"You're mad!" Magar's eyes widened in horror at the figure looming over him.
"Boots! Put him down, please!" Fiona pleaded desperately.
"Urgh, FINE." Boots relented, releasing the wretch's arm with a shove, "Know that I intend to travel this road with haste, wretch. Should I lay my eyes on you or your miserable companion on this road again," he gestured to the hyperventilating mess with a wave of his hand, "You will be smashed flat by this hammer." he held the paw print face of his hammer menacingly close to Magar's nose to illustrate his point, "You have been given fair warning, I suggest you get going."
Magar needed no encouragement and quickly got to his feet with a wince and assisted his companion.
The pair hurriedly hobbled and limped together, curse words on their bated breath, up the road and round the bend under Boots's menacing glare.
He had half a mind to start counting to ten, but he resisted the urge.
What he found more concerning was Fiona's reaction. She had collapsed to her knees and looked absolutely mortified, an inch away from tears.
"Fiona-"
"Oh Boots, you don't know what you've done… gods we're all doomed."
"I don't under-"
"That's RIGHT you DON'T! Why did you just go charging in? Boots as horrible as those men surely are, they work for the King! When he hears of this…" Fiona looked genuinely terrified.
Just how awful did this man have to be to invoke a reaction such as this? Boots considered.
"Who are they?"
"Snatchers Boots, men who abduct you and press you into service for the king." she said with a shudder, "I don't know why they're here; they normally only patrol the border to round up stragglers and immigrants without paperwork."
"Royally appointed slavers?" Boots said with a dark expression, "Unacceptable."
Boots was disgusted by this revelation, Gregory had mentioned a 'Slave King' briefly, back in the barn. But to think he wasn't even above rounding up his own subjects. What manner of a King did this fool think himself to be? The thought of it caused his blood to boil. There are some things in the world that cannot go unpunished.
"Gods, what if they come back and snatch the whole town away?" Fiona said, head in her paws.
"Well, ah. For what it's worth I'm rather glad you arrived when you did!" a cheerful voice sounded from the bundle of netting.
***
"Oh, I'm so sorry! Fiona said quickly moving to help the man, setting her basket down beside him, "I totally forgot you were here! My names Fiona." she declared apologetically as she tried to free him.
"Oswald," he responded with a curt nod, the last of the netting finally unravelling, "a pleasure to meet you miss." he politely touched the brim of his cap.
"That self-righteous softie over there is Boots," she said gesturing his way, "he's our resident anti-snatcher. We're on our way to town to see if he can be promoted to village idiot." she said with a sarcastic smile.
Boots snorted grumpily.
"I cannot thank you enough for what you've done for me today sir," Oswald said, bowing his head low, "without your swift intervention I would surely be on my way to some slave camp by now. I know the great risk you took for your town while saving me. I will not forget it."
"Think nothing of it," Boots said uncomfortably, catching Fiona's gaze, "gather your things, it is time for us to get going."
"Where?" Fiona questioned cautiously.
"To their camp of course," Boots said with a devilish grin, nodding at the trail the snatchers had left, "They will surely return there to seek aid."
Fiona felt the dread welling up inside her, but Boots cut her off before she could speak.
"Fiona, I know this is putting you under a great deal of stress. But I cannot and will not tolerate tyranny of this kind. If I die, so be it. I will embrace death gladly knowing that I did all I could in the face of adversity. I do not expect or demand you to stand by my side. But know this; these miserable snatchers are here, in your homeland, who do you think they have filled their cages with? Where do you think those people came from?"
Fiona's mouth opened and closed silently for a moment.
'What is this?' she thought to herself.
For the first time Boots didn't seem like a loveable oaf, village idiot or childish amnesiac. She got a really strange feeling from him. She felt compelled to follow him, she wanted to follow him.
Was this still the Boots she knew?
'More alarmingly, he's right.' she thought to herself, biting her thumb. The snatchers were here, for whatever reason. This likely meant that they had been gathering up travellers on the road. She probably knew some of the people they had stolen away. Could she really sit by when her friends were being taken against their will?
Of course not!
How could she ever look her parents in the eye again after that?
"Okay Boots, I'll come with you." she said, steeling her determination.
"Don't forget me!" Oswald chimed in, "It really is the least I can do! Also, I'm much better at fighting when I'm not asleep!" he said with a nervous chuckle.
"I appreciate it," Boots nodded to both of them, "gather anything of use, we leave in five minutes."
***
Roman sat uncomfortably in his cage. The sight of two hobbling figures entering the camp piqued his curiosity.
"They sure got a pasting" he smiled; nudging Simeon next to him.
"Heh," Simeon said looking up and wiping some blood from his nose with a sniff, "serves you right you filthy dogs!"
"Quiet!" said a guard from outside the cage, slamming his truncheon against the bars.
"Frog off!" Simeon spat through the bars defiantly. Making an uncivilised hand gesture.
