The Otter with the Warpaint

Chapter 9

    The hills all around Sitka were red. The grass was bloodstained. The dirt was bloodstained. Even the water was bloodstained. She was perched upon a large rock. This was the Redlands. Their hell. A bright orange sun began to rise up. Otters crawled out of their dens. But, these weren’t normal otters. Some had faces that were still rotting and others had faces of just muscles. 
    She remembered the different types of Redland otters. The ones whose faces were rotting were the ones who were too bad but did something like steal or even had just told too many lies. The ones with faces of just muscle were the ones who had maybe killed one or two otters or even betrayed their tribe. If you had a skull face or if you were just headless, that meant that you were absolutely horrible and probably killed many people and had tried to take over the tribe. Even suicide resulted in a skull face. This was Sycamore. He had murder many beavers but some otters and was know for drown a chief but he had drowned with him. 
    She scanned the otters below her. There were none that were skull faced nor headless. An otter came from behind her. He had light gold fur and a pale skull face. His eyes were like dark pits in the center of his face. This was 
    “Sitka,” he proudly looked down at her, “your face will now be determined.” The Redland otters looked up at them. “You shall receive a skull face for your genocide and murders. It seems that you were even worse than I was.”
    Her face rotted away to muscle. Then to just bone. Sycamore bowed down to Sitka, “you, are the new ruler of the Redlands.” She looked down at the otters who cheered for her. She ruled this place now and she had been proud of it.