Foggy Hills Chapter 1 Copyrighted Alyssa Goodall 2015

Sunrise embellished the sky with its distinct rays of sunshine, expertly mixing reds and blues 
to create the effect that the sun was a honey-dipped apple that any glutton would gawp at. 
Alas, all the beauty was lost on a rough-looking searat who was tickling oar-slaves awake 
with a whip. Among these pitiful oar-slaves was a young chipmunk named Fallowthorn. Fallow-
thorn was unlike many beasts since he thought about many things almost to a profound extent.
 The manacles continually cut into his forepaws and often left them bleeding and scarred. 
The whip brought him to reality, and he heard the grating searat's voice, "Git movin' 
ye lazy swabs! Get those oars movin'!" Another searat beat out the stoke on a drum in a 
droning tattoo. All the sounds he heard were the drum and seawater whooshing about their oars. 
The sea, so teal so regular and rapid! The sea lapped hungrily at the ship's sides, awaiting 
future captives; Fallowthorn gazed vacantly at the ravenous sea. Again, the fiery lance 
brought him back to reality. He felt sorry for the evil vermin which crewed the ship since 
they led a horrible life and didn't know how to do good and to think about others. They had 
been evil all their lives. Fallowthorn kept rowing on and on, wishing for them to become 
better creatures and to learn the way of the honest beast. But such wishes were vain since 
searats rarely ever change. Fallowthorn blinked sadly, and kept rowing on and on into the wild 
blue yonder.

 
Oringen the cruel, the stoat king of a castle at the top of Terror Mountain, was sitting on his
 royal chair. He was in high bad humor since two prisoners had escaped with his personal ship. 
 one good eye glared menacingly as the guard who was in charge of the keys of the dungeon was 
dragged before him. The guard groveled before him, whining and slobbering and blubbering. 
Oringen's single, merciless eye settled on the pitiful rat-guard. An evil, pitiless smile crept
 on Oringen's face; his smile was often more dangerous than his mood. The stoat-king laughed 
at the pitiful rat-guard, booming, " Heh heh heh heh heh. Feed him to the fishes! What d' ye 
way to that , rat-face? Did de prisoners walk right past ye and ye were asleep or drunk on 
grog!?" He tapped his peg leg on the floor-stones in rage; he got up and pawed his cutlass 
hilt. "Answer me!" he screamed. The rat-guard whimpered in fear, tears spurting out from his
 eyes and body trembling. Oringen quivered with temper; his cutlass flashed in the morning 
light, leaving the rat-guard headless at his feet. "Feed this useless baggage to the teeth of 
the deep!" he coldly commanded. He stumped back and sat in his throne. The soldiers scampered 
to carry out his orders. The ears of Oringen the cruel heard all.

 

The sun was directly overhead when the searat cook popped his head out of the galley and 
announced food. Fallowthorn perked his ears up eagerly. His companion, Burdock the squirrel, 
who was chained to the same oar licked his lips hungrily as a delicious aroma wafted about the 
deck. The oar-slaves hopelessly sniffed and craved the food that was dished out to the searat 
crew. The weasel who was climbing down from the crow's nest yelled, "Ship ahoy, aft and 
larboard!" the captain of the ship, Captain Deadpaw, burst out of his forecastle cabin and 
strutted out to where the food was being served which was about amidships, raving, "Silence! 
Chuck aside the food and get that ship every rat-jack of ye! Stinkee! Get back up there where
 yew belong! Spineless, come 'ere an' watch the rudder! Lardbuck! Tack up the sails! T' rest 
of ye, make the oar-slaves row at double speed toward the ship!" Fallowthorn and Burdock 
looked at each other. No food? The whips tormented the oar-slaves into action. The sun seemed 
to move around slightly, but it might have been the waves rocking the ship. Fallowthorn and 
Burdock watched in horror the searats captured the searats captured the boat when they were 
broadsides. The tied-up captives were hauled up to the deck. The oar-slaves stared wide-eyed with terror; some younger beasts were trembling with fear as they silently and fearfully watched the captives being led past and tied up while two weak and old ones were marched to the plank. Fallowthorn closed his eyes and shuddered. One day it might be him or Burdock or both of them being prodded off the plank. He heard two splashes, one after the other. He opened his eyes and thought the searats were thoroughly enjoying themselves. They were having a merry time drinking grog and slurping up food. Stinkee the weasel yelled from the crow's nest, "Land ho!" The sun was partially hidden behind a dark, foreboding mountain, almost a silhouette. A mean castle was perched on the top of it. The silhouette of a banner flapped above the castle in front of the center of the sun. The brightness of the sun caused Fallowthorn to look away, and realize that the captured boat was tied to the ship like a cock-boat. A whip scourged his back and he turned his head to look down at the duck planking directly in front of him and kept rowing with the chains rattling and the manacles rubbing away. His snub-nose beaded with sweat in the stream of sunlight as they eased into the dark shadow of the gloomy mountain. It seemed like all was dark except the light shining around the mountain. It seemed like all went cold, and the dark water started to fog up into small cloudlets over itself and tumbled as the ship ploughed through.