{"sf1_id":740657,"sf2_id":"dmWrRLoe","title":"\"The Thin Line,\" Part OO","author":"EOCostello","words":2784,"posted_at":"2014-08-06T23:30:00.000Z","tags":["Adventure","Chipmunk","Deer","Elf","Mouse","Political","Snow","Squirrel","War","Wolf","cold"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/740657-the-thin-line-part-oo","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/dmWrRLoe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/af/05/af05e9fc-becb-40b9-bc65-e3a14eabaa39","description":"#46 of The Thin Line\n\nIn this episode, the team fights to get back to safety with their precious cargo, which involves out-witting the troops of the Grey Horde that would stop at nothing to visit a grisly fate upon them all...","content":"\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There's an old joke about a recipe book, where the first step in preparing a feral rabbit stew is \"first, catch your rabbit.\"\u0026nbsp; It was all well and good that we were on the way back home.\u0026nbsp; The problem was that the forest in between our goal and us was heavily infested with the enemy, even at this hour.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There was also the two-fold problem of the snow.\u0026nbsp; For one thing, it showed our tracks.\u0026nbsp; For another thing, it was damned cold, and two of us were not wearing our cloaks.\u0026nbsp; Even with the vigorous exercise that we were all getting, Aethelwulf and I were shivering.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We got out of the city proper in the same way we came in; the Grand Duke still didn't have enough troops to keep a watch over every entrance and exit to Sainted Oaks.\u0026nbsp; But we still had the problems of not being able to use the road, and moving relatively silently through the forest.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow had to remind me that looking like a hunk of granite was all well and good for the city, but a bit unusual for a stretch of primeval forest. We had to put the Captain down while I adjusted myself (and, for that matter, camouflaged the Captain and his stretcher).\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow wandered off a few paces while I was doing this, to the evident puzzlement of Aethelwulf, who had no idea of what she was up to.\u0026nbsp; When I'd finished my job, I looked over and found her with her head pressed against a tree, eyes shut.\u0026nbsp; She stood there for a minute, and then headed back to us.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Patrol a half mile ahead, moving across our path left to right.\u0026nbsp; Let's move right to left diagonally and pass back of them.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Another thing I'd forgotten: I'd taught Meadow how to speak to the trees, and more importantly in this case, how to listen to them.\u0026nbsp; I swiveled my ears, and I picked up the same murmurings about the \"dogs-two-legged-grey.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; In the event, we ended up dodging that mini-pack by about a hundred yards, pausing to lie still on the cold, wet ground.\u0026nbsp; I prayed that there were no wolves listening to the trees, and at least in this case, my prayers were answered.\u0026nbsp; We moved on.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Our progress was a series of stops and starts.\u0026nbsp; Even with the snow becoming heavier, the Grand Duke's Army was out in force and on the move.\u0026nbsp; At one point, we had to make a wide detour to avoid a full encampment.\u0026nbsp; We were almost given away by a nervous, high-strung ant, which began to gronk and click its mandibles in our direction.\u0026nbsp; It was only a generous fate that its master was too busy having his dinner, and told his mount to shut up and stop making a fuss.\u0026nbsp; (This, incidentally, telling you how close we had to pass them.)\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We had some advantage, in that we were only just past the Solstice, and therefore the nights were nearly as long as they could be.\u0026nbsp; Visibility was poor, although that counted against us as well.\u0026nbsp; (It was why we almost stumbled upon the outskirts of that encampment.)\u0026nbsp; Without a good view of the sky, forest canopy and all, we had no way of telling how much dark we still had left.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; While the trees were of some help, we got less and less from them as they began to be blanketed with snow.\u0026nbsp; Their ability both to \"see\" and to \"speak\" was being obscured.\u0026nbsp; Just short of the junction with the Lark's Rise road, the trees stopped speaking to us altogether.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The junction had been cleared of its pathetic remnants of refugees, as well as the less pathetic grouping of the wolves that I had poisoned by turning their wine into wood alcohol.\u0026nbsp; In its stead, there were a dozen wolves dug in on both sides of the road leading to Lark's Rise.\u0026nbsp; The pits were partially covered over, and to all appearances, they appeared warm, comfortable and alert.\u0026nbsp; There was also constant traffic of carts heading down the road to Flourford, which the three of us watched with foreboding.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was clear that going down the road to Flourford was not going to be wise, and that it would be well-nigh impossible for the entire group to go through the roadblock straddling the Lark's Rise road.\u0026nbsp; More to the point, only two of us (Aethelwulf and I) were familiar with that road.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The snow was getting heavier, and I could see the occasional deluge of powder as a breeze blew down an accumulation.\u0026nbsp; It was this observation that gave me an idea.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; A careful inspection of the trees near the road eventually found one that had been crippled, probably by some kind of disease or accident.\u0026nbsp; It was not likely to see another spring, if I was any judge.\u0026nbsp; Still, its bare branches had a plausible accumulation of snow.\u0026nbsp; Pressing my paws against the trunk, I half-whispered something, and half-imitated the sound of a feral woodpecker.\u0026nbsp; I left the tree delicately balanced and poised at an angle, aimed at the road.