Yes, this was Gutgore alright. A master and a menace. A legend, who was famous for his feat of having been the only individual ever to have survived the wastelands of Tundror after having been banished for losing against a rival family in ritual combat; he also was a bear who was infamous for his tactics of plunder and pillage, whilst sailing on both the Solar and Polar Oceans. A fact which indeed, was something which caused Severus to remain alert as he now stood in the same dark shadows as Colin and Donovan. All three of them waiting to be addressed by the captain, as he slowly lumbered forth from the partial warmth of his nest. The bear as he stretched, opened his jaws wide to reveal two sets of yellowed dagger-like teeth. Each tooth, being about six-inches long, they were as frightening as they were impressive to the trio whilst listening to the bear let loose a powerful "Mrawwwumphh!" as he yawned. Colin and Severus, they just stood there and smirked a little, at how the polar bear then snapped his teeth together like the closing of a steel trap. They understood clearly, how it made Donovan jump, never having seen something like this before. But for them, they were used to the theatrical display of power. It was a principal characteristic of Gutgore, this subtle, unspoken, but clearly recognizable love for being able to control and to have power through intimidation. Both the wolf and the prairie dog knew, as they cast sideward glances to one another, that it was another reason, why many did not cross the polar bear. Even if they had opinions about him, they would not express them, out of fear for what could happen to them. For there were rumors which floated about, that Ghulius had indeed, used his teeth and claws to dispose of crewmembers which had proved insubordinate. A fact which if were not enough to put the fear into someone, then only was added onto, with the fact that Gutgore had his own personal set of extra eyes in ears, in Dylan Frostwood. An ermine, who as Captain Gutgore smacked his lips together drowsily, and who while he sat down with a thud in his nest, then came slinking down around his neck and shoulders, down across his chest, like a white, furry, serpent, and positioned herself with her back propped against his arm. A coy and intelligent smile appearing on her face, she clearly was aware of the power she wielded, as she looked out toward Severus, toward Donovan, and toward the last of these three, Colin. The prairie dog who then seemed to be the least intimidated by Gutgore; as he marched right up to the captain, brought his fist to rest squarely on a table which separated the two, and growled at him in a voice that clearly indicated tones of both frustration as well as those of a composed demeanor.
"Ghulius," all who were present heard the marmot grumble. "Ghulius...Ghulius...by the labyrinthine way, what in the bloody dells were you thinkin'," the marmot snapped suddenly, "takin' body and crew through the passage of the Courtyard of Calypso, in the middle of Kelp Dragon breedin' season?"
The polar bear smirked. "I wanted the fastest route," he muttered stabbing a sardine with one of his massive, dagger like claws. "The faster I complete my service contract, the faster I get paid with the goods I desire. That is my worry. Not, whether or not the crew and passengers are having a safe and comfortable trip. It is after all, why I hire you, to sail with me, isn't it? To ensure all my crew, passengers and cargo remain safe and blessed, no matter what route we take?" The polar bear growled, with a chuckle. He apparently in this moment, choosing to show just how much he savored holding this little detail over Colin's head. As Colin got even more irate with the Tundroran exile.
"You bloody Incarceran-spawned Ursan!" Colin cursed, reaching to throttle the bear, but then backing away as he nearly had his throat slashed by a glistening blade, as Dylan leapt off her master's lap, and skillfully leapt onto the table. A threatening snarl, being worn upon her face, she snarled at Colin and the others, "No Closer!" as she waved her dagger in their respective directions. "None shall touch my master!" she growled. "Now back off, you proud, unworthy blackguards! And know your place!"
"But..."
"Back...off!" the ermine snarled. She, as Colin tried to come up with a rebuttal, then insistently shoved her blade closer to his face, until he gave a shrug of defeat and backed away slowly with his hands raised so to indicate he had no weapons on him. The prairie dog while backing off then nodded to Donovan and Severus to do the same. His goal, he wanted Dylan and Ghulius to see that they weren't beyond reason. That no one here, intended any more trouble than was necessary. A sight which when recognized by Dylan, did indeed cause her to relax. She still seemed apprehensive, However, once Severus, Donovan and Colin all were six feet from her and Gutgore, she did relax to the point that she re-sheathed her dagger, and cautiously returned to a position of being comfortably seated upon Captain lap. Gutgore as the ermine seated herself, chuckled then at the way she had so easily and skillfully managed to make the marten, the wolf and the prairie dog, back away.
