Footfighter's Camp

[Cornflower MM]

"Sure; why not?" Bryony replied, now carefully putting one spoonful of filling into each tart shell. Then she glanced at her soup, and walked over to stir it. She sniffed the air above hte soup, inhaling the nice, burning scent. . . . Wait, burning?! It shouldn't smell like this. . . The otter thought, her brow starting to furrow. Quickly, she dipped in a spoon and sampled it straight from the cauldron. Oh! Hotter than normal! The female otter thought, her eyes widening. Good, but very hot. Too hot for everyone else! Oh, that Bernie! Bryony wailed in her thoughts, furious with herself. "Bernie, I rgought you told me that you didn't put ghost hotroot in my soup?" She asked sweetly, with a furious undertone as she passed the dirty spoon to the mouse.

[Thomas Barkshield]

               

***

"Uh, um, I'll tell you my story now." Bernard replied nervously. "It all started when I put Hotroot in your soup, oh dear, thats not the one, umm, Ahah I'll tell you about the battle over the river soup, I mean the river Mossflower. Ahem. It began when I met the two otters I had told you about earlier. They had been warned by another holt that a half a dozen vermin had been marauding the countryside looking for easy pickings, and although my new friends were not in the prime of their youth they felt it was their duty to stop them from causing harm to anybeast. I was indebted to them for their shelter, so I accompanied them to the one spot the vermin were sure to arrive: the ford across the Mossflower river."

Feeling much less nervous than he had a minute ago, Bernard continued with confidence in his voice. " The otters spent the day before the sortie preparing all sorts of dastardly traps, form pitfalls to falling logs. I helped with their defences and by the time we spotted he vermin their wasn't a pawslength of ground that didn't have some sort of contraption attached. Thats how we took out the first one, but the others would not be so foolish. They navigated through our traps as we berated them with sling and bolt. I took out two with my crossbow before I was forced to draw steel. My otter companions, though not young, were quite skilled with the quarterstaffs they wielded. I slew one, just as the vermin got a blow in on Bronwen. That was her name you know. After that battle she never walked again, though she was lucky enough to be alive. Me and Alfred quickly killed The two that were left and threw all of the in the river. I helped them back to their holt, and after they gave me some supplies I left them to continue wandering. " Bernard recited the final sentences in a somber tone. Then he made a final confession, " Yes, I did put ghost Hotroot in the soup, but its not that bad once you get used to it. I'm sure you'd agree, being an otter. Hotroot is your thing, isn't it?"

[Dannflower Reguba]

       Words failed Aurin, though he wouldn't have spoken anyway. His strike had been with great ferocity, intended only to distract. The connection between the blade and Serge's head was sure to cause a terrible headache... Even so, that would actually be the least of his worries. The squirrel had no doubt that the Hare's cranium was hard, but the hit had been sickeningly strong. He sighed, purloined a small cup of water from the kitchen, and doused it over the face of his opponent. He waved his paw in Serge's face a couple of times to help bring him back to earth, "I'd suggest cleaning up before supper, blood doesn't taste so good in a soup."

       After taking his own advice, short of blood, Aurin started hanging around the mess in anticipation of the meal to come. He could have thought up a dozen snide additions to what he spoke just moments before, but he contented himself with the calmer, measured statement he had chosen... But enough of that, he was now free to fully appreciate the wafts originating from the kitchen, "Real otter-made hotroot  soup, nice and sharp.... Too bad my ears are my strongest sense, the nose gives such enticing and enjoyable information." He had to rub his nose to relieve some of the burning feeling that kept coming back. No doubt about it, there was something mischievously different about this batch.

[The Mask]

"EH?! Wot's happning? Well looks like you beat me this time Aurin but next time I'll get ya!" Serge grinned. He stood up, looking for something to wipe himself with. Then he smelt it.

It was seafood:shrimp probably and was that a bit of...hotroot? No too strong. And something else... sweet;very sweet. If this is what dinner smells like, I can't wait to taste it. No really, I can't wait. Serge thought happily. He let his nose take him to the source of the aroma and he stuck his head into the cooking tent. Bernard and Bryony had their backs t him so he could probably steal some food.