The tiny little spider danced back and forth, weaving a strangely beautiful tapestry as it went. Whiskers watched on in fascination, having never really paid much mind to the actions of lower arachnids. Up the web it climbed, before doubling back down, leaving new strands along the way. The delicate strings danced with each gust of wind, and though the spider stopped dead in its tracks each time the web bowed and wiggled, it would resume its task afterwards.

After a few revolutions to strengthen the inner segments, the task was done. The web was completed, and the spider rested at its centre.

With one quick swipe, Whiskers brushed the web aside, and the spider ran frantically to safety. He giggled to himself quietly, before shaking his paw back and forth, trying to free himself from the sticky substance.

‘This is no time for levity, captain,’ Latimer snarled from the next cell. He firmly grabbed the bars that separated them before looking up through the window, which at the very least provided an excellent view of the moon and the sea below.

‘Poppycock, first mate,’ Whiskers muttered, now wiping his paw upon his coat. ‘A brief stint in jail is nothing to worry about. Though I must say, I do miss the comfortable bed.’

He looked down mournfully.

‘And… my wondrous badger trousers! How dare they commandeer them. The indignation!’

‘So I suppose you have a plan for escape?’ Latimer asked, intrigued.

‘Not as of yet, no,’ Whiskers replied quietly. ‘But one will come to me, no doubt.’

He thought to himself for a few seconds.

‘Actually, perhaps if I were to pretend I was sick, I could summon the guard over.’

He stood up, bobbing with excitement.

‘Then, we’d have a brief tussle, and, kapow! I’d outmuscle and outwit the brute, nab his keys, and tallyho! We’ll be on our way!’

‘A rousing plan!’ a voice from nearby commended.

‘Thank you, my good man!’ Whiskers beamed.

‘Alas, I heard it in its entirety, and as such, will not be falling for it.’

Whiskers now realised that he was speaking to the guard, who was sitting in front of their cells.

‘Blast,’ Whiskers snorted. ‘Foiled by impressive projection.’

Latimer collapsed in a heap, shaking his head miserably.

‘Perhaps we’ll be here for a great deal longer than we’d hoped,’ he said with a sigh.

‘I sincerely doubt it,’ Whiskers scoffed. ‘Flinders will come to her senses soon enough. After all, they can’t hold us prisoners based on some silly prophecy for too long.’

He ambled over towards the front of his cell, gesturing at the guard.

‘You there! Nosy fellow. When will our lawyer arrive?’

The guard looked at Whiskers for a few seconds sternly.

‘There’s only one lawyer in town, lad.’

‘And?’

‘He’s already present,’ the guard chuckled, gesturing towards a pile of bones in the corner of the cell.

‘Ah. Right,’ Whiskers said, wincing.

‘Feel free to consult,’ the guard said spitefully, leaning back in his chair and shutting his eyes.

‘Very glib, yes, yes,’ Whiskers said in annoyance, folding his arms. ‘Not the worst legal aid I’ve enlisted, but still.’

‘Let’s face it, captain,’ Latimer said sadly. ‘We’d best practice a great deal of patience. It’s not like our ticket to Lefour is going to suddenly surface from the shadows.’

‘Did you say… Lefour?’

They turned to look towards an unnoticed cell across from them, and finally realised the presence of the scrawny grey rat who was eying them warily. Surely he hadn’t been there the whole time?

‘I… I know Lefour! I know it well. I daresay better than any rat you’d find on the planet, my friends,’ the rat said. He was speaking at a rapid pace, and stumbling over his words. The tattered rags he was adorned in shook about with every sentence.

Whiskers’ face contorted into a frown.

‘Right, that’s all well and good. But I’m afraid this was a private conversation, sir, between Latimer, myself, and apparently that guard over there-’

‘Enough of that,’ Latimer said sharply, before turning back towards the rat. ‘What do you know of Lefour?’

‘That’s my home! It is! I swear it upon my tail,’ the rat said, moving across the cell to get closer to Latimer. ‘I could lead you there in a flash, you know.’

‘You say you could point the way?’ Latimer asked. The rat nodded, pleased.

‘Oh, excellent,’ Whiskers blurted. ‘Let me just stroll on over to our ship, and set sail now. But oh, what’s this? It appears as though we’re in prison, and your directions are quite useless!’

