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XVII

Feast (Part 1)

Not too many fences. That was a first. Everywhere the Long Patrol went, fences or some kind of fortification had been built to keep invaders out. But here, in the massive glade near River Moss, the hares and Badger Lord only saw a few watch towers built out of timber, with roofs made of thatch. The beasts within the watch tower, burly otters wielding crossbows, saw the Badger Lord and his army and let them within the glade without scrutiny. Now that the hares were inside, they were stunned by the community around them. A series of tents had been created--some medium-sized, some big enough for several beasts to eat under if a table was placed beneath the canopy. There was a large building not far from the tents that was also made out of timber, moss, and tough stone. Although it wasn't vast, an orchard was located west of the building; some of the trees were blooming again, and dozens of bushes were carrying sprigs of berries so ripe that beasts could smell those yards away. As Urthquake and the long-eared beasts started to walk through the community, their sore, blistering paws were comforted with grass that still had dew on it and soft clumps of moss.

"Err...did we take a wrong turn somewhere?" asked one corporal.

Colonel Clannin and Sanjoy were just as surprised as a majority of the other hares. "Did you know about this place, sah?" asked Clannin.

The Badger Lord looked down at the hare as he took a few steps forward. "I've heard about a community like this not far from the coast, but I wasn't sure they'd actually get it done."

A majority of the residents from what everybeast could tell were otters. Many of them were hardworking beasts, pitching together to help build another habitation for its occupants to sleep in. Some of the burly creatures were putting up more columns beside the fences, giant logs that were pointed at the top so nobeast could climb inside without getting injured. Others were playful otters frolicking around or acting rowdy, snickering as they used their slingshots to launch clumps of mud at other young creatures. Other species occupied the community as well--chubby hedgehog brewers, young mouse maids whose voices were as beautiful as the clothes they wore, scruffy moles responsible for making various trapping pits and tunneling systems throughout the camp. Urthquake even saw a few voles occupying the area, mainly watervoles who kept to themselves or spent their time assisting the chefs inside the main building. Some of the residents were flabbergasted upon seeing Urthquake and his hares, while others started to jump up and down excitedly, ecstatic that such a bold and wise creature was visiting their peaceful settlement.

"Look, Mum, s'a big stripe-doggy!"

"Ohhh, lookit all'm 'ares 'n' thurr big ol' bellies! Be up all noight maken vittles furr 'em we will! Best git start'n now furr we run outter food!"

"Hehe, well now! Never knew such 'andsome 'ares would be part of the Long Patrol!"

"There's so many!"

"Those hares better not steal my stash of blackcurrant pie!"

"Ooooh, look at that one's sabre!"

A few of the hares began to blush, not used to being the center of this kind of attention. But others felt a sense of pride knowing that there were still beasts out there who respected them, or at the very least, looked up to them. A short and thin hare clad in a purple coat with a few medals pinned to the material winked at one of the otters moments before flashing a leering gaze at a rabbit who was busy splitting a thick log in half. After the Badger Lord and his army arrived to the center of the settlement, one of the older otters spotted the giant beast and decided to greet him.

"I can't believe it. The Badger Lord of Salamandastron and the Long Patrol coming to this settlement?"

The otter rushed over to the giant badger and immediately shook his paw, her tiny paw nearly engulfed by the palm of his. She giggled and wagged her thick tail as she looked up at Urthquake and the rest of his hares.

"How long have you beasts been out there? You must be tired; come sit down, relax! Oh, oh, sorry! I'm bein' rude aren't I? My-my name's Meena! Welcome to Tearmann! It's such an honor to meet you!"

Sanjoy looked at the hyper and slightly bashful otter as she kept wagging her tail and twiddled her fingers. The hare smiled and blinked.

"Calm down, marm. No need to get yoreself worked up, wot!"

Meena giggled again. "Sorry, sorry. I've just never seen a Badger Lord for m'self before! I'm sure Russell will be thrilled to know you're all here! Just stay put; I'll be back shortly!"

Meena turned around and ran away, heading over to the main building so she could find the leader of Tearmann. Clannin chuckled as the sleek otter left.

"Jumpy li'l thing, ain't she?"

Urthquake started to smile slightly. "You know how it is. If there's one thing everybeast wants to do before they die, it's come face to face with a badger such as myself."

Sanjoy grinned. "I doubt those pesky vermin feel the same way, m'lord."

"Good point."

It didn't take Meena long before she found Russell, who was nearly being dragged by his paw over to Urthquake and the Long Patrol.

"Awright, awright, Meena! I can walk by meself!"

Meena eventually let go of the otter's wrist, and the sleek creature started to smirk as he walked up to the blue-striped badger in his thick armor and chainmail. Urthquake looked down at the beast clad in a purple tunic and baggy pants. He wore a black bandanna around his head with white polka-dots on it, and his belt had nearly a dozen different throwing knives thrust inside. Despite his corsair attire, Urthquake sensed a benign, playful atmosphere coming from the beast.

"If it isn't Urthquake the Tough an' his band o' hares!"

Urthquake smiled as the otter laughed joyously and extended a paw. He shook it gently, although the otter still felt like all the bones in his body were being raddled as his paw moved up and down.

