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Log-a-Log Sarko was tired. Just the usual, mundane task of regular patrolling through Mossflower woods, day after day. "We, the Guosim, have not had any adventure for a long time. But we must remain vigilant! Anything can turn up at any time!" Every shrew thought he was right. Except one... "Bodel! Utha! Log-a-Log! I found a wildcat! Come 'ere!" Shouts and murmurs rang out from the Guosim. "A wildcat!" "What do we do?" "Filthy varmints invadin' Mossflower..." "SILENCE!" rang out the attention-demanding voice of Log-a-Log. "I will resolve this matter. Bikko, show me this 'wildcat'." Bikko, the shrewbabe, led Sarko to the battered form of Felazar. "See? It be dead!" Felazar murmured something. "He isn't dead," said Sarko. "...whip...mouse...slave...no...sea...Crazar...no...No...NO!" Felazar began to writhe in agony.
"Take him to our healer. We'll see if he lives."
* * *
Felazar woke up on a small bed. He looked around weakly, then, after taking note of his surroundings, he began to dart his head around the room, apparently at a loss for words. "W-W-Who are y-you?" he asked with the utmost bewilderment. "I am Log-a-Log Sarko, chieftain of the Guerrilla Union of Shrews in Mossflower. It would help us if you told us about yerself." "Mossflower...I've heard of it before...," murmured the wildcat. "I come from Green Isle, home of the wildcats. I used to be a prince, but now I am a castaway. Now, I swear revenge on the wildcat lord, Crazar the Sharp-Clawed One." Log-a-Log had a sullen look on his face. "In ships, those wildcats would plunder Mossflower. Many shrews were killed. If you want to kill Crazar, I'm with ye." The two shook paws, agreeing on a deal spoken only with the determination on their faces.