Jamaa in Moonlight

House of memories
“Will you remember me the same way I remember you?”

The rabbit scampered between the houses, her purple cloak flying shortly behind her. The moonlight bounced off the glass shards that sat at the foot of one of the houses, probably the remains of a broken window.

The rabbit’s breath was pained and uneven as her feet bounced rhythmically againced the streets made of sand and pebbles. One slip, one misstep may leave her tumbling and causing the scratches on her side to worsen. She was determined to not let that happen.

Her right paw clutched againced the piece of cloth rapped around her abdomen, which was already tainted with blood. Her other paw held tightly onto a small box. Each step caused her more and more pain, but she kept telling herself to suck it up, clench her teeth, and continue moving.

As she continued to sprint past the houses, she cursed at herself for being so stupid. How could she, the best out of the best (or something close to that, who really cares) let herself be caught?

It was obvious that the mansion’s owners suspected something, so painfully obvious. They set up more guards than usual, locked up most of the jewellery, but the rabbit ignored all of that. Because why, why would she back out after planning this for ages? Some stupid guards and useless locks won’t stop her.

But five royal swordsmen, sitting inside the room which contained the rabbit’s box, certainly could.

She’d been so careful when walking in, nobody noticed, nobody batted an eye. It was all so perfect as she crept through the corridor, too perfect. Everything was going well, way too well. It should’ve been obvious.

No- it was obvious. Just not obvious enough for the rabbit.

Frustrated, she let herself forget about the street for a moment, resulting in her tripping over a slightly larger rock that managed to crawl out in front of her shoe. Clenching her teeth, she managed to not fall to the ground, instead steadied herself by using her paw to push off of the ground, before continuing to sprint down the ally.

The wounds continued to painfully stretch, blood now soaking the once white cloth. She bit her tongue to keep herself from making any unnecessary noise. That would just make this situation worse.

“Stop!” echoed a voice, bouncing off the windows and walls surrounding the rabbit, yet she didn’t listen. Nobody could tell her ‘stop’ and expect her to listen. That’s not how thieves work.

She quickly let go of the cloth at her waist, praying it wouldn’t fall of, before grabbing at the golden box with both paws. Three more steps- two, one-

-And she turned, slamming into the door of an old barn. The wood screeched as it dragged itself across the uneven floor, creating an opening large enough for the rabbit to slip through. She managed to keep herself from wincing as her wound dragged itself across the barn door.

Once inside, she let herself catch her breath, leaning over and clutching at the bloodied cloth. She clenched her teeth once again, before tightening her grip on the box and running into one of the many stalls and crawling through a small hole in the wall.

The hole led to a tight ally behind the barn, several trashcans lined up close to the walls. The rodent ran towards one of them, carefully jumping on it before wincing. Damn these wounds.

She held the box with one hand, hauling herself through an open window with the other. With the rest of her strength, she managed to pull herself through, falling onto the ground with a loud thump.

She groaned a little, as her head started to feel dizzy. She flinched as she felt someone pull the box out of her grip, before lifting her up.

“Damn it Peck, the hell happened to you?” the voice mumbled, obviously not expecting the rabbit to answer. She let the figure place her on something more comfortable- probably a bed.

“Graham, come take a look. I’ll go see if I can make use of anything Peck found. She looks like she’s lost a lot of blood” the voice continued. She suddenly felt her cloak being slipped off of her, the familiar jingle of bracelets and jewels happily bouncing around in her pockets hit her hears.

“Leave my golds alone, old man…” she muttered, not opening her eyes, focusing on getting into a position where her wounds wouldn’t hurt as much. She heard a snicker from the other figure, before the sound of a door opening filled the room.

“Damn it Peck, what did you do?” Graham’s worried voice filled the room. Peck managed to open her eyes just a bit, watching as the monkey picked up a bottle of some orange liquid, before pouring it on a clean piece of cloth. He then proceeded to dab it at the wound, making the rabbit hiss a little. She managed to catch the wolf’s gaze from the corner of her eye. He didn’t look worried-he never did. Peck didn’t know if it was because he trusted Graham enough to know Peck will be as good as new in a few days, or if he just didn’t care.

