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XXIX

End the Game

It was necessary. That's what his commander told him. They had to exterminate all their enemies, regardless of how defenseless they were. The stoat was leaning against the tree, breathing shakily as he looked at what he had done. He couldn't stop staring at the grisly scene; he knew it was wrong, but he did it anyway. The stoat looked down at his bloody paws and saw some of the fluids dripping onto the ground. He shut his eyes and exhaled.

"Ish...Ish, open yer eyes."

The stoat slowly opened his eyes. He frowned as he stared at the weasel in front of him. The weasel chuckled as he looked at the destruction the stoat caused.

"Good job, Ishlin. Won't be long 'fore the enemy surrenders."

"...Why? Why did...wot was the point?"

The weasel grinned. "The point, Ishlin, is that we need to win. There's nuthin' else--"

"We didn't...a-all this...how the fuck are we s'posed to call this a victory? We killed all these beasts--"

"It's a victory 'cos it'll crush the enemies' morale, their spirit, Ishlin! An' a beast who has no will to live has no will to fight! Once they see wot's been done here, trust me...the war will be ours."

The weasel laughed softly to himself and patted Ishlin on the shoulder. Ishlin only stared at the carnage in front of him as more blood fell from his paws.

---

It was always the best solution. The stoat never questioned how or why. Whenever he wasn't in a good mood, he'd always find a bottle of grog or beer or wine somewhere and chug the entire bottle. Then he'd pass out or vomit, and he'd feel better in the long-run. Ishlin blinked as he leaned against the tall tree, grasping the cold bottle of grog in his right paw. The stoat brought the bottle up to his lips and quaffed a large amount before he lowered the bottle and exhaled. Ishlin shook his head and wiped his mouth off before he heard a few footsteps in the distance. The stoat looked over his shoulder and saw the familiar scruffy black fox walking towards him.

"Wotchu want, Kronno?" the stoat growled.

Kronno scoffed. "Figured ye'd be the best beast t'find if'n I want a drink."

Ishlin flicked his eyes at Kronno and stared. The fox grinned at him, and the stoat snorted before he handed the bottle over to her.

"Thanks," she said, taking the bottle.

Ishlin kept observing the vixen as she drank large quantities of the fluids. She shut her eyes, shortly before she took the bottle away from her maw and coughed twice.

"The fuck d'ye mix wit' that? Yeller's piss?"

Ishlin shrugged. "Tastes fine t'me."

The stoat retrieved the bottle from the black fox before he drank from it again. Ishlin looked at Kronno as she sat down in the grass. Then the stoat looked at the bottle filled with bitter-smelling sludge and shook it a few times.

"D'you want another drink?"

"No," responded Kronno quietly.

"Then wot's yer problem?"

The black fox raised an eyebrow as she looked at the stoat. "I'm sittin' in the grass. Who said I 'ad a problem?"

"No, no, no. I know how all ye females are. You waltz 'round actin' like yer fine, but then you get all quiet, start sighin' in everybeast's ears jus' to get their attention. So clearly sumthin' is botherin' you; jus' go ahead an' tell me now."

"Nothin's botherin' me, Ish. Just...ponderin'."

"That's jus' a clever term fer botherin' an' you know it."

"Okay, somethin's botherin' me. Ye fuckin' 'appy now?"

Ishlin smirked. He stared at the fox for a moment before he took another sip of his grog.

"So wot's wrong?" the stoat asked after drinking.

"Kurwin's our cap'n. An' wot he says goes, no matter how inane some o' his ideas seem."

"That's right."

"Then why do I feel like somethin's 'bout to bite us all in the arse? Why do I feel like Kurwin's not thinkin' everythin' through?"

Ishlin shrugged. "Maybe he ain't. Maybe he is. Ain't our right to question 'im."

"Why not?"

The stoat blinked. "Hmm?"

"Why ain't it our right to question 'im?"

"'Cos it shows we don't trust 'im. It shows we're startin' to doubt his leadership, an' you know how he gets when that 'appens."

"But I do trust him, Ishlin."

"And yet, you're sittin' there talkin' to the biggest drunk in this crew, wonderin' if our Cap'n's makin' the right choices."

Ishlin sat down beside Kronno, sighing as he set the bottle down in-between them. He smacked his lips a few times before blinking. The two creatures paused for a moment before Ishlin smirked and tried to give the fox reassurance.

"His plan will work, Kronno. I know it will."

"Yew seem so sure."

Ishlin huffed. "Wot do beasts do, Kronno?"

"Kill."

The stoat snapped his fingers and pointed at the fox, grinning. "There ya go. Didn't even hesitate--didn't even take the time ta think yer answer through! So you know exactly wot I'm talkin' about."

Kronno chuckled wryly. "Yew think Kurwin will succeed 'cos he kills?"

