The morning dawned, bright and clear. A last few clouds wisping away
were
the remnants of the powerful storm that blew through the night before.
Two
young squirrels walked the beach, searching for treasure washed ashore.
The
waves almost always brought in something interesting. Today was no
different. They had already collected a pair of sandals, a green glass
bottle (still sealed and filled with a mysterious liquid) and a double
pawful of sea-washed shells. Strolling along, they were enjoying the
feel
of rain and wave lashed sand on their feet. A cool morning breeze
carried
in the call of sea birds out hunting for fish. The roar of waves
crashing
against a reef permeated the background. Far out to sea, mighty
rollers
crested and broke, no longer powerful enough to make it to shore.
The two had reached the end of their beach and were preparing to head
back
when the first saw something else. He called out, �Hey there bramble
tail,
lookit what I gots! A new cloak!� He rushed over and investigated his
find. The second, Alim, did not like to be called names. He responded
with
throwing sand and jibes before he followed, �Shaddup cheeky, You
already got
a cloak, give it here!� The two began pulling on the large piece of
fabric.
It was not a cloak, but a rough piece of torn sailcloth. This was
better
than a cloak. It could contain real treasure from a shipwreck. As
they
shifted it aside, something under it groaned and stirred. The
squirrels
fell back with a start. Alim stared and his friend with wide eyes.
Flotsam
was not supposed to make noise. Perhaps it was inhabited by the ghost
of a
drowned sailor! �Lets go Ferdy. Da�ll want to know about this! I
don�t
wanna ghost to eat me!� Fearing the same, Ferdy nodded his head. They
backed up slowly, before turning and running down the beach, scattering
sand
in all directions. Their pile of treasures lay forgotten where they
lay.
The mound of tattered cloth coughed and moved again, weakly straining
against the confining material enclosing it before going still once
again.
Ben is perhaps the most sensible and down to earth squirrel in the
tribe.
When Ferdy and Alim came rushing in, babbling about ghosts and
shipwrecks,
he volunteered to investigate. Ben didn�t believe in such nonsense;
there
was an explanation for everything. Shouldering a spear, he headed down
to
the beach. The two young ones had flatly refused to go with him, so he
had
to find his own way. Picking up their tracks was no difficulty to the
seasoned warrior and Ben made his way to the beach in good time. He
could
see in the sand the marks made by Alim and Ferdy in their panicked
flight.
They led up to the bundle described to him. He approached cautiously,
for
only a fool rushed in. It appeared to be only a misshaped bundle of
sailcloth, nothing strange about that. Spear at the ready, he
approached.
With the tip, he gently lifted the edge to see what lay beneath.
Yarrula squinted at the bright morning light. He couldn�t remember
where
he was. The wildcat had only woken up a little while ago when someone
was
tugging on the cloth that covered him. He kept falling in and out of
consciousness. Dizzy and sick, Yarrula could not muster the strength to
move. He had the vague impression of a squirrel standing above him,
asking
questions, poking and prodding around. Bruised muscles complained
bitterly
when Yarrula tried unsuccessfully to sit up.
Ben was nonplused. A half drowned wildcat was the last thing he had
expected to find. If he was on the beach like this, how had he
survived the
storm? It was the worst gale that had been through this area in a
long,
long time. He gazed at the pitiful creature before him. Covered in
sand,
clad only in tattered rags, the fellow was not an impressive site. He
was
young too, well past youth but not quite old enough to be considered an
adult. Clutched in his had, the cat held what was left of a bow.
Closer
inspection revealed an empty quiver strapped to one leg. An archer,
washed
ashore with the tide? Interesting. Standing his spear up in the sand,
Ben
leant down to help the figure to his feet, dusting what sand he could
from
the cat�s eyes and nose. Yarrula tried to help, but could only make it
halfway. The sudden movement was too much, too soon. He collapsed to
all
fours and vomited seawater and bile into the sand before passing out
again.
Ben collected up the bottle and the sandals, assuming that they
belonged to
the cat. Putting them in his pouch, he stooped over and fashioned an
impromptu travois from the sail and his spear. Rolling the unconscious
figure onto it, Ben started for home. This was the most interesting
thing
to wash ashore in a long time. It practically guaranteed a good story
to
tell around the table tonight.