"You seem to know my name already, but I don't believe I can recall yours."

"Seriously mate? I'm Russell Galedeep! Y'know, the fearsome warrior who traveled far an' wide in the Northlands purgin' the lands an' seas o' vermin scum?"

"No...can't remember any of that."

"Wot 'bout Bluddhip the Slicer? Remember hearin' stories 'bout 'ow that nasty weasel sliced his victims to li'l pieces? Remember hearin' 'bout an otter choppin' his 'ead to bits usin' his very own cutlass? Hehehe, 'twas I, Urthquake!"

Russell stood in front of the badger smiling with all his shiny teeth showing as he pointed to himself and stuck out his chest. Urthquake just blinked and scratched his head, still not remembering anything Russell was saying. After a brief silence, Russell lowered his paw and chuckled meekly.

"Ehhhh...hehe, we'll get into that later! I'm sure you an' all yore 'ares must be tired an' 'ungry after such a long journey! No need to keep standin' about! Sit down, relax, mingle with the residents of Tearmann! Hah, an' don't worry, our chefs plan on makin' a biiiiiig meal tonight that'll be enough fer everybeast!"

Urthquake glanced back over at his army and smirked. "Well, you heard the otter. Relax and enjoy yourselves! It isn't often we stumble across a community like this."

That much was true. Almost a week had passed since the Long Patrol had slain Blackheart, and they still hadn't found a settlement as spacious or as populated as this one. At best, they were lucky enough to stumble across a few shacks or caves that were occupied with goodbeasts. Now that they were here, the hares weren't sure what to do with themselves. Several of them wanted to stuff their growling bellies, and became impatient the second they smelled the pastries and other vittles that were being cooked inside the fortified building. Others lowered their guard and began to walk around the green moss, the soft, damp plants soothing their weary, dirty footpaws. A couple of hares found a shady, quiet spot near one of the leafy sycamore trees and lied against the bark, shutting their eyes so they could ease their battered bodies. But a majority of the hares were more than happy to be around such a lively, peaceful group of beasts and wanted to get to know them before they left the settlement. One such hare was the plump light brown medic whose fellow soldiers had given him a seemingly embarrassing nickname. He walked around the soft moss for a few minutes, looking around at a few young otters and hedgehogs who were still flinging clods of mud at each other. But then the medic's ears wiggled as he heard a hedgehog and a gruff otter talking to each other and looking through an assortment of vials.

"D'you think we're gonna need all these concoctions, Ruula? I doubt that many beasts will end up makin' themselves sick!"

The otter nodded. "Absolutely. With all these hares 'round 'ere, I think it's best if'n we got some o' them emetics on paw!"

The medic butted into the conversation, snickering as he walked up to the hedgehog and otter. "Beggen yore pardon, but the prickly one over here is right, wot! There's no need to tire yoreselves by makin' all these emetics! All ya need is a lotta sulphur tuft; that'll get 'em goin' in a couple hours, maybe minutes if yore lucky!"

"Ain't that poisonous?" asked Ruula.

"Not unless you eat more than two at a time! Trust me; everytime somebeast comes to me whinin' about a tummy ache, I just boil a mushroom or two with some milkwort an' they'll be better in no time, wot!"

The hedgehog blinked and scratched her head. "We've used sulphur tuft before. It, err, it usually doesn't...come out that way."

The hare broke out into a long fit of laughter. "That's a good point there, marm! I'll admit some of the troops had a few 'violent' episodes from below, if ya get wot I'm sayin'!"

Ruula and the hedgehog flicked their eyes at each other. "We think we do," Ruula grumbled with disgust.

The hedgehog stared at the hare clad in his shiny white coat with a few medals ranging from gold to purple pinned onto his clothing. "From what it sounds like, I take it you're the medic for this battalion?"

The hare laughed again as he walked closer to the two beasts and saluted them for a brief moment. "That's right! Lieutenant Hollis Brennly at yore service! Heh, all my cohorts call me 'Stink Mouth' though!"

Ruula wiggled her nose and turned away when Hollis got too close to her. "I can see why..."

"But enough about me! Wot d'you two do in this settlement? Seems like you two saw some action back in yore days--I noticed that arrowhead scar on yore leg!"

Ruula looked down at her left leg and blinked before the hedgehog started talking.

"I'm Penjo. This is Ruula. And yes, we've both seen our share of battles throughout the years. Ruula here took an arrow in the leg back when we were helping Russell fend off some ferret archers. I myself got a knife to the back...I'm just lucky it weren't a spear, or else--"

Hollis inhaled sharply. "I've seen spear wounds, marm. Usually don't end well, wot!"

Ruula blinked. "Anyway, we're like you; we're the medics for Tearmann. Both o' us were down in Southsward when that plague hit. After walkin' 'round seein' all them sickly, bloated corpses, we figured we should try an' save beasts from dyin' so 'orribly, instead o' runnin' away from diseases like that."

Hollis nodded. "S'very noble of you two!"

Penjo scratched her head. "So I know why beasts call you Stink Mouth, but you seem rather okay with it, like it's no big deal. Kinda embarrassing nickname, dont'cha think?"

