This is the first part of my fan fiction trilogy
"Life is not but short
An orb of light that flickers
The light has vanished"
The wind howled in the ferret's ears as he made his way across the cliffside. The sound of waves was faint in his ears, but that was due to the whistling wind that nearly blocked out every other sound. The sun had not yet risen, but the ferret knew he must make use of this time if he were to have a headstart. He decided that he should probably avoid the cliffs facing the ocean and cut across the plains. They would never find him there.
He was still inwardly grieving the death of his companion. The only creature he saw as a companion. They had had an equal respect for each other, even to the point where they had discussed the possibility of becoming mates. Unfortunately, all hopes of that were cut short by her death. Death. That was not the right word for it. It had been murder!
The ferret was about to inwardly retell the story when down on a sandy slope where the waves washed up on the shore, was something that caught his eye. With his curiosity piqued, the ferret wandered down the slope and over to the 'something' he had seen lying there. Further inspection proved that the 'something' was the limp form of a weasel.
He prodded the creature with his footpaw. He sat the weasel up and shook him, but not too much. "'Ey, wake up."
The weasel's eyes slowly fluttered open. He blinked his large dark eyes drowsily as the ferret carried him back up the slope. "Wha- Who're yew?"
The ferret set the weasel down and handed him his canteen of water. "Here. Drink some. Ye need it after havin' been in the saltwater. Ye probably drank a lot of it. Ye'll get dehydrated quickly if that's the case."
The weasel took the canteen and drank from it before he wiped his mouth on the back of his paw. "Ahhh... Thanks, sirra. If'n ye don't mind me askin' once more, who are ye?"
The ferret took his canteen back as the weasel passed it back to him. He gave a low sigh and raised his head so that his bright blue eyes met the weasel's dark brown eyes. "Ye really want tae know, don't ye, lad?"
The weasel nodded vigorously and sat attentively as he awaited the ferret to begin his tale.
The ferret gave a sly grin and got up. "Well, ah can tell it tae ye while we travel."
The wind blew the ferret's hat off and it landed on the ground. The weasel scrambled to his footpaws and ran to catch up with the ferret, snatching his hat up from the ground as he passed it. "Wait for me!"
The ferret made a show of slowing down so that the weasel may catch up with him. He huffed as he held the hat out to the ferret. "Y-Ye dropped yer hat back there..."
The ferret shook his head and continued walking at a pace that the weasel could keep up with. "Nah, ye kin 'ave it. Ah want tae rid mahself of things that remind me of the Northlands."
The weasel put the hat, a black beret with a golden feather in it, on his head as he looked at the ferret with slight confusion. "Huh? What d'ye mean?"
The ferret held his paw up to silence the weasel, suddenly falling into an accent that is usually found in woodlanders. "This is where my story begins. Many seasons ago, when I was merely a babe, I was found my a corsair captain, who took me in as his adoptive son. Now this stoat's name was Nagrom Ravencliff. He was in charge of a large crew that sailed the seven seas in a galleon ship. When he took me in, he bestowed upon me the name 'Macbeth Ravencliff' and raised as one of the crew. I was trained as a swordsbeast and eventually became the strongest member of the crew, or at least, I think I was. I never saw Nagrom fight, so I can't be too sure. Anyway, I met a fair maiden who was a ferret such as myself named Sona. She was a beautiful creature with sleek white fur and large black eyes. We had known each other for seasons. She was on the ship the same time I was taken in by Nagrom. One day, Nagrom was going to make a raid on a woodlander's camp not too far from the shore, which was something he usually didn't do. Before we could sneak upon them, Sona cried out and the woodlanders ran away, knowing they were outnumbered. In his rage, Nagrom killed Sona for giving our position away. She was slain right before my eyes... I inwardly grieved her death until we returned to the ship and everybeast had fallen asleep. There would never be another opportunity to do what I was about to do again, so I seized my chance then. I snuck into Nagrom's cabin and stole his precious blade which I had seen him carry all my life. I packed up some rations and the belongings I owned that had importance, along with the sword I stole and left in the dead of night. I continued on for a while until I found you."
The weasel was gazing down at the ground, obviously saddened by the story. He sniffled as he spoke up. "That's so sad... The creature you loved being slain by the one who raised you... You must feel like you were stabbed in the back..."
Macbeth looked off at the ocean and nodded grimly. "Aye. I wish I would have gotten stabbed in the back instead of having to live through this. I'll have to bring myself to slaying him, even though he is my adoptive father. I have to do it for Sona... But not right now. He'll probably be sending a hunting party after me and then communicate with the captains he's allied with to go after me, too." He stood silent for a moment with his arms crossed and turned his head in the weasel's direction. "By the way, what do they call you?"
The weasel shrugged and continued looking at the ground. "I dunno many creatures... But m'name is Cerin Wyrmwood."
Macbeth and Cerin continued walking. The ferret stroked his chin as he looked the runty young weasel up and down. "Cerin, eh? What are you good at?"
Cerin readjusted his backpack and looked up at the sky as he thought. "Uhhh..... I'm not much of a fighter... I guess ye could call me a healer o' sorts..."
Macbeth snorted and patted Cerin on the head. "I could've guessed that you weren't the fighting type. Healer, eh? A healer always comes in handy."
Cerin quickly looked up at the ferret and raised a finger. "Wait a second... You weren't talkin' like that when y'first found me... Ye're an awful sneaky creature, y'know that? How do ye do that anyway?"
Macbeth chuckles and responds. "Well ye see, laddie, Ah was raised around all sorts o' creatures, so Ah 'ave learned tae imitate several accents."
The younger weasel pondered the logic in the ferret's reply. "Oh, well that makes sense."
Macbeth snorted. "Ah hope et does. T'ain't difficult tae understand, bucko."
The ferret continued to walk. He stopped. He heard softer pawsteps come to a halt seconds after his own. "So are ye goin' tae follow meh, Cerin?"
The meek weasel spoke up timidly. "If'n ye don't mind, sir."