"I see..." the ursine growled as he petted Dylan gently on the head, "that the three of you now realize who you are dealing with. I am Gutgore. Master of this vessel, whether you see me walking its decks or not. This fine little thing," he muttered, nodding to Dylan who purred happily, as she was given affection, "is my greatest treasure. She is my eyes, My ears, my claws, my teeth. Why, she is even my blade, when my own is not fast enough to serve me. You cross me, you cross her. Is that understood, you little bilge Theevers?"
Severus and Donovan nodded. The first of these, the wolf, knew even better than the marten, not to cross the ermine who sat on the captain's lap. Dells. He'd seen firsthand what had happened the last time someone had irritated her. A crew member. An otter who they now called no-fingers Anton, had given her a wolf-whistle and had been known for giving her lascivious glances.
The reason they now called him no fingers, was she had purportedly parted him of his fingers on his right hand, after he'd gotten too touchy. No one knew what happened to them. Some said she kept them in the pouch that was strapped about her waist, as a way to ward off others from making the same mistake. Others said, she fed them to a pair of kelp piranhas which she kept as pets in her quarters. But it was unknown if that was any truer than the first story. All Severus knew, was that he could understand why Donovan certainly would appear just as intimidated by this deceptively harmless woman as he was. She certainly was a woman who commanded power and respect. A woman, Severus thought Colin then needed to be more careful around, as he watched in horror the way the prairie dog resumed speaking indignantly to Gutgore.
"So..." stated the marmot calmly, pacing through the shadows of the cabin as he spoke, "Still a Theever, am I? Heh." The prairie dog chuckled. "Truly Ghulius," he whispered, "Ah' feel insulted. Ah' thought after all this time, you'd actually come up with somethin' worse tah' call me. Guess Ah' was wrong. Ah' mean yeh' go on and on about how you are master of this vessel, and how you are so clever to have others to help you do your work. But the truth is, you aren't even smart enough to call me anything worse than a Theever, are you?"
"What did you say?"
"I said," the prairie dog instigated further, "Yer' stupid. Yer' a fat bear who sits around in his cabin all day, pretendin' to be someone important, when th' truth is yer' too dumb ta' even make decisions that will benefit both your passengers and yer' crew."
"Wha...!? You're daring to say I'm not fit to captain my own vessel? That there's someone else who runs it better in my stead!?"
Colin nodded. "He's over there," he stated giving a tilt of his head toward Severus. The captain's first mate who then growled spitefully back at the prairie dog, for he knew exactly what the mischievous cleric was up to.
"Please..." the wolf whispered, as he saw the bear shift his gaze between Colin and him, "don't take the bait. For all that is good in the name of Balan, Gaiamor and Calypso... for once in your life, Ghulius...don't...take the...ugh." The wolf growled, as he watched Gutgore stand from his nest. A sure sign it was no use to try and talk sense to the Ursan, as he already had been consumed with rage. He indeed, had let his tempers flare, and was now so consumed with hate and disdain for the marmot, that he'd forgotten one very important detail. That, as he charged toward the diminutive cleric; the cleric himself, actually knew every move which the polar bear was going to make, before it was even made. He knew when Gutgore was going to strike, and in response reacted approximately five seconds before the attacks were executed. He spun out of the way, as he predicted a strike from behind by Dylan, as Gutgore tried to distract him. And in the moment as Gutgore finally left himself open, the prairie dog managed to trip the Polar Bear and send him flying backwards onto his back. Severus in response to this just groaned and shook his head. As he'd actually foreseen that this would likely be the outcome, long before Colin did. Not, out of consequence to any unique skill or blessed ability, but simply due to the fact that he'd had plenty of experience with these little skirmishes between Gutgore and Colin. Eighteen times, counting this most recent one now, had the two gone head-to-head. Eighteen times, did Gutgore lose, because he couldn't realize that he was reacting to the situation incorrectly. That the correct reaction was not to lose his cool and come charging at the intensely powerful prairie dog without a plan, but to stay calm and to keep a level head. That was the issue. If Gutgore would just...stay...calm, he would realize, that Colin was baiting him on purpose. He was baiting him not to be mean or to humiliate him or even to treat him like he was a pawn in a game.
