Knock, knock.
"Stop wasting my time!"
"Badgers!" the fox exclaims, pulling out of the skunk and getting up from the floor. Grabbing the towel and dipping a corner of it in the water, he quickly cleans himself off, then tosses it to Shelana. "Get cleaned up," he orders, "and hurry up."
Or what? she grumbles, are you going to rape me again? "Yes, master," she responds, meekly.
When the skunkette has finished washing and dressing, she grabs his pack and lifts it to her shoulders. She is surprised to find that while it's still heavy, it's lighter than the day before.
"I removed some of the rocks earlier, when I went downstairs for breakfast," he comments. "Want me to go down and get them?"
"N-no," she mumbles, "master."
"Well, follow me," he orders, picking up the blankets and heading for the door. As soon as she's out, he closes the door, locks it and pockets the key.
By the time she has managed to get downstairs and outside to where the wagon waits, Shelana is staggering and barely able to lift it up on the seat in front of the wagon.
"The outhouse is around the corner," the badger states, pointing in the general direction of a narrow passage between two buildings, "hurry up and finish. I don't want to stop because you need to water a bush."
Thankful for the momentary reprieve, she leaves the pack on the seat and hurries off towards the passage. Finding a row of doors, she picks the first that isn't closed, hurries inside and quickly does her business. Well finished, she dips her paws in the trough outside before shaking off as much of the water as possible. Then, worried about angering the badger, she sets off through the passage only to run straight into a large female coming the other way.
"You!" the tigress growls, grabbing the skunkette with her paws and slowly pushing her backwards into the yard, "don't you know better than to get in the way of your betters?"
Rot! "I-I'm sorry!" she squeals, "mistress!"
Lifting the Shelana up to look her directly in her eyes, the large female growls,"You better be!" Dropping her, she adds, "You're lucky I don't have time to teach you manners myself. Now beat it!"
"Y-yes, mistress!" the skunkette exclaims, edging away from the imposing female, then turning and fleeing as soon as she reaches the passageway. Reaching the wagon, she wastes a moment to look Behind herself -- to make certain that the tigress wasn't following -- then quickly climbs up, barely noticing that the pack isn't where she left it, but in its customary place. The badger must have moved it, she guesses.
"Sit down!" the badger orders, "we're moving out!"
She quickly scrambles over the bales and dumps down onto the blanket laid out on her usual place, barely manageing to hold back a startled gasp as she feels something in her trouser pocket pressing into her hip. Casting a quick glance towards the fox and seeing that he's busy studying the surroundings, she slips a paw down and pulls out a small, wax-paper wrapped package. How? Who? The tigress? B-but? Puzzled, she folds back a corner of the paper to reveal dried fruit, strips of jerky and even a couple of lumps of sweetener. A trail ration? Folding the paper back, she notices a couple of symbols scrawled on it with a coal-stick. I wonder what it says? Deciding that it's not a good idea to reveal the package to the fox, she slips it behind a coiled up rope, hoping to retrieve it later.
"Well, Terruan?" the badger asks after they've been traveling for a few minutes, "you're wondering about something. What is it?"
"The gate," the fox admits, "there was one where we arrived, but not where we left?"
"Tell me," the badger begins, "how many times did you have to sleep out while I visited a village the last two eight-days before we crossed the mountains?"
"Seven," the fox replies after some deliberation, "but what does that have to do with it?"
"How many rabbits do you think there are?" the badger asks, ignoring the fox' question.
"I... I don't know," the fox admits.
"More than there are predators," the badger states, "and that's not counting slaves. Add in raccoons, skunks, otters and other prey species, the fact that the other side of the mountains is dominated by those species and you'll soon see why they're guarding the only pass through the mountains."
"B-but the mountain village?"
"It started as nothing more than a rest-stop for traders," the badger explains. "They're keeping it secret because they fear an attack if the neighbouring villages learns about it." Grumbling a bit, he adds, "That wolverine probably won't be welcome there again, as slavers tends to draw unwelcome attention to themselves."
Evening.
When the wagon rolls to a stop, Shelana is surprised to see a collection of other wagons, but no buildings.
Tossing a small bucket towards the skunkette and pointing to a small hollow, the badger orders, "There's a stream over there, go fill the bucket." Then, seeing how eagerly she moves, he adds, "But don't think of running; only predators lives around here."
And I have no way of knowing who might be sympathetic, she grumbles to herself, thinking about the tigress and the small package. Holding the bucket in her left paw, she quickly climbs down and pads towards the spring to fetch water. Returning a minute later she spots the badger off to one side, talking to a couple of coyotes and the fox near the center of the area, working to build a bonfire with twigs and dead branches he must have found nearby.
