The journey up river was a gentle one, which went against everything Kyyanno had expected.  The barge had a gentle sway to it, which almost seemed to lull the cheetah into a sleep he neither expected nor wanted.  From his perch amongst the post, he could see the sides of the river pass by at a leisurely pace, trees and mud lining the path they were taking.  He had no idea where they were going until they drifted to the right and stopped by a small wooden platform.  A few burning torches provided a gentle light, but the place was still mostly enshrouded in darkness.

Keeper unhooked himself and jumped aboard the barge.  Grabbing a couple of parcels, he smiled at the cheetah.

“Just a quick stop at ToadLand Marshes, and then we’ll be on the way.”

“We’ve hardly gone anywhere,” the cheetah grinned back.

“I know,” the otter replied.  “The marshes are quite large though.  You can see them from Pentreafon on a clear day.  We’re at the most northern point of the marsh though as the rest of the ground is unsuitable to land the barge.”

With a deft couple of bounds, Keeper had jumped on to the riverbank, to be met by a couple of toads.  Friendly greetings were exchanged, as were a couple of packages.  The toads had a deep sounding voice, with a light hint of roughness around the edges, but although Kyyanno could not hear exactly what was being said, the tones sounded in good enough nature.  With a farewell and a wave, Keeper had jumped back and placed the new post under the canvas.  He then dived back into the water and hooked himself back up to the barge and the team set off again.

It was light before the cheetah knew what had happened.  He yawned as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.  He had fallen asleep.  Mentally kicking himself, the cheetah poked his head out from under the canvas roof to look around.  Each side of the river was surrounded by meadows of brown earth or grass.  Everything looked so peaceful that it was easy to forget that a mad tyrant had taken it upon himself to capture every village south of here, and caused misery and suffering to hundreds of creatures.

Having little else to do, Kyyanno set about with the task of neatening the post up a little.  He did not know if things were in a certain order or place on the barge, so he did minor adjustments like making sure things were neatly placed instead of randomly dropped.  Soon, while there had been no major changes that had happened, the barge looked far neater than it had done.  This both pleased and bothered the cheetah.  While it looked much better this way, he had now exhausted the only activity he could feasibly have done on this voyage.  The sight of another wooden mooring, not too dissimilar to the one at Pentreafon, came into view.  The craft seemed to glide toward it, as if invisible paws were guiding it into position.

This time all the otters unhitched and set about the task of getting the post loaded and unloaded.  Kyyanno stood at the back, keeping well out of the way.  The otters seemed to work in a chain, with one staying on the barge, passing post down the chain to land, while an otter on the land would pass the post up the chain to get it on the barge.  The otter left with the cheetah was large, with powerful looking muscles showing under his sleek brown fur.

“How are you enjoyin’ the journey so far?” he asked, throwing a small package to an otter on the front of the barge.

“It’s like nothing I have ever experienced before,” Kyyanno said.  “It’s so smooth, yet there’s a sway that just wants to send me to sleep.”

“That’s good,” the otter replied.  “Makes some folks want to lose their breakfast.  Looks like you’ve got a fine set of sea legs on you.  Fancy being a sailor when you grow up?”

“Not really,” laughed the cub.  “I’ve not even learned to swim yet.”  The otter looked at him aghast.

“You look around two seasons old,” he cried in shock.  “How can you have not learned to swim yet?”

“I’ve had a busy life,” Kyyanno offered.  “That, and the nearest place to learn was a good day away.  Other than the Tobbac Lake, but I really did not fancy swimming in that.”

“Well,” came a surprised response as the otter continued to throw packages to the next part of the chain.  “When we get to Avonwood, I think it will be high time you had your first swimming lesson.  Ain’t no better teacher than a group of otters, I can tell you.  We’ll get you swimming in no time.  Maybe not as good as an otter, but certainly good enough to give you confidence in the water.”

“You’ll get me eating fish next,” the cat laughed.  The otter joined him in the laugh.  He knew just how true the statement was.  “Thinking of eating, when is lunch?” Kyyanno asked.

“Belly growling, eh?”  The otter gave the cheetah a friendly poke in the guts.  “Don’t worry, once we’ve finished loading the barge we’ll cook up some hotroot stew, and if we ask really nicely, the ferrets that live here might even let us have a rabbit for you to add to it.”