No. What Severus had realized long ago, was that this was more than that. It was, if one wanted to put it simply, Colin's way of trying to teach the big, brutish Ursan an important lesson on the true meaning of leadership. That truthfully, it wasn't strength or size which gained true respect from those around you. Sure, those were traits which were good for intimidating people into following orders and staying in line, but getting respect from others? What really worked best, were the traits of being both compassionate and empathetic toward others, as well as humble enough to ask for help if one needed it. Traits, which when the wolf thought about, he laughed as he tried to envision how they might look if applied to the personality of Captain Gutgore.
Ancient three, just the idea of seeing that...no. Severus had a painful time envisioning that. The wolf was just too aware, of what kind of person the polar bear was. He was arrogant, selfish, greedy...Dells, it's why he was privately grateful, the captain hadn't been on deck, during the Kelp Dragon attack. The fact alone that he never asked for help, and always put his ego first, it would've greatly increased the already high likelihood that everyone on board, and even the ship herself, all would've gone down to the murky depths.
Severus sighed. It was for reasons like these, he was glad Donovan had come into the cabin with them. The wolf, privately had wanted the marten to see this example of what could happen when one got too arrogant, egotistical, and confident. He'd wanted the marten to see Gutgore get laid flat on his back, so the weasel would learn well, the perils of becoming too arrogant, confident, or egotistical, himself. A lesson the chronicles tell us, young Donovan then learned well. He understood the facts of the situation. He let it all sink in, the consequences of what could happen if he became like Gutgore. And in the end, he decided to instead be a person modeled in the attitudes and behaviors of Colin. A person who acted out kindness, compassion, and humility. A person, who through the eyes of the marten, not only was the most powerful person in the room. He also was now the most respect-worthy individual. A reason why Donovan could not take his eyes off Colin as this sage again returned to the edge of Gutgore's desk. The prairie dog upon approach, cleared his throat, to re-obtain the polar bear's attention.
"Ahem," the prairie dog declared firmly as he returned to the edge of the desk that separated him and the polar bear who'd now returned to his nest with the aid of Dylan. The ermine who while tending to her master, then glanced up and in unison with the polar bear, gave a menacing growl, that the cleric seemed to just ignore and dismiss. Colin, who then apparently had more important details on his mind, announced without missing a beat, "Now let's be civil about things, shall we? Ah' mean, we've no need fer' harsh words or fightin' or things o' that nature if they aren't necessary. If you all are done, and if we' got that lil' skirmish out of the way, ah' believe we have a matter of payment tah' discuss."
"Payment?"
"Aye, payment." Colin pointed across the desk. "Ah' believe Ah' gave ye' somethin' very valuable o' mine fer' safekeepin' until we got to Port Columbine and Ravenmist Glen. Ye' said all ah' simply would have tah' do in return, would be to tend to those aboard ship. Which is somethin' ah' went above and beyond on, considerin' ye' never told me ye' planned to sail through a Kelp Dragon's nest. But...anyway...it doesn't matter now. All ah' need from you is mah stone. Ah' believe you stashed it in th' top right drawer, did ye' not?"
Gutgore's eyes glistened. "Oh, the stone!" he exclaimed, turning to exchange what seemed to be a rather concerning snicker with Dylan, as he pulled it out of his desk. "But of course," he stated, as he showed an old stone covered in ancient runic writing to Colin. "Yes, you mean this don't you?" the polar bear growled, Colin as he was inches away from taking it into his possession, instantly had the stone pulled from his grasp by polar bear who laughed cruelly as the cleric stumbled and barely kept from falling, by catching himself on the edge of the desk.
Colin growled as he clenched his fists and ground his teeth.
"Why ye' double-faced..." the marmot snarled, as he pulled himself back up. A fire of incensed anger, now burning in his eyes. "I gave ye' that stone as payment of good faith! You and I both know; the agreement was you'd hold onto it while I was aboard ship. We each had it in writing!" He exclaimed, holding up his half of the scrip they'd exchanged, with Gutgore's part of the deal on it. It says right here, you were supposed to hold on to the stone, only while I was aiding your crew and tending to those who are in steerage. An end tah' our bargain, ah' again will point out, which ah' have fulfilled. So, tell me. What is it, that stops you from upholdin' yer's?"
