“In that moment on that day, the sun washed away the darkness from their mind and spirit. In that moment on that day, all that existed was the gentle wind of spring which caressed their faces as they tumbled through the fields of heather, euphoric with the scent of the fair flowers. In that moment on that day, everything was as it should be.” – Montague Mouse.
Patches of icy snow were still present on the muddy ground of the withered Moorwood, the winter had been long and hard. It was supposed to be spring now, but an awful silence had fallen over the woods. It was reason for great concern, for all animals know that silence is a sure sign that something is amiss. Life is never silent. There was, however, one little mouse who was not concerned, at least not at current. If he had known better he would have been very concerned, but as it was – he was very little and very hungry and had therefore little room for concern.
Marten’s gaze traveled from the owl to the fox, somewhere inside him a glimmer of hope sparked that Fox would volunteer himself but Fox looked away, frustration and pain evident on his features. He always prided himself on being an animal of action, but his red coat made him even more visible than the owl and although he was fast, Marten was undeniably faster and would have little trouble hiding, and Marten knew this.
Winter had come as it did every year; draping the woods in a beautiful carpet of snow that induced a quiet, content slumber among the woodland animals. After the appointment of the Marten, only some had left to seek the warmth of the South for good. The rest were no longer afraid. The Marten would surely be successful and save them all. He was a brave animal, a real hero, so they slept; snug and warm in their dens.
“Tonight, you are facing my son in the ring. While he is a most capable fighter, and surely will pose quite a challenge to you. It mmm, would be a great boon to our house if we could guarantee his success.” She glanced sidelong at the man who spoke. “I understand it’s the championship, and you’re defending your title but…” he raised his eyebrows at her, as his left hand moved to a coin pouch. “You want me to throw the fight?” She looked past the nobleman at the bookie Ivan. He grinned. “Don’t worry Locke, you’ll be paid plenty.”
He shoved a larger man out of the way as he came down the stairs. She had seen him before. He was a regular during her nights in the fighting pit, but that was all she knew of him, she never paid much heed. Although he was more scarred up than most, he was just another face in the crowd. Tonight, wasn’t any different. The place was packed. Rowdy, unsavory types everywhere, drinking, yelling and having a grand time, the air was heavy with smoke and liquor.
A little story and art teaser for my upcoming book Montague Mouse: “You have me and I have you, so we will never be alone. Not truly anyhow. No matter where we go and what will befall us, we will always be friends.” The frog brightened in a smile as Montague spoke, he pulled the little mouse in for a great big hug (...)
”Dinnae think they grew ’em tha’ tall down South.” The jovial dwarf muttered between the puffs on his pipe. The young woman gave him a sidelong glance, he had fiery red hair that was decorated with braids and golden beads. His garments were colorful, purples, pinks and greens, interspersed with yellow. He looked entirely out of place on a ship like this. “My father is a Northerner.” “Ahh… tha’ll explain it, lass. Ye almost look like half a giant from down ‘ere, ‘cept on the count of yeh bein’ a li’l on tha scrawny side an’ all. Where’s ye pa? He on the ship too?” She inhaled sharply through her nose and held her breath for a moment before exhaling.
The Drunken Whale was famous. Not for its drinks or fare which both left much to be desired, but for the coin which flowed plentifully below. Especially in recent days. Ships from the Isle of Maelström had docked in the city of Agos during the Autumn and since then, hefty sums of coin had exchanged hands among the blood, sweat, and tears in the underbelly of The Whale.
Gren crouched down to inspect the remnants of the vicious beast that had attacked their camp in the early hours of the morning, the lightning strike brought down by the cleric had left a gaping hole in its middle, the inexperienced wizard named Robin observed the thing with a look of mild horror. “Well, she ain’t subtle, but she’s effective.” He gave Robin a look and then glanced back the cleric.