“Don’t be making promises like that if you can’t keep them,” the cheetah said, drooling slightly at the thought of rabbit.  As nice as vegetables were, he needed some meat in his diet.

“I’ll ask them, don’t you worry,” the otter chuckled.  With a small grunt, he threw the last item out of the barge.  “That’s the lot,” he shouted after it.

“That’s the lot,” came the shout down the chain as each otter passed the parcel to the land.  

"Loading the craft back up then," came the reply from the land end, as new parcels started to snake their way along the chain.  The system was almost hypnotic to the bystanders.  Most of them had seen it many times before, but they were still impressed by the skill and speed the otters could move the mail.  It did not take long at all for all the mail to be loaded from the shore and with a little aid from Kyyanno stacked in an almost neat fashion in the barge.  With the job well done, all the otters and the feline headed to the shore for some lunch and a rest.

"So, you fancy our hotroot stew do you?" the otter who loaded the barge said to Kyyanno as they trouped through the village to the village green.  Tables and chairs had already been set out for the hungry workers.  An extra chair for the cheetah was fetched when the ferrets of the village realised there was one extra to the postal service's numbers.

"I'd love to give it a try.  I had a small sample made by some hedgehogs with a few ingredients we found laying around the forest."

"You've not had hotroot until you've had an otter's hotroot," the otter laughed.  "The ferrets here have been trained by our finest chefs and have perfected the art of making Otter Hotroot Stew.  It took them a while to get it right, but now they can blow the brains of even the most hardened of otters if they're not prepared."

"Sounds lovely," the cheetah said, a little nervous.  "I can't wait."

The otters and feline sat around the tables.  Keeper made sure Kyyanno sat next to him, as he was still holding the king's mail.  The very friendly otter, whose name Kyyanno still did not know, sat on the cub's other side.  Large ceramic bowls were laid out in front of the starving river dogs and a hot, steamy stew was ladled out.  The collection of otters was salivating with anticipation while they watched the meal being served in front of them.  They all grabbed their spoons and held them upright in their right paws.  Keeper then stood and said a word of thanks to the ferrets for their kind hospitality and tasty meals with which the otters were provided.  Then, with a nod from Keeper, the chaos began.  Spoons became shovels as the otters savaged the contents of their bowls with gusto and great efficiency.  Being a little more timid with his meal, Kyyanno took a small mouthful of the stew.  His mouth caught fire before he could even taste the stew, the heat from the hotroot doing its job and burning the inside of the cub's muzzle.  A ferret passed the cheetah a glass of milk.

"This will take the edge off it, sir," he said.  Kyyanno was taken aback a little; this was the first time anyone had called him sir and meant it as an acknowledgement of his superiority.  "Milk is better than water for hot things, but the otters still prefer water."

"Thank you," Kyyanno gasped, taking a large gulp of the white liquid.  Relief flowed through his body as the soothing cold milk put out all the fires and left the hot areas in Kyyanno's face feeling refreshed and no longer in as much pain as they were before.

"Bit hot for you?" the otters laughed.  Kyyanno nodded, it had been much hotter than the stew he had tasted during the journey through the forest.  

"Much," he replied.

"This is why we shovel it in," Keeper said.  "Get it down the neck before the heat really hits.  Then bask in the glorious afterglow."

"Afterglow?" the cheetah choked.  "After inferno, you mean?"

"Well, whatever you want to call it," the other otter laughed.  Kyyanno started to wonder if this otter did anything other than laughing.  He seemed to laugh when he was happy, when he was working, when he was not working.  He shrugged and instead put his mind to eating lunch.  Taking a deep breath he started to shovel the food in and swallow as fast as he could manage.  A few moments later he was drowning his face in the milk, gagging in pain, with tears streaming down his eyes.  This time a good few ferrets surrounded the youngster, offering help and support to him.  It took a couple of minutes for the coughing and crying to stop, by which time the ferrets had escorted him from the table, to a small room in a nearby building.  A couple of cool and damp pieces of cloth were put over his eyes, and another piece put over his forehead.

"Thank you," Kyyanno croaked.  "That was probably not the smartest idea in the world."