"Nonsense! I'm proud all my friends call me Stink Mouth!"

Ruula raised an eyebrow. "You take pride in knowin' that yore friends openly make fun o' yore foul breath?"

"Course I do! Jus' another reminder that I'm stayin' healthy with all the pellets I consume, wot!"

Penjo's eyes grew wide. "Y...I'm-I'm sorry, did you just say you eat pellets?"

Hollis smiled widely as he patted his stomach. "S'good for the digestion, marm! I try to get more hares to eat 'em, but they don't like 'em for some reason. You two should try it sometime; they're loaded with vitamins!"

"No! Uh, no, no--we're fine! No pellets for us!" said Penjo quickly.

"I can eat fruit if'n I want vitamins, Lieutenant. An' I can lick Russell's arse if I wanna taste somethin' better than pellets."

Hollis shrugged. "Suit yoreselves!"

---

The brown hare with black blotches all around his fur stared at the steaming pastry after somebeast placed it on the giant barrel near the tent. He felt his stomach gurgling for a brief moment and found himself reaching forward, wiggling his fingers. The mole chef saw the paw heading towards his pastry and frowned as he quickly smacked it with a large wooden spoon.

"Oi told ee t'stop messin' wit' moi crumble! Bain't furr ee; long-ears gotta wait 'til oi'm done wif ee rest o' t'feast!"

The brown hare rubbed his sore paw. "Sorry, sah. Jus' haven't eaten in-in a while is all."

The chubby tan mole sighed as he walked away from the giant pot he was standing beside and picked up a hard fruit from a tree stump. He tossed it over to the hare, who caught it and looked at it with a raised eyebrow.

"A pear?"

"Hurr, ee be gurt furr ee! Yurr cain't stuff eeself wit' alla sweets 'afurr dinnur! Gun' spoil ee apurrtoit furr ee feast starts!"

A group of hares were all crowding around the mole chef and a few brewers as they all sampled the cordials and other beverages Tearmann was well-known for. Some of the hares sat on logs or stumps while others were busy chatting with the mole, or trying to determine what kind of stew he was making in the four different pots. The mole was moving back and forth swiftly, checking on one stew here, adding chunks of vegetables to another stew there, and swatting away any greedy hare paws that were hovering over his crumble, which he was taking various bites from to keep his energy up.

"You always this busy, Meklarn?" asked Needles.

The mole shook his head. "Bain't nuthin' outta o'nary! Always makin' vittles furr Turrman beasties. Yurr be lurnin' t'joy food aftur bein' stuck in ee vurmints camp furr so long!"

Major Fenson took a long sip of his mug of raspberry cordial and exhaled. "You used to be a slave?"

The mole nodded as he grabbed several green onions and began to chop them to pieces with his cooking knife. "Hurr aye! They'm 'orrible chefs oi tell ee! Bain't loik them searats; vurmints put any o' sludge in ee bowl 'n' call ee zoop!"

"At least they fed you," said the hare with black blotches. "I remember this-this one time where they, um...they captured me an' Menner. Two of us were forced t'eat dirt an' grass for three days before w-we got rescued."

Ozgin looked at the hare and snapped at him. "Stop bein' a fuckin' crybaby bitch, Jadden. Least the cunts didn't feed you any of their piss or shit, wot!"

Meklarn dumped all the chopped green onions into a cauldron filled with boiling stock before he rushed over and grabbed another large chunk of crumble. While he was still chewing the food, he grabbed a mug of cool mint tea he had lying beside the crumble and drank from the glass, gulping a few times as the sweet fluids traveled down his throat. Afterwards, Meklarn walked over to a cauldron filled with boiling broth. The mole blinked as he scratched his head and started to toss in minced mirepoix, the tiny vegetables splashing into the steaming broth and giving it more flavor. Meklarn sniffed the contents of the cauldron before he decided it was time to add the cubed fish chunks. So the mole picked up the two dozen pieces of bluish-yellow fish chunks that were lying on the small table he had set up and dumped it all into the cauldron.

"Bain't no fan o' ee foul wurds, marm! 'Urded 'nuff crass slurrs'm insults from them vile rats!"

"Fuckin' deal with it, shit-head. It's ain't like you'll die if you hear the word 'fuck' more times'n you need to."

"Marm, yurr be'm woise not turr 'sult ee chef! Thurr be lots o' ways ee c'n punish ee..."

Ozgin scoffed as she drank from her mug containing blueberry cordial. "Wot ya gonna do: deprive me of my eatin' privileges? Send me t'my fuckin' bed without supper? OH NO! I guess I'll just curl up in my fuckin' tent all alone an' die from the shame!"

Meklarn scowled as he stared at Ozgin's smug grin, moments before she took another long swig of her cordial. The mole held his tongue and went back to cooking the food, switching over to the frying pan resting above a small flame that had various vegetables inside. Meklarn stirred all the chopped leeks, scallions, and minced hotroot peppers around before pouring some clear wine into the pan. He tossed the vegetables around for a brief moment before sniffing a few times and rubbing his nose. Stanno could see that the mole was getting more and more irritated as he cooked his food and snorted as he walked closer to him.