"I know he will...I know. That's why this whole 'play nice' act with the goodbeasts is pointless. They know how dangerous he is. They'll get tired of how we treat 'em. Sooner or later, our 'friends' will rebel against us. That's why I don't think it's a good idea to try an' make 'peace.' An' soon enough, Kurwin will realize that too."

Ishlin grabbed his bottle and held it firmly as he paused. He took a small sip of the grog before grunting and shaking his head.

"The males, the females, even the babes, Kronno...they all have to die. All our foes; they-they must be extinguished from this forest. No survivors. No mercy. No chance of a rebellion. It'll be perfect, Kronno. Jus' us pirates...us vermin. Nobeast t'fight us; nobeast t'run or hide from. Only the victors lookin' down at wot's left of the corpses."

Ishlin turned away from the fox when she glared at him. "Yew act like this is all a game."

"It is a game. Today, somebeast wins. Tomorrow, somebeast loses. Goodbeasts, pirates, thieves, warlords, assassins--we're all li'l, tiny playthings of some higher power. Whoever invented this sick game is sittin' up there with a grin on his nasty face, watchin' us all die fer his own amusement. I don't want to win this game, Kronno. I want this game to be destroyed."

Kronno looked away from Ishlin. She reached over and took the bottle from his paw. Ishlin didn't try to snatch it back; he watched as the vixen drank more of the fluids and set the bottle down.

"So wot 'appens when this 'game' is gone?"

"Peace. Serenity. You'll...you'll see, Kronno. One day--one day, Kurwin will destroy this wretched game, an' everybeast in this crew will finally be at ease. Ain't that wot you want?"

"Not if it means that the players o' the game are eradicated too. D'yew ever think o' that?"

"No..."

The two beasts got quiet again. Ishlin lowered his head as he pondered about the future, about what his captain and the crew planned on doing next. He didn't pay any attention to Kronno, nor did he see her lower her ears slightly.

"Wot's up with yew, Ish? Ya been very quietly lately. Barely even hear ya belchin' o' throwin' up anymore."

Ishlin looked at the fox and blinked. He stared at the fox's eyes for a moment, trying to see if she was faking her concern for him. But it was hard for the stoat to tell when he had over a bottle of grog in his system. He couldn't tell if he wanted to throw up, pass out, or cry. He felt nauseous and upset, and part of him thought he was about to piss himself. The stoat's eyes watered, moments before he glanced down. Ishlin saw what was left of the grog resting beside Kronno's side and grinned.

"Nuthin'. M...m'jus' drunk, Kronno. I'm just a drunk ramblin', nothin' more."

Ishlin snatched the bottle from the ground and laughed as he grasped it firmly. Then he put the bottle against his lips and downed the rest of it, exhaling after he emptied the bottle. Kronno sighed heavily before she stood up and patted Ishlin on the shoulder.

"Yew really should stop drinkin' that slop. Won't do no good."

Ishlin's ears twitched as he heard the vixen walk away. The stoat stared at the empty bottle and broke out into a fit of chuckling.

"Y-yes...yes, it will..."

---

He couldn't tell anymore. The beach used to be so vibrant and colorful. The sand was a rich, light shade of tan, and the water was blue and perfect for swimming in. But now, the stoat didn't want to touch the water--not with all those corpses floating around in it. He looked around the beach, only to see that the sand had been tainted with blood. Everytime he flared his nostrils, he smelled the festering corpses. The foul odor of fat, urine, blood and fecal matter filled his lungs. His body was sticky from the blood of his enemies and reeked of bile, along with his recent (and spontaneous) bowel movement. But despite everything, all the screaming had stopped. There was no more killing, fighting or shouting. As the stoat sat still, he couldn't help but marvel the calamity of the soiled beach. The seagulls were still crying in the distance. The waves were still crashing into the beach. The wind was still blowing across his face, carrying along the faint scent of the salty sea. But none of it seemed to matter to the stoat anymore. He blinked, his cutlass lying at his footpaws. The vermin felt like lying on the ground and joining all the corpses in the afterlife.

"Captain! Cap'n, lookit dis!" somebeast shouted.

The stoat wasn't paying attention. The voices from afar were background noise, muffled shouts and ambiance that was no different from the sound of the seagulls crying.

"Survivor, eh?"

"Yeah! Looks loik 'e's de only one!"

Ishlin still stared blankly ahead, the images around him blurred, out of focus. He knew beasts were running and walking around him, but he didn't bother. The stoat knew it'd be better if he stayed still, wait until his body gave up on itself. The stoat looked down at the ground for a moment, observing his coarse, red footpaws. Then he blinked as two more footpaws appeared in his vision.

"You okay?"

Ishlin kept staring, looking at the much cleaner pair of vermin footpaws that were only lightly tainted with blood. Somebeast snapped his fingers, and the stoat twitched. He blinked again and lifted his head slightly, looking at a blurry figure in front of him.

"Hey! You all right buddy?"

