Sela's mate had left after she had told him she was pregnant, he wanted nothing to do with his child even though he claimed to want to be with her forever. Forever, her ass. If only she knew where he went, maybe she could beat some sense into his thick skull and perhaps it would be enough for him to come back and at least have some part in Chickenhound's life.
In Sela's dreams, she would be walking through the forests and catch glimpse of the fox who had charmed her enough into giving him her virginity, confront him and when he tried to explain himself she'd club him over the head so hard it left a dent in his skull.
But that was the past.
Today she had a child she loved with all her heart, no matter how much trouble he would get into.
"Mama!" Chickenhound would cry when he needed her or when he would talk to her. Sela smiled at the memories.
"Mama, can I 'ave dis candy chess'nut?"
"Mama, can I 'elp you?"
"I love you, Mama."
Tears burned in her eyes at the last one. He would always say it before they both turned in for the night and after she told him his bedtime story. He would always say it whenever he would trip and scrape his knee and come to her crying like a child would when they suffered such wounds, and she would make it better like mother's always do. She missed those days.
Chickhound was older now, much less clumsy, too old for bedtime stories, too old to cry over a scrape, much to proud to say 'I love you, Mom'. But Sela knew he still did, even if he didn't admit it.
But she was beginning to question it now. His temper was much shorter, he spent more time alone, this wasn't unusual for a teenaged male and Sela understood that, she was a teenager once herself and she too hit puberty and wanted to spend more time alone.
But then it hit like a slap to the face.
It was the first time he didn't call her 'Mom' was when she realized he didn't feel the same about her. Sela had to face the truth, her little Chickenhound wasn't little anymore. He was growing into a mature young fox and from watching her he knew how to mend the injured and heal the sick. Sela wondered if he was going to remain a healer for the rest of his life. She hoped that he would find a lovely young vixen and that the two would have little ones of their own.
It was when mother and son were tied to posts and used as targets for an army and their javelins that Sela felt like she had failed. She failed herself, she failed his father even though he had already failed them both by not remaining true to her, but what hurt the most through the pain of the javelins ripping and tearing their way into her body, she had failed her son and he was paying for it with his life. The last thing she heard before succumbing to death's cold embrace, and with it she had lost her legacy.
Or so she thought. Sela awoke in a warm, dark, and quiet place. She was ready to shout with joy, thinking she had somehow survived when she noticed that there was nothing there. No wind, no light from the stars or moon, no crickets fiddling their song. Nothing. Sela was ready to crumple in a heap and remain there, praying that if this was what life after death was like, that her son was in a place much better than this. That was when she saw the face of her son. Chickenhound lay in a mud puddle, groaning and moving. Sela was ready to address him, apologize for this last and stupid mistake. When she did speak, he didn't turn to her, he stood up and as soon as he was on his feet he took off, but it was like she was watching him from over his shoulder. Sela didn't question it, she only watch as he crawled off to the Abbey. He told them how he had survived and that he wanted revenge for what happened to his mother. Sela felt her heart flutter when he said this, then it crashed when it was obvious that he was lying. Nevertheless, she watched as her son later began picking through the extravagant plates and expensive looking centerpieces, then strike and kill the old mouse that had caught him. He was caught by a fat mouse, and Chickenhound began to flee into the woods from the badger...
...and tears fell freely when he screamed as the snake Asmodeus sunk his fangs into his face.
Sela had forgotten how long she had been sitting there watching him, but she felt a sense of pride as Chickenhound, now called Slagar, healed himself and grew. His face, however, was horridly damaged by the venom, which he covered the scars and loose skin with a mask. Chicken- No, she corrected herself, his name is Slagar now, Slagar soon had a ragtag group of about nineteen weasels, stoats, rats, and ferrets. He was their leader, and they were his cruel slavers. With this cruelty, Slagar had earned the title of 'Slagar the Cruel', a bit plain in Sela's opinion but if it worked for that despicable sonofabitch rat, it would work for her son. Slagar carried his title with pride, and when he told his slavers about their next target to steal away the children from the Abbey dwellers Sela felt it was more than just work he was doing. It was an act of revenge. She knew it was mostly for what happened to his once handsome face, but maybe he'd think about his 'Mama' while setting the plan into action.
Sela felt the sly twinkle return to her eyes as she watched him and she had no idea he was such an actor. But even if she couldn't see into his mind, she could tell that they were thinking the same thing: 'These Abbey dwellers are bigger fools than I thought!'
All the children sat shackled in the crumbling remains of St. Ninian's church, crying or cowering, wishing they knew what was going on. What would happen to them? Did their mother's and father's know about this? Slagar introduced himself and let them all know that he was in charge. He said defiance or any attempt to escape would be dealt with by showing them what metal bolas could do to a rotted old pew. It exploded into splinters when the bolas wrapped around it. Then the march to the abbey of Loamhedge began.
Weeks passed, the underground kingdom of Malkariss the polecat, located under Loamhedge, had fallen and Slagar had escaped, and so had the children on the Abbey dwellers as well as all of Malkariss's slaves. He saw them escape, but would he let them? No. Never. And this want, no, this was an obsession, for revenge is what led to Slagar's third, and final, meeting with death.
He had survived javelins and snake's venom, but his death was brought on by tripping into a well.
It was during Slagar's last breaths that Sela heard what she had been waiting for. Three words that meant so much to her.
"I'm comin', Mama..."
Slagar didn't want to open his eyes, even though he lay on something that felt so familiar. He wanted to flinch when he felt what seemed like a hand being run down the side of his face but didn't. He just lay there and let it continue. It was so soothing, something like a mother would do to comfort her... child? Slagar felt his lips curl into something he hadn't been able to do without pain since the incident with Asmodeus. He smiled, could it be her?
Slagar didn't need to ask.
Don't ask me were the inspiration came from when I thought this up. I have no idea where it did.
I felt like I needed to upload something more serious. Also there was a lack of Sela and Chickenhound/Slagar fics that I didn't approve of. So here, enjoy!
Reviews and critiques are nice.