The Inked Arrow continued
Nov. 18th, 2003 06:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ambitious_wenchPart one can be found here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/ambitious_wench/101745.html
Steven stood and looked at his lifelong friend. Ted watched Steven's face, watched for any sign that the father of this vivacious boy was about to repudiate him. Watched as Stevens face ran the gamut of emotions. Disgust, wonder, disbelief. Finally Steven Whittier placed his hands over his face and sighed deeply. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and dropped his hands. He put them in his pockets, then turned to look at Ted from behind the corner of his shoulder.
"Ted, I have to see this for myself. Once I have, then I need to talk to Ellen." He held his hands out in a gesture of disbelief, palms up and shoulders shrugged, then spreading them out to his sides, then letting them drop helplessly.
"If anyone but you had told me of this, I would not have believed it. And frankly, Ted, I feel like I'm the butt of one of your April Fool's jokes. But this isn't April, and the world has taken on a sinister aspect that frightens me."
Ted sat silently, listening to Steven's soliloquy. Finally, Steven calmed, and several moments passed and still Ted was silent. "Ted, tell me this is a joke, please!"
Ted shook his head sadly. "It's not a joke, Steven. I wish to heaven that it were. But it's real, and that is how the world is. I can't change the world, Steven. Neither can you, but we can work together to protect the ones we love. At least George doesn't have to go to fight other human beings, shedding the blood of his fellow human brothers. As preposterous as this sounds, it's never the less true: the rabbits pose the worse threat. They would enslave humanity. And I don't know about you, Steven, but I for one would rather die than be the lackey of some demonic lagomorph."
"So when can I see this evidence of which you speak? What were you talking about, the writings of Roger Williams? He knew about them?"
Ted nodded. "It seems he did. Let me talk to the base Commanding Officer tomorrow. We can try to trap one alive for you to see and talk to. But again, I have to warn you. It's going to tell you partial truths, half lies, and all the while, it's going to be radiating cutons in an effort to stay alive. It's not for the light of stomach. I don't think Ellen should see it."
Steven began to chuckle. It bubbled out of him, cascading. It grew in strength until it was outright laughter, albeit with an hysterical edge to it. "oh, you have no idea how preposterous that is, Ted. It would take a better man than me to keep her away. It's a pity you haven't married. You'd understand better."
Steven wiped the tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "Besides, I've had to restrain her from taking George's old b-b gun out to the garden and shooting squirrels that have dug up her spring bulbs. I think she will do just fine."
Ted listened to his friend. He had known Ellen only a short while before Steven had asked the small woman to be his wife. The had met her at Brown University, she an English major, and Steven had taken an instant shine to her. She was small, and nothing ever seemed to shake her. Ted has watched their courtship without ever understanding it, but with a certain bemusement at his childhood friend.
While there were stories of women Hunters, they were rare, Ann Hope not withstanding. Well, there was Alberta Milton, the earthy and reliable woman who acted as the interference for Orville Bass, the commanding officer of the Hunters of the Cunning Hare. He smiled at the image of Alberta in her traditional uniform of overalls and flannel shirt, with the ubiquitous hand-held axe hanging from the loop on the denim leg. The Colonel had once confided that he often felt that if he faltered in battle, Bertie would be there to pick him up by the scruff of the neck and give him a good shake to get him back on the path.
She was certainly as tough as any of the men, and this despite having dimples and golden curls like Shirley Temple. Yes, Ellen could probably be just as tough, come to think of it.
"Well, if you think she can, then it's on your head if she doesn't."
"Fair enough, Ted. I'm not sure how I'm going to react. But one thing I would ask of you is this; Don't say anything to George about this until I decide if I want him involved."
"Steven, give me some credit. I wouldn't do that, you know it. He wouldn't be up for training until after his 15th birthday, and that would have to be in conjunction with his schooling. Most of the school superintendents know Colonel Bass. George is enrolled in the Elmwood district, isn't he?"
Steven nodded. "Yes. But I don't want his schooling interupted by this."
"Not for nothing, Steven, but your boy is going to be driven even harder to learn the history of this state. The Hunters have a tradition of making sure their soldiers are as aware of the dangers as possible. And that means more assignments in addition to his regular curriculum. I know you can appreciate that, Steven. George is going to have to apply himself if he is to be accepted by the Hunters of the Cunning Hare."
Steven finally sat down, and crossed his legs. He reached for his cup of coffee, and absently sipped the tepid liquid. The fact that he was so absorbed in thought that he didn't grimace wasn't lost on Ted.