Ishlin didn't answer. He didn't have the strength to open his mouth. The blurry figure scratched his head for a moment. Then he snapped his fingers two more times beside the stoat's left ear. Ishlin's vision cleared up, and the stoat grunted quietly as he stared at the ferret. The stoat saw a few large ships out the corner of his eye. Ishlin flicked his eyes up at the vermin in front of him dressed in messy, simple clothing.

"Wot's wrong with 'im, Cap'n?"

"The bloke deaf or wot?"

The ferret shook his head. "Think he's in shock. Give him some room--he don't need everybeast crowdin' 'round him!"

Ishlin shut his eyes for a moment and breathed heavily out his nose. When he opened his eyes again, two tears quickly ran down his bloody face. He still made no sound as he stared at the gruff ferret.

"Wot's yer name?"

"Ishlin," the stoat responded, so quietly that the ferret almost didn't hear him.

The ferret nodded. "I'm Kurwin. I, uh...um, d'you need help gettin' home? I know you've..."

Kurwin turned around and looked at the messy beach before he stammered and shook his head.

"Yer not injured, are ya?"

Ishlin didn't respond. Kurwin scratched his head again and blinked.

"Can you still walk?"

The stoat nodded.

"Okay, um, j-jus' tell me where yer home is. Some of us c'n take--"

"I have no home," Ishlin interrupted.

Kurwin crouched down slightly so he could get a better look at the stoat's face. "It's over. This battle or-or war, wotever it was--it's finished."

The ferret smiled strangely, showing off his yellow teeth. "It's okay now. You can go back home."

Another tear fell from Ishlin's face as he shook his head. "No, I can't."

Kurwin rubbed his paws together, grumbling. "Family! That's right--you, um, you have a family waitin' fer you! You c'n go see 'em again!"

"I don't have a family."

Kurwin's tail went limp, and his smile waned. "Oh. Wot about friends? A-a mate? A lost sibling or-or a son, maybe?"

Ishlin repeated himself. "I don't have a family."

Kurwin frowned as he stared at the stoat. One of the vermin in the background scoffed and stomped away from the tall beast.

"Fuck 'im! Let's 'ead back on board, Cap'n! Ain't nuthin' else out 'ere!"

Kurwin rubbed his chin and shook his head. He stood up and started to grab Ishlin's arms.

"Get up," he barked.

Ishlin blinked as Kurwin grunted. The stoat looked down at him questionably as he tried to hold his body up.

"Wot are you doin'?"

Kurwin grunted again as he helped the stoat move towards his ship. "We got plenty of food an' water. Beds ain't the best in the world, but it'll do. I know a big lug like you is-is prob'ly starvin', right?"

"I don't want your help."

"But you need it. An' I'm not takin' no fer an answer."

Ishlin and Kurwin carefully walked over some of the corpses as they got closer to the large vessel.

"Trust me. You'll thank me later. Now let's get all that muck offa ya! Smells like you've been on this beach fer days!"

Ishlin didn't protest or say anything. He didn't feel like going with Kurwin, but he didn't have the energy to refuse his offer. So the stoat moved sluggishly beside the corsair, hoping his mood would improve sometime later.

---

Out of grog again. Shit, thought Ishlin. The stoat walked through the forest, breathing heavily as he leaned against every tree he came across. Ishlin shut his eyes and tried not to think, tried not to see those graphic images again. But they always came back. The stoat quickly opened his eyes and panted a few more times. Damn, he could definitely use another bottle right now. The stoat licked his lips and huffed. He shut his eyes and rubbed his head, feeling the aches coming back. He covered his mouth for a moment, groaning. His stomach gurgled softly as it digested all the grog and food in his system. The beast opened his eyes and lowered his paw. Keep it down, he told himself. Ain't nuthin' more than a bottle; you c'n drink ten times that much in one sitting. So Ishlin moved away from the tree and started to walk around the moist soil. Then his eyes dilated, and the beast froze. The stoat heard faint whispering behind him, but he didn't dare turn around. It was nothing. Had to be. It was only the wind blowing against his back. So Ishlin continued, ignoring how chilly his back suddenly became. The stoat heard more whispering, and then he scrunched up his face when a familiar stench filled his nostrils.

"Dead-Eye?"

Ishlin turned around. The whispering stopped and the odor went away. But he knew that smell from anywhere--it only came from Dead-Eye whenever he opened his mouth. Ishlin stuck his tongue in his cheek and shook his head. He turned back around and kept walking. He was drunk, pure and simple. That cold chill in his spine was just the wind. That stench he detected was most likely from his own mouth; he had just downed nearly a whole bottle of grog, and he never washed his mouth out. Yeah. That was all it was. So Ishlin chuckled to himself and shook his head, his throat feeling scratchy.

