After the Raid
Jul 14, 2018 15:22:02 GMT -5
Post by Isaiah on Jul 14, 2018 15:22:02 GMT -5
Isaiah found himself unable to sleep, aimlessly strolling the Abbey halls. The usually familiar walls seemed foreign, the absence of moonlight casting an unnatural darkness through Abbey. The hall stretched indefinitely in front of Isaiah. The mouse kept walking. There was a fear that if he stopped, something would devour him from the darkness. Isaiah knew better than that, but he didn’t dare chance it, continuing to walk towards an unknown destination. Then, doors started opening. It was just one at first. The door to the left of Isaiah opened to shine a glaring light on Isaiah. It was a harsh, yellow light that emanated from the doorway, not the comforting orange murmur of candlelight he was used to. A silhouette appeared in the door frame, ominously towering over the tiny mouse. For the first time, Isaiah felt genuinely afraid in his beloved Abbey.
Isaiah’s walk turned into a run. He knew if he could just put enough distance between himself and the shadow that all would be all right. Then, another door opened. Then another. And another. Suddenly, both sides of the hallway were lined with doors end to end, and they opened just as fast as he could run past them. Garish lighting framed the shadow monsters on either side of Isaiah. The mouse dared not look at them, focusing on the end of the hall.
He ran. It wasn’t a plan or even a logical decision, he ran off pure fear. He just had to keep running. But the darkness seemed to cling to him, slowing him down. The darkness became corporeal, a fog he had to push his way through, growing heavier and heavier the farther he went. Now, angry voices came from the shadow monsters. They were all unintelligible words, but unmistakably angry.
Isaiah grew more desperate, flailing his limbs in an attempt to put on more speed. He felt the darkness pressing in on him, suffocating him. Doors continued to open as he passed by them, the shadows began to step out into the hallway, taking chase after the mouse. Suddenly, without realizing it, he’d reached the end of the hall. It ended in a smooth stone wall, with no chance of escape. The mouse turned to face his fear. He’d never been so terrified in his life. The shadows moved closer, they were grabbing at him, pulling at him, smothering him. Everything went black.
Isaiah woke with a start, nearly hitting his head on a rafter overhanging his bunk. It took a moment, but he eventually recognized his surroundings as the dibbun dorm. Light was just now seeping in through the windows, signaling the start of a new day. Outside, dark grey clouds threatened to stifle any chance of sun. Around him, dibbuns slept fitfully, undisturbed by his nightmare. Ominous hallways and shadow monsters were nowhere to be found. With a great sigh, the mouse flopped back onto his pillow, recounting last night’s events. It hadn’t been a complete disaster, though it had come darn close. All Celebes’ fault. That inexperienced sorry excuse for a dibbun had nearly gotten them all in trouble. Thankfully, despite the mess they’d left, the Elders had failed to convict anybeast. Even so, the sea otter had made what should have been a smooth kitchen raid into a very close escape. Frankly, they never should have let the dibbun come without vetting him first.
Isaiah’s paw snuck inside his pillowcase, breaking off a bite sized piece of nut-bread. He supposed the kitchen raid hadn’t been completely unsuccessful. The dibbuns had managed to get away with their share of loot, and food always managed to lift his spirits. The bread comforted Isaiah, but it did little to wipe the memory of desperately running through the Abbey always from his mind. It had been exhilarating and exciting, but the fact of how close they were to being caught stuck in the mouse's mind.
It wasn’t his fault. It was Celebes' fault. Isaiah was a professional, he’d never been caught raiding before. Obviously, the only way the mouse could ever come close to being caught was if someone like Celebes purposefully tried to get him caught. Yea, that made sense. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Isaiah’s daring plan, the dibbuns might not have even made it out of the kitchen. That daring plan being the incredibly risky act of slinging a candied chestnut at a stack of dishes in a desperate scramble for a distraction.
What if he’d missed? The mouse had never had patience for practice, and that fault had almost come back to bite him last night. If he’d missed, it truly would’ve been his fault that they got caught, and Celebes only an accomplice. In truth, while Isaiah directed most of his anger towards Celebes, some of it was meant for himself. It was his fault for assuming competence out of Celebes. Isaiah could have done something before Celebes ran out of the kitchen, before the ensuing fiasco with so many close calls.
Perhaps it wasn’t completely fair for the mouse to shoulder all the responsibility, but the more he thought about the previous night, the more he thought of things he could’ve done better. It was true that if Celebes hadn’t been there the raid would’ve likely gone off without a hitch, but that didn’t mean much, raiding was easy. Isaiah liked to consider himself a star dibbun, at least as far as DAB was concerned, mischief was something he excelled at. It was a point of pride for him. How was he meant to brag about being the best raider when the last raid had come so close to failing?