A groan from the sick pallet roused the squirrel nurse from her light
sleep. �Hush dear�, Agatha murmured, dabbing a damp cloth to her
patient�s
forehead, �You�re alright now.�
�Water,� croaked Yarrula, dry lips rasping together.
Agatha picked up a gourd and held it to Yarrula�s lips. The sweet
spring
water that flowed down his parched throat tasted like nectar. Still,
he
could only manage a few sips. �Rest easy, child,� she said, gently
stroking
the wildcat�s head. �Sleep now. Sleep heals all.�
With her soft words and gentle hands, Yarrula quickly again fell into a
deep
slumber, his tired body slowly mending.
A knock brought her attention over to the door. The moonlight coming
in
from behind, for a second, obscured the features of the squirrel who
stepped
in. Agatha moved over to the figure now leaning against the jamb.
�Shh, I
just got him sleeping again.�, she hissed
�How is he?�, asked Ben. �He�s a tough one, to survive all that he�s
been
through.�
�Aye, he sure is, no doubt.�, nodded the squirrelwife. �He�s been
tossing
and turning, like a beast having nightmares. Calling strange names.
He�ll
be right as rain in a day or two. A body needs some rest after all his
troubles. I�d dearly like to hear his story when he�s awake.�
�I wager a few acorns that he�ll have the best tale to cross this beach
in
some time. I found a goodly number of ship�s timbers in the driftwood.
I
think that he�s a survivor of some poor ship to go aground on the reef
last
night. It wouldn�t be the first time one sank, only the first time for
some
beast to make it ashore.� replied Ben.
�I wonder what his name is, where he came from?� mused Agatha, �Ah
well,
we�ll find out in good time. He�s a good person, he has a kind face.
Just
give the poor beast a chance to heal.�
She checked on Yarrula again before going back to her nap in her
favourite
chair. Ben stared at the bed for a while before closing the door
softly and
heading home for bed himself. Curiosity would have to wait until the
stranger recovered. Yarrula slept on, oblivious to the conversation of
his
rescuers.
The next morning dawned as bright and glorious as the one preceding
it.
Yarrula awoke as the sun streaming in found a hole in the curtains.
Shielding his eyes with a paw, he managed to sit up, though it took
more
effort than he would have cared to admit. The last thing he remembered
was...a ship? The storm! Where was he? He turned, taking stock of
his
surroundings. It was a single room cottage, very homely. He was lying
in
bed, covered in a homemade patchwork quilt. There was a table and a
few
chairs, spices hung to dry from the rafters, other things. Yarrula was
too
tired to concentrate right now. He looked around for something to
slake the
raging thirst he had. His mouth still tasted of salt, his fur was
caked in
it, grains tickled his ears - extremely uncomfortable and very itchy.
Folded next to the bed on a stool was a homespun tunic and trousers,
complete with belt. A pair of sandals that seemed familiar sat on the
floor, next to a green bottle. Where had he seen that before? He was
too
bewildered to place the objects.
Further musing was interrupted by the door opening, casting brilliant
sunshine in to fill the room. He squinted to make out who was there.
A
kindly looking squirrel bustled into the room carrying a tray heaped
with
food. �I knew it�, she said, �I knew you�d be waking up right about
now.
Probably famished too, with your ordeal and all. That�s what young
Ferdy�s
calling it. Ordeal. New word, can�t stop saying it. I�m Agatha by
the
way.�
While she was saying this, she moved around, plumping up his pillows,
setting the tray out, twitching the coverlet back into shape. Yarrula
,still disoriented, could not find room to get a word in edgewise. The
smell of good warm food overruled any questions, however, and he dug
in
with gusto. In a twinkling, he emptied the tray. Sipping slowly,
Yarrula
savoured the last drop of cool mint tea. Twitching his whiskers,
Yarrula
tossed some errant crumbs into the air.
�I suppose that you have quite a few questions young sir�, said
Agatha,
sitting down on the bed. Seeing his empty cup, she refilled it from a
flask. �We have some questions for you too, but not until you feel
better.
Ferdy and Alim found you on the beach yesterday, covered with some old
sail.
Our Ben dragged you back here to my cottage. Were you on a ship?