"Don't worry 'bout her. She's just--"

"Oi, I told you not t'call me that fuckin' word again, Stanno!" shouted Ozgin as she pointed at him.

Stanno blinked and stared directly at the corporal. "She's just an arsehole."

Ozgin started to grit her teeth as a few hares started to chuckle. "Wot did you jus' call me?!"

Stanno shrugged. "Wot? I'm tellin' good ole Meklarn here wot you are. You're right. I shouldn't have called you a bitch; that was rude of me. But let's face it, Ozgin: you are an arsehole. Last time I checked, you smell bad, and nothin' comes outta you 'cept shit an' cacophonous noises nobeast wants to hear."

Jadden started to laugh uncontrollably. "Sounds like an asshole t'me!"

Jadden shouted when Ozgin punched him in the jaw so hard that he accidentally bit his tongue. Jadden faltered and grunted, panting as he rubbed his aching mouth and felt blood coming out his tongue. Ozgin growled as she started to walk towards to Stanno.

"You lissen to me--"

"No, you listen to me, corporal," said Stanno as he slowly walked towards Ozgin. "Wot you're gonna do is apologize for hittin' Jadden. Then you're gonna apologize to Meklarn for bein' so rude. An' then you're gonna sit on that stump there and be quiet 'til he finishes, savvy?"

Ozgin snorted and got in Stanno's face. "Wot if I don't feel like bein' quiet?"

"Then I'll make sure that the only thing you drink tonight is the sweat from everybeast's armpits. I'll make sure that the only thing you eat tonight is the crude stuck 'tween my footpaws. An' I'll make sure that you get demoted to a galloper, an' that you spend the next season washin' everybeast's clothes."

Stanno kept staring at Ozgin and watched her face twitch, causing him to blink.

"You can either let this escalate into a rough fist-fight that won't end well for you or you c'n sit down an' shut your mouth after you apologize. Pick one."

As much as Ozgin wanted to punch the hare in the face, she knew that assaulting him right here and now, in such a peaceful place around all these beasts, would only bring about ire from Urthquake. So she backed away from the sergeant and flicked her eyes at Jadden.

"Sorry."

"Shut up," he barked quietly.

Ozgin sighed heavily as she stared at the busy mole. "Sorry, Meklarn."

"Hurr, s'all gurt 'n' well! Now yurr no'm need ee wurry 'bout findin' mole faeces in ee zoop!"

Ozgin didn't respond to that. She merely grimaced and sat down hard, glaring at Stanno as she drank more of her cordial. Stanno walked away from the foul-mouthed hare, moving past Becker and Lillen, the former of who was staring at the food lovingly.

"You're bein' awfully quiet today, Becker. Haven't even seen you try an' swipe a radish from the cauldron!"

Becker flicked his eyes at the hare and blinked. "Just waitin' m'dear. Can't rush perfection, wot!"

"That be roight! Busy 'nuff as is wit' all yurr 'ares 'bout!" shouted Meklarn.

Becker rubbed his chin when he saw the mole chef throwing some chopped garden cress and minced onions into a pot filled with simmering broth. The hare sniffed and exhaled.

"You ain't gonna add more onions in there?"

"Thurr be 'nuff onions in thurr as is, burr aye!"

"Yeah, but you added way too much cress."

"Oi knowin' 'ow much cress be needin' in ee zoop!"

"Sure, if'n ya don't mind drownin' out the rest of the other flavours, wot!"

"I'm sure the chef knows wot he's doin', Becker. No need to criticize him on every li'l detail!"

"I think I know wot you should and should not add to make a proper soup, Saron! There's..."

Becker suddenly stopped talking. He glanced over at Lillen and saw her slowly frown. Then he looked at the rest of the hares around him and could see that they were either frowning or trying to get themselves out of the awkward situation they were just thrust into. Meklarn raised an eyebrow as he stopped stirring one of the soups.

"Who'm be Zurren?"

Becker let out a strange noise, like a stifled cough. "N-nobeast...it's nothin'..."

The chubby hare was abruptly hit with a wave of sorrow. He looked away from the crowd before he slowly began to walk away from the hares and chef, retreating over to the orchard beside the main building. Lillen's ears lowered slightly as she watched the hare sullenly walk off, while the mole blinked and scratched his head in confusion.

"Wot's goin' on wit' 'im?"

"Nothin'. Becker's jus' whinin' over somebeast that perished a while back. He'll get over it," said Ozgin.

"Not with your h-help, clearly," Jadden snidely remarked.

"Don't you have a fuckin' pear to eat?"

Jadden didn't feel like getting into another argument with the abrasive hare, so he grabbed the pear Meklarn gave him and bit into it, wincing as he felt a brief surge of pain in his mandible. While Meklarn kept cooking, and the rest of the hares kept talking, Lillen decided to break away from the group so she could go check on Becker. She walked along the soft moss, stopping briefly as a few young hedgehogs ran past her. Then she resumed heading towards the orchard, her nostrils bombarded with the sweet fragrance of red and white currant berries and greengages, along with the scent of ripened cherries from the tall trees. But all she could hear was heavy breathing and sniffling as she looked around the orchard for Becker. She walked over to a cherry tree providing much shade and saw Becker standing beneath it, his head lowered as he pressed one paw against the bark. Lillen slowly approached him and called out his name.

