Post by Alucard on Sept 19, 2009 0:14:32 GMT -7
[[Since I have not posted here for a long time, I figured that some reparation was in order. In that light, I give you a tale of Redwall. Or part of one, at least.]]
The sound of waves lapping against the shore slowly brought me to consciousness. Small, gritty grains of sand rubbed against my cheek with every movement. What was I lying on? A beach? How did I get here? I tried to lift my head, but a stabbing pain suddenly pierced my skull and back. I could feel a small whimper escape my lips as my muscles gave a painful spasm.
I forced my eyes open and found myself in pitch darkness. Was I in some sort of cave? No, I could feel a small bit of breeze ruffling my fur. I was definitely outside somewhere. So it must be the middle of the night with heavy cloud cover.
A seagull cried out somewhere in the distance. That did not make any sense. Seagulls only showed their faces during the day. I felt a tingle of fear shoot up my spine. That’s when I heard a footstep near me. A tried to scramble away from them, but my body simply would not cooperate.
“Easy there, matey. Stop yer thrashin’ or ye’ll end up back in the water,” a voice said. I stopped trying to move and lay still. “Where are you? It’s so dark, can you see me?” I asked, trying to penetrate the thick darkness all around me. “Aye, I can. Can ye not see me?” the voice asked. It sounded like the voice of an otter and the nautical lilt in the voice only served to confirm this.
“No, I can’t see you. You can really see me, though?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly. “Aye, I can.” This time the voice sounded slightly sympathetic. “I’m thinkin’ that ye might just be blind, matey.” I swallowed once and grimaced at the sand that I could feel in my throat. “So I’m blind,” I muttered. “Fine then. Where am I?” I paused for a moment. A thought struck me. “Who am I?” I asked the otter. He stammered over a few different beginnings for sentences, and then finally said, “Ye don’t know who ye are? What happened to ye, then?” I growled slightly. “I don’t know who I am, what happened to me or how I got here, wherever here is.”
I pulled away as a paw grabbed my shoulder and hauled me up. “Alright, yer coming with me,” the otter said. I pulled against him, but since I could barely stand, I did not put up much of a fight for the apparently burly otter. “Where are you taking me? Let me go!”
“And where are ye plannin’ on goin’ if I do let ye go?” I stopped. I did not even know where I was; let alone where I would go. “I see your point,” I muttered. “Good. I promise ye I won’t hurt ye. Just come with me back to me home and I’ll see what I can do for ye. Might even have some o’ me ‘otroot soup still warmin’ on the fire.”
“Hotroot soup? What’s in that? It sounds painful to eat,” I said, allowing the otter to lead me across loosely packed sand. “’ave ye never eaten a bowl o’ ‘otroot soup before? Well, matey, yer in for quite the treat. My soup is ‘ot enough to curl yer whiskers.” I grimaced. “That sounds fun,” I muttered. The otter laughed with a big, booming chuckle that I could feel through his grip on my shoulder.
We walked on in silence, except for the odd warning from the otter about rocks or other obstacles. I could feel the sand shifting under my footpaws as we walked. The sun felt magnificent as it shone on my fur and the sea spray that sprinkled my face, whiskers and nose smelled simply divine.
After about twenty minutes of walking, the otter announced that we had arrived at his home. The air grew noticeably cooler and the sand beneath my paws was almost cold. “Well, ‘ere we are,” the otter said, his voice echoing slightly. “Is your home a cave?” I asked, sniffing the air. It smelled like peppers with a faint tinge of herbs.
“Aye, welcome. Please, please, make yourself at home. There’s a log right behind ye,” the otter said as he started to lower me down. I reached a paw out behind me and felt around until I found the log. I sat down on the piece of flotsam and continued sniffing the air. I heard the otter sitting down a short distance away. “Ye know, I’ve never seen a fox like ye before. Gray fur isn’t all that common, is it matey?” This was news to me. I had no idea what color my fur was. Though now I knew that I had not been blind all my life, because I knew what the color gray looked like. “I have gray fur?” I asked, rubbing my forearm as though I could see through my paw. “Aye, as gray as a mornin’ sky a’fore the dawn,” the otter replied. I laughed a little bit. “Although I imagine it’s not much of any color. It feels like I’m covered with mud and sand,” I said, still rubbing my arm.
“Aye, that’s somethin’ I’ve was wantin’ to ask ye about. Do ye have any idea at all about how ye came to be there? I know that ye said that ye can’t remember anythin’, but I don’t guess that ye’ve managed to recall anythin’ since then, have ye matey?” he asked while a clanking sound rang out, sounding like a ladle in a pot. “No. I can’t remember anything before I was talking to you on the beach. I don’t know who I am or where I am from. Speaking of which, where am I?”