Gutgore chuckled. "What keeps me from upholding my end of the deal?" he snarled, a crafty smile appearing upon his large black lips, as he ran a hefty paw tenderly down the back of a white ermine who sat upon his lap. "Oh, well first of all, there's this. I mean, truly you'll find this unfortunate but..." Gutgore widened his grin. "...it seems you are the only one with any proof, that such a deal ever occurred. I have no evidence. No negotiation scrip which lists the deal agreed upon between the two of us, to help affirm what you are saying. Dylan," the polar bear asked. "Have you seen such evidence?"
The ermine shook her head. "None, master. He's probably just a lying Theever," she said with a smirk. Colin in response to this, then became quite irate, in spite of himself. "Heh," he stated chuckling tensely, trying to hold back his anger and spite. "No... Ah'll admit ah' may have been naive and stupid not to have seen this comin', particularly from you two. But a theever? This, I most certainly am not. Nay. That title belongs solely and most prestigiously to you two schemers. Th' way you so clearly threw away Gutgore's half of our agreement, so there would be no evidence he ever entered into one. The way you've backed me into a corner, making me look like a fool. Just to get, what Ah' assume, is petty vengeance for all the times I've done it to you Ghulius. Hehe. Okay. Let's get this over with, ye' fat arrogant bear. What is so important to ye' that ye' not only would do your dells-born hardest to make me look like a fool, but would also obsess so severely over a stupid little stone, as well?"
Gutgore chuckled. "Oh, nothing really," he growled, as a glint of greed appeared in his eye. "I mean, you're right. I didn't think it was of much value at first, and actually was going to return it to you, before my clever little Dylan here revealed to me some rather startling information about the runes that are inscribed on the surface of this little trinket. Turns out, you do yourself a discredit Colin, just calling it a stone. A stone? Hah! It's far more than that, from what she told me. Yes, she said this is more along the lines of a chronicle with a map encoded inside of it. The latter part, I especially enjoyed hearing. Because you know what maps can lead to, right? Treasure. Power. Glory. All things that I was stripped of in Tundror, and which for ages now, are the things I've been seeking to have returned to me. So, should I return this stone on the premise you say I should, and let that single solitary chance, slip through my fingers? No, I don't think so. I think instead, now that I know the true value of this object; I'll let you do one more deed to earn it back. My request...well, I'll let my dear Dylan, explain that one," he growled, nodding for his ermine consort to take over as she slid off his huge leg. A massive, arrogant smirk appearing on her face as she gracefully shifted from a seated to a standing position, it was clear she took pleasure in things like this. The act, of being able to put herself above others. Of, being able to show off her intelligence, and to show, she was not just a 'basic woman' as some of this world might try to label her. Rather, she was a weasel with ambition, brains, and the commitment to do whatever it took to manipulate the sociopolitical systems of Mintara, so that things always fell in her favor. A weasel who Donovan noted, you did not underestimate, as he could not help but hang onto every word spoken from the beautiful weasel's thin, fair, lips. Oh, how she spoke with such confidence. With such eloquence, and also such authority!
The marten smiled a little, enamored by the ermine, as she prattled on. "As my Captain has explained," Donovan and the others listened to her state in a proud, authoritative tone, "it really was not that difficult to translate what was written on the stone. A clear cut and dry blend of Balanic verse code, with Erminic as the cipher; I quickly deduced that the symbols and supposed nonsense they at first seemed to translate to, are at second glance a detailed account of Aloysius St. Abbot, his last days, and the orders which were given to six most trusted brothers on protecting his tomb, before they departed to continue building up and carrying out the mission, of the Brotherhood of the Balanic Way."
Colin chuckled. "Aye," he murmured, now beginning to sense what it was Gutgore wanted, as he gave the Polar Bear a well-humored glare. "And as ye' also probably know then, it's a story which every member of th' Order and every Mintaran devoted to Balan, knows well. "Aloysius had six brothers-in-Balan who traveled wit' him in th' time before our order was properly founded. Obsidias, Matthias, Averana, Alania th' Humble Spined, Cedric son of Cyril, and Pauline th' Orator. All, were his most trusted and most beloved companions. They came from all parts of Mintara. Obsidias, from th' birds. Matthias from th' cats. Averana from th' Otters, Alania th' lizards, Cedric th' prairie dogs and Pauline th' Foxes. And together, they traveled with him for fourteen years, until one day, it is said, he decided to stop near a tree whose location in the Griffonwoods has been lost to time. It is something scholars both inside and outside th' order have scoured for, for centuries. As th' last words we have from Aloysius St. Abbot on that day are, that it was th' same tree he slept under as a youth, when Balan first spoke to him and gave him the instructions to not only carve the Dreamer's Flute, but to also begin life as a messenger who not only speaks upon, but who also acts out th' message given to him. A messenger, who was essentially, tah' be Balan's example, fer' th' people of Mintara."