"Never mind, young one," an official looking ferret said, kneeling down to hold his paw.  "The chef is mixing you up a bowl of normal stew, with no hotroot in it."

"Thank you," the cheetah said.  His voice was still harsh, and his throat sore.  All the milk in the village could not cool the burning pain in his mouth, though the coldness was starting to numb things a little, which was taking the edge off the fire.  Sitting up, Kyyanno saw he was in a room that looked a lot like an office.  A large wooden desk dominated the centre of the floor space, while large bookcases lined the walls surrounding it.  An ornate candle holder was at the back of the desk, over to one side so whoever owned this office could work by the candlelight.  The purpose of this room did not take a massive leap of faith to guess.

"It's a nice room, isn't it?" the official looking ferret asked, watching the cheetah look around.

"Is it the mayor's office?" was the reply.

"Yes," said the ferret, who Kyyanno guessed was the mayor.  "Indeed it is.  This is my office, and it is home to the past recordings from the Brockwarren Scribes."

"Brockwarren?"

"Yes, young one," the mayor continued.  "You are in Brockwarren.  We're a small community of ferrets, weasels, and a few stoats.  There are a few mink visiting us from time to time, but we are predominately ferrets.  I'd have to research our deeper history to find the true origin of the village's name, but I believe it stems from its proximity to the River Brock.  We are a peaceful bunch by nature, and if you weren't here on official business with the otters we would have cause for concern with your open carrying of your weapons.  However, given your age, I hardly think you are going to use them now, am I right?"

"Self defence only," came the hoarse reply.  The mayor nodded with a curt nod and gave the cheetah a big smile.

"I hear you're on an extra special mission for the king of Sovereign Hill," he said.  "Not wishing to pry, but that seems like a huge responsibility for such a young lad."

The words sent a cold shiver down the spine of the cub.  Was the ferret about to try and take the royal stamp from him?  The words of the blacksmith came forward in his mind.  If the stamp were to fall in to the wrong hands, it could spell disaster for the king.  This was not something that Kyyanno wanted to happen.  He decided to give his answers careful thought.

"Everyone has every faith in me," he replied.  "I have a team of otters watching over me until I part company with them, and then I have a guide from there to help me get to where I need to go.  There is no reason why I should fail with this task."

"Of course," the mayor said.  He backed off and tried to sound apologetic.  "I merely meant that it is rare for the king to entrust anyone so young with anything important.  I did not wish to cast doubt on your ability to fulfil this duty."

"Of course, I understand," the cheetah said.  There was nothing else he could think of as a reply.  He did not let his guard down for a moment.

"Still, if there was anything we could do to make your journey easier," the mayor said with a glint of anticipation in his eyes.  "All you need to do is ask."

"You have all been so helpful already," the coy reply came, though the words felt like they were provided for him.  "I couldn't possibly ask you to do any more than you have.  I mean, you have gone to so much trouble for me, and are even cooking me a special batch of lunch so I won't starve on my voyage.  I feel humbled by your efforts."

"It is no trouble at all," the mayor jumped in.  "It is our honour to aid both the postal otters, and an emissary for the king.  If the king were to hear of our kindness, we would no doubt be appreciative but we ask for nothing more than to be treated with the peace and dignity that all other creatures are afforded."

"Understandable," the cheetah replied.  Most of what the ferret was saying went straight over his head.  He was not going to be seeing the king any time soon, so he sure was not going to be able to pass on his regards.  It then dawned on him that the ferret did not know that.  This thought was swiftly followed by the thought of how he knew he was doing anything for the king at all.  This thought washed over Kyyanno for a moment as its importance sank in.

"Anyway," the mayor said as he seemed to notice the change in his guest's expression.  "I think it is time you rejoined the others.  Some stew should be ready for you, and the otters might be worried about where you are."

"Just what gave you the idea I was doing anything for the king anyway?"

"Rumours," the mayor said curtly, brushing the question aside.  "Come on, let us go."  The ferrets helped Kyyanno to his feet and together the group hurried back to the feast on the street.

