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When his family is taken captive "Ruben" sets out to find and rescue them. |
~*~ Quinn woke with a loud yawn, and stretched his way out of his nest. He scratched an ear with a hind paw, shook his head, and peered over at the sleeping kits. He smiled at the little ones, snoring away peacefully. But wait... where was Ruben? He searched the little room, but found no trace of the squirrel. He was gone, along with some of the food that had been set aside for him. “Why that little sneak,” he growled under his breath, “He must have slipped out while we were all asleep.” He opened the door to see if his friend was still near-by. There was no sight of Ruben, but his scent was there, and fresh enough to follow with ease. Quinn bounded back into the tiny tree house and shook the kits awake, “Up and at 'em,” he called, “Come on you two! Don't you want to go on a hunt with your uncle?” “A hunt?” Cavan asked, “What are we hunting for in the middle of the day?” “Ruben,” Quinn answered, “He left while we were sleeping.” “Why would you hunt him? I thought he was our friend, I thought he was your friend,” Kelly said, as she clambered out of the warm nest. “That's just it, the foolish little squirrel is going to get himself killed. He's off on some hopeless rescue mission... more like a death wish. Come on now, both of you! We can't let our new friend rush off alone to face danger, can we?” The kits roused themselves, they needed no further explanation. Cavan and Kelly rummaged deep into the nest and found the belts their uncle had made for them. They tied on their own little pouches, and tucked away the food Ruben had left behind. They were ready, and all three raccoons dashed out the door and down the maple tree. ~*~ The trees in this part of the forest were not particularly close to together. This was unfortunate for Ruben, who was forced to travel on the ground again. He would've felt safer, if the trees were close enough to travel in the branches. Jumping from branch to branch, tree to tree, far above the forest floor was much safer for a squirrel. But even if the trees had been good for this kind of travel, he still would've had to come down from time to time to track. He had found a cluster of weasel-like prints, but the scent had gone cold. He followed them cautiously, hoping it was the right trail, and would lead him to the ermines who had kidnapped his family. He followed the trail for well over an hour, and was just thinking of stopping to eat, when he heard a voice ahead and ducked behind a young tree. “I found the little devil, but I can't get at it,” the voice hissed angrily, “It's tucked itself down between a tree root and a stone, just out of reach. Can't even dig it out.” “Well, show me where it is,” another voice answered, “Maybe we can find a way to reach it.” Ruben peered 'round the trunk of the small pine he'd been sitting behind, and saw a pair of ermines just walking away. Their sleek brown coats were just starting to become dappled with white, which made them easier to see among the browns and greens of the forest. Ruben looked down at his own tail, and wished for a moment that his coat was merely changing with the seasons. The unusual brilliant white patches in his fur, did not make for good camouflage, but they were a family trait. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and crept out of hiding. He followed the two weasels at what he believed to be a safe distance. It sounded as if something had escaped them, and he was hopeful that it might be someone he was looking for. Ruben found a place to duck out of sight again, behind a short outcropping of rocks, and cautiously watched to see if he could learn what kind of creature the weasels were after. One of the ermines began searching the ground, only stopping when he found a good sturdy stick. It was longer than the ermine was tall, and it didn't break when he struck it hard against the near-by stone. When a small cat's tooth was pulled from the creature's pocket, Ruben knew what the beast was doing. One end of the branch was chipped away at with the cat's tooth, until it came to a spear like point. “Let's see if we can catch it's belt and pull it up,” one of the ermines suggested, “We might get in trouble if we bring it back dead.” Ruben's mind raced. There was possibly a member of his family was in that hole. Whatever was trapped, if it couldn't be pulled up alive, the animal was sure to be skewered and pulled up dead or severely wounded. He couldn't sit back and watch any longer. Ruben jumped out from behind his cover and landed a tail's length from the two predators. He pulled out his wolf's claw, pointing it at his enemy and braced himself for a fight. The ermines however, only stared at him in bewilderment. “Well, come on then,” Ruben