South Wind
By SolegaleMoon
Chapter 7
Kugel had spent the past two days
looking for Bulstead or his mother. At
first, he had sat hour after hour, waiting in the same tree. Time had never passed so slowly. Only his solid faith in the ability of Bulstead
kept him there. Bulstead had promised that
they would find him. They would
come. He knew it. And so he waited through the remainder of the
night and long into the next day.
But when the sun began to set and still
there had been no sign of any living creature. Kugel could take it no
longer. With shaky paws and uncertain
steps Kugel ventured forth from his waiting place. Perhaps they had not expected him to have run
this far into the woodlands. He would go
back to the settlement. Everyone would
be there, sick with worry over his whereabouts.
After a tearful reunion they would all take a late supper and a much
needed rest. Yes, that was what would
happen.
With this happy thought the young
squirrel tried to remember in which direction the settlement lay. Was it north? South? Southwest? A tear began to form in the little squirrel’s
eye. He was lost. Kugel brushed away the tear and shook his
head. No, he was not lost. He was certain the settlement lay to the
south. And if not, well…he wasn’t going
to think about that.
And so the stouthearted youth put the setting
sun to his right and marched steadily through the woodlands. To most, the peaceful forest would have been
restful, but to Kugel the silence was foreboding and eerie. The smallest rustle made him jump, half with
hope and half with fear. Was it his
family? Was it vermin?
It was in this unhappy fashion that
Kugel spent the next two days. After a
night’s march to the south, he decided he must have gone a bit too far to the
east and corrected himself by marching due west. But no, that produced no settlement, so he
tried north. And so on and so forth
until if he hadn’t been lost before he certainly was now. Luckily, he had been taught enough about
survival in the woodlands that finding food was not much of a problem, although
it slowed him down and took him off his decided path. Still, after two days of nothing but apples
(for it was late autumn) and strange roots, he was hungry.
The morning of the third day found Kugel
sitting next to a small spring in low spirits.
He munched on an almost rotting apple from a young tree and tried to
keep from crying.
“Bulstead wouldn’t cry,” the young
squirrel reprimanded himself as another fat tear spilled down his cheek. “Bulstead would be brave. Mother would want me to be brave.
Grelay…” But that was the
breaking point. Kugel hung his young
head and let the tears silently flow in despair.
He had sat there a fair while when he
heard—laughter? Kugel quickly lifted his
head and strained his ears. Yes! Voices!
Laughter! The settlement! He had found it after all.
Without another thought he picked
himself up and sprinted towards the welcome sound. Finally he would be home! He did not have far to go. Over the rock, through the bushes, around the
tree, and—Kugel tripped over his own paws in surprise. Instead of the settlement he found himself
staring at a fearsome group of thirty or so vermin.
Chapter 8
Kugel’s
legs folded under him; his heart had stopped.
He had run into the enemy! The
vermin looked just as shocked, if not as scared.
“What
we got here? Hm.” A strange creature stepped out of the ranks
of vermin. He reminded Kugel of a
weasel, but was stouter. His stiff fur
was yellowish-gray with a hint of black, and he was dressed in a long maroon
robe. Necklaces of bone, golden armbands
and colorful tattoos covered his body.
He walked with a confident strut and his head swayed from side to side
in a hypnotizing way.
“Heh. Looks like a little squirrel got lost in the
woods,” he said with a chortle. His
voice was rich and dark, like well-aged elderberry wine. “Where do you come from, treerat?”
Despite
his dangerous situation, the headstrong Kugel’s anger flared. “I’m not a rat!” he spat at the strange
creature.
“Hoho! The brushmonkey’s got spirit! I like that, even if he is just a pup. Come, puppy, what’s your name?”
By
this time Kugel was really at a loss. Brushmonkey? Kugel
didn’t know what it was, but he nevertheless resented it. Somewhat self-consciously, he looked around
at the other vermin. Weasels, stoats,
rats, a couple foxes and the odd pine marten greeted his gaze. Kugel’s heart began to fail in him but he
tried his best to stay firm since it seemed to be working.
“M’name’s
none of your business,” he mumbled. Like
lightning, Kugel’s interrogator grabbed him by his tunic and held him aloft,
staring him in the eyes.
“I
respect your spirit, pup, but I don’t have time for your games. What’s your name? Where do you come from? What are you doing here? Answer me and be quick about it!” He shook Kugel roughly. Wisely, the squirrel decided to answer.
“M’name’s Kugel. I live in the woodlands. I’m lost and I can’t find my way home.” Kugel was dropped to the ground but he
managed to catch himself.
“Hm, pity. Could’ve used you if you’d known
where your home was. Still, you may be
worth somethin’.”
A
rat ran into the midst of the strange scene.
”Captain.
The shrew’s picked up the trail again.”
“Excellent!” came the reply. “Yalto, bind
this one and bring him with us. Mind he
keeps up—we’ll know if he’s any good by the end of the day. Move out!”
The
strange captain sprinted off after the rat, followed by all the vermin. They hacked away at branch and bush, creating
a trail of destruction as they thundered through the forest. A lanky ferret grabbed Kugel and bound his
front paws behind him with a thick rope.
Next came a noose around the neck and yet another loop of rope around
the arms and middle.
“Now lissen, pup! You’re gonna
run, and run ‘ard, unnerstand? Iffen you
fall, the noose’ll strangle ya. Iffen
you don’t run, you’ll ‘ave a likkle talk with me knife. Got it?”
Eyes wide with terror, Kugel nodded.
“Good. Now run!”
Kugel
took to his heels and ran like he had never run before. Every once in awhile, the ferret’s blade
tickled his back; more often than not, Kugel tripped over a root or a rock or
his own feet, in which case his air supply was cut off. Scratched, bruised, and battered, the
exhausted Kugel followed the vermin band.
When he could think of anything other than pain and exhaustion, he
thought of home. If these were the
vermin that had attacked the settlement, then what had become of all who lived
there?
To Be Continued…