The War in the Willows
A little something for the future.
W.H.G. Geldof
The Witch Hunter General, scratched behind his ear with a black, pointed claw as he stared down at the remains of the courier. The squirrel’s lifeless body slumped in the iron maiden, eyes frozen in terror.
“Hmmph. Useless creature,” Geldof muttered, his voice like gravel. “Said he didn’t know where the Caliver went. Clearly, he wasn’t trying hard enough.”
Roberts, another black rat, leaned against the wall, twirling a dagger. “Accidents happen, boss. I mean, who doesn’t stumble into an iron maiden? Terrible thing.”
Geldof shot Roberts a cold glance. “Find out who took the Caliver. I want it back. Those villages are already crawling with… traitors. I won’t be made a fool of.”
Roberts nodded, sheathing the dagger. “On it, boss. I’ll sniff out whoever took it.”
Geldof sneered, looking out the window at the bustling town below. “Those village pests think they’re so clever, but I’ll show them. I’ll show them all.”