“Ah, yer just north o’ the old Moss River and the mountain of Salamandastron. Don’t ye worry, though. It’s safe here. Ain’t hide nor hair of a vermin for miles. In fact, I—uhh, hm.” The otter stammered to a halt. I knew why he had stopped, though. One thing that managed to emerge from my mind was that foxes were usually counted as vermin when discussing them. “That’s alright, friend otter. It’s not exactly like I even know if I was with a clan of them or not. I’m not offended. So what should I call you? I can’t exactly go about calling you my otter friend, now can I?” The otter chuckled lightly. “No, I s’pose that ye can’t. You can call me Bow. And what should I be callin’ ye, fox with no memory? That doesn’t quite flow off the tongue.”
“I have no idea what I should be called. I don’t know what I like or how I behave or anything about myself except for the fact that I’m apparently a gray furred fox that’s blind!”
“Easy there, matey,” the otter said softly. “Try not to get yerself real worked up about it. Ye’ll remember everything in time. In the mean time, how ‘bout I call ye Fish cause I pulled ye out o’ the ocean, huh?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the otter’s absurd suggestion for a name for me. But since I really did not have a better idea at the time, I agreed. “Fish it is, then,” I said. “So, when will that soup be ready? I am anxious to try this ‘hotroot’ soup of yours.”
“Alright, matey, here it is. But don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” I felt a warm bowl touch my paw, so I took it and found a spoon setting in the bowl. I took it, carefully filled the spoon and lifted it to my lips. I tipped the spoon up and emptied the warm liquid into my mouth. At first it tasted quite wonderful, but then I got to the “hotroot” part of the dish. My mouth began to tingle and the tip of my tongue to started burn. After a moment, I could feel a small bit of drool foaming on the corner of my mouth. Then I made the mistake of swallowing. The soup burned all the way down my throat.
Sputtering and coughing, I nearly lost my seat as Bow guffawed, his deep booming laugh echoing through the cave. “AH! What beast would choose to eat this?” I rasped, trying to spit out the concoction. Between bursts of laughter, Bow managed to wease out, “Most beast’ll eat it, but none like it so hot as the otters. But ye did manage to get it down, eh matey?” I heard him stand up and retrieved the bowl that I had dropped. “Well, ye get some rest an’ I’ll have some fruit for ye when ye wake back up. Just don’t go anywhere, eh?” I heard him walk away from me, his footpaws crunching softly on the sandy ground. And then there was only the faint sound of the crackling fire.
I slid down off of the log, carefully felt around with my footpaw until I touched the edge of the fire pit and then curled up in a ball with my head resting on my forearm. I was asleep in about two minutes.
I woke with a start as somebeast shook my shoulder. “Easy matey, it’s just me, Bow,” said the otter as he gently helped me back to my seat on the log. “So, did ye ‘ave a nice sleep?” he asked. “Yes I did. It was very nice. Although, I am looking forward to that fruit that you promised.” I heard a bag open and Bow rummaged around inside. I felt the cool skin of a fruit ouch my paw, so I took it and felt all around the object. “A pear?” I asked.
“Aye. Ye know, ye’ve got some sensitive paws on ye if ye can tell it’s a pear just by feelin’ it. Should come in handy, eh?” Bow asked. “Yes, it should,” I replied as I bit into the juicy fruit. It was absolutely delicious. “This is good! Where did it come from?” I asked around my mouthful of fruit. “There’s a grove that grows wild just o’er the hill. Grows some o’ the best pears in all o’ Mossflower, I’d wager.” I laughed at Bow’s boast. “Well, I couldn’t say one way or another. They are very good, though. You said that they grow from a wild grove? I wonder who started it originally. It couldn’t have just appeared there, right?”
“Well, right ye are. But I’m not sure how ye’d go about figurin’ that out. It’s not like the trees’ll tell ye,” Bow said, handing me another pear. “I know. But it would be interesting to know, wouldn’t it? But all that aside, I guess that I should get to know you. Do have any family around?”
“Not ‘around’ really, but I’ve got a brother who’s the Skipper down at Redwall Abbey.”
“Redwall? Where’s that?”
“Ah, it’s a ways off to the southeast o’ here. I’ll take ye there later, if’n ye feel like goin’. Once ye’ve gotten yer feet back under ye. Come to think of it, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been down there m’self. Alright then, it’s a deal. Once yer feelin’ better, I’ll take ye down to visit the Abbey.”