Lying was the easy solution. Somehow, though, Isaiah didn’t think Celebes would be happy to let him fib about last night’s adventure to the other dibbuns in the dorm. Perhaps the perfectionist streak in Isaiah that sometimes reared its ugly head played a part in this attitude as well. No matter how he looked at it, he’d made mistakes last night too, and that thought was unbearable.
Isaiah was out of bed now, treading softly so as not to wake anybeast. His gaze locked on Celebes, the sea otter sleeping soundly even as raindrops began to attack the windows mercilessly. Isaiah was surprised to see him there, he’d thought he would’ve retreated to his mother’s bed after his near breakdown the night before. Perhaps the otter was more stubborn than Isaiah gave him credit for. Still… it was so easy to blame him for the previous night, to carry on and blame that smug sleeping face for all of last night’s misfortune. Isaiah moved past Celebes with a snort. He’d never heard of any of DAB’s legendary dibbuns ever being foiled by dibbuns little more than babes. It never would have happened to Tangle. No, if he wanted to be the best, or rather worst dibbun he could be, he needed to take more responsibility. The concept wasn’t the most tantalizing, but prize of becoming a mischievous dibbun who was actually good at mischief was too much to pass up.
Still attempting to retain some semblance of moving silently, the mouse slowly rummaged through the dibbun toy chest, carefully shifting stale candied chestnuts and kitchen rags used as flags. Isaiah’s paws closed around the knitted pouch of a sling. This was a real sling, like the ones the otters used, far more effective than the y-shaped branch and string Isaiah tended to carry around. A knotted thread wound through both sides of the pouch, one side ending in a finger-sized loop. It was smaller sized for dibbun usage, but it was still a sling that would be far more effective than the toy Isaiah used, provided he learned how to use it.
Packing a pouch of stale candied chestnuts to use as ammunition, the mouse headed outside with his weapon. It was relatively easy to sneak out, the pounding rain being the only noise to accompany the pawsteps of one little mouse. It was as though the Abbey had collectively decided to sleep in on this grey day.
Outdoors, the rain was unrelenting, but Isaiah was undeterred. If anything, his soaked fur only acted to fuel his stubbornness, as if he could defy the very skies themselves. Still, the mouse did take some modicum of shelter against the Abbey wall, an overhang above giving some protection. He faced the edge of the orchards, eyes squinting against the elements, choosing a tree to use as a target. Settling on an apple tree not too far away, Isaiah wrapped the sling around his hand, fitting in a candied chestnut snugly.
It was simple enough, he’d seen the Skipper do it plenty of times. How hard could it be? Just swing it above your head, build up some momentum, and release it at the right time. Isaiah’s first shot went wide, heading in nearly the opposite direction towards the Abbey pond. His second shot fared even worse. The third went in the right direction, but failed to travel even half the distance towards the tree. His fourth shot was nearly as bad as the first. To Isaiah’s dismay, his next ten didn’t seem to bear any improvement at all.
Above, the rain picked up in its ferocity, unleashing a fury upon the silent Abbey below. In the distance, a rumble was heard. Every shot Isaiah missed just caused him to grab the next candied chestnut with renewed vigor, determined to grasp some sort of improvement. The consistent failure was frustrating though, and the rain was doing nothing to help Isaiah’s temper. Still, he persisted. He had no choice.
*****
Across the grounds, safe from the rain, Brother Rufus sat in the gatehouse sipping his honey-mint tea. He casually looked up from his copy of Sandals Throughout the Ages and cast a thoughtful glance at the crying sky. The rain was a good omen, the crops had gone a bit long without this season. Hopefully the more restless members of the Abbey wouldn’t mind a slight change in pace. Setting down his tea, Rufus was just about to return to his book, when a rugged figure of a mouse caught his attention. The dibbun was too far away to fully make out, he appeared to simply be standing in the rain, with barely anything to protect him. Grumbling, the squirrel levered himself up from his chair. He had a soft spot for dibbuns, and had no wish to let some mouse catch a cold. Besides, he couldn’t let the dibbun suffer the stern fury of the Badgermum when she found him.
*****
“What on earth possessed you to stand about outside on a day like this?” Rufus did his best impersonation of the Badgermum, but faltered slightly. Isaiah cut a comical little figure, drenched to the bone, his gaze downcast, and clutching a dibbun-sized sling in his paws. The squirrel couldn’t resist smiling at the ridiculous sight before him.