"Welcome back, little one," called Keeper with a cheer and a smile.  "Some tamer stew has arrived for you, so eat up because we're due to leave soon."  He patted the seat and in a trice the cheetah had bounded up to it and settled down.  Taking a careful taste of the stew to see how hot it was, he found this time the meal did not blow his head off, and in no time at all he had demolished his meal, taking care not to release a foul belch and embarrass himself.

"I see you liked that one a lot more," the otter to his other side laughed.  "I guess if it's otter hot, it's too hot to handle."

"I think if it's otter hot," the feline retorted, "it's too hot for anyone who doesn't spend all day cooling their innards under water."

"Touché young one," said Keeper, giving Kyyanno a hearty clap on the back.  "That told 'im!  Right lads, back to the boat, we've got a schedule to keep."

As the troupe of otters walked back to the barge, Kyyanno called Keeper to one side.  They walked and talked, but the cheetah kept to hushed tones.

“They knew,” he said.  “They knew I was on a mission for the king.”

“They what?”  Keeper was more than a little shocked, but he kept his voice low.  “How could they possibly have known?”

“I have no idea,” the cheetah replied.  “No one has bragged, have they?  No one at Pentreafon could possibly have got the message out, since we are on the only postal barge.  Right?”

“There are many ways to send messages, my friend,” Keeper said.  “Swallow post handle most of the letters post, and they are swift!  Ducks are notorious for gaining tit-bits of information and selling them on to the highest bidder too.  Keep your eyes on the skies, and see if anyone is watching us from above.  I’ll tell the others to keep their guard up.”

The normal joviality of the trip to the next stop was missing as the otters said their farewells to the ferrets and departed Brockwarren.  Each one had been told about the potential threat.  The barge moved with greater speed as the otters hurried on, keeping a constant vigilance on their surroundings.  This had turned from a normal day into a quest of far greater importance than a normal mail run.  Having the young cub on board was a novelty, but it had distracted them from the fact they were now working for the king, and it was up to them to make sure that the cheetah came to no harm and was dropped off at Avonwood complete with his precious cargo.

Kyyanno was now also feeling the pressure in a way he had never felt before.  Instead of people coming to him because he was young and therefore interesting, people would be coming to him because they might know what his task was.  Everyone from here on might be after what he carried.  He might have shrugged off the mayor's thought that this was a huge responsibility at the time, but now it hit home, and it hit hard.  Gathering his thoughts, the feline stood by the opening of the canvas and watched the surrounding countryside pass by.  This time it was no sightseeing tour.  While he could have taken time to watch the meadows and riverbanks for their beauty, he was instead watching them for signs of trouble.  Was attack likely?  He did not know.  He did not want to put the thought out of his mind, however, for it kept him vigilant.

Keeper was leading the otters in the water.  Kyyanno could see him, and the way he moved through the water, as if constantly on guard for the smallest sign there was something out of the ordinary.  The feline hoped that everything he was feeling was just paranoia, and that everything was going as a normal day would normally go.  He knew deep down, however, that the otters were normally jovial creatures.  The otters in front of him were far from happy and jolly.  They had become serious and worked hard against the flow of the river, as if possessed by a desire to end their post run in record time to get rid of their precious cargo to the creatures of Avonwood.

By the time the sun was starting to set, Kyyanno felt exhausted.  The worry, the attention he had been paying to the sides of the river, the paranoid thoughts running through his head, it had been getting a little too much.  Yet he still felt strong, as if some extra power was propping him up and keeping him going.  He was not about to argue with this reserve of strength, however, though he had a feeling that by the time it came to getting some sleep, he would either be up all night in a paranoid frenzy, or he would sleep like a log until the wake up call came the following morning.

The river widened into a strange shape, which caused Kyyanno to take his eyes off the scenery for a moment.  The river seemed to be turning into a few smaller rivers, each one coming together in a sort of bowl-like part of the river.  Just up river on the widest of the smaller rivers was a wooden jetty, sticking out like a finger to guide and welcome confused travellers.  The barge drifted towards it at a greater speed than Kyyanno deemed entirely necessary but still stopped with all the grace that he had come to expect from the otters on this journey so far.  At once, they unhitched themselves from their tethers and set to work unloading the post.

The cheery otter was again stationed on the barge with Kyyanno, and at once he was passing packages and parcels out of the barge.  He was still quite cheery, however, as if even the seriousness of the situation could not dent his happy-go-lucky nature.

