The Scarlet Bandit

Chapter One

Third most wanted criminal in Mock Province: Shade the Whisper, real name: unknown.

Criminal charges: First-degree murder, attempted homicide, thieving, treason, kidnapping, identity theft, arson, and many misdemeanors and felonies.

Reward for information on whereabouts: 10,100,000 dubbets.

If you have any information, please consult your local law enforcement officer, and be on the lookout for fellow criminals by the names of: Newland the Mad and Weasel Martson.

    Henry Mallard yanked the aged paper off the wooden light post. Stupid. These posters came out months ago. People, in the beginning, were all over this, investigating everyone, scattering and tearing apart forests to find them. They occasionally went through everyone's homes, scanning and searching. Henry was never concerned about it.
    They stopped that as of recently. They no longer found interest in an impossible 10,000,000 dubbets. The annual wage for a good craftsman's job was 10,000 a year.
    As the search ended, trade thrived. People came to search throughout Mock Province, coming from other regions all over the world. Many were too tired from the long voyage to move back, so they just stayed. Merchants saw their opportunity and struck it rich.
    Brokers came out sitting on stacks of cash, while cities were burning down, towns were in turmoil. The government did nothing.
    Newland the Mad and Weasel Martson were said to have banded together, wreaking havoc. Their last known location was in the small town of Lightbreeze.
People didn't care about the dubbets, and they didn't care to find them.
    Meanwhile, Henry Mallard stayed in his quiet town of Ivlain, stayed out of the drama, and always kept on hunting. Always hunting. He would roll out of bed, get ready for the day, and head out to the woods, occasionally checking on his friend, Digs, trying to get a deal on game. He wouldn't come home until it was pitch black outside.
    That was the only way he would gain profit. He didn't have a wife to support, or kids, he just had his hunting dog, Davy. No matter what outsiders thought of Henry, Davy would always sit by his side, tail wagging.
    Not to mention, Henry needed Davy for hunting. Well, he didn't need him for hunting, he just made a good companion.
    It was just Henry and Davy, and like that it would stay.
    Henry had a few human friends, but the most memorable was Digs. Digs was awesome because Henry would bring him huge slabs of meat, skinned and all, and Digs would wrinkle his nose in disgust.
    Digs obviously hated his job trading meat, but just as everyone, you got a job, and that's what you stuck with.
    Digs didn't happen to strike it rich when people came rushing to Mock Province, but Digs was still happy. He was always positive, and he loved Davy. He sometimes had to pet sit, and he never minded.
    Digs has a rough accent though, as he is from the Smoldering Flats, which was nicknamed for, well, slowly and calmly burning. Only maniacs went there nowadays because it is physically impossible to live there.
    It wasn't always called the Smoldering Flats, though. It was known as the Plumeda Range. Digs said a huge bomber plane dropped gigantic nukes, right after the capital was put up in flames. That's how Shade the Whisper came about.
    Digs lived quite far away, towards the edge of what was Plumeda Range, bordering Mock Province. He claimed he made it out of there just in time. He was the sole survivor of his family. The radiation spread quickly, killing his wife and son.
    Henry made his way over to Digs' home, which he also made into his trading post. He used to have a booth down in the main square, but they started charging 15 dubbets an hour, which in his current financial position, he couldn't afford.
    Mallard pulled his huge suitcase out and slammed it on Digs' porch.
    "Hey, Digs! Can't sleep the day away. Get up you lazy sack of dung!" Henry yelled while pounding his fist on his door.
    Digs' heavy footsteps rang out throughout his old log cabin. He opens the door, standing in a pair of boots, slumber shorts, and a yellow-stained tank top.
    "Now listen boy. Just how many times I outta tell ya? No trade before I have my cup of coffee!" He said, his breath reeking of coffee.
    "I bet if I were to come in there, I would find a warm cup of coffee. Now, Digs, you can't tell me you haven't had anything."
    "Why, quite frankly, I haven't had anything whatsoever." He says with a guilty face.
    "Digs, I can smell the coffee in your breath. It reeks."
    Digs breathes and fans the air towards his nose.
    "No, it doesn't!" He instantly says.
    "The fact that you had to check sold ya down the river."
    "Well, you see, I need two cups of coffee and I've only had one."
    Henry sighed and rubbed his forehead.
    "You want the meat or not?" Henry says with a chuckle.
    "Let's see what ya brought me."
    Henry cracks open the case, and there lies a skinned deer, rabbit, and a grouse.
    "That's all?" The disappointment rings out in Digs' tone.
    "Well, you try hunting."
    "Lemme get ya your cash."
    Digs waddles inside and emerges back with 10 dubbets.
    "Only 10?" Henry says in dismay.
    "Mallard, take your money."
    "No, it's just...I skinned them too!"
    They both just wait, the birds chirping their morning song in the background.
    "You happen to have a bandage? Cut my finger skinning."
    "Mallard, you're not getting extra. Take what you get."
    "Dang it. For real though, I need a bandage. The wound reopened." Henry lifted his ring finger, blood dripping.
    "That's disgusting. You better disinfect it." Digs pretends to gag.
    Digs returns to his cabin to find a bandage or something to help Henry. Meanwhile, Henry checks out his porch. He notices something he never has. His heart sinks.
    It's Digs' son's boots.
    Or at least Henry assumed. They were small boots, and Digs didn't have any young companions. He might as well ask.
    "Here's your bandage, boy. Quit doing stupid stuff."
    "Skinning. Just be grateful you don't have to do it."
    "Well... never mind."
    Henry thought for a minute of a way to ask about the boots without opening a wound.
    "Digs, who's boots are those?"
    He didn't expect that question, and his face droops.
    "They're...nothing. They're mine from when I was little. Dunno why I have them. You can chuck 'em."
Inside Henry's head, he can tell Digs is lying.
"Alright. Thanks. Good luck, and make some money. I expect more next time." Henry plasters a smile on his face.
"Quit your complaining." He smiles in return.
Mallard walks home to find his dog sitting on his bed.
"Davy! Get down!" He shouts.
Being a good companion, Davy just stares his owner dead in the eye, silently protesting.
Henry walks over to his kitchen to get a little toy Davy found in the street.
"Davey I got your toy!"
Davey howls, and then the stomps begin. His nails screech against the wooden floor of Henry's cabin.

The afternoon sun beats down on Henry's back. A faint rustle echoes throughout the woods. A small animal, judging by the sound. And right he was. He walked home later that cold autumn night, three rabbits in one hand, his rifle in the other.