"How about I let you get some rest. I know you have to be out at the store in Centerdale early. I have to be back at Ft. Roger Williams by 11 pm curfew." Ted Leblanc stood up, and reached for his friend's hand. Steven looked up, then placed the cup on it's saucer, and uncrossing his legs, stood and took Ted's outstretched hand in a firm handshake.
"I'll let you know when I can have you come down, Steven. In the mean time, would you kindly keep George from pestering me at the Post Office induction center?"
"Sure thing, Ted. I'll give Ellen your goodbye."
With that, Sergeant Theodore Edward LeBlanc crossed the parlor to the mudroom entry, put on his coat and hat, as Steven Whittier opened the front door to the front porch. Steven Whittier watched his friend descend the front steps and walk to his car parked on the curb.
"Out of the fry pan, and into the fire, I fear. This is astonishing." Ellen closed the curtains in her daughter's upstairs bedroom window as Ted got into his Ford and drove away, and turned to watch her daughter sleeping.
Chapter 3
"The female of the species is more deadly than the male"
Ted LeBlanc watched as the cage was brought in and placed on the counter in the motor pool barn. The creature in it shivered and crouched in the classic "loaf of bread" posture of small helpless animals the world over. In spite of the fact that they were pressed down on it's back, the creature's ears twitched. It was a young buck, probably just shy of its first year. It was young enough to follow some cockamammy dare presented by one of its litter mates and smart enough to not say anything now that it was caught. Ted despaired that he would be able to convince Steve and Ellen that he was serious. He'd talked to Col. Bass, had gotten permission to bring the Whittiers to the base in order to convince them of the truth of the evil that fluffs. Now they stood in the old barn on the farm that was now used as the base for the Hunters. He had one trick that would most likely work, but he wasn't ready to use it without trying other methods first.
Ellen went over to the cage and peered in, her eyes calm as she looked at the rabbit within. Ted Cleared his throat. "Miz Ellen, I would rather you didn't lean too close. That critter has some odd abilities, and I don't want to see you getting caught up with how cute it is. It's dangerous, and that is a fact."
Ellen stood up and looked back at Steve, her husband. He nodded once, and she moved back to his side. "it's just a wild rabbit, isn't it? How can it be much more of a threat than getting into Mr. McGregor's garden and eating his lettuce and carrots?"
Ted frowned at the reference. Beatrix Potter was one of the authors who seemed to be advancing the bunny cause. "You wouldn't say that if you knew how much damage this one devilbunny can cause."
"Sgt. LeBlanc is right, ma'am. That harmless little bunny will eventually grow up to no doubt be a threat to your children."
The man who had set the cage turned after removing his heavy gloves. Ted saluted, and the man returned it crisply. "Sergeant, would you go get a bottle of Moxie? I think this bun will squeal in more ways than one when we pour some on his ear tips."
Just then the rabbit stomped hard and fast repeatedly, rattling the cage, and started speaking in a high pitched voice.
"NO! You can't do that! The treaty! I'm still a kit, you can't do that to me!"
The colonel bent down to grin into the cage. "Gotcha, fluffah! Now, calm down, I'm not going to torture you. But I do have a message for your warren leader: If all signs of rabbit inhabitation from the warren aren't gone in two weeks, we will bring the oil truck and flood it with blessed urine. Can you remember that, or should I staple a letter to your ear for assured delivery?"
The bun nodded, and repeated the message. The it turned to Ellen. *fluff* "You wouldn't let him hurt me, would you? I'm just a kit, really, I'm not a milbun at all."
Ellen felt a rush of something wash over her. She was reminded of the smell of a baby's head as it nestled on her shoulder after a bath. The feel of a baby in her arms as it relaxes into sleep after hours of fretful crying. She felt peaceful as if she had been wrapped in warm, pink fluffy cotton candy.
"Ellen, Ellen! Drink this, Ellie, drink this."
Something was pressed into her hand, cold and smooth. She shivered in the afternoon chill. What? What was it? A warm hand wrapped around hers as she held the glass, and lifted it to her mouth. The smell of turpentine and gentian root hit her, jolting her out of her euphoria. She tried to back the glass away from her nose, face screwing into a grimace of revulsion. "Oh, Steven, you know I HATE Moxie!"
Nervous laughter sounded. Her husband looked into her face, his own face a study of worry. "You looked pretty dazed, there, love. You sure you're all right now?"
