Redwall: The Krimson Traitor

Chapter 2

After Smutty had rubbed the life back into his deadened limbs, Vatcha took him by the paw and led him to the outskirts of the village. Finding a secluded spot beneath the shade of a large oak tree, the two foxes sat down together.

“So what’s your name, blackfur?”

“Err…” Smutty looked away sheepishly. “It’s… Smutty.”

“Should have known it was something like that.” Vatcha said, chuckling. “Your daddy didn’t exactly strike me as the most creative beast around.”

“So… Wot was it you wanted ‘elp with?”

“I just need you to answer some questions about this place. You can manage that, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Good!” Vatcha leaned back against the tree. “First, can you tell me what that old mine is being used for?”

“Well, my dad has some slaves down there diggin’ up iron.”

“What sort of slaves?”

“Mostly the moles that used to live ‘ere before my dad took over, an’ a few other creatures he’s caught on raids.”

“And I suppose that iron is what was used to make those crude pig stickers most of your friends were wearing?”

Smutty nodded.

“Of course, any weapon is really only as good as the paw that wields it. So what about their paws? Are they any good in a fight?”

Smutty felt his stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot. There was something in Vatcha’s tone now… “Well… Sort of. If they can surprise their marks…”

“What if somebeast else surprised them? Could they retaliate?”

“I… Vatcha, wot’s goin’ on?”

Vatcha only waved her paw dismissively. “Don’t worry about that, it’ll be fine. Just answer the question please.”

After a few seconds of nervous fidgeting, Smutty answered. “Uh, not really. The only beast ‘ere any good with their weapon is my dad.”

“That’s only when he’s sober, I assume?”

Smutty was surprised by the halting, uncertain sound of his own laughter; something he hadn’t heard in a very long time. Catching himself, Smutty stopped to look around nervously, as if there might be some terrible consequence for his disrespect.

“Nobeast is here, sweetie.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Last time my dad caught me laughin’ at ‘im, well…” Smutty used a claw to lift up his top lip, revealing a jagged, broken fang on his left side.

Without warning, Vatcha took Smutty’s face into her paws. She began turning his face, inspecting the damaged fang as if it were some interesting bauble. “Ooh. That looks painful.”

Flustered, Smutty managed to pull himself out of the vixen’s grasp. “Uhh… Well, it isn’t, really. Not anymore. Now, it only ‘urts when I eat anythin’ too sweet or cold.”

“Hmm. I think I know something that can help.” Vatcha pulled her haversack from its resting place and began rifling through its contents. A couple seconds later, she produced a small copper kettle and pushed it into Smutty’s paws. “Do be a dear and fill this with water. I’ll get a fire going while you’re gone.”

Baffled as he was, Smutty got up to do as he was asked. After he’d turned to walk away, he was startled by the sound of branches snapping above him. Looking upwards, he saw Vatcha perched in the oak tree above, collecting dead branches. He hadn’t even heard her climbing.

“What?” Vatcha asked after she noticed him staring. “I’d get my paws dirty picking up wood on the ground.”

After watching the strange vixen for a few more moments, Smutty simply smiled, shook his head, and went back to the task of fetching water. Once he’d filled the kettle in one of the nearby streams of spring snowmelt, he returned to find Vatcha back on the ground, stoking a small fire. Two forked sticks had been planted into the ground on either side of the fire, with another stick laid across them to form a makeshift cooking spit.

“Ah, good.” Vatcha looked up from her fire. “Bring it over here, please.”

Taking back her kettle, Vatcha hung it from the spit and left it to boil.

“I’ve never seen a fox climb like that.” Smutty commented as he was settling back down to his seat. “’Ow’d yew do that?”

“I’m a grey fox, sweetie. Climbing is just something we’re good at.”

Seemingly satisfied with her fire, Vatcha began digging through her haversack again, pulling out a copper cup and a number of small cloth satchels. As she was sorting through the satchels, Smutty presented her with a different question.

“So where’re yew from?”

“Me personally?” Vatcha looked up from what she was doing. “I was born on the western coast. My family is from… A bit farther west than that.”

“From… The sea?”

“From across the sea.” Vatcha took a small piece of thin cloth and laid it flat on a nearby rock. “What about you? How come you’re the only blackfur I’ve seen here?”

“Well, I got my fur from my mom. She died when I was little.”

“How’d that happen?” Vatcha asked as she was began pulling pinches of various crushed herbs from her satchels and piling them in the center of the cloth scrap.

Smutty shrugged. “All I know is she died when a raid along the path west of ‘ere went bad.”

Smutty watched as Vatcha took a piece of thin twine from her haversack and used it to tie up the cloth scrap she’d been piling her herbs onto. Once she was satisfied that it was secure, she placed the bundle inside her copper cup and set it aside.

“Wot is that?” Smutty asked.

“It’s a tea bundle. You do know what tea is, right?”

“Err, not really…”

Vatcha rolled her eyes and breathed an exaggerated sigh. “Well, it’s not a complicated concept; just hot water flavored with herbs. In this case, a mixture of Echinacea, passion flower, and chili - all plants from my parents’ homeland that are used to treat pain or improve mood – with some mint for taste.”

“So it’s… Medicine?”

“Some teas are medicinal. Others are just supposed to taste good and help you relax.”

“And is that all you ‘ave in that bag? Jus’… Tea?”

“Not quite. I do… Ah!” Vatcha’s response was cut off by the sudden whistling of the kettle. Taking another scrap of cloth from her bag, she used it to lift the kettle from its spit, and continued her thought as she filled the cup with boiling water. “As I was saying, I do have some snacks in here, but otherwise… Yeah, it’s just tea. Anything else I need, I could just forage myself.”

Taking the cup into her paws using the cloth as insulation, she passed the tea over to Smutty. “Now, let this cool for a bit before you drink it.”

Smutty took a sniff of the concoction before pulling a face and turning his nose away. “That smells awful!”

“Yes, well…” Vatcha shrugged. “It is probably a bit on the spicy side, but I promise you; drink that, and by this time tomorrow, your outlook will seem a lot brighter.”

Yet again, something in Vatcha’s tone was making Smutty uneasy. Stamping the feeling down, he did as he’d been instructed and waited until his tea was lukewarm before taking the first sip. Despite his initial impressions, he found the spicy drink to be quite palatable and drained it within seconds.

And so the two young foxes spent the rest of their afternoon lounging together, making small talk, cracking jokes, drinking tea, and eating the snacks from Vatcha’s haversack. It was a sense of companionship that felt utterly alien to Smutty, but he relished every second of it.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to say goodbye.” Vatcha said as dusk was falling. “I have some important business to take care of tonight.”

“Oh...” Smutty made his best attempt at not looking or sounding too disappointed. “Maybe yew could… Take me with? To wherever it is yore goin’, I mean.”

Vatcha shook her head as she was standing up. “I can’t do that. But don’t worry; we’ll see each other again tomorrow.”

After the two foxes had extinguished their fire with pawfuls of soil, they went their separate ways. Smutty returned to his father’s longhouse, where the feast was thankfully long over and chief Kagrel fast asleep. Vatcha headed west.