"Fuck...where's my fuckin' grog when I need it? Maybe--"

Ishlin froze again. Something grabbed his back. He could feel claws, all of them colder than frozen metal. He couldn't move; the feeling paralyzed him. And then, suddenly, the claws ran down his back as gently as possible, making his spine shiver. Ishlin screamed and started to run, hoping to get far away from whatever it was that just groped him. He shut his eyes again and swore. Grog. That was all he needed. The air was getting to him--he needed something to warm up his body and calm him down. Ishlin looked right and saw his fellow pirates eating vittles and scanning the perimeter for enemies. He looked left and ran past several large trees and a few bushes. He was just about to turn away when he spotted a clear opening in-between some of the trees. A dark gray fox was sitting down on a patterned, colorful rug and mumbling to herself as she mixed various powders and liquids. Ishlin panted as he jogged towards her.

"Oi, Sheeka! SHEEKA! How strong are all them potions?"

The vixen looked up at Ishlin as he approached her. The moment he sat down opposite her, she scowled and covered her nose.

"Not strong enough to give your breath a better fragrance. Please back away."

Ishlin huffed and rolled his eyes. "Ye smelled my grog-breath a thousand times now! It ain't nothin' new!"

"That don't mean I'm still not caught off-guard by how potent it is."

"You gunna help me or make fun of my breath all day?"

Sheeka shrugged. "Depends. What d'you need help with?"

"Them potions! Uh, um--one of 'em is like--it's like beer, ain't it? Y'know, I drink one, it has the power of a hundred bottles of shrewbeer an' wine in jus' a sip?"

Sheeka chuckled. "No, dear Ishlin. These are all very venomous poisons that I extracted from snakes an' frogs an' whatnot. I assure you, these potions will only make you feel pain, not whatever it is you all feel when you drink that slop."

Ishlin huffed. "Fuck."

"I'm surprised you ran out! I see corsairs drinkin' so much grog I'm startin' to think bottles of it grow out the ground! How d'you blokes keep finding it?!"

"Does that really matter right now?"

Sheeka blinked. "No, of course not. It's always best to ignore somethin' highly illogical whenever somebeast brings it up," she sneered.

"Okay, so we're on the same page then."

Sheeka smacked her paw against her forehead. "Forget it. I don't have any of that filth you drink. Try askin' Kurwin or somebeast else--the two of you seem to enjoy that stuff. An' while yer at it, ask 'im if he's seen any of my potions."

"Why?"

Sheeka started to move her tiny bottles and vials around. She counted them in her mind before lifting one of the bottles and examining it.

"Maybe I miscounted, but it seems like I'm missin' a bottle. I dunno; maybe I discarded it after the battle with those squirrels."

"Maybe. If I see it, I'll let you know."

Ishlin stood up and turned around. Then he sighed with frustration and resumed his quest to find more grog.

---

The stoat leaned over the railing and emptied his stomach's contents into the sea. Ishlin heaved twice, retching and burping as the sludge erupted from his maw. Then he let out a few shaky breaths as he tilted his head backwards and leaned against the ship's mast. He spat out the remaining bile as his vision continued to blur.

"You finished yet?" Kurwin asked.

Ishlin chuckled softly and blinked. "Got any more?"

Kurwin and the filthy rat standing beside him stared at the stoat and scowled. Ishlin sluggishly walked towards the ferret and reached down. Kurwin easily sidled out the stoat's way and shoved him towards the railing again. The stoat hiccupped twice as Kurwin walked beside him carrying a bottle in his right paw. Ishlin slowly turned his head and looked at the bottle.

"You want this?" the captain asked.

Ishlin was about to reach for it when Kurwin raised his arm and tossed the bottle into the water. The stoat heard the bottle splash and groaned. He was almost tempted to jump off ship and swim after the drink, but right now the stoat was on the verge of passing out. Kurwin growled at him.

"I understand that wot you went through was tragic, but I did not save yer arse jus' so you could spend the rest of yer life drinkin' all our grog!"

Ishlin spat into the water. "Fine. I'll...I'll drink yer rum an' wine instead."

The stoat was about to say something else when he heard a shrill cry up above. Ishlin moved away from the railing and blinked. And then he saw the great white bird as it floated around in the sky. Ishlin's eyes grew wide.

"There ain't nothin' wrong with a few drinks here an' there. But the crew's sick an' tired of cleanin' up your vomit, always tryin' to figure out wot you say when your speech gets slurred! Half the time you show up on deck with piss dribblin' down yer trousers! How fuckin' hard...are you listenin' to me?!"

Ishlin blinked and stopped staring at the seagull. "Huh? Uh, y-yeah, yeah...I'm listenin'."

The stoat shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "I-I need...I gotta get some-some rest. Y'know, um...t-think about stuff."

Kurwin stared at Ishlin and folded his arms, scowling. Ishlin chuckled quietly.

"I-I won't drink no-no more grog t'day...promise."

Kurwin gestured towards the door leading into the cabins. "Fine. Go on."

The stoat nodded and sniffled, hurrying towards the door so he could get some sleep.