Ellen closed her eyes, rubbed them, and then opened them again.
Steven stood and looked at his lifelong friend. Ted watched Steven's face, watched for any sign that the father of this vivacious boy was about to repudiate him. Watched as Stevens face ran the gamut of emotions. Disgust, wonder, disbelief. Finally Steven Whittier placed his hands over his face and sighed deeply. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and dropped his hands. He put them in his pockets, then turned to look at Ted from behind the corner of his shoulder.
"Ted, I have to see this for myself. Once I have, then I need to talk to Ellen." He held his hands out in a gesture of disbelief, palms up and shoulders shrugged, then spreading them out to his sides, then letting them drop helplessly.
"If anyone but you had told me of this, I would not have believed it. And frankly, Ted, I feel like I'm the butt of one of your April Fool's jokes. But this isn't April, and the world has taken on a sinister aspect that frightens me."
Ted sat silently, listening to Steven's soliloquy. Finally, Steven calmed, and several moments passed and still Ted was silent. "Ted, tell me this is a joke, please!"
Ted shook his head sadly. "It's not a joke, Steven. I wish to heaven that it were. But it's real, and that is how the world is. I can't change the world, Steven. Neither can you, but we can work together to protect the ones we love. At least George doesn't have to go to fight other human beings, shedding the blood of his fellow human brothers. As preposterous as this sounds, it's never the less true: the rabbits pose the worse threat. They would enslave humanity. And I don't know about you, Steven, but I for one would rather die than be the lackey of some demonic lagomorph."
"So when can I see this evidence of which you speak? What were you talking about, the writings of Roger Williams? He knew about them?"
Ted nodded. "It seems he did. Let me talk to the base Commanding Officer tomorrow. We can try to trap one alive for you to see and talk to. But again, I have to warn you. It's going to tell you partial truths, half lies, and all the while, it's going to be radiating cutons in an effort to stay alive. It's not for the light of stomach. I don't think Ellen should see it."
Steven began to chuckle. It bubbled out of him, cascading. It grew in strength until it was outright laughter, albeit with an hysterical edge to it. "oh, you have no idea how preposterous that is, Ted. It would take a better man than me to keep her away. It's a pity you haven't married. You'd understand better."
Steven wiped the tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "Besides, I've had to restrain her from taking George's old b-b gun out to the garden and shooting squirrels that have dug up her spring bulbs. I think she will do just fine."
Ted listened to his friend. He had known Ellen only a short while before Steven had asked the small woman to be his wife. The had met her at Brown University, she an English major, and Steven had taken an instant shine to her. She was small, and nothing ever seemed to shake her. Ted has watched their courtship without ever understanding it, but with a certain bemusement at his childhood friend.
While there were stories of women Hunters, they were rare, Ann Hope not withstanding. Well, there was Alberta Milton, the earthy and reliable woman who acted as the interference for Orville Bass, the commanding officer of the Hunters of the Cunning Hare. He smiled at the image of Alberta in her traditional uniform of overalls and flannel shirt, with the ubiquitous hand-held axe hanging from the loop on the denim leg. The Colonel had once confided that he often felt that if he faltered in battle, Bertie would be there to pick him up by the scruff of the neck and give him a good shake to get him back on the path.
She was certainly as tough as any of the men, and this despite having dimples and golden curls like Shirley Temple. Yes, Ellen could probably be just as tough, come to think of it.
"Well, if you think she can, then it's on your head if she doesn't."
"Fair enough, Ted. I'm not sure how I'm going to react. But one thing I would ask of you is this; Don't say anything to George about this until I decide if I want him involved."
"Steven, give me some credit. I wouldn't do that, you know it. He wouldn't be up for training until after his 15th birthday, and that would have to be in conjunction with his schooling. Most of the school superintendents know Colonel Bass. George is enrolled in the Elmwood district, isn't he?"
Steven nodded. "Yes. But I don't want his schooling interupted by this."
"Not for nothing, Steven, but your boy is going to be driven even harder to learn the history of this state. The Hunters have a tradition of making sure their soldiers are as aware of the dangers as possible. And that means more assignments in addition to his regular curriculum. I know you can appreciate that, Steven. George is going to have to apply himself if he is to be accepted by the Hunters of the Cunning Hare."
Steven finally sat down, and crossed his legs. He reached for his cup of coffee, and absently sipped the tepid liquid. The fact that he was so absorbed in thought that he didn't grimace wasn't lost on Ted.