“Very well, then. It’s a deal.”
The sound of waves lapping against the shore slowly brought me to consciousness. Small, gritty grains of sand rubbed against my cheek with every movement. What was I lying on? A beach? How did I get here? I tried to lift my head, but a stabbing pain suddenly pierced my skull and back. I could feel a small whimper escape my lips as my muscles gave a painful spasm.
I forced my eyes open and found myself in pitch darkness. Was I in some sort of cave? No, I could feel a small bit of breeze ruffling my fur. I was definitely outside somewhere. So it must be the middle of the night with heavy cloud cover.
A seagull cried out somewhere in the distance. That did not make any sense. Seagulls only showed their faces during the day. I felt a tingle of fear shoot up my spine. That’s when I heard a footstep near me. A tried to scramble away from them, but my body simply would not cooperate.
“Easy there, matey. Stop yer thrashin’ or ye’ll end up back in the water,” a voice said. I stopped trying to move and lay still. “Where are you? It’s so dark, can you see me?” I asked, trying to penetrate the thick darkness all around me. “Aye, I can. Can ye not see me?” the voice asked. It sounded like the voice of an otter and the nautical lilt in the voice only served to confirm this.
“No, I can’t see you. You can really see me, though?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly. “Aye, I can.” This time the voice sounded slightly sympathetic. “I’m thinkin’ that ye might just be blind, matey.” I swallowed once and grimaced at the sand that I could feel in my throat. “So I’m blind,” I muttered. “Fine then. Where am I?” I paused for a moment. A thought struck me. “Who am I?” I asked the otter. He stammered over a few different beginnings for sentences, and then finally said, “Ye don’t know who ye are? What happened to ye, then?” I growled slightly. “I don’t know who I am, what happened to me or how I got here, wherever here is.”
I pulled away as a paw grabbed my shoulder and hauled me up. “Alright, yer coming with me,” the otter said. I pulled against him, but since I could barely stand, I did not put up much of a fight for the apparently burly otter. “Where are you taking me? Let me go!”
“And where are ye plannin’ on goin’ if I do let ye go?” I stopped. I did not even know where I was; let alone where I would go. “I see your point,” I muttered. “Good. I promise ye I won’t hurt ye. Just come with me back to me home and I’ll see what I can do for ye. Might even have some o’ me ‘otroot soup still warmin’ on the fire.”
“Hotroot soup? What’s in that? It sounds painful to eat,” I said, allowing the otter to lead me across loosely packed sand. “’ave ye never eaten a bowl o’ ‘otroot soup before? Well, matey, yer in for quite the treat. My soup is ‘ot enough to curl yer whiskers.” I grimaced. “That sounds fun,” I muttered. The otter laughed with a big, booming chuckle that I could feel through his grip on my shoulder.
We walked on in silence, except for the odd warning from the otter about rocks or other obstacles. I could feel the sand shifting under my footpaws as we walked. The sun felt magnificent as it shone on my fur and the sea spray that sprinkled my face, whiskers and nose smelled simply divine.
After about twenty minutes of walking, the otter announced that we had arrived at his home. The air grew noticeably cooler and the sand beneath my paws was almost cold. “Well, ‘ere we are,” the otter said, his voice echoing slightly. “Is your home a cave?” I asked, sniffing the air. It smelled like peppers with a faint tinge of herbs.
“Aye, welcome. Please, please, make yourself at home. There’s a log right behind ye,” the otter said as he started to lower me down. I reached a paw out behind me and felt around until I found the log. I sat down on the piece of flotsam and continued sniffing the air. I heard the otter sitting down a short distance away. “Ye know, I’ve never seen a fox like ye before. Gray fur isn’t all that common, is it matey?” This was news to me. I had no idea what color my fur was. Though now I knew that I had not been blind all my life, because I knew what the color gray looked like. “I have gray fur?” I asked, rubbing my forearm as though I could see through my paw. “Aye, as gray as a mornin’ sky a’fore the dawn,” the otter replied. I laughed a little bit. “Although I imagine it’s not much of any color. It feels like I’m covered with mud and sand,” I said, still rubbing my arm.
“Aye, that’s somethin’ I’ve was wantin’ to ask ye about. Do ye have any idea at all about how ye came to be there? I know that ye said that ye can’t remember anythin’, but I don’t guess that ye’ve managed to recall anythin’ since then, have ye matey?” he asked while a clanking sound rang out, sounding like a ladle in a pot. “No. I can’t remember anything before I was talking to you on the beach. I don’t know who I am or where I am from. Speaking of which, where am I?”
