literature

The Scourge of Mossflower- 10

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Literature Text

6 Seasons Later:
Inside the looming castle of Kotir, it was quiet. Except for the royal dining room. Princess Tsarmina was having a fit. At the age of eighteen, she had dropped most of her childish habits. Except for two things. One, she still loved pink and jewels. Two, she still had fits. And right now…
“I wanted QUAIL EGGS! Do you hear me! QUAIL EGGS! But instead you give me GOOSE EGGS!” An unfortunate server quickly ran out to get what the wildcat wanted.
“Now dear,” said Lord Verdauga using as much patience he could muster, “calm down and act like a lady. Elegance is royalty.”
“Yeah. Not yelling at someone for bringing you something you ordered,” Gingivere muttered under his breath. Tsarmina glared at him and would have slapped him if he were close enough.
“Gingivere, don’t mutter like that. Tsarmina, CALM DOWN.” Fights like these tired Verdauga.


Outside of the dining room, someone was listening. “Is dah poor putty cat upset?” he mused to himself. He laughed and sang quietly to himself.

“The cats are mad,
And I am glad.
The servants are scared,
And I am prepared.
They’re looking for food,
And it’s sure to set off the pussycat’s mood.
But I’ve got it here,
I got it from there,
And Gonff is getting out of here.”

Gonff, now almost an expert at thievery, chuckled to himself and stuck around the corner, but only to bump into someone. “Uh oh,” he said, and tried to run, but the beast picked him up by the collar. Gonff put of his fists and tried to swing at his captor.
“Nice song you were just singing,” the beast said. “Now what was that about having some food?”
“I, uh, I’m the assistant cook. Yeah, kinda weird seeing a mouse, I know, but I’m actually a good cook,” the mousethief lied.
Gonff looked up and saw that a wildcat, that was maybe just a little older than him, was holding him. He didn’t look convinced. At all. “So, your name is Gonff is it?”
“W-what? Noooo,” Gonff said, waving a paw, “That’s just my play name. You know, to keep people off my back, m real name is…Ragian.” The mousethief gave the wildcat a grin.
“You’re a clever little mouse, but I am smarter than you think. For one thing, if Gonff was just another name, you would have told me it was, and not even mentioned your ‘real’ name. Also, the cook’s assistant is a weasel. And even if it weren’t, the cook wouldn’t pick up a woodlander. He hates them. So really, your caught in a mess of lies. By the way, my name’s Gingivere. Now what’s your real name? And why are you stealing from Kortir?”
Gonff gasped. “Gingivere? As in Gingivere Greeneyes?” The wildcat nodded. “Oh, boy! I’m in trouble!” The little mouse tried to squirm out of Gingivere’s grasp, but the wildcat was bigger and stronger than him.
“Relax! I’m not going to turn you in.” Gonff stopped struggling and looked up at Gingivere.
“Ok, fine. I’m Gonff, and I’m stealing from here because it’s what I do. It’s how I take out my revenge.”
Gingivere looked puzzled. “Revenge? For what?”
The mousethief sighed. “Because when I was a mousebabe, my parents were thrown in the dungeons and left to rot. So now I, the Prince of Mousethieves,” Gonff gave a wink at this, “Am taking out my revenge. And I’m actually pretty good at it.”
“Ah. I understand. Sorry for the things my dad did.”
“Ah, it ain’t yer fault. Now, if you please, could you let me go?”
Gingivere chuckled and let the mouse down. “I’ll call off the guards and you get on out.”
“Thanks, mate!” Gonff called as he went for the window.
Suddenly, he heard, “Thief! Thief! Guards! There’s a thief in here! He’s trying to escape!”
“That low down liar,” the mousethief muttered. He quickly hid in the shadows as a group of soldiers ran past him.
“Which way did he go?” said the weasel in charge. Gingivere pointed the opposite direction from Gonff and said, “That way.” The wildcat winked at the mouse thief. And with that, Gonff ran out of Kotir once and for all. For awhile anyways.


Gonff finished reading the last of the bit of the story. “So… they didn’t really die in the dungeons. Did they?”
Bella shook her great striped head. “No. I’m sorry we kept the truth from you.”
Gonff the Mousethief had been finally told the story of his parents. Columbine patted his arm and said, “I’m sorry Gonff.” Her husband just hugged her.
“Frum wut moi ole granda said, they’m wur good beasts,” said, Dinny, trying to give a word of comfort.
“Can you believe that Gingivere forsaw my battle with Tsarmina?” Martin said as he saw his friend’s crestfallen face and tried to comfort him. “Hey, mate, cheer up. We can track them down. It may have been seasons ago, but maybe we can see what happened to them.”
Gonff looked at his best friend straight in the eye and said, “I’m willing.”
Skipper, who had been listening in the door way, suddenly said, “I’m going too, mates. I want to see what happened to Tackin.”
“And I’m going too.” Columbine stared at Gonff, daring him to argue with her.
“You know we’re coming,” Martin and Dinny said in union.
Gonff looked at his friends. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to meet the parents he had longed to meet.
Part 10. The end. :D Hope you liked this story. If anyone wants to write a sequel or something of the like, feel free. I was going to, but I just don't have the time now.
© 2008 - 2024 MousieDoodles
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