Weaver pouted, then glared at Alvin. “This is all your fault!” he yelled.

“My fault?” Alvin asked incredulously. He turned to the witch. “Must he come? What’s going to stop him from playing pranks on us or trapping us somewhere?”

“If he does that, I’ll hear of it,” the witch replied. “Weaver will be extremely helpful to ye once he puts his mind to it. Now shoo! I have housework to do.”

“Thank you for giving my voice back,” Ginger says, jumping into Alvin’s arms.

The witch smiled, and saw them to the door. Weaver whined the whole time as they mounted the horse; Ginger sat in Alvin’s lap, and Weaver sat behind Alvin. Alvin nudged the horse, and it walked forward.

“Lucifer’s abode is north of here, on the edge of Hampshire. Good luck,” the witch said as they rode off.

“Thank you!” Ginger called back.

They rode through the forest, not stopping until they finally left the last row of trees and returned to the field. Weaver cheered up immensely at the sight of the sun.

“Look at that! Fields, as far as the eye can see! Hee hee, I’m free, free!!”

“How exactly are you supposed to help us?” Alvin asked. “I didn’t really understand it.”

“The mistress just wanted me out of the house for her cleaning,” Weaver grumbled. “Says I do nothing but make messes. I suppose I’m going to help you if you’re in danger or something. But who cares?! This is a major improvement over that stuffy forest!!”

Ginger sighed. “So, we have to face Lucifer?”

Alvin shook his head. “No way. He’ll kill us. We need to think of some way to get the upperhand.”

“It looked like his power came from that crystal ball of his. Maybe if we can steal it…?” Ginger mused.

“Steal! Plunder! Rob! Pillage! Such are the acts of the bandits of Westwood!” Weaver exclaimed in Alvin’s ear, making the boy cringe.

They rode on for most of the day until they reached the small town of York. Weaver covered himself in a large cloak, to prevent people from noticing his form. They looked around a bit until they found an inn; Alvin paid for a night’s stay, and they settled in their room.

That night, Alvin awoke with a start to the sounds of shouts and screams. Getting his bearings, he tumbled out of bed; Ginger jumped onto his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Alvin asked.

“I don’t know,” Ginger whispered. “It sounds like some sort of attack.”

Weaver, who was sleeping on the floor, mumbled something in his sleep. Alvin kicked him awake. “Ow!”

“Get up. There’s a problem.”

Weaver got to his feet. “Problem? Where’s the problem?” There was a scream outside- the three of them rushed to the window.

In the street, there was a gang of thieves; several of them were on horseback. Some houses were on fire, the civilians running down the street away from the thieves. Some men were hauling sacks around- a few of the sacks looked full of loot. The thieves were shouting orders, the men were fighting them without much success… the rampage was quite nasty.

“What do we do?” Ginger asked.

“We have to get out of here,” Alvin said. “This is the last thing we need right now.”

“Then why are you standing there?” Weaver asked. “Let’s go before they decide to roast a cat! Hee hee hee!”

“Don’t make those jokes!” Ginger hissed, swiping at him with her claws extended.

“Ooh, sore spot,” Weaver grinned.

Alvin flung on his armor and ran downstairs, Ginger on his shoulder and Weaver close behind. They made their way out of the empty inn, and were running around to the stable when three of the thieves jumped in their path.

“Ooh, look at the suit this boy’s wearing!” one of them laughed. “Give that here, boy. Ye have no need for it anymore.”

Alvin drew his dagger. Ginger hissed. “Back off, else I be forced to cut ye throats,” Alvin threatened.

The thieves laughed. “A boy like ye? Taking on all three of us? Ye got spirit, that’s for sure! What are ye and the old man behind ye gonna do? Nick us?”

Puzzled by the ‘old man’ remark, Alvin glanced back, but there was only Weaver behind him, covered in the cloak and hood. There was a shout from Ginger, which caused him to face forward again, but it was too late- the thieves were already upon them. There was a quick scuffle as Alvin struggled; Ginger did her best to help, while Weaver stayed back, unwilling to help. After a few moments, Alvin was knocked down, and the armor and dagger were taken away; the thieves ran off, laughing. Alvin groaned, his body aching; Ginger rubbed her head against him.

“You okay?” she asked.

Alvin cringed. “No. Weaver!” he turned on the raccoon. “Why didn’t you do anything?”

Weaver looked quite affronted. “What are you talking about?! What was I supposed to do? Get myself killed?”

Alvin glared daggers at him, and got to his feet, groaning from the pain. “Didn’t Abraham tell us not to lose the dagger?” Ginger asked worriedly.

Alvin nodded. “Yeah… but it’s just a dagger…”

Ginger shook her head. “I know, but he specifically gave it to us, and took the one you had gotten from the armory. There must have been a reason for that…”

Alvin closed his eyes and moaned. “You have a point… great… so we have to get the stuff back…”

“Whoopee,” Weaver said sarcastically. “Why don’t we ask them for some money while we’re at it?”

“You’re the trickster here,” Alvin pointed out. “Why don’t you swipe it from them?”

Weaver hesitated. “All right, all right, fine… but they’re getting away! How am I supposed to get your stuff back if the thieves are nowhere in sight?”

Alvin cursed in frustration, and they ran to the horse, who was thankfully still in the stable. Alvin mounted the steed; Ginger sat in front, Weaver sat behind, as usual, and they galloped down the roads, looking for the three men who had attacked them.

[word count for the day: 1,019.]

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Feel free to explore."If the solar system was brought about by an accidental collision, then the appearance of organic life on this planet was also an accident and the whole evolution of man was also an accident. If so, then all our present thoughts are accidents... I see no reason for believing that one accident should be able to give me a correct account of all the other accidents."
- C.S. Lewis