---

Somebeast was attacking him. It was only natural for him to defend himself. He couldn't make out the being--somebeast with dark fur, and thin, bony fingers. Ishlin snarled as he tackled the creature down. He started spitting and swearing as he reached down and began to squeeze. The figure began to gasp and writhe around, thrashing his arms at his face. The figure grabbed a blunt object and slammed it against the stoat's temple. Ishlin shouted and shut his eyes, still grasping the figure. And then the stoat gasped and stopped. He got off the beast and panted as he sat down beside his bed. The other beast grabbed his throat and rubbed it as he coughed.

"The fuck..." The beast coughed a few more times. "The hell's wrong with you, Ishlin?" asked Stinkfoot.

Ishlin's eyes watered as he looked away from the other stoat. He let out a shaky breath before he started to cover his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Stinkfoot coughed a few more times before he stared at the other stoat. Ishlin sniffled as he scooted away from Stinkfoot and sat in the corner of the cabin with his back turned. He shook his head and blinked away some of the tears that had formed.

"You were screamin," Stinkfoot said softly.

Ishlin blinked and turned his head slowly. "Whuh?"

"In your sleep. You were screamin', tellin' somebeast t'stop. I tried to wake you up, but then..."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Ishlin said again, after a long pause.

The stoats went deathly silent. Even the sound of the ship creaking and the waves outside made little noise. All Ishlin could hear were his breaths and tiny sobs. He needed to go back to sleep. It was just another outburst, nothing more. He'd find another bottle of grog or rum somewhere, let all the succulent fluids calm his nerves and make him feel better.

"So you told me you were in a war before all this," Stinkfoot started.

"Stop," Ishlin growled.

"Stop wot?"

"You can't help me," Ishlin croaked, his voice cracking.

Ishlin shut his eyes and gritted his teeth as he shook his head. He sobbed and sniffled a few times, thinking Stinkfoot would leave him alone and go back to sleep. But as he sat in the corner, he could hear the other beast walking towards him.

"I can't help you if you don't let me. Nobeast can. You'll feel better once you let it out; you know that."

Ishlin shook his head again. "I don't know that."

Stinkfoot huffed. "We've all suffered a tragedy, Ishlin. We've all done somethin'. Everybeast on this ship is no different from you--the only way you'll get better is if you talk about it."

"I can't," Ishlin whined.

"Why not? Don't you want these-these nightmares to stop? All the screamin' at night; all the times you see somethin' and you suddenly freeze; all the times y-you attacked somebeast when you were sleepin'--don't you want it all to stop?!"

"YES! I want it all t'end, Stinkfoot! You fuckin' happy now?! You think I enjoy livin' like this, constantly tryin' to go anotha' day without cuttin' my throat open, without throwin' m'self over the side of the fuckin' ship?!"

"Nobeast deserves t'live like this. That's not wot--"

"Yes, it was! I see the way ye all look at me! 'Poor Ishlin the Drunk; oh no, that loud fuck is screamin' in his sleep again; that fuckin' stoat pissed hisself again; Ishlin the Drunk scoffed all our fuckin' grog!' I know wot..."

And just like that, he started crying. It was softly at first; the stoat only let out a few tears when he paused. Then he shut his eyes and sobbed, his body trembling as the salty tears ran down his face. Ishlin started to sniffle, moments before he tried to wipe the tears away. But he only wound up sobbing louder as small amounts of mucus ran out his nostrils. He was in the middle of feeling sorry for himself when he felt something warm behind him. And then the next thing he knew, Stinkfoot was wrapping his arms around him. Ishlin gasped softly and stopped sobbing so much when the other stoat put his chin on his shoulder.

"I just...I want it to stop," Ishlin whimpered.

"I know."

"...Why am I here, Stinkfoot? I-I wanted--I wanted t'get away from all this...I wanted the death to stop. But here I am, surrounded by pirates who rape an' kill an'...why the fuck am I here?"

"The same reason why I'm here, an' not stuck in the Hellgates."

Ishlin blinked and pondered for a moment. He remembered the day he first met Stinkfoot, how weak and broken he looked. He remembered how often he kept crying that day and constantly blamed himself for what happened to his family. He couldn't remember if he was drunk at the time--he probably was. But the one thing he remembered on that day was the way he hugged him tightly and offered to share his cabin with him. At the time, Ishlin just needed another bunkmate. But he was starting to understand why he chose to bunk with him. Ishlin shut his eyes and started to sob again, albeit in a softer tone.

---

He kept thinking about it all as he longed for another bottle to place inside his mouth. The stoat leaned against another tree as he grabbed his forehead and shut his eyes. He thought after all these seasons, he'd be better. He thought all of his issues would be sorted out. But he still saw them out the corners of his eyes. He still heard them whispering or snickering behind his back. And every so often, the nightmares would flare back up and he'd wake up sweating. Ishlin blinked and licked his lips. He was thinking too much; he'd feel better after another bottle of grog. The stoat resumed walking along, passing by a few other pirates who nodded or greeted him. He was just about to stumble across somebeast clutching a cold bottle when he stopped. Would he get better? Would it all go away? Or was this a burden he'd have to carry until he was in his grave? Maybe he couldn't run away. Maybe there was no way to fight it. Perhaps it was better if he finally accepted it. Running and fighting would only make him tired.

