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Slaughter At Stringybark Creek

Chapter Twelve

(c) Cederwyn Whitefurr

30th August, 2017

All Rights Reserved.

Lachlan's mare paused, then she snorted and her ears flattened, forcing Lachlan to come to alert wakefulness. He had been walking along, leading his mare and lost in a world of his own imagining. Unmindful of the branches which slapped at him, the lantana that scrapped and tore at the exposed fur, and the usually joyful raucous of the kookaburra's, the mare dug her front hooves in and refused to move, her eyes starting to show the whites and nostrils flaring.

“Hey, come on – you're - “ Lachlan beseeched the mare, then his own nostrils caught the first faint whiff of wood smoke. “No..."

Lachlan moaned, then dropped the reins and tore through the bush, fear surging through his body in the flood of adrenaline which squirted into his veins.

“No...no...NO!" Lachlan shrieked, as he skidded and fell heavily, the thick chest plate crushing the breath from his lungs, leaving him gasping and coughing, clawing at the leaf litter and loam.

He dragged himself to his hooves, then staggered onwards, as the smell of wood smoke grew more and more – then he lunged through a thicket of brambles, before falling to his knees, his ears sweeping back against his neck as he looked at the burning and gutted remains of Feredwyn's and Owen's farmstead. Stumbling through a thickening pall of smoke, Lachlan's eyes welled with tears, before he blinked and seen Owen laying on the ground – it was obvious – even at first glance, what had transpired, and Lachlan spun away and fell to his knees, before he vomited helplessly...

*

When he finally regained his composure, he staggered over to the smouldering remains of the cottage, before he squatted as best he could in his armour, looking at the corpse of the human who lay half-charred in the doorway. Not recognising the corpse, Lachlan pulled a bandanna over his nostrils to cover the sickening sweet stench, as he looked about. Here and there were shell casings, and as he walked away from the cottage, he saw more blood spatters, narrow footed prints, and he began to wonder. Had Clanton perished in the fire? Had they taken him away...all the evidence in the churned up dirt sent conflicting thoughts through his mind. He respected Clanton, that respect almost a brotherly like love – but as he searched he became aware of one person who was missing...Feredwyn.

*

Constable Kelsie rode back to Stringybark creek, but she did not return to the police stables, instead, she went home and tied her mare up to the rail at the back of her small cottage, before she walked inside and quietly closed the door behind her. Once safely inside, she began to tremble, then shake, before her emotions overwhelmed her and she slid down the wall, clutching her head in her paws and sobbing heart brokenly. Never had she suspected a fellow policeman of having such a violent, cruel streak – let alone an anthropomorphic person like herself! Oh, she knew Sebastian was...not right in the head, but he had only ever cruelly teased her and insinuated things – she had no idea he was a – a – her mind shied away, as she cried heart brokenly.

Unable to shake the images she had in her mind, Kelsie cried for hours, her body wracked with loathing and fear – knowing Sebastian would have carried out his threat – and done to her, what he had done to that innocent Doe... Again and again, fresh tears flowed down her muzzle, as long, clear strands of snot trickled from her nostrils and stained her uniform. Kelsie couldn't help herself – she had killed Sebastian in self defence – he was going to murder her and – once again, Kelsie's mind shied away from what vile depravities Sebastian would have wrought upon her.

For hours, she cried in great, heartbreaking sobs, before she regained enough self-control to drag herself over to the table, and her shaking paws gripped the bottle that sat on the table. Not caring, just wanting to stop the horrible replay of images and sensations – Kelsie fumbled the top of the bottle and clutched it between her paws, holding it up and gulping down the fiery liquor. It burned her tongue and throat, but she didn't care – she couldn't care – she just wanted to drink herself into oblivion...anything...to stop what her mind kept showing her again and again...

*

Lachlan found the body of Sebastian, then his eyes turned to Feredwyn's lifeless corpse, tied with her paws behind the ironbark, her clothes having been torn from her body and thrown to one side – from the blood that had pooled around her feet, Lachlan didn't need a second thought to work out what had happened – nor see the wound in the Doe's finely furred throat...

“You fucking bastards..." Lachlan swore, his paws contracting into fists, as his eyes narrowed in rage and he shook uncontrollably. “How...how could you..."

He turned, then using his powerful leg muscles and hooves, he took out his rage, hurt and fear on the lifeless corpse of the Weasel – feeling with satisfaction the snap of bones and the sickening thud as he struck again and again and again – until at last, he dropped to his knees, then tore the heavy helm off and dropped it into the dirt. At last, he unsheathed his belt knife, then cut Feredwyn's body free, holding it in his strong, muscular arms as he gently lay her down on the loamy soil, then knelt painfully beside her body, closing her eyes respectfully.