“Ah, yer just north o’ the old Moss River and the mountain of Salamandastron. Don’t ye worry, though. It’s safe here. Ain’t hide nor hair of a vermin for miles. In fact, I—uhh, hm.” The otter stammered to a halt. I knew why he had stopped, though. One thing that managed to emerge from my mind was that foxes were usually counted as vermin when discussing them. “That’s alright, friend otter. It’s not exactly like I even know if I was with a clan of them or not. I’m not offended. So what should I call you? I can’t exactly go about calling you my otter friend, now can I?” The otter chuckled lightly. “No, I s’pose that ye can’t. You can call me Bow. And what should I be callin’ ye, fox with no memory? That doesn’t quite flow off the tongue.”
“I have no idea what I should be called. I don’t know what I like or how I behave or anything about myself except for the fact that I’m apparently a gray furred fox that’s blind!”
“Easy there, matey,” the otter said softly. “Try not to get yerself real worked up about it. Ye’ll remember everything in time. In the mean time, how ‘bout I call ye Fish cause I pulled ye out o’ the ocean, huh?” I couldn’t help but laugh at the otter’s absurd suggestion for a name for me. But since I really did not have a better idea at the time, I agreed. “Fish it is, then,” I said. “So, when will that soup be ready? I am anxious to try this ‘hotroot’ soup of yours.”
“Alright, matey, here it is. But don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” I felt a warm bowl touch my paw, so I took it and found a spoon setting in the bowl. I took it, carefully filled the spoon and lifted it to my lips. I tipped the spoon up and emptied the warm liquid into my mouth. At first it tasted quite wonderful, but then I got to the “hotroot” part of the dish. My mouth began to tingle and the tip of my tongue to started burn. After a moment, I could feel a small bit of drool foaming on the corner of my mouth. Then I made the mistake of swallowing. The soup burned all the way down my throat.
Sputtering and coughing, I nearly lost my seat as Bow guffawed, his deep booming laugh echoing through the cave. “AH! What beast would choose to eat this?” I rasped, trying to spit out the concoction. Between bursts of laughter, Bow managed to wease out, “Most beast’ll eat it, but none like it so hot as the otters. But ye did manage to get it down, eh matey?” I heard him stand up and retrieved the bowl that I had dropped. “Well, ye get some rest an’ I’ll have some fruit for ye when ye wake back up. Just don’t go anywhere, eh?” I heard him walk away from me, his footpaws crunching softly on the sandy ground. And then there was only the faint sound of the crackling fire.
I slid down off of the log, carefully felt around with my footpaw until I touched the edge of the fire pit and then curled up in a ball with my head resting on my forearm. I was asleep in about two minutes.
I woke with a start as somebeast shook my shoulder. “Easy matey, it’s just me, Bow,” said the otter as he gently helped me back to my seat on the log. “So, did ye ‘ave a nice sleep?” he asked. “Yes I did. It was very nice. Although, I am looking forward to that fruit that you promised.” I heard a bag open and Bow rummaged around inside. I felt the cool skin of a fruit ouch my paw, so I took it and felt all around the object. “A pear?” I asked.
“Aye. Ye know, ye’ve got some sensitive paws on ye if ye can tell it’s a pear just by feelin’ it. Should come in handy, eh?” Bow asked. “Yes, it should,” I replied as I bit into the juicy fruit. It was absolutely delicious. “This is good! Where did it come from?” I asked around my mouthful of fruit. “There’s a grove that grows wild just o’er the hill. Grows some o’ the best pears in all o’ Mossflower, I’d wager.” I laughed at Bow’s boast. “Well, I couldn’t say one way or another. They are very good, though. You said that they grow from a wild grove? I wonder who started it originally. It couldn’t have just appeared there, right?”
“Well, right ye are. But I’m not sure how ye’d go about figurin’ that out. It’s not like the trees’ll tell ye,” Bow said, handing me another pear. “I know. But it would be interesting to know, wouldn’t it? But all that aside, I guess that I should get to know you. Do have any family around?”
“Not ‘around’ really, but I’ve got a brother who’s the Skipper down at Redwall Abbey.”
“Redwall? Where’s that?”
“Ah, it’s a ways off to the southeast o’ here. I’ll take ye there later, if’n ye feel like goin’. Once ye’ve gotten yer feet back under ye. Come to think of it, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been down there m’self. Alright then, it’s a deal. Once yer feelin’ better, I’ll take ye down to visit the Abbey.”
“Very well, then. It’s a deal.”