CHAPTER ONE: THE BIRTH OF A LEGEND
As the newborn otter was placed into his mother's arms along with his brothers, it was plain that he was different. The tiny cub was calmer, and as his two siblings wriggled and wailed, he sat silently and sucked his paw.
The proud new father hefted each babe one at a time, laughing in his deep bass voice. "Hohoho! Who woulda thought I'd ever have three sons t'me name, eh? Icespring, take a look at these husky liddle fellers!"
The female otter pulled a soft green blanket closer around her, sighing exhaustedly. "Yes...they're beautiful, Riverpike."
Riverpike lifted the first and biggest babe high, still laughing happily. "Beautiful, yes. And they'll grow into three tall, strong, and handsome beasts, fleet of paw and deadly in battle!"
Icespring nodded with a smile. "Let's hope that they'll never need to fight anybeast. Peaceful creatures live the happiest lives, you know."
Riverpike brought the infant close to his face. "Aye, but just let the first vermin come down the road. You'll make him sorry he ever crossed paths with a son of Riverpike, won't you? An' you'll need a warrior's name to remind you of this. Be known in this holt and in Mossflower forever as Warthorn!" He passed the young otter to his wife, who smiled approvingly.
Hefting the next, he laughed as the small cub bared his teeth and swatted at his wrists with tiny paws. "Yore a feisty one! Fierce an' fearless! I'll call you after one of the greatest otter warriors to ever swim in the River Moss: Bargud of the Ironpaw!
Finally the big male otter lifted the last babe. "Well, that's odd..."
Icespring looked worried and sat up slightly in her bed. "What is it, what's wrong?"
"Oh no, it's nothing...I've never seen an otter born with gray fur before, especially when the fur of his parents and brothers is brown. His eyes are strange, too; they are the lightest gray-blue imaginable." Riverpike stared at the ottercub, who looked back at his father, solemnly sucking a paw. His strangely pale eyes shifted suddenly to the belt strapped diagonally across Riverpike's chest. A small gray paw reached out and grasped the hilt of a knife sheathed in a slit in the leather band. Riverpike's furrowed brow relaxed and he grinned proudly. "Ah, you have the spirit of a fighter too. You may not grow as big or strong as your brothers, but you will be the most deadly once you grow up, that's for sure..." He drew the knife and held it before the infant, who tried to grip the handle in one paw while exploring the coolness of the metal blade in the other.
Icespring cradled her other two sons, who by now were slumbering peacefully. "Why don't we call that one Riverwyte? His fur is almost the same color as the rapids downstream."
Riverpike held the other cub high, beaming. "Yes, it suits him. Riverwyte you shall be!" The gray otterbabe stretched his tiny limbs and yawned, and his father returned him to Icespring. All three newborn otters were soon sleeping silently, save for an occasional growl or squeak as they dreamed.
As the newborn otter was placed into his mother's arms along with his brothers, it was plain that he was different. The tiny cub was calmer, and as his two siblings wriggled and wailed, he sat silently and sucked his paw.
The proud new father hefted each babe one at a time, laughing in his deep bass voice. "Hohoho! Who woulda thought I'd ever have three sons t'me name, eh? Icespring, take a look at these husky liddle fellers!"
The female otter pulled a soft green blanket closer around her, sighing exhaustedly. "Yes...they're beautiful, Riverpike."
Riverpike lifted the first and biggest babe high, still laughing happily. "Beautiful, yes. And they'll grow into three tall, strong, and handsome beasts, fleet of paw and deadly in battle!"
Icespring nodded with a smile. "Let's hope that they'll never need to fight anybeast. Peaceful creatures live the happiest lives, you know."
Riverpike brought the infant close to his face. "Aye, but just let the first vermin come down the road. You'll make him sorry he ever crossed paths with a son of Riverpike, won't you? An' you'll need a warrior's name to remind you of this. Be known in this holt and in Mossflower forever as Warthorn!" He passed the young otter to his wife, who smiled approvingly.
Hefting the next, he laughed as the small cub bared his teeth and swatted at his wrists with tiny paws. "Yore a feisty one! Fierce an' fearless! I'll call you after one of the greatest otter warriors to ever swim in the River Moss: Bargud of the Ironpaw!
Finally the big male otter lifted the last babe. "Well, that's odd..."
Icespring looked worried and sat up slightly in her bed. "What is it, what's wrong?"
"Oh no, it's nothing...I've never seen an otter born with gray fur before, especially when the fur of his parents and brothers is brown. His eyes are strange, too; they are the lightest gray-blue imaginable." Riverpike stared at the ottercub, who looked back at his father, solemnly sucking a paw. His strangely pale eyes shifted suddenly to the belt strapped diagonally across Riverpike's chest. A small gray paw reached out and grasped the hilt of a knife sheathed in a slit in the leather band. Riverpike's furrowed brow relaxed and he grinned proudly. "Ah, you have the spirit of a fighter too. You may not grow as big or strong as your brothers, but you will be the most deadly once you grow up, that's for sure..." He drew the knife and held it before the infant, who tried to grip the handle in one paw while exploring the coolness of the metal blade in the other.
Icespring cradled her other two sons, who by now were slumbering peacefully. "Why don't we call that one Riverwyte? His fur is almost the same color as the rapids downstream."
Riverpike held the other cub high, beaming. "Yes, it suits him. Riverwyte you shall be!" The gray otterbabe stretched his tiny limbs and yawned, and his father returned him to Icespring. All three newborn otters were soon sleeping silently, save for an occasional growl or squeak as they dreamed.