A New Story for Miss Niamh

The Battle of The Rath (Part 1)

Late in the day a small and rather tattered TBear stumbled down a dusty path and followed it into the cool and lightly specked woods. He sat down and re-banged his arm.

He opened his canteen, but it was empty. He knew it was empty; it was the fourth time that day he had checked it, but the day had been so spectacularly strange he had not given up on the possibility that it would spontaneously fill itself. It had not; but it was cool in the woods and he smelt running water not so far away, so he struggled to his feet and picked up the Lochaber Axe and hung his small pack from it, and set off to find the source of the smell.

He hoped he would find some of his company there. They had all been nearly out of water when the first wave of Waziwill Pyrates rushed them, so they too would be looking for somewhere safe to rest and sew up their wounds and fill their canteens. Without water they would soon dry out and become floppy... what a fate for any self respecting TBear .. not him, nor his, he said to himself and started humming "The Black Bear" hoping that his piper was all right... The last he saw of him he had wrapped his pipes around his arm as a shield and was throwing rock-hard scones at the advancing Pyrates... bodies already littered the ground in front of him.

Regimental Sergeant-Major Theodore McGruph never gave up hope, he never had and never would, even in the midst of many a disaster he was the one they all looked to steady all ‘round him. Anyway his piper was one of the Black McOinqueles of Kinloch-Moitheria and they bred them tough in the Western Isles.

The footing was soft, years of pine trees had left a soft floor for the forest, more importantly to McGruph it was quiet. As the sound of water grew louder he grew more cautious. He parted the undergrowth and peered down the crest to the stream; a small stone dropped on his head.

He rolled to his left and pumped a shell into his shortened Model 97 Winchester. His nose must have let him down. He searched the trees above with no results, but his fur was all-a-tingle. He knew there was something there that shouldn’t be there, but where? A snort broke the silence and a rather generously sized Rhinosasauris repelled out of the tree above.

“Yer loosing yer touch Sergeant-Major. I watched as y’plodded the way up the hill. A steam engine would have made less of a fuss.”

He sat down and adjusted two safety pins holding his arm closed. “My brother should be here soon with his medical kit.. Put us all to right.
Come down to the stream most of the lads are here and we have called in for air-support. Lord there was loads of them; and the smell, good Lord the smell!”

RSM McGruph stood up and kicked the Rhino’s undamaged leg - hard.

“Now there’s no reason to be fussy.. McG, no reason at’ll.. Anyway it were not a big stone.”

McG kicked him again.. “You scared five pounds off me and you the one who needs to lose the weight. Haemish-Mor if you ever..”

“Well I will.. just can’t help myself y’know.. Anyway The Colonel is down there rounding everyone up and digging in. Says it worked for the Legions and we have grenade launcher so all will be well.. He says it as if he believes it, and well y’never know with him .. it might be true.. He is a sly one. Did I ever tell you about the time in Tangiers? Well let me say y’never..”

McGruph, who had heard the story more times than his granny ate honey smiled and picked up the axe (pack still attached) and wondered down the hill with his friend. A home at least for now. He started to whistle…