Oh, I�m
sorry, curiosity has gotten the best of me. Take your time, I�ll go and
fetch Ben, and some more tea.� She patted his knee and collected the
dishes, placing them on the tray. Getting it balanced, she headed for
the
door. �Oh!�, she cried, as she opened the door, Ben stood there, his
paw
raised to knock. He seemed just as surprised as she. There was a
strange
look on his face. Seeing Yarrula awake, he motioned to Agatha to come
with
him for a second. From the bed, Yarrula could not make out what they
were
saying. Whatever it was, it upset the squirrelwife, for she wiped her
eyes
before stepping back into the room.
Ben followed her into her cottage. He sat down next to Yarrula on the
bed:
Agatha went and sat at her chair, still dabbing her eyes with a
handkerchief. �What�s your name son?�, asked Ben quietly, much subdued
from
his normal self.
�Yarrula�, answered Yarrula simply, unsettled by the older squirrels
serious
demeanour.
Ben sighed deeply before continuing, �Do you remember what happened,
how you
got on that beach?�
Settled by the food and drink, Yarrula could think straight again.
�Aye, I
was on a ship, the Fire Eye, named after my mother. My father was the
captain. We got caught by a sudden gale. That storm had some teeth,
that�s
for sure. I was in the rigging, tying down the mainsail. A wave
struck
amidships, or the yardarm broke, one of the two, and I was thrown
overboard
by the shock. They must be worried sick about me.�
�I�ve some bad news then.�, Ben paused, unable to figure out how to
continue. He glanced at Agatha for reassurance, then he continued. �I
know
this is sudden, but we found some of...them...further down the beach.
It
looks like no one else made it from your ship. She broke apart on the
reef.
The wreckage is scattered for miles. I�m sorry.� He squeezed
Yarrula�s
shoulder in consolation, unsure of what else to do.
Yarrula sat, quiet, for a long time. He toyed with the fringe of the
quilt,
head down, before asking �How many?�, in a hoarse voice.
Ben waited a minute before answering, marshaling his thoughts, �Four. A
hare, two otters,� he paused, �and one of them was a wildcat, like
yourself.
She had orange fur. She also had this. I thought that you would
want to
see it.� Ben held out a locket, cast from plain brass, but expertly
done so
it resembled a golden eye. Tarnished copper had been added to give the
eye
subtle flecks of green. Somebeast with great workmanship had taken the
time
to make it a very special piece. �Nashir� was engraved into the back
of it.
Yarrula took the locket. He did nothing but stare at it for a moment,
holding it tightly in his paw. Tracing the name in the back with a
claw, he
sniffed and wiped a paw across his face. �It was my mother�s�, he
choked
out, past the growing lump in his throat. �It..it was a g..gift from
my
fa...father.� Yarrula dropped the locket into his lap and balled his
fists
into his eyes, trying to stem the flood of tears. Agatha moved across
the
room, and embraced Yarrula, giving what comfort she could. He just sat
there, shoulders shaking with silent grief, a young soul coming to
grips
with a terrible tragedy thrust upon him so very soon. Ben fidgeted
awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He desperately wanted to offer solace
but
did not know how. All he could do was sit and be a comforting presence
as
Yarrula, older than his years now, dealt with his loss.
Much later, Yarrula emerged from the cottage. Ben and Agatha had
left, to
give him some privacy and a chance to compose himself. Ben stood
patiently
off to the side. He had promised to escort Yarrula to the place where
the
remains of the crew were put to their final rest. It was not a job he
had
wanted; it was too emotional for him. But, he had promised, so Ben
waited
until Yarrula seemed ready. �Are you sure you want to go this soon?�,
he
asked.
�Aye.� replied Yarrula in a subdued tone of voice. �I need to say
goodbye.�
He slipped the locket into a pocket of his new clothes. Picking up
the
green bottle and mustering his strength, he followed Ben.
Ben led him up to a cliff overlooking the beach. From the summit, one
could see for miles out into the ocean. Yarrula could see waves
breaking on
the reef that had claimed his ship. It was a streak of white, far out
into
the sea. It all seemed so peaceful and beautiful. He smiled at the
thought
that his mother would have loved the view. The smile faded when he
caught
sight of the new graves. Four freshly turned piles of soil marked the
last
port of four traveling creatures whose luck had run out. The only four
that
could be found. Ben nudged Yarrula and motioned to the last grave in
the
row. �That�s hers.� was all he said.