He turned his back in annoyance.

‘Rats. Out of all of the companions I could acquire, it had to be a rat.’

‘He has a fair point,’ Latimer admitted. ‘Without a way out, we’re just daydreaming here.’

‘But… you’re the champion, aren’t you?’ the rat asked. ‘The one who brought the fruit? The apple that landed Horace in jail, yes?’

‘Horace?’ Latimer asked in bewilderment.

‘Yes, Horace the innkeeper,’ the rat replied. ‘He was in the cell over to the right there. Kept saying that some flashy hotshot turned up and got him into this mess. But he said that it was all pointless anyway, the town was doomed…’

He trailed off, and stared at the floor.

‘Ahh, the tiptoeing goat,’ Whiskers said. ‘Yes, we know him. But what does he have to do with us getting out of this dingy place?’

‘He told me that the sky was going to do strange things this week. Lights flashing, leading the way to freedom… Flinders would let you boys loose the moment it happened.’

The rat was holding the bars very, very tightly.

‘But you’ve gotta take me with you, you know? I can’t be in here. Nope, gotta come with you if this is gonna work.’

‘Where, pray tell, is Horace now, rat?’ Whiskers queried as he leant against the wall, disinterested.

‘Umm, not sure,’ the rat mumbled. ‘And it’s Squeaker, for your information.’

Whiskers stifled a laugh.

‘The name’s Latimer,’ Latimer replied. ‘And this “charming fellow” is Captain Whiskers.’

‘The finest feline to grace the blackened oceans!’ Whiskers shouted, as if on cue. ‘A man of grace, a man of passion, a man of sincerest morals.’

‘With those morals, you couldn’t leave me here,’ Squeaker declared. ‘You simply couldn’t!’

‘Ahh well, I suppose we could at least get you and Horace out of these rather dire living quarters,’ Whiskers said, feeling rather benevolent. ‘When do you think he’ll be back?’

‘That’s just the thing, actually,’ Squeaker said, looking over at the cell where the goat had been. ‘I never even saw him leave! It’s bizarre, isn’t it?’

‘Not that bizarre,’ Whiskers replied. ‘I’ve seen that old coot move from place to place undetected before, he’s probably halfway to Lefour himself by now. Good on him.’

Squeaker pointed in the direction of the window.

‘You’d better keep an eye on that window, okay? Something’s gonna happen out there… at some point or another… and it’ll get all of us out of here, and on our way home!’

Sighing, Latimer sat on the floor and closed his eyes. It seemed as though there was nothing left to do except wait. Whiskers began to pace back and forth. It looked quite silly, because the cramped cell allowed very little walking room. Squeaker was fiddling with his tail, muttering something to himself under his breath.

Whiskers looked out the window. Nothing yet. He continued pacing. It was actually quite dizzying, and one could argue that he was basically spinning on the spot. Waiting was exhausting! He hated it with a passion.

So he looked out the window again. Still nothing.

‘Guard,’ he shouted suddenly. ‘Waiting has gotten me thirsty. Might I trouble you for some water?’

The guard rose from his seat, grabbing a mug from nearby. He flung it at Whiskers, who just barely caught it. He took one look inside, and groaned. It was a mug of green.

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‘That swindling goat! He charged me a meew for this slush.’

He peered once more out the window. There was a bat flying by. Was that the signal he was waiting for? A bat signal? …No, that sounded ridiculous. He resumed pacing.

*

When morning came, Captain Whiskers awoke from his slumber, stretching lazily. For some odd reason, it was actually the best night’s sleep he had ever had, but he dared not admit that to Latimer. He looked at the neighbouring cell. His first mate was staring out the window, seemingly in a trance. Over in the third cell, Squeaker was still sleeping.

The door to the prison opened, and Whiskers’ head shot over in excitement. This was the sign, right? The ‘flashing light’ was the light from the morning sun! A most novel little coincidence.

Mr. Billups entered the prison, and nodded at the guard. He had the faintest of smiles on his face at first, but it turned into a scowl the moment his eyes landed on Whiskers.

‘So this is what it’s come to, eh?’ Billups said bitterly, ambling over towards the cell. His great big webbed feet made a slapping sound as they hit the floor.