It didn’t last for long, seeing as he then returned to scavenging through Peck’s hood for anything worth of value (not value in coins or gems, but more important value such as maps, blackmail, or basically anything that could hold some kind of dirt againced the higher ranked).

“Greely, pass me the bandages” the monkey commanded the wolf, while he only grumbled in response, not getting up from his seat.

“Greely. Now” the monkey demanded, as the wolf stood up, a silver ring sitting in his paw. He stared at it for a moment, before turning to Peck.

“Is this ring from the castle?” the wolf asked, before turning his gaze back to the lump of silver he hung on one of his claws.

“How should I know?” Peck grumbled out, before hissing at the cloth that Graham continued to dab her wound with. Greely sighed, before opening a drawer and pulling out a bundle of bandages. He passed them over to Graham, who nodded in thanks before wrapping them around Peck’s waist.

“You’ll have to take a rest for a day or two, sweetie. You really hurt yourself bad. What happened?” the monkey asked as he finished tightening the bandages, making sure they don’t fall of.

“I’ve been an idiot for the last few days- “

“Only the last few days?” teased Greely, not looking up from whatever he was working on, yet there was a small smirk visible on his face. Peck proceeded to ignore the wolf.

“Shut up old man. Anyways, after I figured out where the treasure room was, I walked in. Problem was there were 5 royal swordsmen in there. I sneaked in, and it worked for some time, until one of them noticed me and I had to do whatever I could to grab the box. I got out, but they managed to hurt me pretty badly. I got the box though, that’s a plus” Peck announced, yawning. Her eyelids started to feel heavy. She was emotionally and physically exhausted by this experience, and all she wanted was to sleep for a while.

“Go to sleep rabbit. Good job on getting the box” Greely murmured, as he picked up a blanket from the floor (Peck didn’t have the strength to ask what it was doing there in the first place, and not on the bed) and threw it at her. The rabbit managed to catch it, before snuggling into it.

“Thanks…” she mumbled before passing out. Graham let his gaze linger on the harmed rabbit for a while longer, before turning to his friend.

“I hope whatever she went through to grab that box was worth it.” Graham looked over the wolf’s shoulder to look at the box, which Greely was struggling to open with his lock pick. The canine groaned in frustration, before thrusting the box along with the lock pick into the monkey’s hands.

“You’re better at tinkering with these trinkets than me” he growled out, before turning back to his desk, pulling out some sort of map along with a pencil.

Endless lines, arrows, marks and sentences along the lines of ‘ally’, ‘harmless’, ‘idiot royals’ decorated the kingdom’s map.

The monkey had known Greely and Peck for the longest of times. He’d been the one to swear to the heavens that he wouldn’t let the wolf or rabbit do anything stupid. He was the one who wouldn’t dare let Greely and Peck get into trouble. He’d treated the two as his own siblings, children who were his responsibility.

Greely didn’t need protecting anymore- or rather, ever since the monkey managed to teach him proper skills. The wolf wouldn’t leave Graham alone until he managed to perfect all of his moves, all of his kicks and punches.

And Graham admired that. Admired that the wolf was so motivated to do something, instead of turning into a pitiful animal that would simply be floating in misery rather than living what seemed to be their destined life.

He was proud of Greely, for staying strong after what happened in the past, for being capable of learning more from that experience. For wanting to learn more, for wanting to do something other than lay on the cold ground waiting for death.

So, sure, the wolf didn’t need Graham’s protection anymore, but there had to be someone to smack him up in the head once in a while to keep himself from acting completely and utterly stupid.

Graham took a seat next to Peck’s sleeping body, making himself comfortable before tinkering with the lock for a while.

“Your thoughts on the last guy who tried to assassinate ‘Sir’ Gilbert?” the wolf asked, saying the word ‘sir’ as if it was poison on his tongue. Graham didn’t look up from the box, thinking for a moment.

“Stupid. Plain stupid. Or at least mental, maybe their mother dropped them on the stairs when they were young. Nobody in the right mind would walk up to the palace in broad daylight, wearing nothing but an old cloth around their waist. ‘I shall call revenge upon Sir Gilbert, for he has refused to meet with my newly born son for a blessing, therefor breaking his promise’. Sure, the royals are idiots, but that man is beyond stupid. I don’t know what he was expecting other than one of the guards to kill him on the spot” Graham explained, as the box let out a quiet ‘click’ sound. Problem was, the box seemed to have three locks- Graham assumed he shouldn’t whine about it, since it would get him nowhere.