"Becker?"

The plump hare turned around, his eyes red and watery. He sniffled and wiped away some of the tears that were beginning to come out before he exhaled.

"I'm sorry...didn't mean t'call you that."

"I know, Captain."

Becker went silent. His ears lowered as he slowly shook his head and sniffled. "It's jus' hard, y'know? I try to stop thinkin' about it...try to stop thinkin' about her. But every day I'll see somethin', hear somethin'...hell, maybe I'll even smell somethin' that reminds me of her. It always leads back to the same thing...she's dead."

"...I lost somebeast that day too. I know we didn't have the same kinda 'relationship' that you an' Saronso had, but watchin' Sarn't Oflal die like that saddened me too. And, naturally, Ozgin got upset with me an' every other beast cryin' over his corpse. She told us--and I'm not usin' her exact words--that we were all bein' crybabies, that we were disgracing the sergeant 'cos we weren't rememberin' who he was, jus' that he died horribly."

Becker sniffled. "You know how Ozgin is, Corporal."

"But she's right, Becker. We're not s'posed to be sad all the time. We're s'posed to remember the beasts we've lost for who they were. I know Saron got her throat slit...I know my sergeant had his stomach sliced open. But my Sarn't was also funny. He taught me about discipline, about respectin' your ranking officers. There were a lotta things I remember about the sergeant, none of which upsets me or makes me feel the way you do right now."

"...I understand."

Lillen walked over to the hare and wrapped her arms around the chubby captain, at which point he started to shake and began to sob quietly. She tightened her grip around the hare, grunting when Becker embraced her just as hard, applying pressure on her back. Her whiskers brushed against the side of his neck and she could feel a few tears dripping down onto her left shoulder.

"It's all right, Becker...you know she cared about you."

The captain didn't respond. He kept holding onto Lillen tightly, hoping she wouldn't abruptly stop hugging him after he got all the tears out of his system. But she still clung onto him, rubbing his back and neck slowly as she closed her eyes and buried her head into his upper chest. It wasn't until Becker stopped sniffling and weeping that he started to take a few calm breaths. He blinked a few times and slowly put his arms down. Lillen did the same and watched as the chubby tan hare wiped his nose and face off with his paws. She blinked and smiled at him, glad to see that the captain was starting to calm down. She walked up to the captain and pressed her nose against his, wiggling it and brushing some of her whiskers along his muzzle. Becker suddenly giggled quietly and backed away.

"W-wot was that?"

"I wiggled my nose. You saw me do it before lots of times."

"Yeah, but...you did it against my face."

Lillen smirked. "Do you not like that?"

Lillen didn't wait for Becker to answer. She walked up to the hare and pressed her muzzle against his again, wiggling it and brushing her whiskers against his chin. Becker laughed again even harder than before.

"Hahaha, stop it!"

"Why? You ticklish, Captain?"

Lillen kept playing with the hare, tickling him with her long whiskers and rubbing her nose against his until he started to break out into an even bigger fit of laughter. He playfully swatted at the hare, hoping she'd eventually back off and stop tickling him. But then she started playing with his whiskers, and the next thing they knew, they were both laughing for reasons they couldn't understand anymore. They laughed for another minute before both hares calmed down and smiled at each other.

"Thank you, Lillen...I needed this."

The hare nodded. "It's my pleasure, Captain. Let's head back to the others now. I'm sure that mole probably thinks you started scarfin' all the food 'round here after you left."

Becker looked up into the tree he was standing under and licked his lips. "These cherries do look invitin' now that I think about it..."

Lillen giggled and grabbed Becker's paw. "Later, Becker."

The two hares walked over to the group of hares crowding around Meklarn, still waiting for the beast to finish cooking all the meals. Lillen glanced over beside Jadden and felt at ease now that Ozgin had went elsewhere. Lillen leaned against one of the masts holding up the tent while Becker stared at one of the cauldrons and frowned.

"You all right there, Becker?" asked Stanno softly.

Becker sighed heavily and shook his head. "No, I'm not all right mate. This bloody mole's puttin' green onions in this soup, wot!"

Meklarn threw up his arms in frustration. "YURR JUS' TOLD OI TURR ADD MORE!!"

"I meant yellow onions, chap! The green onions'll mix in with the cress an' make the flavour even stronger than it were before!"

"Hurr, no ee wurn't! Oi bain't surrven no bland zoop turr Turrmin beasts!"

"An' I ain't lettin' you ruin a perfectly good stew by throwin' all them green onions 'n' cress in it!"

Stanno and Lillen started to smile as they watched the plump captain argue with the mole chef. He seemed like he was going to be just fine.

