Red had been tracking the rats for a while. Two days hence they’d made landfall on one of their creaking ships and ransacked the local ports and fishing towns. Whilst she wasn’t entirely fussed by their raiding of the town of Whitbye, which was often frequented by the local militia, she was worried that the rats would find their way towards her own people’s homes deeper within the woods that hugged the hills not four miles away from the coast. A lot of effort had been made to keep her people safe from the grizzled Royalists that marched across the land like they owned the place and she wasn’t about to let it all fall apart because of a crew of greedy rats.
Lifting the bow from her shoulder, Red fixed a gnarled arrow against it and scampered forward on three paws, rushing between the trees and following in the wake of the rat. Catching up to the trail the rat had left she noted more than one set of paw prints in the dirt; clearly, the rat and his crew were passing through here in greater numbers than she’d initially thought. With a gulp, she continued regardless and wondered if her friends were nearby or somehow waylaid pursuing other interlopers to her woods.
After tracking the rat for what seemed like an age she saw before her a pile of discarded sacks. Some were tainted with dark stains and Red wondered if the creatures who had once occupied them were no longer for this world. Her answer came sooner than she’d hoped as she clambered up a nearby tree and looked down into a clearing the rats had made their home.
A large campfire was set in the midst of the clearing, smoke drifting up from flickering embers. Around it sat a band of rats, eating, cackling and sharpening their weapons. A few were pilfering through the contents of chests and bags they’d clearly hauled from the local village and eyeing some poor families precious heirlooms.
Despite all of that, Red’s eye was drawn to a band of shivering and unfortunate creatures of all species who were chained to iron rods driven into the ground. Three or four lay still, deep crimson lash marks and cuts covering their arms and legs. A few stood more resolute in the face of their aggressors, one, in particular, a large hare with a stout peg leg and both the temperament and attire of a tavern keeper. He barked something Red couldn’t hear above the cackle of the rats and soon took a fist to the gut for his bellyaching.
Pondering on what to do next Red scratched her head and settled into a nook in the large oak’s branches she was using as her vantage point. She had no desire to take on all these rats but from the looks of it, they were making themselves more at home by the minute and with steel and perhaps a few black powder weapons to their name it wouldn’t be long until they started scouring the woods. She was gripped by a sudden urge to run but thought better of it and considered what her mentor, Yen would say if she found out she’d scarpered. There was nothing for it. She’d have to wait. With the cover of night coming maybe she’d find herself in a position to strike and take them out one by one.
***
The sound of thunder far on the horizon shook Red from her dreams. She’d tried not to close her eyes but the day spent scampering and hunting these rats had taken its toll. Quickly she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and blinked, staring down at the fire which was now roaring in the clearing. The rats were now merrymaking with more gusto although it seemed the hare had been giving them more trouble. Struggling and growling at the rats before him Red saw them unchain him and drag him down onto his knees. Red strained her ears to try and catch what they were saying as the wind whistled through the branches.
“This old codger is more trouble than he’s worth Bob” one of the rats said, kicking dirt up into the hare's face. “Just be done with him. No slaver is gonna take him anyway in the state he’s in!”.
The other rat, seemingly named Bob, laughed and pointed at the peg leg that stook unceremoniously at an odd angle from behind the hare. “Too right Limmy. Ah sod it, I’ll just slit his throat and put an end to his moaning”.
Bob drew a dagger from his belt and held it against the hare’s throat but Limmy stepped in. “Woh, bloody hell Bob watch it. I don’t want blood all over the camp. Take him off into the woods and dump the body there. I don’t mind a bit o’ blood but at least wait for my supper to go down!”.
Bob shrugged and nodded, sticking the dagger between his teeth and rooting out some morsel of food. As the hare struggled again for a moment the rat sunk another clenched paw into his jaw and the old creature sagged, spitting bloody dribble onto the floor. Subdued, he was soon being dragged away from the camp, up the path to where Red was lying in wait.
The moment had come. Red scrambled to find her feet and fixed arrow to bow once more. She watched as the rat dragged the slurring hare up the slope and shoved him back onto his knees in the twisting roots of the oak tree. Red watched as the hare blinked and frowned as he looked up past the rat to see her knelt in the branches above him. She held a finger to her lips quickly and then slowly drew back the bowstring.
The shot was quick and clean. A moment later the arrow had found its mark, piercing its way through the back of the rat’s skull, now poking out of his eye socket. With a gurgle, the rat clattered forward and went limp atop the struggling hare who, despite the brutal end to his foe seemed nonplussed by the entire affair.
Leaping from the tree Red came to land right next to the hare and scampered forward to check the rat. Dead. It always paid to check. The rats would soon wonder where Bob had gone so she quickly yanked the arrow free and went to scarper off into the bushes to watch the others but the hare held up his manacled hands, raw flesh showing about his wrists.
“Listen lass,” the hare said, a grave voice slipping from his bloody mouth “set me free and I’ll give you a hand with these villains”.
Red eyed his leg and cocked an eyebrow. The hare, noticing her gaze continued quickly.
“I might not look it but I’m a dab hand with a blade. Thirty years in the army and ten behind a bar I know how to deal with folk like this”.
Red frowned again. Yen would have scolded her for even hesitating but the hare seemed hardier than he looked. She could use the distraction whatever happened. Sighing, she rushed back to the hare’s side and flicked a knife from her pouch. Rattling the point of the blade around in the lock for a few seconds she jimmied it open and let the cold iron fall to the floor.
“Cheers lass,” the hare said, rubbing his wrists and standing up straight, arching his back and grabbing the dagger from the side of the dead rat and unslinging a nobbly club from Bob’s belt. “The name’s Gorrim, Slowhop to my friends”.
“Red” she replied. A shout sounded from down the bank and the now familiar voice of Limmy echoed between the trees. “Show me I made the right choice…”
Gorrim smirked and slinked off into the bushes as Red ran back towards the oak she’d used as a perch before and after hopping up watched the clearing down below. Nocking another arrow she gazed down as Limmy with torch in one hand stomped up the slope grumpily calling Bob’s name.
The rat vagabond pushed through the bushes and just as the flickering light of the torch caught the crumpled form of Bob the bushes rustled and the tall, dark shape of Gorrim stepped forward and with a clunk smashed the club into the side of Limmy’s skull. The rat crashed to one side, dazed and just as he steadied himself to yell out the hare stepped onto his chest and jabbed the dagger down into Limmy’s neck. The rat scrabbled at the hare’s peg leg feebly before his last breath eked out of his chest.
Red was impressed but the feeling was short-lived. As she watched the torch rolled slowly next to the canvas sacks that had been bundled in the roots of the tree and flame licked at them, catching quickly and causing light to spring up from their hiding spot.
Shouts started to come from the clearing down below and Red could hear the drawing of steel as the rats realised something was wrong. Looking daggers down towards Gorrim she saw the hare yanking another blade from Limmy’s belt and reading both of them as boots sounded on the damp ground.
Gorrim looked back up to her in the tree and she could swear he was smiling as he readied the duel blades and Red prepared herself for even more of a fight than she’d bargained on.
Red Squirrel Ranger Art by Jerome Jacinto
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