Isaiah didn’t respond to his elder, angry about being pulled out of the rain, and instead choosing to plop himself down on Rufus’ wicker chair. Rufus winced as an audible squelch was heard as Isaiah’s fur pressed into the chair. Ah well. The squirrel didn’t have the heart to be mad.
“That yours?” Rufus motioned to the sling still tightly clutched in Isaiah’s paws. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Isaiah nodded. Could he use it though? It seemed hopeless. His kitchen raid shot had been a fluke, and the mouse didn’t seem to be getting any better at using it. If he hadn’t gotten lucky… Perhaps Isaiah was doomed to be just as bumbling as Celebes. Perhaps he didn’t even deserve to be in DAB…
“You know I never was very good at using those. Never put in the practice I guess, not like Skipper.” Rufus rambled, resigning himself to not getting any conversation out of the dibbun. “Fancy some tea?”
But Isaiah’s ears had perked, not at the mention of tea, but at the mention of the Skipper. For the first time since he’d entered the gatehouse, Isaiah spoke.
“Skippa’ hafta pra’tice lots and lots too?” Rufus nearly dropped his cup of tea, surprised to hear the mousebabe speak at all.
“Well, yes. How do you think he became so skilled?” The squirrel cocked his head inquisitively. “Though I rather think he may have practiced in better conditions than this.” Rufus returned to staring out the window, noting the still darker clouds that crept closer on the horizon.
Isaiah took the question to heart. To be honest, he hadn’t ever thought about it before. He’d just assumed the Skipper had always had the power to knock out a fish with a pebble from across the pond.
“I could neva’ git as good as ‘im though.”
“I don’t see how you could know that, unless you practiced all your life like he did.” Rufus sipped his tea, whiskers twitching as he continued to star out the window.
“All my life?” Isaiah repeated.
“You only start out good at something if you’re very lucky. Most beasts have to work long and hard to get good at anything.”
“Did ya’ hafta work long n’ hard to git good at readin’ books?” Rufus smiled at Isaiah’s innocent question, pretending to ponder it intently.
“I suppose I did, I suppose I did indeed.”
It was during a brief interlude in the rain that Isaiah returned to the dorm, still just as wet but with a renewed motivation burning inside him. He didn’t care how long it took, how many hours he had to practice, he was going to become good with the sling. For some reason, this idea of mastering the sling had taken root in Isaiah’s mind, and now the mouse couldn’t shake it even if he wanted to. If he wanted to get good at something, he was going to have to work on it. He was going to work on getting good with the sling. More importantly, he was going to work on his raiding skills. The previous night’s raid had nearly left him defeated, but instead of whining about it, he was going to use it as motivation. He’d start by learning how to sling.
Tomorrow, perhaps, or the next day. He could wait for the rain stop.
Isaiah’s walk turned into a run. He knew if he could just put enough distance between himself and the shadow that all would be all right. Then, another door opened. Then another. And another. Suddenly, both sides of the hallway were lined with doors end to end, and they opened just as fast as he could run past them. Garish lighting framed the shadow monsters on either side of Isaiah. The mouse dared not look at them, focusing on the end of the hall.
He ran. It wasn’t a plan or even a logical decision, he ran off pure fear. He just had to keep running. But the darkness seemed to cling to him, slowing him down. The darkness became corporeal, a fog he had to push his way through, growing heavier and heavier the farther he went. Now, angry voices came from the shadow monsters. They were all unintelligible words, but unmistakably angry.
Isaiah grew more desperate, flailing his limbs in an attempt to put on more speed. He felt the darkness pressing in on him, suffocating him. Doors continued to open as he passed by them, the shadows began to step out into the hallway, taking chase after the mouse. Suddenly, without realizing it, he’d reached the end of the hall. It ended in a smooth stone wall, with no chance of escape. The mouse turned to face his fear. He’d never been so terrified in his life. The shadows moved closer, they were grabbing at him, pulling at him, smothering him. Everything went black.
Isaiah woke with a start, nearly hitting his head on a rafter overhanging his bunk. It took a moment, but he eventually recognized his surroundings as the dibbun dorm. Light was just now seeping in through the windows, signaling the start of a new day. Outside, dark grey clouds threatened to stifle any chance of sun. Around him, dibbuns slept fitfully, undisturbed by his nightmare. Ominous hallways and shadow monsters were nowhere to be found. With a great sigh, the mouse flopped back onto his pillow, recounting last night’s events. It hadn’t been a complete disaster, though it had come darn close. All Celebes’ fault. That inexperienced sorry excuse for a dibbun had nearly gotten them all in trouble. Thankfully, despite the mess they’d left, the Elders had failed to convict anybeast. Even so, the sea otter had made what should have been a smooth kitchen raid into a very close escape. Frankly, they never should have let the dibbun come without vetting him first.
