The night was one of those rare ones, perfectly clear, with very
little wind, and just enough light to see by. Only when the moon is
little more than a silver crescant is the lighting perfect. Even then,
there might be too much wind or clouds. Tonight was perfect, thought
Whiplash, for a sneak around the forest. Thus, she gathered a halfscore
of vermin especially trained for their stealth, speed, and tracking
skills. All were good fighters, and wore black leather vests to conceal
them in the forest of shadows. Whiplash led the little band deep into
the gloom, occasionally stopping to listen to the still night air,
sniffing to see if anybeast was near. All was quiet until a javelin
buried itself a mere hair's breath from her neck. Cursing under her
breath, she motioned her band up into the trees. Whiplash herself
remained below, slowly drawing her twin sabers. "Who are you and what do
you want?" she called out. She was answered only by the whispering of
the leaves rubbing against each other, swaying in the wind------"Crap!"
Cursing, Whiplash loosed off an arrow into the swaying branches. THERE
WAS NO WIND THIS NIGHT! She was rewarded by a gurgling cry of pain. Her
little band followed suit, and the calm of the night was soon shattered
by the dying screams of the unknown opponent. Quite suddenly, there was
silence. After the rending screams, it seemed almost unbearable to most.
Whiplash, however, embraced it, and melted into the trees to seek the
enemy. The vermin band gathered on the ground and followed. In the
distance, a low, menacing chuckle souded. Whiplash had found the enemy,
and a few were still alive! Though sorely wounded, the five unfortunate
squirrels would live, that is, until Whiplash decided to kill them. By
now, the night had turned truly dark, signaling the arrival of midnight.
Whiplash's second, Kory, reported that no injuries were sustained.
Grinning, Whiplash gave the order to tend to the prisoners. When the
wounds were taken care of, the prisoners were tied. Kory noticed that
each had a ring on their paw, but dismissed that as irrelevant. As the
night neared the dawn, Kory consulted Whiplash. "There is a clearing
nearby. It would be a good place to camp. If the prisoners do not rest,
they will not survive the next day."
Whiplash followed Kory to the proposed site. Nodding her approval,
the kitten said, "Good work, lad. My family used to camp here before
they were slaughtered."
Kory nodded and backed away, disappearing into the shadows to gather
the rest of the band.
~ ~ ~ ~
~
The sun rose serenely over the trees, but the scene it shone down upon
was nothing pretty. Having had a night's rest, or rather, what was left
of it, the slaves were deemed healed enough for the band to commence the
rather painful procedure of extracting information. However, the
squirrels proved to be incredibly stubborn, and instead of answering our
queries, they would remain silent, then sream in pain as the torture
continued. Soon, there was only three left.Giving up on the slaves,
Whiplash called the young Kory and ordered the band to move out. The
young kit nodded and ran off to deliver the message. If he didn't have
such an odd name, Whiplash brooded, he could have been her twin! The
resemblance was striking, and he seemed to know everything that was on
her mind. Shaking away her revery, Whiplash commenced making life very
miserable for the stubborn creatures she had as slaves. Although their
wound were treated with utmost skill and care, they were given almost no
water, and even less food. As the band readied itself for a day-long
march, the prisoners were shackled with their paws behind their backs.
The march was an excruciating torture for the unfortunate beasts. The
band loped along at a break-neck pace, almost impossible to match even
unshackled, weak as they were. To make matters worse, every time they
stumbled, they were whipped until they regained their feet. Since they
had little balance, they stumbled and were whipped very often. At last,
the band of vermin, mostly wildcats, came within sight of Marshank. The
looks of complete and utter horror on the faces of the victims were
glorious to see. As they neared the fortress, however, the slaves all
took off their rings, took out a pill, and swallowed them. Within
moments, all three lay dead, their faces infuriatingly calm and
peaceful. Kory realized his mistake just as news reached Whiplash.
Berating himself for not checking out the rings, he silently collected
them and handed it to Whiplash. Sighing, Whiplash took the rings. After
several moments, she looked up and said, "The pills were made with
herbs, alone they would have been harmless. When mixed properly, they
would make a deadly poison which kills almost instantly, painlessly.
Obviously, these creatures were instructed not to reveal who they were,
where they are from, and most importantly, their purpose in being this
close to Marshank. It would seem that they were given means to take
their own lives should they fall into enemy hands. DAMN! All this for
NOTHING!" Shoving the rings angrily into her pack, Whiplash yelled,
"MOVE OUT! We reach Marshank by nightfall!" Thus, the mysterious
squirrel tribe remained a secret. Whiplash wondered when they would
stike again, if there were more. To be certain, the squirrels they had
captured were definitely NOT from RAIM.
By: Whiplash
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