Luckily, the guard was distracted by the ensuing commotion as the two injured snatchers made it into the camp.
"Commander!" one of the guards yelled rushing to assist Magar.
Chaos ensued, the guards hastily trying to assist the injured men, there was a lot of shouting but little direction. Guards were falling over one another, scrambling for the medical supplies, others were trying to get information out of Magar and Garv, with little success. There was an aura of panic across the small camp.
Roman chuckled despite the discomfort it afforded.
"Who do you think did that to them?" said Roman.
"I dunno," shrugged Simeon noncommittally, "but I'd sure as sky like to buy them a drink. Maybe see if they'd let me watch 'em do it next time!"
"Someone's fighting back," Roman said with a slither of pride, "Gods watch over them."
"Aye," Simeon smiled, "and may they be merciful enough to grant us a shot at retribution!"
"Hmm," Roman muttered, "we can only hope."
Feeling in slightly better about his circumstances, Roman surveyed the camp.
He was on one of five caged carts parked in a semi-circle in a small glade. Just off the road. His captors seemed to be of two different classes. There were the two snatchers, who had just returned injured and the small group of around six mercenaries, who main role seemed to be escorting on the carriages on the road and guarding the camp while the snatchers were away.
They were ill-disciplined and clearly lacked experience, a stark contrast to the men that took Roman prisoner.
Those were seasoned soldiers.
But they weren't here now.
After a moment of deliberation, he started getting to work on loosening his bonds, scratching the rope against a burr on the floor of his cage.
"What are you doing?" Simeon muttered under his breath.
"What does it look like?" Roman raised a sarcastic eyebrow, "we might be able to capitalise on this, I don't know who messed those two up, but they are the only experienced warriors amongst our captors. I get the feeling whoever gave them a kicking might be on their way here."
"But," Simeon frowned for a moment, "but they came back, so surely they won their fight in the end? As costly as it was for them."
"I wouldn't be so certain." Roman said with a wry smile, his gaze fixated on the panicked faces of his oppressors. "They sure are packing up in a hurry."
***
Oswald took a glance at the sky and determined that evening was slowly descending upon the land.
What a day this had been.
Oswald and Fiona marched along behind Boots, who was easily following the laboured tracks of the injured men in the dirt.
"Right, this will do." Boots said holding up a paw.
They had stopped at the crest of a small hill; from their vantage point they could see about four kilometres into the distance. The road cut through a small wood before climbing up a gentle slope into the horizon. It was as straight as an arrow.
The Town was still obscured, but small smoke trails gave away its presence beyond the horizon.
"Can you see them?" Oswald asked.
"No, that is how I know they have stopped." Boots said stroking his chin.
"How can you be sure?" said Fiona, raising an eyebrow.
"We have been on their tails for about an hour, no doubt moving faster than they can. We only gave them around a twenty-minute head start. We cannot see them on this road, but they could not have reached the horizon. They have not had time to break camp. Thus, their camp is here, on this section of road. Likely in that small wood" Boots said, pointing at the wood and looking quite pleased with himself in the process.
"Pretty sound logic." said Oswald, admittedly surprised at the amount of thought Boots had injected into his answer.
"When did you get so clever!" Fiona said, almost sounding offended.
Boots's smile was starting to look awfully smug.
"That aside, we have to decide what to do." Boots said matter-of-factly, his smugness gone," It seems to me our adversaries have three options."
Oswald and Fiona glanced briefly at each other, before returning their attention to Boots.
"Option one, retreat; if we have sufficiently bloodied their noses they may wish to break camp and leave in order to re-group or gather forces to bring down on us in the future. But this action has consequences. Firstly, it is embarrassing for them to have been beaten by a single man with a hammer and a woman with an egg basket."
Fiona coughed to conceal a giggle.
"Secondly, it will stain the reputation of not just the soldiers we beat but the soldiers who remain at the camp. I doubt they can retreat towards the town with their prisoners, so their only other option is to travel back towards us anyway. Which is the same as walking into an ambush with all of your prisoners. No commander worth his salt would take that risk."
Oswald nodded, so far Boots's logic appeared sound.
"So, unlikely to retreat they may attack. But this has its own problems, from their commander's perspective it would be a waste of time unless he has many soldiers to spare. In his eyes he has a well defended position already, his camp. Why should he give up that ground to come looking for us? Risk the lives of his soldiers in a potential ambush? He knows we plan to travel this road so all he has to do is wait and prepare for our arrival. So he can ambush us."
"I see, you speak like an experienced veteran, Mister Boots." said Oswald, "But where does that leave us? What is your plan?"
"We can't afford to give them any more advantages than they already possess," Boots said stroking his chin in thought, "we must wait until darkness falls, our enemy is not going anywhere soon. Blindly rushing in would be a mistake. We must attack them at their weakest in order to prevail."
"Besides," Boots continued, "it'll give us a chance to get to know each other." he smiled, patting Oswald on the back.