---

Lakler knew he couldn't fill up on just cordial, wine and tea alone. He needed real food in his growling stomach, something that would hold him until the chefs finished with the entrées. Which was exactly why the hare was sniffing the air and drooling as he walked around the orchard. The cherry trees were fully blossomed, making the green leaves look like they had specks of red on them due to all the cherries hanging from the branches. The black and white currants were growing amongst several bushes, the berries plump and sleek as the sun shined against the skin. Lakler flared his nostrils a few times, smelling the fresh fertilizer that was used for all the berry bushes. A large, fully-grown pear tree was located beside the barriers, the branches drooping from all the heavy brown fruit hanging off of them. Lakler could've sworn he even smelled fresh cilantro growing near the flowers, the strong, tart-like fragrance filling his lungs. All this food was around him, tantalizing his taste buds, making the hare's stomach grumble even more. But then another alluring scent filled the hare's lungs and nearly made him pant, his tongue dripping with saliva.

The hare rushed over to the compost heap, where he sniffed the air again and took note of all the rotting vegetables and other bits of food that was being used for the compost. He stuck his paws right into the giant pile of decomposing material and started to pull out various items, ranging from dirt-covered worms to bits of chopped lettuce that was pink or brown. But then the hare smiled when he felt something hard stuck within the compost.

"Now there we go! Perfectly guid vittles in 'ere goin' t'waste!"

"Um, sir? Wot are y'doin'?"

Lakler scoffed as he pulled a few vittles free from the compost. He turned around and looked at the otter in the purple gown standing close to him with her arms folded. "This be a cryin' shame, ah tell ye! Lookit all these vittles ye be throwin' 'way, wot!"

The otter blinked. "Those 'vittles' have mold on 'em. An' they smell awful; we can't eat that! Anythin' that's either moldy or smelly--or both--gets used for compost!"

"So if'n ye forget t'bathe, ye throw yerself in this giant pong?"

"That's not wot I meant. Now put those vegetables down!"

"But they look perfectly fine, marm! See?"

The otter scrunched up her face when she looked at a wrinkly carrot that had a bit of strange-looking mold growing on a portion of it. But that was only what was in Lakler's right paw. In his left paw was a soft, squishy tomato that had been bruised. It was dripping fluids all over his paw and had a fetid smell hovering around it. Lakler held the tomato up to his face and licked his lips.

"Didnae think tomatoes could even get this big! Looks scrumptious..."

"Wait, yore not--"

Lakler bit down into the rotten tomato, squirting the nasty juices all over his paw. The rank fluids ran down his left arm and dripped onto the ground. Lakler started to chew the fruit noisily, smacking and licking his lips to get all the juices up. He bit into the tomato again, the bitter, sour flavors exploding inside his maw.

"Now that's wunnerful! C'mon, marm! Take a bite!"

The otter plugged her nose as Lakler waved the half-eaten tomato in front of her. "I am not touching that mold-ridden clod of a tomato!"

Lakler laughed, causing more juices to gush from his mouth. "Suit y'self then!"

The otter scoffed. "I know I can't stop ye from eatin' our compost, but could you eat some mint leaves when you finish?"

Lakler shook his head. "No c'n do, marm! Never much cared for the taste o' them things!"

The otter sighed heavily. "Of course not."

The otter was about to walk away when she noticed that the hare was still eating the tomato greedily, like he hadn't eaten in over a season. After he shoveled the rest of the tomato into his maw, he sniffed the carrot a few times and saw a moldy spot near the bottom. Lakler bit off the tip of the carrot containing the dark, almost navy colored mold and spat it back into the compost. Then he examined the rest of the carrot and started to chew it as well, chomping on the vegetable with little difficulty.

"Will you at least explain t'me why yore eatin' that when there's all this fruit lyin' around?"

Lakler chuckled. "Marm, ah grew up inna Northlands! 'Twas lucky if mah family could even find tomatoes as rotten as that one ah gobbled up, wot! Vermin always stole our vittles, the beasts we ran into were jus' as poor as us, so we 'ad to share wit' 'em. Li'l babes were whinin' 'bout their poor tummies grumblin'. Weren't long 'fore a lotta us jus' starved t'death!"

Lakler took another bite out of the carrot. "But ah remember this one day...we stumbled 'cross this big ol' bag o' tomatoes! Somebeast tossed 'em aside; they were all rotten, stank worse'n a searat's bum! Y'wanna know wot we did?"

The otter stopped plugging her nose. "You ate 'em all."

Lakler grinned. "Every last one, wot! Sure, we got sick, threw up a couple times. But we didnae care. Our bellies were full--save for some o' the sludge we threw back up! Nowadays, ah see beasts throwin' 'way all kinds o' guid vittles that ah know some poor beast is jus' dyin' t'eat! So wot if it's a li'l moldy, a li'l stinky? Least it's sumthin' t'put in mah belly, right?"

"I suppose you have had it hard...s'not my right to judge, is it? Least you didn't resort to eatin' each other."

Lakler chuckled. "Thought did cross mah mind a few times, marm! But nae, weren't sumthin' we wound up succumbin' tae."

The otter sat down beside the hare, making sure not to get any of the compost material on her gown. Lakler sat beside the compost, reaching backwards to look for more moldy food within the heap. Despite the hare's gross nature, the otter couldn't help but smile and reach forward with her paw extended.