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Rejoining my comrades, we picked up our burdens and edged as close as we dared to the road, and listened.\u0026nbsp; It took the better part of an hour, and a number of stifled sneezes, before we heard what we wanted.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; With a thundering crash, the tree that I had manipulated could be heard to topple onto the road.\u0026nbsp; Apparently, it almost hit a patrol, and there was a call for assistance.\u0026nbsp; The furs guarding the roadblock edged out of their shelters and peered across the junction to where the tree lay.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The distraction was just enough for us to slip behind the guards.\u0026nbsp; At this point, we threw caution to the winds, and headed rapidly down the road.\u0026nbsp; Tracks in the snow or no, we needed to move, and move fast.\u0026nbsp; I could tell already that there was a lightening in the sky, and the closer we were to home, the better.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; A few things happened when we were just short of Lark's Rise.\u0026nbsp; With a sustained groan, Burgomaster Chestnut drifted into consciousness.\u0026nbsp; Aethelwulf had to put his massive paw gently over the chipmunk's mouth, and whisper into his ear.\u0026nbsp; I could see the poor fur attempt to look around, through swollen eyes, at his surroundings before giving a dazed nod.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; For another, we could see scouts in the area, and these were aggressive furs.\u0026nbsp; They were repeatedly interrogating the trees, and in some cases actively kicking the trees to remove the snow from the branches, waking them up.\u0026nbsp; They were looking around suspiciously, and feeling the edges of their spears with calloused thumbs.\u0026nbsp; Even with the continuously falling snow, I didn't want to test the marksfurship of this lot.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The worst thing, though, was the howling.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; At first, it was only far away, many miles to our rear and nearer to Sainted Oaks.\u0026nbsp; But like a rolling tide, the noise began to rumble closer and closer, until it rippled past at the junction well behind us, and toward Flourford.\u0026nbsp; A branch of it began to ripple down the Lark's Rise road, and the two scouts that we could see snapped up their heads, and changed their spears for bows.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was 200 yards or so to the relative safety of the edge of the hamlet, but I had every expectation that those 200 yards were covered by expert bow-furs.\u0026nbsp; Expert bow-furs that were now under orders to shoot to kill, one imagined.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Each of us had something vital.\u0026nbsp; Aethelwulf was guarding the Burgomaster, Meadow was taking care of the still-unconscious Captain Chitterleigh, and I had in the pocket of my tunic a packet of intelligence documents, wrapped securely against the wet, that had to, hell or high water, get to Flourford and eventually GHQ.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; But the option of making a break for it with out charges wasn't practical.\u0026nbsp; We would have, at best, one armed fur against a number, and our sling-staff was still supporting Captain Chitterleigh's stretcher.\u0026nbsp; And the night was rapidly running out.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I had another look at Lark's Rise.\u0026nbsp; It was still dark, its occupants likely asleep.\u0026nbsp; Likely, but given the howling, not a certainty.\u0026nbsp; I motioned to the others to make ready, and I put my paws to my muzzle.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The sounds of a feral owl soon began to hoot across the forest.\u0026nbsp; One of the scouts was briefly startled, while the other narrowed his eyes and looked suspicious.\u0026nbsp; I repeated myself, twice more, as loud as I could.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Both of the scouts were now scanning the woods very slowly, with a moral certainty that they were not hearing an owl.\u0026nbsp; My heart stopped as one of them came to a halt and signaled to his partner.\u0026nbsp; They both readied their bows, and I could see them make calculations for an aimed shot.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; They never made it.\u0026nbsp; Their six arrows twanged off at oblique angles as they collapsed into the snow, which began to turn red.\u0026nbsp; Each had four arrows squarely between the shoulder blades.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was now or never for us, and the four of us that were conscious now bolted for the village, the Burgomaster being half-carried, half-dragged by Aethelwulf.\u0026nbsp; A door slammed open in front of us, and the big canine and his burden roared through.\u0026nbsp; So did we, but not before I felt the breeze from one arrow pass right past my ear and two more pass through the door, high.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We skidded across wet flagstones before tumbling against a pile of potato sacks.\u0026nbsp; A number of paws reached out and grabbed Captain Chitterleigh before he could be pitched out of his stretcher.\u0026nbsp; As I extricated myself from some smashed tubers, I looked up and saw a pair of rabbits flanking a high barn window, each with a readied bow.\u0026nbsp; They took occasional blind snap-shots toward targets outside, while a few others began to stealthily creep toward another opening, ready to flank their opponents.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We were safe, for the moment, but it didn't take much imagination to realize that the scouts might decide to switch to fire-arrows, which would make things decidedly uncomfortable.\u0026nbsp; My hosts had the same idea, and we were all hurried out the back of the barn and into the village proper.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; By this time, the Burogmaster was chittering, half with fright and half with cold.\u0026nbsp; Already, there were howls starting to echo around the village, mixed with yells and screams as the shadows were engaged by the rabbits.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; And what was I doing?\u0026nbsp; Why, asking brusquely for a stylus and ink, that's what.\u0026nbsp; It was provided to me, while the others looked on in puzzlement.