‘I know, can you believe it, Mr. Billups?’ Whiskers replied. ‘The champion of fancy clouds has been falsely imprisoned, but at last, you’re here to free us.’

Billups scoffed in bemusement.

‘Quite the contrary, you ruffian! I’m merely here to report the news of the day. No doubt you’d be interested to hear.’

‘I suppose it’s not happy news, is it?’ Whiskers said in dismay. ‘Anything about the top ten best ways to pick locks?’

Billups produced a large scroll, and spoke loudly. ‘“Town aghast! The people of Terocca are recoiling from the notion that the prophecy has taken a strange turn. Mayor Flinders begs for their patience and understanding.” Shall I continue?’

‘Jump to the next story,’ Latimer said, his gaze still fixated at the window. ‘Is there anything about what comes next?’

‘Right, let me see, then,’ Billups said, pulling out a pair of spectacles and putting them on. They slid down his face, which was unsurprising, as he had no nose to speak of.

‘Ahh! Here it is. “The grand plan. If no sign of heroism is apparent within the next two days, Captain Whiskers and his crew have been sentenced to banishment.”’

‘Banishment?’ Whiskers said excitedly. ‘That would be wonderful! Can we just skip the two day wait and banish ourselves away right at this moment?’

‘I’m not finished,’ Billups said sharply. ‘“The faux champion will be banished in the town’s traditional manner, by being launched from a cannon.”’

‘A cannon?!’ Latimer gasped, finally turning to face the frog. ‘What sort of brutal form of punishment is that?’

‘Consider yourselves lucky, you brute,’ Billups shot back. ‘You’d be relieved to know that you have quite sporting odds: 20% of those sentenced to banishment by cannon survive!’

‘And those 20%,’ Latimer replied flatly. ‘They wouldn’t happen to all be birds, would they?’

Billups thought for a moment, tapping his chin.

‘Well, now that you mention it… Yes, I believe they all were! What a strange coincidence. In any event, I bid you adieu, gentlemen. I hope that your stay here is a most unpleasant one!’

‘It’s not that bad,’ Whiskers said hopefully. ‘I made a lovely little spider friend!’

Billups looked at the lower spider for a moment. Then, with lightning speed, his tongue shot out and slurped the poor little fellow up. He straightened his glasses, smirked, and left.

‘LARRY,’ Whiskers shouted in horror. ‘Noooo!’

*

As the sun went down, Whiskers, Latimer and Squeaker all had their eyes glued on the window, as though it was some kind of celebrity. They each spoke very little on that night, content with the belief that, whatever it was they were waiting for, it would arrive soon and free them from this mess.

Although, as one might anticipate, Whiskers was the least adept at sitting there in silence. He contemplated striking a conversation with the guard, but was unable to rouse him from his slumber. Instead, he settled for Squeaker.

‘So how did you end up in this dreary dwelling?’ he asked.

‘Err, minor misunderstanding,’ Squeaker replied nervously. ‘I’d rather not get into it at the moment. Let’s just say… Ahh, how to put this… The townspeople weren’t fond of my actions.’

‘Your actions?’ Whiskers muttered. ‘That’s far too vague. What kind of actions were they? Did you cheat in a three-legged race? Spit at an elderly person? Force children to scale walls in search of baked goods?’

‘No, of course not,’ Squeaker protested. ‘Who would do such dreadful things?’

Whiskers bit his tongue. He dared not mention any other antics he himself had tried in the past. He opted for another course of discussion.

‘How then did you happen upon Terocca? Is Lefour a fair ways off?’

‘No, actually, it’s surprisingly close. Surprising, in the sense, because I had never even heard of this town before. I had decided to travel in search of friendlier faces. Those city folks, you know? Got all of their issues—more issues than a newsstand, I’d say—no time for me, no sir, but I sure do miss ‘em now. They wouldn’t throw me in prison for such a minor transgression. Oh! And they always had the finest cheeses on sale.’

‘Right, right, I get it,’ Whiskers interrupted. ‘We all know about Lefour and their cheese.’

He turned back to face the window.

‘Hopefully it won’t be too long until we’re stuffing that in our mouths, and this dreadful little town is nothing more than a bad memory.’

And so the trio looked on, eager for the enigmatic display of light to appear. But to their dismay, it seemed to have stage fright.

