The Otter with the Warpaint

Chapter 2

    Many otters sat by a large blaze of fire. 
    “Sitka, it's your turn to share a story,” their chief announced. She got up and came to him and sat beside him on the rock he stood on. 
    “Well, this is a story I created today and it is all fiction,” her heart raced. Everyone's eyes on her made her nervous but she knew she could do it, ‘well, the story starts off with an otter called Timber. Timber was an average otter; light brown fur with a white underbelly, deep brown eyes, and a thick neck brace. He worked as a gatherer who collected berries and mushrooms in the forest. He knew only a small portion of otters liked berries and mushrooms but he still collected them for mostly himself. 
    “While gathering in the forest one day, he came upon a new type of mushroom that grew in a small mud cave. He dug a much larger hole so he could get into it. It was dark and wet. These kinds of mushrooms had a green or blue glow to them. He carefully picked the mushrooms and placed them into his basket. 
    “Something moved in the cave which made him turn. A sharp pain arose in his hand and he screamed. It was a rat. Timber dug his claws into the rat which hurt it more and pretty much killed it. He let go and let it runoff. He left as quickly as he could with his basket and went home. 
    “He did nothing about the bite but leave it alone and wash it in the river. One day, when he was picking blackberries, a thought flooded over his mind like a large shadow. Kill. foam began to leak from his jaws and then next thing he knew it, he couldn’t control himself. 
    “All through the night, the rabid otter killed each and every tribe member, even the pups in the den. He ripped fur from the flesh, let blood leak from wounds but something happened to him. When he was fighting one of the best warriors, he killed him but died in the process and his bones still lie in a clearing, far from here.” 
    The crowd was silent for a moment, scared for her sanity but soon the clear was filled with clapping. 
    “Thank you, Sitka, for sharing your story,” the chief was worried for her as well, “now, it's getting late, we will be hosting a bonfire a week from today.” 
    The otters got up and left to their huts. Sitka leapt down from the rock and quickly scurried home. Her mother and father were already asleep for they did not attend the bonfire. Sitka curled up on her bed and closed her eyes.
    That beaver. Ridge. What was his problem? Why did it cross her mind so much? Did she like him in a way she shouldn’t? 
    Just go to sleep Sitka her mind whispered. Sitka let her head, rest. 
    She got up early the next morning and grabbed the fishing net. She placed her head feather on her head. The otter hoped that Ridge would come back today. The fog was sprawled across the forest. She dragged the net behind her. Will he come today? Maybe he will? He seemed very friendly to me and he might come back. Please say he does. 
    Stika arrived at the stream. She cast the net into the water and lodged a part of it under a rock so it would stay. She sat and waited. 
    Maybe my next story could be about a forbidden love between an otter and a beaver and then he is killed so then the otter kills themself. That would be a fine story.  
    A voice called from in front of her. But nobody was there. It was just silence and mist. She looked around. Something jumped from the river. Stika jumped back, startled. 
    “I didn’t mean to scare you,” It was Ridge who spoke. 
    “You came back,” she sounded thrilled, “but... Why?” 
    “I-I really wanted to see you again, Sitka,” he smiled. 
    “Well, I'm happy to see you again too,” she replied. 
    “I’m surprised, you seemed really aggressive yesterday,” Ridge rubbed the back of his neck. 
    “I'm sorry, I was just warming up to you,” she apologized. 
    “That's fine.”
    There was a silence between the two.
    “Did you ever make it home safely?” Sitka asked to break the silence. 
    “Yes but my parents were worried about me,” Ridge responded. 
    “I'm glad you made it home because the other night, I can’t tell if it was a vision or dream, came to me. It was awful. Dead otters were strewn across the camp and rivers. Gizzards and blood were splattered on the ground. But I was still alive. I’m not sure what happened but I think a wolf pack came over and killed everyone but me but wolves would just kill for fun,” she explained her dream. 
    “T-that sounds like a vision,” Ridge’s voice quivered, “be aware, Sitka, something bad is lurking around and it will bring destruction to your life.”