The young cat nodded his thanks and moved to the plot. Ben cleared his
throat, �I�ll be uh.. over here if you need um... anything...�
Yarrula nodded his thanks, but didn�t get up from where he sat at the
foot
of the grave. When Ben had moved away, he began to speak in a low
voice,
trembling badly. �Mom. I miss you and Dad already. We have had a lot
of
adventures, a lot of good times. You and Da loved me like no one else
ever
has or will. I wish that it didn�t have to end like this.� he paused
and
wiped his tears, �You taught me everything I know, and I�ll always try
to
make you proud of me.� Again he paused, before finishing in a whisper
�I�ll never forget you.�
Standing, Yarrula pulled the cork from the bottle with his teeth,
drinking
in the rich fruity aroma that escaped. Tipping his head back, he
finished a
fifth of the bottle in one swig. Wiping his lips, Yarrula turned and
emptied the rest over the four graves, saving only a little in the
bottom of
the bottle. �There. One last drink for all of us.�
Suddenly, he twirled and flung the bottle over the cliff into the sea.
Sparkling in the afternoon sun, it twirled end over end before
splashing
into the water. He watched it until it hit the waves and sank �And
one
last round for those who I�ll never see again.� he said, thinking about
all
the friends that he could not say goodbye to personally. Yarrula
licked his
lips, relishing the last taste of his father�s homemade wine that he
would
ever have. Tears running unashamedly down his face, Yarrula turned
around
and, without a backward glance, walked back towards the village. Ben
followed, an arm around the wildcat�s shoulders to guide him. The
rocky
path could be tricky with tears in your eyes.
The days and weeks that followed were ones of great change and
learning for
Yarrula. The squirrel tribe wholeheartedly accepted the castaway into
their
lives, inviting him to join their daily rituals. Ben had taken quite a
liking to him and treated Yarrula like a son, always there, ready to
listen.
It was hard for the cat to get over what had happened. It was such a
sudden change, and the loss was so big. Every now and then, another
board
from his ship would be discovered among the driftwood. Reminders like
those
brought back the pain and the hurt. Yarrula withdrew into himself,
trying
to forget the outside world and the pain it brought him.
Ben and Agatha wouldn�t let that happen. They were always there,
cheerful,
ready to help. They consoled and listened, grieved and mourned with
Yarrula. Time heals many wounds and time dulls the ache of others.
Young
creatures also heal quickly, if not wholly. Combined with the helpful
ministrations of Ben and Agatha, Yarrula started to emerge from his
self-imposed exile.
Soon, Yarrula was joining in and helping with the work around the
village.
He found that being busy helped him deal with the loss of his family,
so he
threw himself into work. He helped in the boats that went out and
fished.
He patched sails, mended nets, hauled up catch, anything else that had
to be
done. He helped to smoke the catch for the winter, clean it, filet it,
hang
it to dry or salt it with sea salt. He even went with Ben and some
others
as they went inland to trade with the squirrel tribes there.
Gradually, he
became a valued member of the community. Ferdy and Alim became
especially
fond of him. They always wanted to play with the �ghost cat� they
found on
the beach.
Agatha and Ben, plus many others, wanted to know about Yarrula�s past.
They wanted to hear where he had come from, where he was bound, who
else was
on the ship. But they respected his silently stated wishes and
wouldn�t
ask. Everyone knew that he would tell them when he was ready and not
before. He had to work out his new life before the old one was brought
back
to the surface.
It was about half a season after he arrived when Yarrula felt that he
wanted to tell his tale. Enough time had passed that he could speak to
others about his family. The pain had faded and all that was left was
the
happy memories. The empty feeling of loss was still there and would
always
be, but now it was manageable.
Yarrula was sitting across from Ben at the evening meal the tribe
always
shared. The conversation drifted from the regular talk about the days
work
to stories swapped back and forth between comrades. It is comforting
to
tell favourite stories over a good hot meal. The squirrels had heard
all of
them before, but that was ok. Entertainment is what you make it, and
these
were good stories. Yarrula had heard some of them before, but most
were new
to him. He had not been here long enough to hear them all. He sat a
listened until and older squirrel named Gunny finished his story about
a
fish as long as his boat, one he told many times. Each time, you could
swear that the fish grew another foot. When he finished, instead of
sitting
down, he turned and pointed and Yarrula. �It�s time for you to tell
one
young feller�, he said is a booming voice. �You�ve listened long
enough.