“True. But he had a son to care of. They slaughtered the man right there. His new born son… Something someone should never take away from a child is their parents” the monkey looked up. As much as Greely liked to think he was stoic and unemotional, the tone in his voice as well as his posture proved otherwise.

“…I do guess that’s true. Should’ve let the guy go, or not even acknowledge him. The mother is probably struggling on her own now” the monkey agreed, glancing at Greely for a moment. As expected, he lowered his head a bit, scribbling harder on his map. Graham sighed.

“That pencil will break by the time you finish whatever you’re writing” he muttered under his breath before going back to focusing on his lock pick. From the corner of his eye, he could see how the wolf stiffened, his pencil not scratching at the paper anymore.

“Well. Going on to more important matters. I’ll be going to get the food later today. If you’re able to open the box by then, we’ll be able to hit two birds with one stone. If the box won’t open by then, I’ll just have to pass the information to LaSalle some other day” the wolf explained, as he continued writing something on the map, the pressure on the pencil dropping slightly.

Graham let out a hum of acknowledgment as the second lock snapped open.

“I’ve been dying to get some good food soon. When is the next holiday?” the monkey asked, as Greely snickered, glancing at his friend.

“Zios’s day was last week. LaSalle can’t continue making us free food every few days. And to answer your question, Esell is in two weeks. You’ll hold up till then” the canine turned back to their work, now studying the carefully mapped out area, brows furrowed.

“Fine. You should get going to LaSalle’s restaurant, he’s not going to stay there all-night waiting for you” the monkey said as the last lock popped open, and the box’s lid slid off.

The wolf quickly pulled it from Graham’s grip, before spilling its contents on the desk before him. Several slips of paper mixed out with old coins and crumbled up sheets fell from inside the box. The monkey rose an eyebrow as Greely read through each paper carefully, his eyes not giving out a hint of emotion.

Graham sat next to Peck, sighing. He’ll let the wolf do what he needed to do.

The monkey turned towards the rabbit, carefully placing a hand on their forehead. Good. She didn’t have a high temperature.

The wound looked pretty deep, so that would take a long while to heal. They didn’t have any healing mages in disposition, so they’ll have to work on their own. Graham had supplies, had the brains and knowledge to help Peck, so he will.

Just like he’d help anyone else, unless it was someone from the royal palace.

They could go find themselves a healing mage, they wouldn’t need the monkey’s dirty hands on them.

Graham re-applied the bandages to the rabbit, as the sound of the door being slammed shut echoed through the room.

Greely leaned againced back of the restaurant, the sound of silverware and pots clinking againced each other erupted into the air.

The wolf took in a deep breath, the familiar scent of hot stew and spicy dishes filled his nose, as the air around him started dripping with cigarette smoke. The wolf pulled out the box from his pocket, one of his claws trailing againced the delicate golden design.

The maker of this box loved. The maker of this box loved the box itself, or the person receiving the box. It was made with care- the wooden plates arranged perfectly to create a cube, all the sides clearly cleaned and polished. The golden thread was carefully sewed into the material, creating patterns upon patterns of golden landscapes.

The box was created with love, given with love, then abandoned by the receiver-

-without love.

Greely’s mouth was dry, as his next breath turned out shaky and uneven.

His claw was now digging into the golden lines strapped to the box, his gaze scanning the wooden cube. Such a beautiful thing standing shut in someone’s room, useless. Its purpose would be defeated if it just stood around without doing anything. It’s meant to be admired, not to sit on a shelf collecting dust.

The wolf’s head snapped up as he heard the back doors squeak open, a familiar figure walking out from the restaurant.

“Well- if it ain’t you. How’ve you been, wolfie~?” a sing-song voice escaped the other, their eyes sparkling in the darkness. A familiar flame burst to life, lighting the cigarette stuck between the racoon’s teeth.

“Fine. I’ve found what you were asking for” Greely answered, taking his own death stick from the other’s paw. A sudden flash of emotion danced across the racoon’s face- they were clearly pleased. They grinned around their cigarette, before leaning next to Greely, eyebrows raised.