“I swear, may the God's of our people hear my prayer," Lachlan whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, as he prayed for the first time in his life. “May they bear witness...to my oath I swear – I will avenge the murder of my mother, of Owen Blackmane – and of Feredwyn the Fawn! Their deaths shall not go unpunished! The guilty shall fear the wrath that I shall bring down upon them, I swear this for my life be forfeit, if I speak mistruth!"

With his paws at first, then using a shovel he found in the ruined blacksmithing forge, he dug two graves at the back of their blackened, ruined cottage. He laid both their corpses to rest, fashioning crude headstones, as he knelt on one knee before the freshly covered graves, his anger burning away and leaving him with a white hot coal of pure hatred, which he nurtured and fanned deep within him.

“No more," Lachlan breathed, as he bowed his sweat streaked head. “No more, will I allow persecution and harm to befall our people – if I can do anything to help. I swear on your graves, no more shall I be called Lachlan – from now on – let the story go forth, for I am to be known as Ironclad...from this day until my last, may the God's grant your spirits rest – and may they solemnly bear witness to my vows..."

*

A pretty faced wallaby doe, politely thanked the store-keep, before she struggled with the saddlebag she clutched in her paws, her long green skirt brushing against the dusty floor, the pale tip of her tail peeking from beneath the skirt as she walked carefully, balancing the heavy saddlebag so she wouldn't drop it. Outside, she paused and took a deep breath before stepping over the wooden verandah and down into the dusty street and worked on strapping the bag to the side of her Jenny, who brayed and nipped at her in ill-temper. Ignoring the Jenny's misbehaviour, which wasn't uncommon, the young Doe returned to the store and retrieved her second saddlebag. Once again thanking the store-keep, she walked back outside where she paused and put down the heavy sack, wiping a gloved paw over her forehead as she swallowed and her slender claws plucked at the high, tight fitting collar of her blouse that clung to her furred throat like a second fur. As she sighed and lifted up her skirts, stepping down off the verandah, two humans approached her, and she froze, her long ears twitching, before one smiled at her.

“Good morning Miss," He said, as he stopped before her. “That seems awfully heavy for such a young lady..."

“It's fine, thank you - “ She timidly replied, keeping her gaze downcast as she brushed past them, an involuntary shiver rippling down her pelt, then affixed the other saddlebag, before gripping the jenny by the mane and clambering up onto the jenny's back and taking the reins.

“Hear the news?" One man said to the other, in a casual voice, exchanging glances with the other one, who winked – both knowing the Doe couldn't see their lecherous glances in her direction.

“Pardon?" Asked the Doe, as she blinked. “What news?"

“Highwaymen waylaid the stage the other day – killed the driver and the guard, stole the money due to be deposited into the bank..." One said, as he leaned back against the wall. “Sargent MacGoven's posted up a thousand pound reward...I do hope a pretty young lady like yourself doesn't have to go far – sounds like the roads aren't safe any-more for good, law abiding people..."

Visibly distressed, the young Doe smoothed down her skirt, then shivered again as the thought of being waylaid lodged in her mind like a splinter. Her paws trembled as they held the reins, before she began to turn towards them, then turned her head back and lightly clucked at the jenny, who brayed loudly and began clopping off down the road. Exchanging glances, the two humans grinned at each other, one nodded and the other smirked, before they strode purposefully back along the board walk, before unhitching their horses and mounting, breaking into a quick canter and following the Doe.

Little did she realise, but she was being followed, and it wasn't until her left ear snapped back, that she heard the thundering hooves and she glanced over her shoulder, seeing the two humans a fair way off, but how they were cheering and riding their horses – they seemed to be in an awful hurry. Clucking at her Jenny, the Doe walked the jenny sideways, then resumes her attention on the roadway ahead. Thinking the two humans would pass her by, she trembled involuntarily, her instincts causing fear to flood her body – she knew the Sargent and others hated Anthropomorphic people – but these two seemed nice and...

Her revelry was shattered, as they loomed up beside her, one to her left and one to her right, then their larger horses fell into stride with her Jenny.

“Oh - “ Moaned the Doe, as she swallowed then glanced from one human to the other. “Hello again - “

They seemed innocent enough, but slowly and surely, they began to force her off the roadway and away from the potential witnesses.

“We told you it wasn't safe little girl - “ One smiled, but his eyes shone with a malevolence that betrayed his true thoughts.

“Indeed - “ Replied the other, as he reached out and snagged the Jenny's bridle, tearing it from the Doe's paws.

“What – what do you want from me?" Squealed the Pretty Faced Wallaby Doe. “I don't have any money on me - “

“What do we want?" One man asked the other, as he stepped his stallion sideways, causing the Jenny to bray in fear.