Time for you to share some of your own.�
Gunny�s proposal was greeting with cheers and encouragement from the
audience. Many paws pushed the wildcat in question up to the front of
the
room. Boisterous voices clamoured for a new story. Yarrula stared at
the
sea of faces eager to hear a new story. �But I don�t have a story..�,
he
half-heartedly started, to drowned out by the good natured booing by
the
crowd. Seeing that resistance was fruitless, and wanting to tell his
tale
anyway, Yarrula sat down and began the story of his life up to this
point.
�I was born in a small village of shrews far across the sea. I don�t
know
where it is, exactly. It was marked on a chart, but that chart is now
on
the bottom of the ocean. My parents weren�t too concerned about it,
really.
They were travelers, it was in their blood. My Dad always had to
move, to
see new places. My Mom followed because she loved him so much. Her
name
was Nashir, my Dad�s was Harruva. Our ship, the Fire Eye, was named
after
my mother. Her fur was orange, and her eyes were bright yellow. My Da
always said her eyes shone like fire in the moonlight. They had taken
our
ship from a crew of searats several seasons before I was born. They
renamed
it Fire Eye and set sail. We gathered our crew from many places, all
creatures wanting to travel and see the world. Where ever we put in,
there
was somebeast wanting to join. Our crew never got too big though.
Some
left when they tired of the sea, or if they found an land where they
wanted
to stay. Some, we lost. The sea can be terribly cruel.
I was really too young to appreciate it, but I�ve seen some wonderful
places. Tropical Islands with white sand beaches that stretch for
miles.
Mountains of ice taller than our ship floating on the sea. We chipped
some
off and it was the sweetest water that I have ever tasted. It was
strange,
a frozen fresh water mountain in the middle of the saltwater sea.
Never
have I seen the like before or since.
Life wasn�t idyllic always. Every now and then, we would come across
a
searat galley or a corsair raider. We avoided them when we could. Our
ship
was too small and our crew too few to fight them. The smaller ones
chased
us, hoping for easy prey. That was a mistake on their part. The
vermin
didn�t know that if they were small enough to catch us, then we could
defeat
them. I wasn�t allowed to fight, my folks said that I was too little
yet.
They didn�t want me hurt. They did let me shoot a bow though. I could
help
defend the ship that way. I�ve been practicing archery since I could
hold a
bow. Not that I�m boasting, but I could pin a rat between the eyes
from a
cable away. I could always wager an extra helping of dessert from a
new
crew member who thought that they were a better shot than me. To bad
it
only worked the first time.�
After this, Yarrula paused before continuing. He stood and stared
into the
fire for a long time before he started again. �I was in the crow�s
nest. I
liked it up there, you could see for miles and miles. It was me who
first
saw the storm. It was a heavy squall line that stretched from horizon
to
horizon. Pitch black, I�ve never seen clouds like that before. We
piled on
all the canvas that we could and tried to out run it. It was moving
faster
than we could and it was too wide to skirt around. We were still
battening
the hatches down when it hit. I was in the rigging, out on the yardarm
lashing the mainsail down. I couldn�t even find time to unstrap my bow
from
my back. Before I could finish, a gust of wind caught the sail. It
snapped
the end off the spar and tossed it and me into the churning sea. I
managed
to hold on to it. If I didn�t, I would have drowned. The wind pushed
the
ship away before anyone even noticed that I was gone. I can�t remember
how
long I was in the water. I blacked out. I guess the waves carried me
over
the reef. The Fire Eye was not that lucky. I can only hope that it
was
quick.�
Wiping his eyes quickly, Yarrula turned back to the audience, who were
raptly listening to his every word.
�But here I am. I survived the storm and found a new home. Good
things can
come from bad.�
Raising a glass high, Yarrula gave a toast, �Here�s to new friends and
to
old. Though they may come and go, the memories will last a lifetime.
Cheers!�
The sentiment was echoed by all.
Yarrula felt that the week after he told his story was the best one he
had
spent with the squirrel tribe. It felt like a great weight had been
lifted
from his shoulders. He smiled a little easier, laughed a little
lighter and
talked a little more. But Yarrula was his father�s son in more ways
than he
knew. A little of the wanderlust that had taken hold of his sire had
settled on Yarrula. He didn�t realize this at first. It manifested
itself
in long walks around the surrounding countryside whenever he had the
chance.
Yarrula had found a routine in the life of the squirrel tribe.