*

As sombre as the mood was in prison, it was about the same around the town. The residents, who had once seemed upbeat and friendly, were in the foulest of moods. When the sun rose on the second day, many of them didn’t even bother to get out of bed.

Those who did, perhaps wish that they hadn’t, as the simplest peccadilloes appeared to be leading to altercations.

‘Hey,’ a cranky bear shouted at a passing beaver. ‘You stepped on my shadow!’

‘Excuse me?’ said the beaver angrily. ‘Surely you’re not serious?’

‘I’m deadly serious,’ the bear replied, pounding his chest. ‘You’re implying you’re better than me, aren’t you? Don’t step on my shadow!!’

‘Well, perhaps if you weren’t so ludicrously large, your shadow wouldn’t take up so much room, eh?’ the beaver shot back. A skirmish ensued. Predictably, the beaver did not come out on the better end.

The squeaky-voiced hamster and the badger with the marvellous trousers (newly washed and pressed) did their best to avoid confrontation as they passed through. They made their way smartly to the town hall, where they had been summoned for an audience with the mayor.

The badger opened the door, and entered quietly. Mayor Flinders and Mr. Billups were already waiting. The hamster took a deep breath, and then followed inside.

‘So nice of you to join us, Mr. Johns,’ Flinders said to the badger with a nod, before swaying her neck to face the hamster. ‘And, may I say, Mr. Melky, you’re looking particularly fluffy this morning.’

‘Why, thank you,’ Mr. Melky said, placing his paws upon his cheeks. ‘I’ve been experimenting with a new mud treatment that is supposedly-’

‘Please sit,’ Flinders intervened. Billups, who had been rather intrigued by this mud treatment concept, tried to hide his disappointment.

‘Gentlemen, it’s no secret that the humble townspeople have begun to show signs of unease, having had their hopes dashed by this… surprising turn of events.’

‘I should say so,’ Mr. Johns said. ‘There was one woman who had the nastiest argument with the barber when she tripped over a child who was sitting in the doorway.’

‘That sounds fair enough to me,’ Billups said.

‘But the thing is, it was her own child she tripped over!’ Johns finished, shaking his head.

‘At the very least, tomorrow’s banishment ought to lighten their spirits a smidgen,’ Flinders said offhandedly. ‘How go the preparations, Mr. Billups?’

‘Boomingly!’ Billups replied, thinking himself very clever. ‘We’ve positioned the cannons up atop Mt. Easy, so everyone will be able to get a good view!’

‘My word,’ Melky exclaimed. ‘How on earth were you able to get them up that high?’

‘It was no small feat,’ Billups replied. ‘It was an act of backbreaking labour! I daresay everyone involved in dragging them up there will have difficulty walking for the rest of their days.’

‘How are you holding up?’ asked Melky.

‘Oh, fine, fine. Watching it take place wasn’t nearly as exhausting.’

‘Quite,’ Melky said, nodding as he dipped his morning dust cake into a mug of brown.

Mayor Flinders leant back in her chair, pressing her feathery fingers together.

‘You know, one could see this as a time of destiny, gentlemen. I don’t think you realise it yet, but it shall soon become quite apparent.’

The rest of the day passed by without much of importance to detail, other than a quarrel between a chipmunk and a raccoon over a pogo stick and a rather large brouhaha that ensued over the proper pronunciation of the word ‘vase’. It is of course the evening that takes our interest—the fateful final night before the banishment was to take place.

As per usual, Latimer was his stoic self, staring unyieldingly out into the night sky, though a hint of doubt was clearly crossing his face. Captain Whiskers, typically quite optimistic, was now feeling the sheer enormity of the situation at hand, and was in a rather panicked state.

‘When will this blasted flash of light appear?’ he said in an exasperated voice. ‘I’m at wit’s end here!’

He looked over at Squeaker, who had traces of a grin forming. Whiskers’ eyes practically bugged out at the sight of this.

‘Have you gone mad, rat?’ he shouted. ‘That is to say, madder than usual?’

‘No, not at all,’ Squeaker replied calmly. ‘You see, captain, I’ve just had an epiphany.’

‘Oh, foul! Keep it away from me, you wretched fellow.’

Squeaker laid down, seeming rather disinterested by the window now.

