The Rogue Crew

The lieutenant winked broadly as he patted Trug’s back. “You’re no coward, young un, anybeast could tell that. Wait, watch an’ learn, Bawdsley, an’ one day you’ll make us all proud o’ ye, eh!”

Trug squared his shoulders, saluting. “Aye, sah!”

Captain Rake Nightfur gave a tug on the prisoner’s halter. “We’ve been marchin’ the best part o’ the morn, ye rascal. Where are ye takin’ us tae?”

Before Crumdun could answer, Buff Redspore, who had climbed back into the dunes to scout the land, called out. “North an’ a point west along the shore, sah—can’t make out what it is. Shall I scout ahead an’ see?”

Captain Rake waved a paw. “Aye, do that, lassie. Sarn’t Miggory, go with her in case o’ bother.”

Miggory joined the tracker as she descended out of the dunes. Together they set off at a brisk run along the tideline.

As the column followed up at normal march pace, the haremaid Ferrul looked at Wilbee, who was trudging alongside her.

“Beg pardon, did you say somethin’?”

Wilbee pointed to himself. “Who, me? No, ’twas Drander.”

Drander explained mournfully, “I never said a word. It’s this bloomin’ belly o’ mine, growlin’ an’ beggin’ for scoff.”

Flutchers, another young ranker, grinned foolishly. “Y’don’t say? My tummy is, too. Listen, can ye hear it?”

He began making a noise out the side of his mouth, like a growling stomach speaking actual words. “Gwaaaa w w w , I want lunch! Kwuuuurrr! Gimme some grub!”

This caused general merriment amongst the young hares, who began imitating Flutchers.

“Bwuuurrr! Foooooood, I wan’ foooood!”

“Kwuuurrrrk! Scoffff, I need scooooofffff!”

Corporal Welkin Dabbs was down on them sternly. “Silence in the ranks, ye bellowin’ beasts! Don’t think ye can start playactin’ ’cos Sarn’t Miggory ain’t here. The next growlin’ gut I hear’ll be on half rations an’ double guard duty tonight! D’ye hear me, wot!”

Ferrul fluttered her eyelashes prettily. “We hear you, Corporal!”

Dabbs pulled a ferocious face at her. “Then pay attention, me beauty. I may only be a corporal, but I’m an ’orrible, fearsome corporal who’ll have your ears for breakfast, your scuts for snacks an’ your guts for garters! Wot’ll I have, Miss Ferrul?”

The pretty haremaid fluttered her eyelids again, replying in a soothing tone, “You’ll have the most frightful headache if you continue bellowing like that, Corporal dear.”

Welkin Dabbs glared at her, his ears a-twitch with wrath. “Watch that dressin’! Pick up your pace at the back there! Hup two, left right! Shoulders back, Wilbee. Eyes to the front, Miss Ferrul! Now march, you sloppy, straw-pawed,’orrible, misbegotten lot!”

From the ranks, an unidentified young hare sobbed mockingly, “Oh, dear. I wish our lovely old sergeant would come and rescue us from this cruel corporal!”

The object Buff Redspore had espied from the dunetop appeared as no more than a dark smudge above the tideline. Miggory’s paws drummed time with the tracker’s as they drew closer to their goal. The sergeant put on a spurt. Drawing ahead of Buff, he held up a paw, calling out a warning.

“Hold ’ard, marm. Let me take a peep first!”

Buff knew Miggory never acted without purpose. She halted but could not help querying his motive. “I say, Sarge, why do I have to stay here?”

Miggory’s reply was terse. “Just smelled somethin’ I don’t like. Stay put, if ye please, marm.”

It was a large mound of ash, black, white and grey, from a sizeable fire long gone cold. The grizzled colour sergeant stirred the debris with a swift paw. He crouched down, eyes roving over the area, shaking his head.

The tracker took a few tentative paces forward. “What is it, sah . . . ?”

Miggory whirled in her direction, his voice loud and strained. “Wot did I tell ye, Redspore? Stay back! Take yoreself off now, back t’the column. Tell Corporal Dabbs t’keep the young uns away. Send Cap’n Rake an’ Lieutenant Scutram t’me, quick h’as ye like!”

Buff hesitated. “But, Sergeant, what is it?”

Miggory’s bellowing sent her scurrying to obey.

“Don’t argue with me—just do as yore h’ordered!”

The column stood well off downshore as Captain Rake and Scutram crouched amidst the ashes with Miggory. Rake Nightfur’s eyes were blank with shock as he picked an object from the ruins.

“What manner o’ monster could do sich a thing tae another creature? Ah’ve never seen ought like et!”

Scutram surveyed the awful scene, leaning on a lance. “Aye, this has got t’be the work of a Wearat, sah.”

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