"Furthermore," Colin noted, "Ah'm sure you've already deciphered this from the stone, but after stopping here, he told his colleagues that his time would soon be spent on Mintara. He as the first visionary, knew when years of this moment, when his death would arrive. So, he'd purportedly made peace with it long ago. He wanted tah' be ready. And when th' time did come, he asked his six most trusted colleagues to intern him in a very specific way."
Dylan nodded. "I know," she murmured as she crossed her arms. "He insisted he be buried seven feet under the St. Abbot's Pine where his journey began, instead of the usual six feet. He also insisted they each pair up and create a set of traps, in case of tomb raiders. The specifics of what each trap entails, are not listed. There are just clues as to what one must focus on, in each trial. First, it talks about how 'all are blinded in life, let the light of Balan guide the way.' Then the second trial, talks about how, 'worthy are those who cannot see the way, but will put blind faith in Balan to guide them safely,' and then the third talks about, 'the one who faces many challenges, who walks along many paths, but still chooses his path well, is worthy of reward.'
Colin nodded solemnly. "Th' trials of th' six brothers." he declared. "Ah' know of these as well. They are somethin' no one has ever been able to prove or disprove th' existence of. Which is why I beg all of you, please do not go in search of them. People have gone mad trying to find the tomb and the trials leading up to them. They've lost families, sources of income, lives even. Ah' mean...no offense, but surely miss Dylan if ye' are smart enough to decrypt the writing written on that stone, then so too it is likely, that ye' are smart enough to piece together from what I've just said, that it isn't worth riskin' everythin' to go after the tomb and the trials. Not unless, Ah've missed mah' mark, and it is yer' life's goal is to end up mad, penniless, and dead."
The ermine shook her head. "No," she chuckled. "It isn't. However," she added, "You are right about one thing. I am perfectly aware of the pitfalls that have befallen seekers of the tomb in the past. I am aware that some have become so obsessed with finding it, they lost everything of value from family to wealth to their sanity, all because they could not give up the pursuit, for the famous lost tomb of Aloysius St. Abbot."
Colin looked to Dylan with confusion. "And yet knowing that..."
Dylan chuckled as she cut him off. "Knowing that do I personally still wish to seek the treasure? No. I do not intend to do it myself. And for that matter, neither does my master. As we both know, we need not risk our own lives when we can just as easily get someone else, to do it for us."
"Someone else..." Colin lowered his eyelids in revulsion toward the ermine and the polar bear, as things started to fall into place. "Oh, ye' deceitful spawn of the great serpent," he growled in disgust, "May Incarcera take ye' both, so that's what ye' are up to, eh? Ye' know the rumors of how people have ended up penniless, mad an' even dead, after pursuing the legend o' th' tomb. And while you want th' treasure, you are too cowardly to endure th' trials which come with it. A fact of th' matter, which is then the reason why ye' are holdin' that stone which is so precious tah' me an' my order, over mah' head as leverage. Because ye' know that if anyone will have connections that can aid you in obtainin' the treasure ye' seek, it is a cleric of the order that Aloysius St. Abbot founded. Is that, pretty much what you and this malodorous Ursan, were thinkin'?"
Dylan looked up from where she was filing her nails with the edge of her dagger. "Huh?" she replied. "Oh-Oh yes, pretty much. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up, darling. In a word, my master and I talked about it, and it seemed you were likely the best bet toward not only finding Aloysius St. Abbot's lost tomb; but also, toward obtaining the treasures beyond measure, which legend says were buried with him."
Colin snarled. "And if I agreed," he muttered, trying to keep the conversation as hypothetical and as much in his control as he still could, "How much time are we sayin' would be allotted, for me to seek and to find said tomb and said treasure?"
Dylan looked to Gutgore. "Three months I believe, is what we agreed would be proper?" she inquired with a smirk. The polar bear in response, nodded and bore a malicious grin, as he replied, "Yes. Yes. It was three months we decided, would be the allotted time allowed for you to find both the tomb and the treasure. That is how long we will be here in Port Columbine, before we have to move on to our next port of call. So, yes. If you want your precious stone back, then the only way to do so is to find the lost tomb of your order's founder and to bring us the treasures it contains, before three months are up. Understood?"