“You’ve caused quite a stir, little one,” he chuckled as he threw another package to the next otter in the line.  “Keeper reckons folks could be out to get you, ya know?  I wondered how long it would take him to figure that out, and I guess those ferrets have creeped him out more than they usually do.  I’m not surprised they knew your purpose for being here, to be honest.  Ferrets, weasels, and all them others are sneaky little beggars.  Even if they didn’t know, they’d make a good guess just to find out your reaction.  If word has hit Avonmouth, which is where we are, by the way, then I think we could be looking at bandits up ahead if we’re unlucky.  If not, then I figure those ferrets were only looking for the story.”

“Which we probably gave them by leaving in that cloak of seriousness,” Kyyanno sighed.  “Or they got something from me.  I was trying to be coy and not give anything away.”

“You’re not long older than two months,” the otter said with a kind voice.  “Even if you did tell them what you were doing nobody would blame you, or hold you accountable for it.  They are grown ferrets, and you’re just a cub.  Granted, you’re the most remarkably adult cub I believe I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, but you’re still a cub none the less.  You will say the wrong thing, or mess things up from time to time, and no one is going to be upset at you for it.  No one who isn’t a heartless beast, anyway,” he added.

“I will,” the feline muttered.  “Everyone has worked so hard for me, and been so kind.  If I foul it up, I can’t see how I could forgive myself.”

“If it will make you feel better,” the otter grinned, “if you foul things up that badly, I’ll murder you myself.  Okay?”

“Okay,” Kyyanno agreed, failing to hide a smile of his own.  It was impossible to feel the weight of the world around the otter.  The river dog seemed to have more than enough happy to share, and it was out of the question to be immune from its contagiousness.

There was little post going out from the barge to the village of Avonmouth, so the otters and cheetah were soon making their way to the village hall to meet with the mayor and grab their sleeping quarters.  A trio of very fierce-looking German Shepherd dogs passed the group and headed down to the barge.  They greeted the otters with friendly words without losing their intimidating edge.  Kyyanno couldn’t help but stay close to Keeper until they had gone.

“Guard dogs,” Keeper said, looking down at the cub as the cheetah looked up with a hint of fear in his eyes.  “They will keep the barge secure until we return in the morning.  They are a great trio of watchmen, and a great laugh when they’ve had a little to drink.  They’re loyal and stick to their posts like glue when they’re on the job, though.  We couldn’t have a better group for the job.”

“Is this a village of dogs then?”

“No, this is a mixed species village,” Keeper replied.  “I say you should feel a little more at home here, there might be other feline cubs for you to talk with.”

“I think I just want to sleep,” Kyyanno replied with a yawn.  “I’m bushed.”

“Meal first, remember,” chuckled Keeper.  “You might be bushed, but you’ve not had to haul the mail upriver all afternoon.  It’s time for a well-deserved feast.  Now, I think the mayor is a snow leopard.  I don’t know if you felines have any customs between you so I thought I’d forewarn you.  I know a couple of mayors get very upset if the proper customs are not observed.”

“If there are any, I’m sure I haven’t been taught them,” Kyyanno said with a slightly worried smile.  He made a resolution to mind his manners around the mayor until he had found out what his demeanour was like.  

A figure coming out of the semi-darkness brandishing a torch came to meet the party.  He was a stout gentleman, with a good quality suit and tie on, with his feet covered by sturdy and well-polished black shoes.  He handed an otter the torch and shook Keeper by the hand.  Kyyanno took a step back to maintain a respectful distance.

“Keeper, my good fellow,” the mayor said.  His voice was deep and booming, and had the warmth of an old man meeting a friend for the first time in many years.  “How are you, good sir?”

“Very well, thank you dear friend,” Keeper replied, clapping the snow leopard on the back and almost embracing him.  “These few days of separation have been utter heartbreak to have left, once again, your glorious village, and inhabitants.”

“Yes, all right, you over dramatic old codger,” laughed the mayor, giving Keeper a friendly punch in the arm.  “Don’t overdo it.”  He then lent in and whispered something in Keeper’s ear.  The otter’s face fell as he heard the news.