Ishlin heard the whispering again and swore softly. He could hear footsteps now. Somebeast was coming for him, ready to attack. But the stoat didn't move. He felt the icy cold claws running down his spine again. It was too late now. All he could do was brace for the inevitable.

"Ishlin--"

For such a burly, baritone-voiced beast, Ishlin was surprised at how vociferously he squealed. The stoat turned around, panting heavily as he looked down at the plump dirty rat.

"Fer fuck's sake, Dirtfoot! I almost fuckin' shit m'self!"

Dirtfoot blinked. "Somethin' tells me ye wouldn't care."

Ishlin huffed. "Wot d'you want?"

"We're sharin' drinks with the cap'n right now. Figured you'd want some 'afore the rest o' them slackers got to it."

Finally, thought Ishlin. The stoat quickly nodded. "Sure, sure. Wotever mate."

And just like that, his problems were solved. Soon enough, those delicious fluids would be flowing down his gullet and into his stomach. The stoat couldn't help but sigh with much relief. He only had to follow the rat for a minute before he arrived near the tents and saw a few other beasts sharing drinks with each other. Yeller and Flikk were there, along with Traegar and the captain himself. Some beasts had a bottle in their paws while the others were laughing or eating some of the food they stole from the holt. Ishlin started to smile, thinking back to some of the better times he shared with his shipmates.

"Oi, Ishlin! You're a li'l late to the romp!" said Traegar.

"Wot d'you mean?"

The weasel grinned. "Jus' bet Blowhorn he couldn't eat a whole red firebrand pepper! Pretty sure he's drownin' himself in milk right now!"

The stoat chuckled as he sat down next to Yeller while Dirtfoot walked away from the group. Ishlin watched as Yeller drank from a bottle filled with strange yellowish fluids. The fox lowered his bottle and exhaled, moments before he belched.

"Y'wanna drink mate?"

Ishlin shrugged. "Why not?"

The stoat grabbed Yeller's bottle and held it up to his lips. He tilted his head back and drank some of the fluids, grimacing from the salty taste and unusual, musky scent. He took the bottle away and coughed as he wiped his mouth. Yeller chuckled as he grabbed the bottle.

"Pretty strong t'day, ain't it?"

Flikk huffed. "It's strong every day, Yeller. I'm surprised ya haven't thought about mixin' yer shit into it too."

The fox scratched his chin. "Hmm. Mayhaps the next time I get the trots--"

"Oh fer fuck's sake," said the white beast as she turned away and grimaced.

Ishlin coughed a few more times before he looked down and saw a strange shadow towering behind him. The stoat turned around and raised an eyebrow, but he only saw more trees and bushes. He started twiddling his thumbs just as Dirtfoot returned with more bottles in his paws.

"So who wants this, err...redcurrant an' beetroot wine?"

Yeller lifted his own bottle and snickered. "I'm good mate!"

"I'm fine with grog fer now," said Traegar.

Flikk looked at her bottle and tilted it upside-down, revealing nothing inside beside a few drops. She tossed the bottle on the ground, and Dirtfoot tossed one of the wine bottles at her.

"Yeah, throw one over 'ere!" shouted Kurwin.

Ishlin watched as the captain raised his paws and grabbed the bottle. Ishlin didn't need to tell Dirtfoot he wanted some; the rat tossed him a bottle right off the bat. Ishlin held onto his bottle tightly and observed and purplish-red fluids inside. He took off the cap and held the bottle underneath his muzzle. The stoat sniffed the wine a few times and grunted.

"Guess it smells fine."

Flikk was already drinking from her bottle, gulping several times as the sweet and partially bitter substance flowed down her throat. The black-eyed beast took the bottle from her mouth and grunted in the same tone.

"Eh. Don't got the same kick as fish 'ead grog do. Damn riverdogs--they can make a soup that'll burn somebeast's arse, yet they can't brew decent wine."

"I wouldn't expect you to know anythin' 'bout how wine tastes," Dirtfoot sneered.

Flikk smiled. "An' I wouldn't expect you to know anythin' 'bout how long it's been since you last stuck yer cock into another female."

Dirtfoot scoffed. "I'm sure you know 'bout every single female you've been with, bein' a pathetic cunt-licker an' all."

"Wot's more pathetic: the fact that I'm a cunt-licker, or the fact that I get more cunt'n you do?"