"I'm Ashlyn, Ashlyn Sellert."

Lakler extended his dirty paw and smiled. "Lakler McSliverson."

Ashlyn glanced down at the paw that previously had tomato juice all over it and grimaced. Not wanting to be rude, she reached forward and shook it anyway, listening to the hare as he chuckled.

"So tell me 'bout yerself, marm! Ah'm sure ye got a complex history tae."

"Well..."

Ashlyn stopped when she noticed that Lakler was reaching behind and picking another rotten tomato out of the compost. He looked around it to see if there were any giant spots of mold before he opened his mouth and bit into the red fruit. Ashlyn sighed.

"I don't suppose you got any clothespins on you?"

"'Fraid not!"

The otter huffed and shook her head. She was just going to have to tolerate his stench for now.

"Anyway, I grew up with a holt on an island in the southern seas. My father was a fisherbeast, but after bein' on that isle fer so long, we decided to try an' build a boat..."

---

The two hares couldn't stop drinking their raspberry cordial as they listened to the hedgehog talk about the settlement's history. Honward and Tike stared at the prickly creature as he slowly walked along the moss, grumbling and twiddling with his glasses as they rested on the bridge of his muzzle.

"The Battle of Wave's Freedom took place over there, just outside the towers. Hmph, grisly times those were, back when we didn't have the defenses we've got now! Yes, I remember that battle well...all the otters outside defendin' our home, while the rest of us were either hidin' or assisting the fighters from within! Heh, don't let my age fool ya; I'm still quite a pro when it comes to handlin' a crossbow!"

Honward snickered. "Logan, I've heard tales about a blind badger from Redwall who managed to shoot an arrow through a Marlfox. I'll believe anythin' at this point, wot!"

Logan chuckled. "Anyways, the battle lasted all day an' night; the voles wouldn't stop comin' at us! Russell only lost a few otters that day, but Wave an' his holt were all slaughtered. 'Tis a sad tale really...that otter had been a slave to those bank and watervoles all winter, an' he and his holt all managed to escape the slavers' camp after much plannin'. The voles chased 'em down to Tearmann, slayin' Wave's group one at a time. By the time Wave got here, there was only sixteen of 'em left. Strangest thing is, Russell told me that Wave died with a smile on his face."

"Why wouldn't he? He didn't die with somebeast forced inside him, or starvin' to death inside the slavers' camp. He died a free beast," said Tike.

"Yeah, but he still died," said Hon.

"But he died a free beast."

Honward glared at Tike with annoyance. "He's still dead mate."

Logan grinned. "So are all them bank an' watervoles! To be honest, given the state that Wave was in, I think that's all he wanted: to be free and to make sure he sent all those voles to the Hellgates."

Honward raised an eyebrow. "And this is a 'happy' ending to the story?"

Logan frowned as he looked at the hare. "Would you prefer a story with a depressing ending?"

"No, just one that doesn't have one of those, 'Everybeast died an' the world is a desolate wasteland. But hey! At least the protagonist fell in love, lost his virginity an' died a free beast!' endings."

Logan sighed and started to cough a few times. He slowly walked over to one of the small boulders lying beneath a tree. The three beasts' nostrils were immediately filled with the luscious scent of pears as they walked under the branches. Logan sat down with a huff and curled his fingers, steadying his breathing so he wouldn't feel so tired.

"I do have another tale for you two then. Not a 'happy' ending either."

Tike sipped from his mug. "This isn't a cliché story about a warrior who got his heart broken, is it?"

"It's nothing like that at all. It's about Mejler Miklee, an otter warrior who was close friends with Russell. Mejler was a brave warrior. He was very handsome, tall, quite the charmer actually!"

Honward groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, causing Logan to chuckle.

"I'm jokin', I'm jokin'! Mejler was...well, he was a brave warrior--that much is true. But he was a sadist. He was...somethin' was off about him. We didn't notice it until he was 'round fifteen, maybe sixteen seasons old. He had an odd fixation on different ways to kill beasts, how much blood you could lose before you die, how long one can survive without food, how many times you can get stabbed before the shock kills you--stuff beasts shouldn't be thinkin' about at that age. But we ignored it. So more seasons pass, and Mejler becomes one of the best warriors Tearmann has to offer! Vermin, bandits, assassins, slavers--all were slain by Mejler, and he'd return home showing off the wounds he received from battle with pride!"

"Sounds like an ideal warrior to me," said Tike.

"He was, at first. But then, Mejler didn't return home with scars and bruises. He'd return home with severed heads or wearing the very skin of a beast he slew. One day he came home with a necklace made of...testicles."

Logan stopped so he could shudder. "The sight of that was revolting. But Mejler walked around wearing it as casually as I wear my glasses. When he found out somebeast destroyed the necklace in his sleep, he caught the culprit and beat him so badly that he couldn't walk or see out his right eye anymore."

"Shit," said Tike, before drinking more cordial. "So wot happened?"