“Is that so? Lemme see~” the wolf huffed at the others command, but handed the box over nonetheless. The racoon just continued to stare at the wolf questioningly. Greely simply pointed at the cube, waiting until his friend would open it.

The racoon did so after a longer second, frowning at the mess made of papers and gems hidden inside the box. They carefully searched through them, until their eyes landed on a yellow-ish scrap. They thrusted the box back towards the wolf, using their now free hands to straighten out the letter.

They furrowed their brows, an unreadable expression forming in their face. Greely was about to ask what it said, before the racoon proceeded to rip it in half, before sticking it in his pocket.

“Thanks” they replied shortly, bringing their paw up to their cigarette, letting out a puff of smoke.

The wolf stood for a moment, before closing the box back up and hiding it in his coat.

“What was that about?” he finally asked, as the racoon’s small smile was lit up by the faint light coming from the streetlamps. The omnivore let out another puff of smoke, before responding;

“It’s Vic” the racoon said, their expression turning unreadable again.

Vic.

Victor.

The racoon’s old friend from the seas.

When Greely was just old enough to be able to walk outside the orphanage, Graham would usually find time to teach him martial arts where nobody could see, while Peck would be running around town pick-pocketing whoever she could find.

Sometimes Graham would have to go to his night-shift early, leaving the canine restless. During those times Greely would follow Peck, who’d always been too quick and agile to keep up with. The ‘lil pest managed to be better than him when it came to running and hiding. Not that he’d ever admit it, though.

The wolf would usually loose his friend halfway across town, left to find his own way back. He’d then usually sit in the orphanage, waiting for Peck to come back, or if he was lucky, Atlas (the orphanage’s only decent worker) would come by and chat with him.

During one of those times, Greely managed to stumble across the backdoor of a restaurant- and he couldn’t have been any hungrier that day. He slipped inside, a kitchen full of delicious dishes sitting on display, literally begging him to taste them.

The wolf was almost about to chomp into the first dish- some sort of fried fish with a godly smell- before someone’s paw wrapped itself around his neck, as the distant scent of smoke filled his nostrils.

That’s how he’d met the racoon- from then on, whenever Graham wasn’t busy training him and Peck wasn’t asking him for some absurd favour, he’d come over and listen to the raccoon’s stories.

He’d tell him how he’d sailed across the ten seas (nobody has yet managed to sail through all thirteen- people tended to give up after six, but LaSalle managed to sail across ten), how his pirate friends were yet to come with a visit. He’d speak to Greely about the beauty of the seas, how all his years on deck were ten times more amazing than everything that happened in this small town.

Whenever Greely would question why he left the sea for a small restaurant in a poor town, the racoon would only look at the wolf with proud eyes, saying; “I’m still a pirate- I’m following captain’s orders. He’d told me to destroy my fears and everything that has ever pained me. To kill it.”

“I’ve been starved before, Greely. I’ve been hurt and starved by others, and I never want to feel that again. The lack of food, the weakness I’ve felt. I couldn’t stand up- I could tell them ‘no, I won’t do what you tell me’- I could tell them that, because moving my jaw was too tiring.”

“I never want to see hunger in anyone’s eyes again. I’m here to feed everyone in this poor town- they all know me, I know them. They trust me- and that’s how it should stay. Until the captain’s orders change, I’ll be staying here”

Some of the more known figures that were mentioned in LaSalle’s stories were ‘Tornado Sigurd’ and ‘Hurricane Victor’. The both were part of the racoon’s crew- Tornado as the navigator while Hurricane was their underwater scout and mechanic.

Sigurd was a deer, clearly something quite troubling to be if you want to spend your life on deck, but Tornado was lucky to have been brought up and educated on a ship. His parents were still alive somewhere, they’d rarely meet nowadays but the deer always made sure to write to them during the new year.

Victor on the other hand was perfect for the job- an octopus who’d have been taught how to use spheres, daggers and multiple other blades underwater. He made for a great scout and mechanic (nobody really knew where he got the talent for fixing and mending items, but nobody really cared as long as he did his job).

Sigurd and Victor were, as their names had suggested, a Tornado and a Hurricane. One on land, the other in water. Both had some sort of eternal rivalry, were one tried to beat the other.