Though it
fit the squirrels perfectly, Yarrula felt subconsciously chafed by it.
Work
helped, but often, the wildcat found himself staring at the hills,
wondering
what lay on the other side, and what was beyond that.
Ben noticed this and felt saddened by it. He knew that the time would
soon
come when Yarrula left them to go out on his own. The squirrel had
grown to
care a lot for the young cat and wanted him to have a good life, where
ever
he was. Yarrula�s knowledge was mostly oriented around the sea, so Ben
started to fill in the gaps. He taught Yarrula all that he could
regarding
survival on the land. Ben didn�t say this, of course. To say it would
force Yarrula to meet the issue head on and would probably result in
him
leaving immediately. So the canny squirrel flitted around it.
Wilderness
survival, how to set up camp, travel without being seen and all the
other
woodland lore that Ben and Agatha could come up with was taught to
Yarrula
informally as Ben spent time with him, took Yarrula out on impromptu
camping
trips and the like.
Ben also began instruction in the way of weapons. He wanted to give
Yarrula the ability to defend himself if the need arose. Wanderers
often
come across vermin and other hazards that could only be dealt with by a
sword or bow. Since Yarrula could already shoot a bow, a weapon to
deal
with close range dangers was needed. He chose the sword and the spear.
A
spear could always be made from the forest in a pinch and a skilled
swordsbeast could hold his own against almost anything.
Yarrula threw himself into the training. It was a break in the
routine of
his life and he loved it. When he was not doing his chores or
sleeping,
Yarrula could be found practicing. Another benefit was the constant
exercise. Yarrula was almost fully grown, but was lean and wiry rather
than
brawny. In this respect, he took after his mother rather than his
father.
He had excellent endurance, however, and could run and fence for hours.
He
even made another bow and kept up his practice.
The announcement came in the late summer, about a season and a half
after
Yarrula came to the village. He decided that he wanted to leave and
explore
the world while he was young. But this parting would be done right.
Yarrula had had enough of sudden departures. When he announced his
intentions, many of his friends there shed a tear. A huge feast was
thrown
in his honour the night before. There was food and dancing that lasted
well
into the night.
Yarrula awoke the next morning, just before dawn. He packed his few
possessions and picked up his bow and quiver, strapping them on. Ben
met
him at the edge of the settlement with a long bundle next to him on the
ground. He grasped Yarrula�s shoulder, �Good luck out there. We�ll
miss
you. Anytime that you want to come back, your welcome to.� He bent
down
and picked up the bundle from where he had placed it on the ground. �I
have
something here for you. It was found on the beach some time ago. The
wooden box that they came in disintegrated, but they�re still as good
as
new. I�ve been saving them for someone special. You can use them now,
so
that someone is you. Use them well, and with honour.�
Slowly, Ben unwrapped the cloth. Inside, there were two swords. One
was
about 38" long, with a hilt finely wrapped in varnished silk. The
other was
modeled the same, only 14", not 38". The scabbards had been crafted
from
some dark wood, and polished to a high gloss finish. Even the seawater
could not touch it.
Yarrula unsheathed the larger one. The blade was plain, but it was
the
workmanship that caught the eye. It was a curved blade, long and
wickedly
sharp. The edge looked like it had never been sharpened, the edge was
forged into the metal. It was strong and hard, but flexible. It
would
take a great shock to break this sword. The entire thing weighed only
3 or
4 pounds. Expertly balanced, it was a master weapon, one that demanded
the
greatest skill and discipline, but held the greatest rewards. Again,
the
smaller was a duplicate of the larger, only the size was different.
The
same except for one thing, the metal was stronger, and there was a
beveled
tip, almost like a pointed chisel. A strong beast could put it through
the
toughest breastplate.
Yarrula was floored. �This is too fine for the likes of me. I�m not
worthy of such a weapon.�
Ben wouldn�t hear of it, �You can use a bow, but you need this as well.
If
you don�t feel ready, don�t use them. Keep them until you need them.
They�re my gift to you and I won�t take no for an answer. When your
skill
improves, you will feel more comfortable. Use them wisely, for they
require
the best out of a creature.�
Speechless, Yarrula slung the sword over his back, and put the smaller
blade
on his belt. Grasping paws firmly with the older squirrel, Yarrula
strode
off into the woodlands to see what was behind those hills.
Later, as he was walking in the forest at night, trying to make up some
extra ground...