Everybeast sitting around Dirtfoot broke out into laughter. Ishlin was chortling alongside them as well; he couldn't help but roar with laughter once he saw the long scowl on Dirtfoot's face. Traegar clapped his paws a few times and nearly fell off the log he was sitting on. Yeller was shaking his head as he closed his eyes, amused by Dirtfoot's stunned silence. Flikk was still grinning at the rat, staring at him with those dark eyes, not blinking once. Kurwin coughed a few times from laughing so hard and spat on the ground. He took a few deep breaths as he started to lift the bottle up to his mouth.

"See, heh, see that's why y'don't fuck with Flikk, Dirtfoot! She..." Kurwin paused and sniffed the wine. "The hell is in this?"

Ishlin only stopped laughing when he drank from his bottle, grimacing from the bizarre taste. He set the bottle down and smacked his lips.

"Dunno. Pretty damn sweet though."

"Ye won't know wot it tastes like 'til you try it," Dirtfoot growled, still irritated at Flikk.

The captain shrugged. Ishlin stared at Kurwin for a moment before he spotted Glud out the corner of his eye carrying two bottles. The old ferret was walking towards the group when he tripped and bumped into Kurwin. The captain shouted and dropped his bottle, the fluids splashing out and leaking onto the ground.

"Oh, s-sorry 'bout that, Cap'n," said Glud quietly.

Kurwin sighed. "Ah, don't worry 'bout it. Prob'ly don't taste good anyways."

Ishlin looked at the bottle. Half of the wine was still inside, waiting to be consumed. The stoat grinned very slowly.

"Ye sure, Cap'n? There's still some left in there," said Dirtfoot.

"Pfft! Jus' stick with the grog an' rum, Cap'n," said Traegar.

"Yeah, forget 'bout the wine. I got two bottles o' rum here anyway," said Glud.

Ishlin saw the shadow again. More claws were gently running down his spine. The stoat reached forward and snatched the bottle off the ground so quickly he almost spilled more wine. Then he brought the bottle up to his lips and quaffed what was left inside. Ishlin shut his eyes as he took the empty bottle away and dropped it, sighing. He smacked his lips a few times and coughed as he noticed a sour aftertaste. The stoat looked at his other bottle of wine and started to drink from that as well. He only swallowed a few gulps before he took the bottle away and groaned. Ishlin shut his eyes as his stomach churned softly. The nausea was coming back, and Ishlin wasn't sure if he could hold it down this time. The other beasts' voices were muffled now, mere background noise. That cold chill in his spine had gone away, along with the whispering and strange shadows. But now his apprehension was replaced with a sickness he knew far too well. The bottle slipped from his fingers as the stoat slowly rose.

"Mm...I'm gunna...I'll see y'all later," he mumbled.

"You awright?" Yeller asked.

"Yeah, just...yeah."

Ishlin coughed as he wandered away from the small group. He tried to steady himself as he walked, his stomach grumbling more as he felt the bile rising in his throat. He bumped into somebeast from the Juskamard tribe; the stoat grunted and nearly fell on his bottom. He stumbled beside a tree, still breathing heavily. The stoat shut his mouth and retched, knowing the nasty substance was building up in his stomach, ready to come out his maw. The stoat continued to walk, panting and sweating, tripping over roots and rocks. Then he heard a spluttering, coughing sound, followed by somebeast groaning.

"H-hey Ish...how you doin'?"

Ishlin glanced to his left and saw Blowhorn slumped by a tree, his face wet with tears and sweat and his clothes drenched in milk.

"Lot better'n you I think."

Blowhorn laughed weakly. "That's fer damn sure."

The rat drank more milk slowly, his paws shaking as he consumed another small portion of the fluids. He set the bottle on the ground after drinking the milk and groaned as he stood on wobbly legs.

"My arse gon' be burnin' tonight...fuckin' pepper."

Ishlin ignored him. He leaned against an adjacent tree and shut his eyes, hoping the cool air would get rid of his nausea. Blowhorn gradually walked towards and stoat and sniffed.

"You sure you awright mate?"

Ishlin nodded. "I'm okay...jus' a li'l nauseous."

"I dunno. Seems like yer arse is blocked."

Ishlin turned and scowled at the rat. "Wot?"

Blowhorn stammered. "I-I mean--jus' lissen fer a second, kay? Everybeast in this crew knows 'bout yer...issues. Well, some of 'em, anyway. I'm surprised you ain't talked to me about 'em."

"Wot d'you know 'bout grief?"

"Quite a lot actually."

"Really?"

"Oh, aye! Grief's jus' a big pile of stinkin' shit."

Ishlin blinked and growled at the rat loud enough to hear. Blowhorn chuckled meekly and held up his paws.

"Hear me out mate--I know wot I'm talkin' 'bout! Y'see, everybeast has to deal with grief. An' everybeast has to shit. So wot do you do? You squat down an' you let it out. Sometimes, it's subtle--sometimes nobeast can even see, hear, or smell you goin'. An' once it's out, ya feel a lot better. But we all have those days...y'know wot I mean. Those days where you stink up a whole fuckin' ship with yer bowel movement! Them days where yer so loud, the birds in the sky c'n hear ya! Hehehe, gotta love them days!"