Being two of the strongest and smartest crewmates, they’d used to compete over everything- they’d spit in each other’s faces and curse out each other’s existence, but at the end of the day they’d always end up laughing over the day’s events- Sigurd would sit and watch the sunset on the boat’s head, while Victor would hang form one of the many rowboats attached the ship’s side. They’d banter until the morning sun rose.

They might have been rivals in everything, but they certainly hadn’t hated each other.

LaSalle seemed to have known both very well, since he’d read the letters they’d send him every month to the young wolf. Sigurd would usually write for them both (Victor hadn’t held a pen in his life) wishing LaSalle all the best, and kept mentioning that they’d come back someday to see their crewmates restaurant- which, of course, should be known world-wide by then.

The three parted ways after coming to Jamaa- LaSalle came to aid the town’s people by order of his captain, while Sigurd and Victor continued their journey with the crew to cross and conquer all thirteen seas.

Nowadays the letters were rare, with only a few words sprawled out about how tired everyone is, about the troubles they’ve been having and how the seas were even rougher, and it was harder to find some sort of island that would be willing to send a letter plenty of seas away.

Greely didn’t know what the box or scraps of paper had to do with anything, though.

“And what about him?”

The racoon inhaled, before letting out another puff of smoke in the wolf’s face. Greely just scrunched up his nose at the stench.

“That’s his box- it’s from the twelfth sea~” answered the racoon, as the wolf looked up with wide eyes. The twelfth sea- who would have thought. Nick named the Devil’s graveyard.

“They already got that far?”

“Yep” the racoon said, popping the ‘p’ while doing so. They sighed, before dropping their cigarette and crushing it with the heel of their shoe.

“Vic said something about Si finding a beautiful box. Apparently, they shipped it over to me, but the people in the post office deemed this ‘too important’ for a simple villager to hold on to. They’re quite amusing. Anyways, you know the rest of the story. For now, why don’t you come on in. I’ll give you some food for you and your crew, and you’ll have to be on your merry way- I apologize, we have a lot of people here today” the racoon said, sticking their paw into Greely’s pocket to pull out their box. The wolf nodded, before also crushing their cigarette and walking after LaSalle into the restaurant.

No matter how much the racoon pretended to not care, it was obvious he missed the sea and the people in it so much.

Gilbert hovered over his desk, his paws carefully sorting out the mountain of papers and checks he was given. Liza would have his head if head if he didn’t finish all of these today.

He was knee-deep in work, and it was amazing he even manage to find some time to fulfil Liza’s tasks. The panda wasn’t going to give up on the tiger’s schooling (even though Gilbert was as stubborn as a mule when it came to listening to the gibberish his professors speak). Files about deaths and deals, a number of threats and a similar number of pleas from the townspeople. He always looked through each and every paper, but all these ‘jammers’ that wrote to him, they were all just names scribbled out on paper. They were just work, and Gilbert didn’t want that.

Ever since he was a cub, he enjoyed playing with the townsfolk, even if the farmer’s children weren’t as happy about it as the tiger was. He wasn’t liked by his fellow nobles, because he liked to play with the townspeople. The townspeople didn’t like him, because he lived with the nobles.

Only when his name was scribbled in pen next to the ‘Prince’ tittle written in bold, was he liked. The townspeople he used to play with invited him over. They didn’t want to play with him, they didn’t want to enjoy his company; they wanted the proud smiles and grins their parents would give them in exchange for befriending someone from the royal family.

They probably grew into a bunch of manipulative pricks.

Anyways; not counting those children, there were plenty of jammers Gilbert wanted to get to know. They were so much more then ink on paper, they were actual animals with personalities and families. They were the people he was meant to lead one day, they were the animals he was mean to help.

Last time he checked, helping didn’t have anything to do with sitting in your study all day.

Gilbert wanted to walk the streets of his kingdom, he wanted to speak with the beautiful people he was meant to serve. He wanted so many things, he wanted to help these people however he could;

But as it seems, the rest didn’t have the same plans as he did.

That’s why, after finishing whatever was left on his desk, he was going to set off into town.

He’s only seen the fancy and expensive sides of his kingdom. The crystal castled filled with Portraits upon portraits of royals and honourable people. Each corridor would be decorated with riches one would only dream of having; the curtains threaded with golden lace, the red carpets rid of any stains, while a vase with a single white rose stood in the corner.