Isaiah’s paw snuck inside his pillowcase, breaking off a bite sized piece of nut-bread. He supposed the kitchen raid hadn’t been completely unsuccessful. The dibbuns had managed to get away with their share of loot, and food always managed to lift his spirits. The bread comforted Isaiah, but it did little to wipe the memory of desperately running through the Abbey always from his mind. It had been exhilarating and exciting, but the fact of how close they were to being caught stuck in the mouse's mind.
It wasn’t his fault. It was Celebes' fault. Isaiah was a professional, he’d never been caught raiding before. Obviously, the only way the mouse could ever come close to being caught was if someone like Celebes purposefully tried to get him caught. Yea, that made sense. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Isaiah’s daring plan, the dibbuns might not have even made it out of the kitchen. That daring plan being the incredibly risky act of slinging a candied chestnut at a stack of dishes in a desperate scramble for a distraction.
What if he’d missed? The mouse had never had patience for practice, and that fault had almost come back to bite him last night. If he’d missed, it truly would’ve been his fault that they got caught, and Celebes only an accomplice. In truth, while Isaiah directed most of his anger towards Celebes, some of it was meant for himself. It was his fault for assuming competence out of Celebes. Isaiah could have done something before Celebes ran out of the kitchen, before the ensuing fiasco with so many close calls.
Perhaps it wasn’t completely fair for the mouse to shoulder all the responsibility, but the more he thought about the previous night, the more he thought of things he could’ve done better. It was true that if Celebes hadn’t been there the raid would’ve likely gone off without a hitch, but that didn’t mean much, raiding was easy. Isaiah liked to consider himself a star dibbun, at least as far as DAB was concerned, mischief was something he excelled at. It was a point of pride for him. How was he meant to brag about being the best raider when the last raid had come so close to failing?
Lying was the easy solution. Somehow, though, Isaiah didn’t think Celebes would be happy to let him fib about last night’s adventure to the other dibbuns in the dorm. Perhaps the perfectionist streak in Isaiah that sometimes reared its ugly head played a part in this attitude as well. No matter how he looked at it, he’d made mistakes last night too, and that thought was unbearable.
Isaiah was out of bed now, treading softly so as not to wake anybeast. His gaze locked on Celebes, the sea otter sleeping soundly even as raindrops began to attack the windows mercilessly. Isaiah was surprised to see him there, he’d thought he would’ve retreated to his mother’s bed after his near breakdown the night before. Perhaps the otter was more stubborn than Isaiah gave him credit for. Still… it was so easy to blame him for the previous night, to carry on and blame that smug sleeping face for all of last night’s misfortune. Isaiah moved past Celebes with a snort. He’d never heard of any of DAB’s legendary dibbuns ever being foiled by dibbuns little more than babes. It never would have happened to Tangle. No, if he wanted to be the best, or rather worst dibbun he could be, he needed to take more responsibility. The concept wasn’t the most tantalizing, but prize of becoming a mischievous dibbun who was actually good at mischief was too much to pass up.
Still attempting to retain some semblance of moving silently, the mouse slowly rummaged through the dibbun toy chest, carefully shifting stale candied chestnuts and kitchen rags used as flags. Isaiah’s paws closed around the knitted pouch of a sling. This was a real sling, like the ones the otters used, far more effective than the y-shaped branch and string Isaiah tended to carry around. A knotted thread wound through both sides of the pouch, one side ending in a finger-sized loop. It was smaller sized for dibbun usage, but it was still a sling that would be far more effective than the toy Isaiah used, provided he learned how to use it.
Packing a pouch of stale candied chestnuts to use as ammunition, the mouse headed outside with his weapon. It was relatively easy to sneak out, the pounding rain being the only noise to accompany the pawsteps of one little mouse. It was as though the Abbey had collectively decided to sleep in on this grey day.
Outdoors, the rain was unrelenting, but Isaiah was undeterred. If anything, his soaked fur only acted to fuel his stubbornness, as if he could defy the very skies themselves. Still, the mouse did take some modicum of shelter against the Abbey wall, an overhang above giving some protection. He faced the edge of the orchards, eyes squinting against the elements, choosing a tree to use as a target. Settling on an apple tree not too far away, Isaiah wrapped the sling around his hand, fitting in a candied chestnut snugly.