"There were no more vermin around to kill. No more bandits. No more assassins. No more slavers. No more fighting. ...He snapped. There were days where he'd break out into a fit of blubbering or screaming, days where we caught him talking to himself--or the severed heads he brought back home. He'd reenact his battles, laughing manically as he swung his sword at the air. Then one night, he completely lost it. Mejler went around Tearmann and started to slaughter as many beasts as he could. The other warriors were alerted, and soon enough, Mejler was killin' the very beasts he once fought alongside. Eventually we subdued him, at which point Russell beat him to a pulp and wanted to know why Mejler did what he did. His only response was that he was bored. He kept sayin' that over and over again, cackling the entire time. Russell was so sickened by Mejler that he chopped his head clean off."

Honward and Tike were speechless as they stared at the suddenly exhausted hedgehog. He was looking down at the ground solemnly, no longer in the same jolly spirit like he was earlier. The hedgehog shook his head.

"Thirty-two. We lost thirty-two beasts that night...'cos some otter was bored. It just makes you think, y'know? Are we really capable of doin' something that vile over somethin' so petty?"

Honward shrugged. "S'world we live in now."

Tike didn't say anything. All he could do was lower his ears and drink the rest of his cordial in silence. After a long pause, Logan grunted as he slowly rose from the boulder and pushed his glasses backwards again.

"No need to dwell on a beast like him I suppose. You hares have a hard life as it is; now's the time for you to unwind! Rubus has more cordial if you want some! Seems like he's tryin' to make some kind of peach flavour now."

"We'll get some in a minute."

"All right," said Logan as he began to walk along the moss. "If you two need me, I'll be in the kitchen! I'm sure Wernin won't mind if I steal a candied chestnut or three..."

The old hedgehog left the two hares by themselves. Honward finished drinking the rest of his cordial and belched moments before wiping his mouth off.

"Peach cordial, eh? Ain't ever tried that before! You want some mate? ...Tike?"

Honward looked at Tike and could see that his ears were still lowered as he clutched the empty glass in his paw. Honward rubbed his forehead and grumbled quietly.

"Somethin' wrong buddy?"

Tike flicked his eyes at Honward and sniffed. "Jus' thinkin', that's all."

"About wot?"

"Nothin'."

"About wot, Tike?" Hon asked more firmly.

Tike sighed harshly. "About Urthquake an' this otter, Mejler, okay? And, y'know...that slave."

"You seriously wanna bring that shit up again, while we're here, in a place like Tearmann?"

"How can I not? Stanno even said he's becomin' unhinged, wot! You yourself said wot he did at Blackheart's fortress is inexcusable!"

"We're all wound up tightly, Tike. Any of us could snap at any moment. That's exactly why we're staying here: to settle down an' relax! After all the shit we've seen, wot we've been through, don't you think we need this break now, just to stay sane?"

"So you're admitting that Urthquake is on the verge of explodin', that he'll snap soon?"

"Did you ignore everythin' I just said?"

"This community is nothin' more than a delay. It's a giant supply of medicine for a beast who's old and terminally ill. Sooner or later, it's gonna happen, prob'ly a week or two after we leave."

"Fer fuck's sake--" Honward growled with frustration and shook his head. "Wot about you, huh? You remember that rat babe from a while ago? You remember how you slew his mum?"

"That was self--"

"Nobeast told you to kill her, wot! You coulda knocked her out instead! If Morson hadn't killed that babe that day, he'd be out in this world alone with no parents to help him survive! You're half the reason why that babe or any other offspring that rat had has no mum now! Not Morson, not me, not Stanno, not Urthquake! You, Tike! Oh sure, yeah, sure, Urthquake killed a slave. How many fuckin' beasts have you killed? Beasts who prob'ly had families like that young rat?! Bet ya never asked yourself that fuckin' question, now did ya?! You're just fixated on bitchin' about all the 'wrong' things that everybeast else does!"

Tike stared at the panting, angered hare and frowned at him. He was starting to get worried now, believing that Urthquake's ire was slowly spreading throughout the Long Patrol and affecting some of the soldiers. Tike could tell just by looking at the hare's eyes that Honward was struggling to keep his emotions in check. After Honward panted a few times and sighed, he rubbed his forehead and blinked.

"Y'see? See how easy that was? All I had to do was take one random beast you killed, twist my words, an' boom: you're an arsehole, just like you claim Urthquake to be."

"I didn't say--"

"Sure you didn't. Urthquake killed a slave, Tike. You killed a young rat's mother. I killed beasts, so has Stanno, Becker, Lakler--jus' about every hare around you has slain somebeast. Get. The fuck. Over it."

Tike didn't answer. He kept staring at the hare, waiting for him to apologize or to at least speak to him in a reasonable tone. But he didn't. So the two hares kept staring at each other, listening to the other beasts in Tearmann chatting or playfully laughing as they ran around in the moss-covered fields. Then Honward exhaled and awkwardly rubbed his left ear, feeling embarrassed at the way he just exploded at his best friend.

"I'm...gonna get that peach cordial now. I'll see you later."

"Fine."

Honward stared at his friend for a moment, and then he turned and walked away. Tike sighed heavily as he sat down with his back pressed against the tree. He started to ponder whether or not Urthquake really was on the verge of snapping--and if he and Honward were slowly drifting apart.