‘It’s all of this waiting that will do us in! We’re supposed to take matters into our own hands if we ever want to see Lefour again, or anywhere else for that matter.’

‘Take matters into our own hands?’ Whiskers groaned. ‘Why do you insist on confounding me with hazy plans? Here, let me try it.’

He began waving his hands.

‘Guard? Guard!’

‘Hmm, what?’ the guard grumbled, teetering back in his chair.

‘Let us out of here!’ Whiskers shouted.

‘No,’ the guard said firmly.

‘There you have it,’ Whiskers said, shaking his head. ‘Taking matters into our own hands is a silly plan, which is only slightly more silly than your previous silly idea of waiting for a silly light to shine in the silly sky and stop us from being fired from a silly cannon!’

‘Don’t worry,’ Squeaker said, shutting his eyes. ‘You’ll see… soon enough.’

‘Brilliant,’ Whiskers said, grabbing hold of the bars that separated his cell from Latimer’s. ‘What say you to all of this poppycock?’

‘It’s… wishful thinking, I’d say,’ Latimer replied slowly. ‘But whatever gives us a sliver of hope is surely better than sitting here waiting for the end to come?’

‘At this rate, I welcome the end with open arms,’ Whiskers said bitterly. ‘When they come to take us away, I know exactly what I’ll say!’

*

‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! PLEASE, NOOOOOOOOO!’

The shrieking pitch of Captain Whiskers’ pathetic cries echoed off of the prison walls as three guards attempted to take hold of him the next morning.

‘I won’t come quietly,’ he threatened.

‘We’ve figured that much out,’ one guard said, annoyed.

‘In fact, I won’t come at all,’ Whiskers continued. When one of the guards reached out to grab his arm, he swiped his claws at them, hissing. The guard recoiled in shock.

‘Excuse me, did you just try to scratch me?’ the guard said in disgust.

‘Err, no,’ Whiskers said hastily. ‘I was… going to… punch you, or some such… I, umm… oh dear, please don’t ever tell anyone about that.’

Before long, they had apprehended him, and led him out of the prison. Latimer followed quietly behind, looking over at Squeaker as he exited. Sitting peacefully in his cell, the rat merely winked.

They travelled through the town—a large posse in tow to watch the spectacle—en route to Mt. Easy, the largest hill in the area. It looked as though everyone had come out to watch the show; the merchant rabbit, humming loudly, the puppeteer, whose hands looked very bare at present, even the guard who had watched them during their incarceration. He seemed to be the most pleased of them all. Atop Mt. Easy, two cannons sat, ready for firing. They were large, black, and sinister-looking. Nearby, a family of pigs was having a picnic.

‘I do love a good banishment,’ the mother stated eagerly.

From amongst the throng, Mayor Flinders emerged. As she headed to the front, the crowd began to cheer. Whether it was from blood thirst or just plain old regular thirst, these Teroccan folk did seem to love a good cheer.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I will be brief,’ Flinders said, raising her hands as she addressed the people. ‘As we have seen, the champion of the new cloud is not yet among us. However, I have no doubt in my mind that answers will soon spring forth. In the meantime, we must deal with these imposters in the most appropriate fashion.’

She turned to look at Whiskers, her face full of disdain.

‘Have you anything to say for yourself, rogue?’

Whiskers thought for a moment. Nothing came to him, so he attempted to scratch the mayor, hissing. Alas, he could not reach.

‘With that, then, let us begin.’

As the guards led them to the cannons, Whiskers looked over at Latimer in desperation.

‘I’m sincerely hoping you have an excellent plan, first mate?’

‘Not yet, no. I pray that one will come to me within the next few seconds.’

A few seconds passed.

‘…Anything?’

‘No, but I did remember a funny joke.’

‘Dreadful,’ Whiskers said miserably. ‘I would have really liked to have heard it.’

Whiskers and Latimer were shoved into the cannons harshly. Unfortunately for Whiskers, he was stuffed inside headfirst. It was now that he realised that he had never actually fired a cannon before. Despite himself, he was a little intrigued to see how it would work. Overall, however, this curiosity was trumped by sheer terror.

He closed his eyes tightly. He could hear the sound of a fire being struck, about to light the fuse.

‘Ready!’ Flinders shouted.

‘Three!’

‘Two!’

‘One!’

BANG.