"How about I let you get some rest. I know you have to be out at the store in Centerdale early. I have to be back at Ft. Roger Williams by 11 pm curfew." Ted Leblanc stood up, and reached for his friend's hand. Steven looked up, then placed the cup on it's saucer, and uncrossing his legs, stood and took Ted's outstretched hand in a firm handshake.
"I'll let you know when I can have you come down, Steven. In the mean time, would you kindly keep George from pestering me at the Post Office induction center?"
"Sure thing, Ted. I'll give Ellen your goodbye."
With that, Sergeant Theodore Edward LeBlanc crossed the parlor to the mudroom entry, put on his coat and hat, as Steven Whittier opened the front door to the front porch. Steven Whittier watched his friend descend the front steps and walk to his car parked on the curb.
"Out of the fry pan, and into the fire, I fear. This is astonishing." Ellen closed the curtains in her daughter's upstairs bedroom window as Ted got into his Ford and drove away, and turned to watch her daughter sleeping.
Chapter 3
"The female of the species is more deadly than the male"
Ted LeBlanc watched as the cage was brought in and placed on the counter in the motor pool barn. The creature in it shivered and crouched in the classic "loaf of bread" posture of small helpless animals the world over. In spite of the fact that they were pressed down on it's back, the creature's ears twitched. It was a young buck, probably just shy of its first year. It was young enough to follow some cockamammy dare presented by one of its litter mates and smart enough to not say anything now that it was caught. Ted despaired that he would be able to convince Steve and Ellen that he was serious. He'd talked to Col. Bass, had gotten permission to bring the Whittiers to the base in order to convince them of the truth of the evil that fluffs. Now they stood in the old barn on the farm that was now used as the base for the Hunters. He had one trick that would most likely work, but he wasn't ready to use it without trying other methods first.
Ellen went over to the cage and peered in, her eyes calm as she looked at the rabbit within. Ted Cleared his throat. "Miz Ellen, I would rather you didn't lean too close. That critter has some odd abilities, and I don't want to see you getting caught up with how cute it is. It's dangerous, and that is a fact."
Ellen stood up and looked back at Steve, her husband. He nodded once, and she moved back to his side. "it's just a wild rabbit, isn't it? How can it be much more of a threat than getting into Mr. McGregor's garden and eating his lettuce and carrots?"
Ted frowned at the reference. Beatrix Potter was one of the authors who seemed to be advancing the bunny cause. "You wouldn't say that if you knew how much damage this one devilbunny can cause."
"Sgt. LeBlanc is right, ma'am. That harmless little bunny will eventually grow up to no doubt be a threat to your children."
The man who had set the cage turned after removing his heavy gloves. Ted saluted, and the man returned it crisply. "Sergeant, would you go get a bottle of Moxie? I think this bun will squeal in more ways than one when we pour some on his ear tips."
Just then the rabbit stomped hard and fast repeatedly, rattling the cage, and started speaking in a high pitched voice.
"NO! You can't do that! The treaty! I'm still a kit, you can't do that to me!"
The colonel bent down to grin into the cage. "Gotcha, fluffah! Now, calm down, I'm not going to torture you. But I do have a message for your warren leader: If all signs of rabbit inhabitation from the warren aren't gone in two weeks, we will bring the oil truck and flood it with blessed urine. Can you remember that, or should I staple a letter to your ear for assured delivery?"
The bun nodded, and repeated the message. The it turned to Ellen. *fluff* "You wouldn't let him hurt me, would you? I'm just a kit, really, I'm not a milbun at all."
Ellen felt a rush of something wash over her. She was reminded of the smell of a baby's head as it nestled on her shoulder after a bath. The feel of a baby in her arms as it relaxes into sleep after hours of fretful crying. She felt peaceful as if she had been wrapped in warm, pink fluffy cotton candy.
"Ellen, Ellen! Drink this, Ellie, drink this."
Something was pressed into her hand, cold and smooth. She shivered in the afternoon chill. What? What was it? A warm hand wrapped around hers as she held the glass, and lifted it to her mouth. The smell of turpentine and gentian root hit her, jolting her out of her euphoria. She tried to back the glass away from her nose, face screwing into a grimace of revulsion. "Oh, Steven, you know I HATE Moxie!"
Nervous laughter sounded. Her husband looked into her face, his own face a study of worry. "You looked pretty dazed, there, love. You sure you're all right now?"
Ellen closed her eyes, rubbed them, and then opened them again.