The gardens filled with peach, apple, lemon trees- evenly cut hedges, tiger flours and more beautiful plants.

The tiger lacked a certain carelessness in his surroundings. He lacked the imperfection. He wanted uneven floorboards that would creak every time someone walked over them. They’d speak, they’d sing out a warning. They’d mutter about their age, they’d whine about why they aren’t beautiful anymore.

Instead, his floorboards stood firm; polished. There’d be no welcoming squeak when he’d enter the room, no small creak he could acknowledge as his own. There was no ‘little thing’ in his life that he’d miss- he wouldn’t miss the silent floorboards, he wouldn’t miss the useless clothes in his wardrobe, he wouldn’t miss the bright light from the chandelier hanging above him.

Gilbert shook his head.

If he was starting to compare his floorboards to someone else’s floorboards, he was going a bit too overboard.

The feline grimaced, signing the last paper.

Finally, free.

He stood up and stretched, wondering what to wear for his little stroll to the market. That was a place he’d probably enjoy- the loud voices of the salesmen, the jingling of gems bouncing around in pockets while children ran around trying to find some sweets.

Gilbert grinned to himself, before slipping on a slick red goat, followed by a pair of black boots he got for his birthday.

The prince slipped out of his chamber, the dim light in the hallway highlighting his slight smile and polished look.

Good- no guards were around. That meant he didn’t have to make up any stupid excuses for his sudden want to go outside.

He carefully made his way to the bottom of the castle, making sure to check twice before going down a certain hallway or flight of stairs. The tiger was horrible at lying, so if he’d run into someone on the way down, he’d probably have a hard time explaining his reasons behind escaping outside the castle grounds.

Once he was finally squeezing himself through a door leading outside, he let out a satisfied hum. Air, sweat air~!

The scents around him changed immediately, from the clean, perfumed castle to the chilly, clear autumn air. Gilbert took a deep breath, before letting it out with a laugh.

He started making his way towards the main gates, when suddenly a voice called from behind him.

“Gilbert!”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Of course there’d be someone by the main gates- why wouldn’t there be!? It’s the place where everyone walked in and out of the castle! Common sense Gilbert, common sense.

The tiger flinched, before turning around-

“Ah, hello Liza” he smiled sheepishly, his paw fiddling absently with the sleeve of his coat. The healing mage only raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Going somewhere?” the bear asked, her lips quirking upwards. Gilbert mentally cried out in exasperation, before collecting himself.

“To the market.”

“Cosmo already made his daily rounds Gilbert- “

“I’m not going to buy anything, I swear Liza! I just wanted to walk around my own kingdom” the tiger cut in, as the panda just rose their eyebrows, an amused smile painted on their face.

“Without a guard? Without anyone else? All alone, somewhere where any jammer could kill you?” the panda answered, watching as the tiger’s tail flicked in irritation.

“I, unlike you, have some faith that all these people will respect me if I respect them. I don’t want to walk around as if I’m some untouchable bastard- besides, hardly anyone knows anything about me but my name” Gilbert fussed.

“Yes- but that red coat of yours is a large giveaway- so are your golden bracelets and clean fur. You aren’t like them, they aren’t like us, Gilbert. They are your people, but that doesn’t mean all of them like you. Some are jealous, some are envious of you. Not everyone will respect you if you respect them, Gilbert. I’m sorry” Liza announced, her face stern. The tiger nodded. He understood Liza, he truly did- but…

But he just needed to get out of this place, out of the symmetrical gardens, out of the clean hallways and stainless rooms- he needed out.

“Liza- please. Listen, if you’re worried about me, then come to the market with me. You’re the strongest mage- you’d be able to help me if something happens- and I’m pretty sure nothing will hurt anyone. It’s all going to be fine. Besides, you’ll have fun. Please?” Liza groaned at the pained face the prince was making. Fine, if he was so fixed on going to the market for whatever reason, the panda will take pity upon him.

“But…” a wicked grin spread on her face, as Gilbert braced himself for whatever the panda was about to say.

“Cosmo is coming with us~” Liza sang, as the tiger sighed. This wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be.