taunted, “Try hunting a creature that'll fight back!” “Is that one of ours?” One of the ermines asked his companion. “Looks like it should be,” was the reply. So these were the beasts that had taken his family! Ruben trembled with rage and charged at the enemy, disregarding the fact that he was outnumbered and outmatched. The ermines were taller than the squirrel (though not by much) and were far more powerful. They were also very nimble, and dodged their opponent with ease. One paw shot out as Ruben passed, giving a shove and sending him tumbling to the ground. He was tackled instantly and at the back of his neck, he felt four sharp fangs take hold. He struggled and tried to wrench himself free, but it was no use, the fangs began to dig in. All at once, Ruben felt those sharp teeth ripped away from him, and heard a scream that froze the blood in his veins. He didn't dare to move, some larger predator had snatched up the ermine... but perhaps it hadn't seen him. “Why you little thief!” came a great growling voice, “That squirrel is mine! I caught it last night.” Ruben opened his eyes, that voice sounded familiar. “So...s-sorry... sir, I promise... we didn't know,” the captured ermine choked out between violent fits of shuddering. Ruben risked a glance over his shoulder, and saw the creature, helplessly gripped in one of Quinn's strong paws. A wave of relief swept over him, and Ruben tried to raise himself onto his hind paws. Still shaken from his nearly-lost battle, he staggered and tipped over, only to be caught and steadied by young Cavan. He scanned the surroundings in search of the other kit, and saw Kelly, not far off, with the other ermine's tail clamped in her jaws. Quinn looked away from his captive, and gazed down at Ruben. The narrow eyes didn't soften, there was no kind word spoken. The raccoon stretched out a hind paw, tripping the squirrel and then pinning him with the powerful foot. Ruben squirmed instinctively, but made no plea for mercy or remembrance of the previous night's promise of friendship. It seemed unlikely that Quinn would travel so far, with kits in-tow, and make such a scene if all he wanted was a few bites of squirrel meat. His new friend had to be putting on a show, for some unknown reason. “Please sir,” the enemy pleaded, breaking the silence, “We didn't eat your prey. Would you be willing to let me and my friend go free? We're all predators here, can't we all go on to hunt another day? There's another squirrel too, it's hiding down in that hole by the tree root... you can have them both.” Quinn leaned over the little hole and peered inside. There was indeed another squirrel, and it was even smaller than Ruben. He licked his teeth thoughtfully, then drove his free fore paw into the hole. His paws were strong, but slender. He reached the tiny creature with ease and pulled it out as it screamed in terror. Ruben gritted his teeth in frustration. He didn't know what Quinn's intentions were for this poor helpless soul. So, not wanting to ruin Quinn's act, but wanting to protect what most likely his family, Ruben chattered angrily at the raccoon, “Let him go, you brute!” Quinn's paw closed around his new found captive as the other paw opened, dropping the ermine carelessly. The creature thudded to the ground, a shaking mess, stuttering out a stream of “thank yous”. Quinn nodded to Kelly, and called out, “You can drop that one too.” Kelly did as she was told and the two ermines reunited, trying to help each other stand steady. “You better keep moving you little weasels,” Quinn growled, and he bent down, snatching Ruben up in his emptied paw. “I don't think this is enough to make a meal.” Ruben found himself being thrust into the open jaws of the raccoon. He couldn't help letting out a scream as the teeth clamped down on his shoulders. The enemy screamed too, in terror of the hungry beast behind them. They turned and ran, down on all fours, desperate to escape. They were not accustomed to being the victim in a hunt, and it showed in their panicked, senseless retreat. Quinn's jaws opened again, releasing Ruben. The squirrel was unharmed, but his nerves were a bit rattled. He shook his head vigorously, his fur was nearly drenched in drool. “Did you really have to shove my head in your mouth?” Ruben demanded. Quinn set his friend down on the ground with a chuckle, “Terribly sorry... scared those little beasts half to death though!” Ruben gave no response, he was too busy rubbing his fore paws over his face and neck, trying to dry himself. He snapped back to the moment however, when he heard Quinn's voice become soft and quiet with the question, “And who are you, little one?” The reply was a half-choked cry, scarcely above a whisper, “Uncle Ruben... help,” the tiny squirrel called. |
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