“Oh, I can't imagine what we...want...little one - “ His friend smirked, then leered at the Wallaby, whose ears flattened as she realised what they meant.

“No...please...I - “

She leapt as best she could from her Jenny, who snorted and brayed, before one of the men gripped her by the blouse collar, tearing the fine lace-work from her throat as she squealed and fled into the surrounding bushes.

“After you.." Laughed the first man, as he dismounted, then made a mocking bow to his companion.

“Why thank you, don't mind if I do!" His friend replied, as he sneered and they left their horses and the bewildered Jenny, then took off into the bush, yelling, cheering and creating a racket that sent the wildlife scattering and the birds screeching and calling.

Frightened, alone and knowing she was in terrible danger, the Doe fled this way then that, her fear driving her instinctually, before her long thin feet snagged on a tree root and she collided heavily with the tree, collapsing onto her back where she lay momentarily stunned and the breath knocked out of her.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are little one!" One called, his voice heavy with menace and sarcasm.

“We won't hurt you little Doe...you'll like us – it'll be fun, you'll see...let some real men, show you what a Buck can not..."

Struggling back to her foot paws, the Doe shook her head and lightly brushed her leathery paw pads against her nostrils then glanced down at the blood spattered on them. Her muzzle felt like she had been kicked by her Jenny, but this was nothing compared to the instinctual fear and gripped her mind. As she went to lift her skirts, the bushes rustled and first one man stepped out, then the other. She twisted about, pressing her back against the tree, as the tears flowed down her cheeks and she instinctively held her small, ineffective paws up, the sharp claws curled forwards.

“Isn't that cute...she looks like a feral dressed in a blouse and skirt – put those little paws down little girl...or I'll make you..." One growled, as he stepped closer.

Unwillingly, her fear broke the paralysis that seized her, and she wailed and tried to run, but one man tripped her and sent her sprawling on her belly, then for good measure, the other one kicked at her slender furred legs, preventing her from rising.

“Look at that!" One snickered. “She's begging for it and - “

A deafening thunder clap split the air, before the man clutched at his throat and his eyes widened, blood spurting and he fell backwards, dead before he hit the ground. From out of the undergrowth, Ironclad stepped into view, the rifle he held in both paws and tucked tight against his shoulder – his helm-less head reflecting the dappled light and his golden coat and silvery mane gleaming.

“Stand up - “ Ironclad snarled, his rifle trained on the human.

Obediently, the man rose, flicking a glance at his companion who gurgled, trembled, then his hands fell to his sides, the blood soaking into the soft loam, before Ironclad cocked the rifle and snapped the man's eyes back to him.

“Good lad - “ Ironclad spoke, as he walked closer, forcing the human backwards, then he crouched on one knee and gently helped the sobbing wallaby to her foot paws.

“I know what you were going to do to her - “ Ironclad snarled, as he gently moved the wallaby behind him. “I've half a mind to cut you down here and now – except – I need you..."

“What...whatever you want, its not what you were - “ Stammered the man, then a dark stain appeared on his breeches, as he wet himself from fear.

“Its exactly what it looked like!" Come the whip-like snap of Ironclads voice, his eyes narrowing, and if it was at all possible, his white blaze seeming glowing brighter with his rage. “If I didn't need you to deliver a message to your master – I'd – well, you'd never be able to do such to any woman again...I assure you..."

“Who...who are - “ Sniffled the Doe, as she used the wrists of her blouse to wipe at her muzzle.

“I'm – Ironclad, Bushranger, but - “ Ironclad told her, as he handed her his bandanna, to use as a handkerchief. “I'm not like any bushranger you've ever met...I'm sworn to protect the innocent – like you little miss...now, you go straight home! I've – got a message to deliver – and this human will be my messenger..."

Torn between her fear, and Ironclads large, armoured and imposing stature, the doe hesitated, before she fled and Ironclad turned his full rage and apathy on the human, advancing until the rifle barrel was pressed up under the humans chin – forcing him to stand on tiptoes.

“Heed this warning – and pass it on to your mater – from this day forth, any and all of my people – be they kangaroo, wallaby, deer – any – anthropomorphic person – is threatened or harmed by a human – out of cruelty, malice or just because we are viewed as animals... I will make it my life work to hunt down the perpetrator – and what I will do with him - “ Ironclad whispered, his voice heavy with repressed anger. “Now...go – tell your master what I done here – think yourself fortunate, as it was only my compassion – that saved you from a fate like – him..."

Ironclad gestured a the corpse of the wood be rapist, then sneered and waved his rifle at the trembling, ashen faced man he held prisoner.

“Go...now!"

To Be Continued...