It was simple enough, he’d seen the Skipper do it plenty of times. How hard could it be? Just swing it above your head, build up some momentum, and release it at the right time. Isaiah’s first shot went wide, heading in nearly the opposite direction towards the Abbey pond. His second shot fared even worse. The third went in the right direction, but failed to travel even half the distance towards the tree. His fourth shot was nearly as bad as the first. To Isaiah’s dismay, his next ten didn’t seem to bear any improvement at all.
Above, the rain picked up in its ferocity, unleashing a fury upon the silent Abbey below. In the distance, a rumble was heard. Every shot Isaiah missed just caused him to grab the next candied chestnut with renewed vigor, determined to grasp some sort of improvement. The consistent failure was frustrating though, and the rain was doing nothing to help Isaiah’s temper. Still, he persisted. He had no choice.
*****
Across the grounds, safe from the rain, Brother Rufus sat in the gatehouse sipping his honey-mint tea. He casually looked up from his copy of Sandals Throughout the Ages and cast a thoughtful glance at the crying sky. The rain was a good omen, the crops had gone a bit long without this season. Hopefully the more restless members of the Abbey wouldn’t mind a slight change in pace. Setting down his tea, Rufus was just about to return to his book, when a rugged figure of a mouse caught his attention. The dibbun was too far away to fully make out, he appeared to simply be standing in the rain, with barely anything to protect him. Grumbling, the squirrel levered himself up from his chair. He had a soft spot for dibbuns, and had no wish to let some mouse catch a cold. Besides, he couldn’t let the dibbun suffer the stern fury of the Badgermum when she found him.
*****
“What on earth possessed you to stand about outside on a day like this?” Rufus did his best impersonation of the Badgermum, but faltered slightly. Isaiah cut a comical little figure, drenched to the bone, his gaze downcast, and clutching a dibbun-sized sling in his paws. The squirrel couldn’t resist smiling at the ridiculous sight before him.
Isaiah didn’t respond to his elder, angry about being pulled out of the rain, and instead choosing to plop himself down on Rufus’ wicker chair. Rufus winced as an audible squelch was heard as Isaiah’s fur pressed into the chair. Ah well. The squirrel didn’t have the heart to be mad.
“That yours?” Rufus motioned to the sling still tightly clutched in Isaiah’s paws. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Isaiah nodded. Could he use it though? It seemed hopeless. His kitchen raid shot had been a fluke, and the mouse didn’t seem to be getting any better at using it. If he hadn’t gotten lucky… Perhaps Isaiah was doomed to be just as bumbling as Celebes. Perhaps he didn’t even deserve to be in DAB…
“You know I never was very good at using those. Never put in the practice I guess, not like Skipper.” Rufus rambled, resigning himself to not getting any conversation out of the dibbun. “Fancy some tea?”
But Isaiah’s ears had perked, not at the mention of tea, but at the mention of the Skipper. For the first time since he’d entered the gatehouse, Isaiah spoke.
“Skippa’ hafta pra’tice lots and lots too?” Rufus nearly dropped his cup of tea, surprised to hear the mousebabe speak at all.
“Well, yes. How do you think he became so skilled?” The squirrel cocked his head inquisitively. “Though I rather think he may have practiced in better conditions than this.” Rufus returned to staring out the window, noting the still darker clouds that crept closer on the horizon.
Isaiah took the question to heart. To be honest, he hadn’t ever thought about it before. He’d just assumed the Skipper had always had the power to knock out a fish with a pebble from across the pond.
“I could neva’ git as good as ‘im though.”
“I don’t see how you could know that, unless you practiced all your life like he did.” Rufus sipped his tea, whiskers twitching as he continued to star out the window.
“All my life?” Isaiah repeated.
“You only start out good at something if you’re very lucky. Most beasts have to work long and hard to get good at anything.”
“Did ya’ hafta work long n’ hard to git good at readin’ books?” Rufus smiled at Isaiah’s innocent question, pretending to ponder it intently.
“I suppose I did, I suppose I did indeed.”
It was during a brief interlude in the rain that Isaiah returned to the dorm, still just as wet but with a renewed motivation burning inside him. He didn’t care how long it took, how many hours he had to practice, he was going to become good with the sling. For some reason, this idea of mastering the sling had taken root in Isaiah’s mind, and now the mouse couldn’t shake it even if he wanted to. If he wanted to get good at something, he was going to have to work on it. He was going to work on getting good with the sling. More importantly, he was going to work on his raiding skills. The previous night’s raid had nearly left him defeated, but instead of whining about it, he was going to use it as motivation. He’d start by learning how to sling.
Tomorrow, perhaps, or the next day. He could wait for the rain stop.