Colin gritted his teeth. "Ah' understand," he murmured as he reached forth and shook hands with the polar bear. "However," he added, "Know that what ye' ask is nigh on impossible. Even with mah' best contacts, no hunter has ever spent less than two years, trying to find the tomb. To try and do it in three months. Why that'd take..."
"...A miracle?" Dylan snorted in amusement and had a smirk on her face, as Colin turned back to face her. "C'mon," she teased him, "Don't be so hard on yourself. You talk like it's impossible, but yet from what I hear, I thought the impossible is what not only you clerics but particularly you visionaries, dealt with all the time?"
"Well Aye, but..."
"But what?"
Colin growled. He was at a loss for words, and thought perhaps the ermine was right for a moment. That he really couldn't handle this, and that she and Gutgore really had finally found a way to beat him, when suddenly he heard the voice of that young marten who he'd met on deck earlier, call out and declare, "Hey! Who do you think you two are?" to Dylan and Gutgore. The ermine and polar bear, who proved just as surprised to hear the bold declaration, as they turned and faced the blonde and mahogany weasel. His blue eyes sparking vibrantly with indignation towards the two, he did not hold back one bit, as he further declared, "How dare the two of you treat someone like that! You treat him like he's weak and foolish. Well, look at yourselves. A pair of serpents too cowardly to even seek that which you want, without having someone else do the work for you. You act all tough and powerful, but really you don't have any power, unless you're making someone feel intimidated or less worthy of themselves, than they really should. F-Fine. Be like that, if you must. But we'll show you. We'll find that tomb and that treasure. And we'll do it in three months! Just like you asked!"
Dylan fell silent, and raised a brow, intrigued suddenly by the marten's courageous outburst. "We, you say?" she murmured, rubbing her chin. "So...as in, you and Colin? Hmm. Intriguing. I'm surprised you would say something like that. You owe him nothing. He owes you nothing. And yet you speak up for him, a man you barely know, as if you were the oldest of friends. Hmm. Fascinating. I think, having you in our little game, could only prove to make it more interesting. What say you, master? The ermine declared as she turned for a moment back toward the fierce polar bear. "Do you agree with me, that we should let the little newcomer play, or do you think we should reject his offer, and keep this a three-player game as was originally intended?"
Gutgore responded with a smirk. "Let him play," he muttered, as he turned his attention over to Donovan. "Three players, four players, what's the difference? The goal is the same, and in the end, it might prove interesting to see if this lad has the heart and the skill needed to back up his words. Is he, a true survivor? A true fighter, explorer, and legend in the making; or is he just another adventurous wannabe, who doesn't even have what it takes to survive in the unforgiving wildernesses of this world?"
The polar bear widened his smirk. "I suppose we'll see once the game has truly begun," he muttered as he rubbed his chin while maintaining a focus stare with his dull, glazed eyes, upon the figure of Donovan. "Yes," the polar bear growled, as the marten started back at him with a confident and defiant glint in his eyes. "I declare, that from this point forward, all parties present excluding Severus, should consider this room their starting mark. From here, you have three months starting now, to retrieve the treasure. Otherwise, Dylan and I leave as promised with this 'Stone of Aloysius,' or whatever it's called. Understood?"
Colin and Donovan looked to each other and nodded in agreement. "We understand," they replied as they turned back to face the polar bear whose smug smirk had now transformed into a wide toothy grin. For he was glad as the prairie dog and the marten turned to depart, that things were finally set in motion for him to acquire a treasure beyond his wildest dreams. Treasure, he didn't even have to lift a finger to collect. As it would all be done for him by this bold but foolhardy marten, and this marmot who was his lifetime rival.
Gutgore chuckled, "Ah," he thought to himself, as he leaned back in his nest. It was certainly a beautiful thing he had have set in motion, by having those two serve as his pawns. For not only, he thought, would they do all the work and make it so all he had to was collect his illicit reward; but also, they were going to provide incredible entertainment for the polar bear who while letting his mind wander, then couldn't help but ponder if perhaps the prairie dog and marten actually were going to find a way to be the victors in this little game.
Gutgore smirked.
"Nah," he muttered shaking his head, amused by this thought for a moment, but scarcely believing it could be a possibility. "I mean," "he growled, "there's no way they could possibly get that treasure back here within three months. Right? Right?"