"Master," she mumbles, setting down the bucket and going down on her knees beside the fox, "making a fire is no task for a master." If I let him do it, it'll go out just as fast as he lights it, and he'll be angry all evening.
Trying to hide his relief, but not succeeding, the fox gets up and moves aside.
Shelana quickly strips the bark off of a piece of wood and crumples it in the center of the fire-pit together with some dry grasses, breaks and stacks some twigs on top of the bark and finally makes a pyramid out of the larger pieces on top of it all. "May I, master?" she asks, holding out a paw.
"What? oh, yes," he responds, dropping the flint firestarter into her paw.
"Thank you, master," she mumbles. Taking the flint in one paw and the steel in the other, she bends down and quickly strikes a spark into the grass and bark, then blows gently to coax it into a flame. As soon as she is certain that the fire won't go out, she paws the firestarter back to the young fox.
"Good!" the fox exclaims, "now you can prepare dinner." Pointing to a large basket, he adds, "There's a pot and some foodstuff in there. Make enough for all three of us."
"Yes, master," she responds, quietly. Opening the basket, she takes a quick inventory: a small pot, some salted meat, smoked sausages and a few spices. Not much to work with.
"You! come with me!"
Hearing the harshly spoken order she looks up and stares directly into the face of a female coyote.
"Mistress?" she mumbles.
"I gave you an order" the coyote states. Looking over the ingredients, she shakes her head, then commands, "Leave the meat to soak and come with me."
What does she want? She quickly places the meat in the pot and fills it with water, then get up and hurries after the gray-furred female.
Turning to look at Shelana, the coyote barks, "Hurry up! We don't have much sunlight left."
By the time the skunkette manages to catch up with the coyote, she has snagged a couple of small baskets from her wagon and is striding towards some bushes.
"Here," the coyote states, tossing her the baskets, "take these." Walking over to a bush she lifts aside the branches, revealing several large, flat plants. "Mushrooms," she grins, "just what is needed for a decent stew! Fill the baskets."
Not recognising the mushrooms, Shelana is a little reluctant to touch them, but when she sees the coyote not only pick one, but also biting into it with obvious relish, she quickly begins to gather the spongy growths.
"So," the coyote suddenly asks, "been a slave for long?"
"N-no," Shelana stutters, surprised by the sudden change in attitude.
Prodding her a little, it doesn't take the coyote long to get Shelana's story. "Don't worry," she finally states, "be nice to him, and when he finally grows up, he'll probably set you free."
"You think so?" Shelana asks. Then, suddenly suspicius at the coyote's friendly attitude, she growls, "And why do you care?"
"Not every fur believes that slavery is right," the coyote replies, "and as for your fox; when he decides to find himself a mate, you can be certain that she don't want the competition."
"Oh..." First the tigress, and now... Come to think of it, the badger, too. "Thank you."
"If you're thinking of making a run for it," the coyote whispers, "your best bet is probably to go northeast for a while, then cut due west when you're far enough north to get around the mountains. Everyone will be expecting you to go either southwest or northwest. I'll forget a knife and some clothes outside tonight, but remember: if you get caught, I'll deny that this conversation ever happened."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet," the coyote retorts. Taking the baskets, she tips most of the contents of one into the other, then paws the now almost empty one over to Shelana."Come, we better get back before that fox of yours panics."
I couldn't care less if he paniced. Falling into step behind the coyote, they walk back to the wagons. Reaching the bonfire, she quickly stirs it up, then turns her attention to the meat. Looking around, she doesn't find a knife to cut it up with, but notices the fox lounging nearby. Walking up to him, she asks, "Master?"
"What?" he retorts grumpily, annoyed at having his rest interrupted .
"The meat must be cut," she replies quietly.
"I'm not certain that I can trust you with a knife," he mutters. Then, realising that if she doesn't prepare the dinner, he'll have to do it, he climbs onto the wagon, rummages around in his pack and returns a few moments later with a short knife in an old sheath. "Use this," he mutters, pawing it to her, "but I'll be keeping an eye on you."
"Kid!" the badger exclaims, wiping his muzzle with his sleeve, "whatever you do, let her do the cooking."
"I wasn't planning on cooking, myself," the young fox retorts. Turning to Shelana, he orders, "Clean the pot and stuff, then we'll go to bed."
"I'll be sleeping on the ground, under the wagon tonight," the badger states, "it's softer."
"That means we'll have the wagon to ourselves," the fox grins, patting the skunkette on the head.
Grumbling something, she just gathers the bowls and spoons and drops them into the bucket to wash them off with the remainder of the water.