“Well, that is bad news,” he said.  “Thanks for the head’s up.”

“I thought you ought to know, seeing as how precious your cargo is this time.”  The mayor couldn’t help glancing at Kyyanno.  The cheetah tried to smile, but worry and a little confusion met the mayor’s eyes.

“And who do we have here?”  The mayor’s seriousness melted into a large display of excited over-emotion as he bent down to shake Kyyanno’s paw.

“The name’s Kyyanno, sir,” the cheetah replied as for the second time today his paw was shaken with enough enthusiasm to make his teeth rattle.

“That’s a good strong sounding name,” the mayor said.  Everything about the mayor was smiling.  His teeth were white and seemed to smile, his eyes had a smile about them, and even his shirt and tie gave the impression of smiling somehow.  It was a little creepy and more than a little bit terrifying.  “Those are a nice set of blades you have around your waist too, little guy.  I wouldn’t want to be on the business end of them, I can tell you.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t dream of doin’ you a mischief,” Keeper said, distracting the mayor’s attention from the cub for a moment.

“Just as well,” laughed the mayor.  “I might be fit, but them blades be sharp!  Fancy some grub guys?”

“Of course we do,” called an otter from the back of the group, which was followed by a chorus of chuckles from everyone there.

“Well then, let’s get a shift on then,” the snow leopard called.  “I hear the chef got some fish in just for you.”

The group cheered as they trampled up the simple stone path towards the heart of the village.  Avonmouth was, Kyyanno thought, a lot like the other villages he had visited on his travels.  Stone and wooden buildings, laid out in a fairly sensible fashion to grant easy access to all the important places, like the village hall, the blacksmith, the tavern, and the collection of little shops selling both locally sourced products and more exotic things imported from up and down river.  The streets were lit by rows of torches, burning brightly in the evening sky.  

The one thing that differed this place from the others was the range of creatures walking the streets.  A pair of young adult tigers, both showing signs of light inebriation, passed the group, singing a hearty tune in slurred, undecipherable lyrics.  A fox and his vixen were enjoying a stroll around the circular village green.  Their arms were linked together, and the vixen was resting her head on her mate’s shoulder as the fox spoke in a gentle and romantic voice.  A bull with a blacksmith’s apron around his waist was heading to the tavern.  He met the party of otters at the door, holding it open for them to allow them to enter before him.  As Kyyanno walked past he looked up at the bull and smiled.

“Are you the village blacksmith?” he asked.

“Why yes I am,” the bull replied, smiling back at the young cheetah.

“I knew a bull who was a blacksmith,” the cub said, thinking back.  It had only been a few days, but it already felt like a lifetime ago.  “Back in Tobbac Village, that is.  I never thought I’d see another one.”

“You mean Forge?” the bull asked.  Kyyanno nodded as the bull looked harder at him.  The harsh expression of the bovine melted away as realisation dawned on his face.  “You…  You can’t be, the village was… Kyyanno?”

“Yes?”  The cheetah could barely finish his sentence before the bull had scooped him up into a warm embrace.  The otters yelled in a brief moment of panic, ready to attack the bull until they saw tears welling up in the blacksmith’s eyes.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he said, tears of joy flowing freely down his face.  “I heard what happened at Tobbac and thought that was the end.”

“I’m really sorry,” the cheetah said, muffled from under the bull’s arms.  “Who are you again?”

“Of course, sorry,” the bull released his grip and let Kyyanno down.  Wiping his tears away, he took a moment to compose himself.  “I am Smith Friar.  I was Forge’s cousin and lived in Tobbac when I was young.  You won’t remember me because I was only visiting when you were born, but I remember the days shortly after you and your brother were born.  Come inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

When everyone was inside the tavern and the otters were enjoying their evening meal, Keeper, Kyyanno, and Friar sat together at a separate table while the bull told the cheetah his story.