Ishlin was still scowling. "Get to the point."

"Huh? Oh, right. Well anyway. Some days, you know you gotta shit, but ya choose not to. You hold it in. So you hold it an' ya hold it, an' then the next thing you know, yore all backed up. Sometimes it lasts fer days--sometimes a week. But it's real easy fer me to tell when somebeast is blocked. They all got that 'face,' y'know? An', well, maybe if you jus' chose to shit in the first place, instead of holdin' it all in, you wouldn't be blocked, now would ya?"

Ishlin wasn't paying attention to the rat. He was too busy trying to keep his bile down. And with Blowhorn's detailed, vivid comparisons flowing through his head, Ishlin knew it was only a matter of time.

"Course, grief is kinda like shittin' yerself too. Hah, happens to the best of us! We feel like we're fine, then all of a sudden all that greasy sludge jus' slides on out! You try to hide it, but let's face it: we all know wot happened--there's no point in denying it! Damn...wot was it, winter before last? Ate all that shrimp'n'hotroot soup. Mm, that did not come out well! Fuckin' destroyed my shorts that day! It was all hot an' burned my arse--warmed me up though 'cos of how cold it was! Hehe, I didn't even change m'self! Jus' wore my trousers all day--I kept goin' so many times that I didn't see the point. It was all drippin' down my legs, got all over my footpaws 'n' wotnot. I woulda attracted flies if it were the summer! Jus' a large swarm of 'em hoverin' around my arse--"

Ishlin leaned forward and vomited. The bitter bile splattered all over the ground and near the stoat's footpaws. Blowhorn blinked after watching the tall beast release the food and fluids from his stomach before he scratched his head.

"Wot? Was I ramblin' on 'bout gross stuff again?"

Ishlin didn't answer. He spat on the ground and looked at his vomit with wide eyes. He whimpered quietly moments before his vision began to fade. The stoat clutched his chest as his stomach growled again. He let out a few more coughs before he grunted and spat again. Ishlin's knees shook. The stoat gasped twice as he tried to find air. But his throat was slowly closing up. Ishlin grabbed his neck with both paws before he whimpered.

"Ish...you okay, mate?" asked Blowhorn.

"C-can...I can't...breathe...can't..."

Ishlin collapsed. He fell on his back hard and began to convulse, still trying to breathe. Blowhorn broke out into a sprint and headed for the others.

"Captain! CAPTAIN!" he shouted.

He couldn't tell what was happening anymore. It started in his stomach and moved around to his chest, lungs, and then his neck. The pain was steadily moving throughout his body, getting progressively worse as the seconds went by. Ishlin couldn't even gasp anymore. He croaked and wheezed, his mouth becoming dry, his entire body weakening. The stoat thrashed his legs around and tightened the grip on his neck, gagging and whimpering. He snorted so hard mucus flowed from his nostrils. The stoat's vision continued to darken, but Ishlin told himself to fight it. He gritted his teeth and croaked again as his eyes watered. He could hear voices in the distance, but they were incoherent. The sound of beasts running was muffled, like faint booms that made Ishlin's ears rattle. His arms started to give, and the stoat stopped grasping his neck. His whimper was a small squeak.

Kurwin was there now. At least, he looked like Kurwin. Ishlin couldn't tell anymore; his vision was too blurred from the tears. His eyelids were feeling heavy now. Somebeast slapped him and shouted something at him. He gasped and hacked.

"Stay with me! C'mon--yer fine! Yer fine! Just...Ishlin?!"

His vision faded again. The stoat whimpered as he looked at Kurwin's face. The ferret was on top of him, panting and frantic. He hadn't seen the captain look so distraught in a long time. Ishlin slowly closed his eyes as all the voices grew silent. Then Ishlin exhaled as his heartbeats grew louder and slowed down. It's okay, he told himself. Just let it happen...you'll feel better once it's done. Ishlin waited, but then his eyes shot open, and the stoat told himself to fight off whatever had him. He gritted his teeth and sat up. He turned to his left to try and find Kurwin. And then he froze. He was looking at Plaskin, surprised to see that the beast's body was rotting and that he had a huge hole in his scalp that revealed part of his brain. Up ahead he noticed Longfang and Dead-Eye--the former had four holes in his torso, and the latter's right eye had been gouged out. To his right Ishlin could see Skeela and Islik advancing towards him, both covered in the same wounds they had when they died. Ishlin whimpered as he slowly scooted backwards. Everything was growing darker. More and more bodies were appearing. And they were all getting closer.

"Not now," he whimpered in a tiny voice.

Ishlin grunted. Something colder than ice dug into his flesh. Ishlin whined quietly as the iciness spread throughout his body. His heart beat two more times before the chilling entity reached his chest as well. Then Ishlin shut his eyes as the darkness swallowed him.