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I retrieved my cloak and the papers inside.\u0026nbsp; Shuffling through them, I found one that had a blank back.\u0026nbsp; With some pretty lousy pensfurship, though still legible, I scrawled:\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\"As the legally elected Chief Burgomaster of the United Cities, I hereby request that Adler, High King of Faerie, provide any and all assistance necessary to preserve, protect and defend us, pursuant to the provisions of the treaty between our realms.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n/s/ Hugo Chestnut, Chief Burgomaster\n\nDone this day at the hamlet of Lark's Rise, United Cities.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nWitness: Cpl. Westersloe Winterbough V, authorized representative of His Majesty the High King.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Meadow, who was watching me draft this, squeezed my shoulder.\u0026nbsp; She understood what I was doing.\u0026nbsp; As long as we were on United Cities territory, Chestnut, as the head of the government recognized by our King, could act.\u0026nbsp; More to the point, we could, legally, be directed to carry out combat across the border.\u0026nbsp; This couldn't be done in Mossford; it had to be done in Lark's Rise.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Chestnut blinked at the document placed before him, and fumbled in his pockets for a pair of spectacles that were not there.\u0026nbsp; I quickly read the document out to him, and he nodded.\u0026nbsp; Taking the stylus with a shaking paw, he scratched his name at the bottom, and I followed with mine.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There was one further edit.\u0026nbsp; Below my name was written the following:\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\"Witness: Meadow Grainmaster, authorized representative of His Majesty the High King.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I tucked this document back into my bundle, and re-secured it.\u0026nbsp; It was now time to leave, and fast.\u0026nbsp; We had one added advantage, now: three of the villagers volunteered to go with us to help bring Chestnut and the Captain.\u0026nbsp; A staff now replaced Aethelwulf's sling-staff on the stretcher, and that canine readied a pawful of lead bullets.\u0026nbsp; I readied my bow, and Meadow hers.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; With a blast of cold air, snow, and two arrows, we started in on the dash to safety.\u0026nbsp; We trusted to the ability of the archers in the village to at least keep the scouts occupied while we all slogged through inches of snow.\u0026nbsp; The going was not nearly as fast as I wanted it to be, even when we were heading downhill.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; At this point, I realized that I had not brought with me the sounding-horn that Sir Jasper and Lady Eudora had given me (how long ago was it?).\u0026nbsp; Right now, that would have been very useful, indeed, and I could only hope that the squaddies were not engaged in the middle of an early-morning brew-up while we were running pell-mell toward the Mill River.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There was no sense in trying to do what Aethelwulf and I had done coming over, and sneak around the ford.\u0026nbsp; This time, the best plan was to get between point A and point B in the shortest possible distance, namely, by a straight line.\u0026nbsp; The fact that the ford of the Mill River was likely to be well-guarded on the United Cities side would simply have to be dealt with.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The first obstacle appeared when a scout, blinded by the snow, stumbled across our path.\u0026nbsp; Unluckily for him, Aethelwulf was in the vanguard, and that worthy didn't break stride as he lowered his shoulder and caught the wolf square in the stomach.\u0026nbsp; I had the presence of mind to grab his bow on the run, as he dropped it, making his supply of arrows useless.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; As we got closer to the ford, we ran into a cross-fire of arrows, and one of our escorts went down with an arrow to the head.\u0026nbsp; Meadow circled back, picked up the dragging end of the stretcher, and managed to hoist it free.\u0026nbsp; That first fatal shot might have been lucky, but the archers were getting the range, and in spite of some zig-zagging were getting closer and closer.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We hit the old river bottom with a shower of powder, and began to struggle up the riverbank.\u0026nbsp; Here is where we would be slowest, and at our most vulnerable. \u0026nbsp;The other rabbit on the stretcher went down with an arrow to the arm, and it was my turn to grab the fallen burden.\u0026nbsp; We struggled and floundered up the rise toward the river, just making it as the arrows continued to whiz past us, and one even made itself fast in my short-staff slung across my back.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was at this point that a loud, confused noise could be heard.\u0026nbsp; Stumbling forward, out of breath, we were greeted by the sight of what seemed to be nearly all of the two dozen or so members of Thorn Platoon.\u0026nbsp; Most of them were waving their short-swords and shields, while a few others were wildly flinging lead bullets from sling-staffs at no target in particular.\u0026nbsp; Within seconds, we were in the midst of the yelling mob, some of who were getting their upraised shields riddled by arrows.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We splashed across the bone-chilling waters of the Mill River, and continued to half-run, half-stagger toward Mossford.\u0026nbsp; I suspect that I was not the only one with a painfully aching pair of lungs when I finally collapsed, just short of the two hills.\u0026nbsp; It was Millwright and Hedgeton who grabbed me under my arms and dragged me to the shelter.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Off in the distance, we could hear the echoing sounds as the wolves called to one another across the snows, reporting the news of our escape.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"The Thin Line","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/740656-the-thin-line-part-nn.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/742819-the-thin-line-part-pp.json"}}