"You and your brother had just been born, only a few days beforehand.  Forge had invited me over for a few days, mostly because we hadn't seen each other for ages and he felt it was high time we caught up.  I jumped at the chance, and had made the long journey down from here to Tobbac.  It took a couple of days, but it was worth it.  Your father and mother were sitting with you two on a bench next to the village green, and Forge and I happened to pass by.  You were two of the cutest bundles of fluff I had ever met.  It was a cold day though, and you were wrapped up real tight.  Your brother seemed to love it, but I remember you kept fidgeting, as if trying to fight the cloth away.  I remember making a comment to your folks about how cute you were, and your mother invited me to hold you for a little while.  When I took you, I saw these big eyes looking at me, and then you settled down almost at once.  Within moments you were asleep.  Your parents were thrilled, and whisked the pair of you away to bed.  That was the last time I saw you, as I returned home the next day, but after Blacktooth's attack on the village, I did think that would have been the last time I saw you. I'm happy to see I was wrong."

"Wow," Kyyanno said, as a serving girl handed him a plate of meat for his dinner.  "That's quite a story.  I wondered why I always felt safe around blacksmiths.  I guess I know, now."

"Oh yes," Friar said with a nod.  "You and blacksmiths have a long past.  Well, a two season long past, anyway."

"So, what happened to Tobbac?" the cheetah asked.  "I know nothing about what happened to everyone."

"I'm sure we don't need to talk about that Kyyanno," Keeper interrupted.  "Maybe you should be told when you're a bit older, in case it's news you don't want to hear?"

"I think I'd rather know now," the cub decided.  "I'm being strong, apparently, so I might as well save up all my trauma now, so I can get over it all at once when I reach Windrush instead of having it in little bursts which leave me an emotional wreck for the rest of my life."

"I swear you're not a cub sometimes," Keeper said.  He looked at the young cheetah long and hard.  The cub looked back at him, with a solemn expression.  "You just seem far too adult for someone your age."

"I don't know much," Friar said.  "Just rumours and things that have drifted this way from the birds.  Apparently the village was ransacked.  The defending creatures put up a good fight, but they lacked the numbers and were either slain or captured.  I don't know who lived and who died, but I heard that the slave traders captured every escaping cub.  A few cubs didn't escape, however."

"I know," Kyyanno said.  "Even as I left home, I knew Haraka hadn't made it.  I could just feel it, like a disconnection.  I had ignored it up to now, on the off chance that I was wrong, but deep down I've always known I was right."

"I'm sorry," Keeper said, hugging the cub tightly.  "I had no idea what you'd been through."

"That wasn't the worst of it,” the cheetah commented.  “I think the head slave trader was the worst.  He seemed like he was almost a nice guy to start with, but once we were on the move he turned in to a monster.  The two weasels he had working under him were just as much slaves as we were destined to be, but we set them free.  Lewis, a fox, dealt with the slave master, while we set the other two weasels afloat on a raft so they could start new and better lives if they chose to.  So, Keeper, if I seem like an adult, it might be because I've had to do a lot of growing up in a very short space of time."

“That does it,” the otter said, releasing Kyyanno from the hug.  “We’re not taking you to Avonwood, we’re taking you all the way to Windrush.  I don’t care if the Avonflow otters won’t like it, that’s their tough luck.”

“What?” both Friar and Kyyanno asked together.

“The otters of River Avonflow have never been truly co-operative,” Keeper explained.  “They’re not friends with the cats of Windrush for some reason, I don’t know why.  Probably something deep in the past that the otters are too inherently stubborn to forget I imagine.  Especially when you consider that Windrush is on the Ne’erstill Stream and nowhere near the river, but I digress.  The Avonflow otters have, requested, in the past that we go no further than Avonwood.  I think that once we have dropped off the mail there, we can make a special journey to Windrush just to make sure you get there safely.”

“That’s okay,” Kyyanno said.  “Avonwood will be fine, I can manage the rest of the journey on my own.  I got to Pentreafon, didn’t I?”

“At what cost?” Keeper retorted.  “No, I’ll speak with the others tonight.  Besides, news of the special nature of this part of your journey is already spreading, and I will not have you set upon the minute you part company with us by those who would steal what you have.”

“Best agree with the otter, kid,” the bull said, giving Kyyanno a gentle bump on the arm with his fist.  “Keeper knows what he’s doing.”

“Very well,” the cheetah sighed.  “Since it’s for the protection of my possessions rather than myself.”

“Good,” laughed Keeper.  “Now eat your dinner.  It’ll be bedtime for us soon.”

