hurry up and get it. We won’t wait for you.” With that Mynede broke into a jog, ready to inform the others that it was time to leave.

Jessup did not waste any time. He raced back to the last spot he could remember using his scimitar. There, a good distance from the settlement, lay the small clearing. It was dotted with several large, smooth mounds of freshly overturned dirt. A strange white rock lay in the middle, and on top of the rock was Jessup’s prized scimitar. It was a beautiful weapon, the long blade curving gracefully into the golden, jewel-encrusted hilt. Jessup snatched it off the rock, but instead of running back towards camp, he paused.

“It’s not a very fitting marker for so many graves,” he muttered, staring at the rock. “But I guess it’ll have to do.” He wiped some dirt from his battered blade. “I buried you as best I could. Rest in peace.” Jessup hurriedly sheathed his scimitar and headed back after the rest of the vermin.

To Be Continued…