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| Enamel Pardon | Jul 9 2008, 06:36 AM |
Ruler of Specifics
  ![]](http://209.85.117.197/static/1/pip_r.png)
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S. E. stiffened, saluted sharply at the soggy squirrel, Sceo.* "Apology accepted, Cammandah! And quite understandable, wot. Dinner!" Suddenly, the soaked hare smiled - something scary, thanks to his scars.** "You lot sure know how t'welcome th'Long Patrol, eh? Either that, or we know when t'arrive... Lead on, then, and we'll do h'our best t'follow." S.E. turned and eyed the group of hares. Yhey could almost see, reflected in his small glasses, the words: That means we walk behind her, no trampling allowed. As they made their way to the dining hall (studiously ignoring a peg-legged hedgehog that burst out of the West Tower and began dancing around in circles in the rain, apparently on fire), S. E. introduced the whole lot of them, rattling off their names at a pace most would find too quick to follow. It wasn't like anybeast was capable of getting it all in one go anyhow. He himself still had to get a good look at the ribbons affixed to their arms, each a different colour, to tell them apart. S. E. was much better with colours than faces. "...but y'can just call 'em 'C'mere, You' for short," he finished. ~ ~ ~ Enamel Pardon was not a happy hare. If, at any point along the path to the Fort, he came across a kindly old molewife giving out free scones to anybeast "willing to offer just a smile in return", it was likely he might've given her a fierce bop 'twixt the ears if he had the time. If he could find them. Did moles have ears? This sudden switching in his train of thought nearly sent him stumbling in the rain, but he recovered and lowered his head further for better airflow. He would've gone on all fours, but after what he'd seen, he was in no mood to let go of his spear. He tried to calm himself. Torsten and the others would be fine, he chanted over and over inside his head. He just had to get the message to the Fort, and then everything would be all right. Nobeast was going to die. Nobeast was going... to die... But this far south... at least an hour, maybe two away from the fort... Nobeast was going to die! ... his pawprints dissolved quickly in the rain, the blood mulched into the mud as if it had never been there at all. ~ ~ ~ * I'm sorry. ** I'm so, so sorry. Edited by Enamel Pardon, Jul 9 2008, 07:55 AM.
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Sergeant Enamel Pardon  Can't keep my eyes from the circling skyTongue-tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit, I...my other char's a mouse: Corporal Simon Flynn 
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12:42 PM Nov 27