The time passed quickly as the grownups chatted in good nature, catching up on happier things that had happened in the few days since the otter’s last pass through the village.  A little ale flowed to the adults, while Kyyanno was given fruity flavoured fizzy drinks, and some strange fruit punch that seemed to blow his brains out.  It was then he discovered he might have a taste for ginger.  Eventually it was time for bed and, tired but happy, the cheetah said goodbye to Friar and let Keeper escort him up the tavern’s stairs to the guest chambers for a sleep.  He was given his own room, with a comfortable bed, a bedside candle, and a window that looked out over the village.  

“Now remember,” Keeper said as he stood in the doorway to Kyyanno’s room.  “If you need me for anything, just yell my name and I’ll come running.  I’m in the room next door, so I’ll hear you.  Okay?”

“Okay Keeper,” the cheetah said as the otter closed the door and went to his own room. Yawning, Kyyanno flopped onto his bed, still fully dressed, and rolled under the bed covers.  Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

His dream was strange, as it featured the otters.  They were happy and cheering for something, but he couldn’t see what.  The mood was good though, and there was no foreboding feeling.  Kyyanno appreciated that.  It was nice to have a strange dream that didn’t fill him full of dread.  He took a while to dance with a few of the otters as they celebrated their something.  Using the dancing to weave his way through the pack, he was just about to glimpse the source of the happiness when an image of a very scared looking StarSeer burst into his view.  Instead of the feline form he normally took in Kyyanno’s dreams, he appeared this time almost as a ghost, flying through the air and straight at the cheetah.

“Look out!”  The ghostly voice wailed as the spectre flew right through the cub.  He could feel his arms reach down to his sai blades and then stab out in front of his face.  To his surprise, they made contact with something.  Then something else landed on his chest with a heavy thumping noise.  This stirred the cheetah awake in a flash.

“KEEPER!”  The yell was almost an instinct, and came not in fear, but in warning.  A loud thud noise came from the otter’s bedroom and seconds later the cheetah’s door flew open to reveal a knife wielding otter standing in the doorway.  

“Kyyanno,” he called, rushing to the bed.  Suspended over the cheetah, held in place by the pair of sai blades embedded in his face, was a rat.  Judging by his pose, it was obvious that he was going in for the kill.  A sharp knife lay on the bed, being covered in blood as it flowed from the open wounds.  The cheetah was also bathed in blood, his spotted fur lost under a river of crimson.  

“Get him off of me,” Kyyanno grunted.  “He weighs a ton, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold him.”

“Of, of course,” Keeper stammered, surprised by what he saw.  The other otters had started to arrive and they dashed around to lend assistance.  The rat was taken downstairs to be disposed of, while another otter alerted the mayor so he could organise a tracking party to see if there were any more rats in the local area.  The landlord of the tavern was not impressed that a rat had broken into his establishment.  He was a bull terrier, and his rage at the rodent knew no bounds.  Keeper stayed with Kyyanno, finding a bowl of hot water to wash the cheetah’s face and chest free from blood.

“It was strange,” the cheetah finally said after the pair had been in silence for a little longer than Keeper could bear.  “There was an otter celebration, and then a cat I see in my dreams sometimes just flew out of nowhere.  Next thing I know is I’ve grabbed the blades and driven them into the rat’s skull.  Good thing I didn’t take them off really.”

“Stupid, really,” argued Keeper sternly.  “They could have stabbed you in the night.  You should never sleep on your weapons.  Remember that.  That said, you seem to be blessed by something, or someone.  I don’t know if that’s because you’re on a mission for the king, or if it’s because there’s something about you I don’t know.  Whatever it is, there seem to be those who want you dead, and those who want to keep you alive.  I just hope the latter party wins the battle.”

“I’ll have to die eventually,” the cub said, without a hint of fear, remorse, or emotion.  It was a very matter-of-fact statement.  It was a little unnerving to hear someone so young act so calm about his own mortality.

“Yes,” Keeper said, looking for the right words.  “Everyone will, but I’d rather keep you alive on my watch, thank you.  It’s only been a day of travelling, and I would rather we make the whole journey together.”

“I’ll try to survive,” the cub giggled.

“Be sure you do,” the otter grumbled.