This awesome story was written by  gideonwebb I just fixed a few little spelling errors and posted it here so please all credit goes to Gideonwebb

I hope you all enjoy it

Marcus Knight © me

The Walstein family ©  gideonwebb





The setting sun edged off the increasingly humid afternoon. Mercedes breathed slowly inhaling the vanishing warmth. It was early Spring still, warm days often gave way to cool nights, the last vestiges of a fleeting winter. The orange glow of the sky calmed the agitated otter. Usually boisterous when it came to her feelings, the words Mercedes heard over the speaker tore into a place far deeper.

“I really appreciate this, now it is just between us. No one will ever know, right?” Marcus’ voice spoke with a need of reassurance.

“Of course,” the woman’s voice replied gently, “After all, I take my profession very seriously. We adhere to very high standards.”

The voices trailed off as a tear fled down the left side of Mercedes’ muzzle. Her whiskers twitched as Marcus ran out the door, in the hopes of being invisible. Gritting her teeth, the Spanish warrior could barely hold it in. She cracked her knuckles while swearing in the most vulgar Ladino. Calm once again, the Krav Maga master spun around and headed for the garage.

“I guarantee you two this conversation is far from over.”

Half an hour later.

“Thanks for seeing me again, Dr. Holt. Whenever I talk this out…”

“I know,” the elkhound replied. Dr. Kira Holt, psychologist, was an elkhound of fine physique, due to years gymnastics competition, not that Marcus would have truly noticed. She smiled; whenever Marcus spoke of family, his face lit up. An orphan brought up in the most horrible of circumstances, the Lone Star Team Captain seldom spoke of his past, unless it was basketball or Mercedes, of course.

“I do recommend that you tell your wife,” Dr. Holt continued, “If she is as ‘capable’ as you say, I do not think it wise to keep her out of the loop. It's not healthy.”

Marcus shrugged his shoulders then nodded. She was right; Mercedes would not be very understanding, if she got the wrong idea. Unlike Mercedes, his temper did not add spice to his nature. Still, it was not wise to mess with an otter that knew more ways to put the hurt on someone than he ever thought possible, even if she was his wife. Her attitude made her sassy, but his temper was not something he ever wanted to show Marty and Lexi.

A tea kettle’s shrill whistle brought Marcus back. Dr. Kira smiled; he simply was not ready. The pressure of the season did not help matters any.

“Pardon me, Earl is calling,” she excused herself.

Marcus thumbed through a kit’s High-Sprite’s magazine, always fascinated in things he grew up without, humming to himself. Smash! The shattering of plates screamed the need for a hero.

“HELP ME, MARCUS, PLEASE!” the doctor’s desperately pleaded.

Dishes continued breaking each second the otter sprinted down the hall. With one step through the swinging doorway he failed to contain his surprise. The mess did not compare to the sight of a ninja standing right behind the doctor pressing the razor sharp tip of an army style blade dangerously close to her throat. One look into the assassin’s eyes told Marcus he was in more than a little trouble.

“Marcedes!? What…This is Dr. Kira Holt, a psychologist; I’ve been seeing her to deal with my temper,” Marcus pleaded.

Mercedes almost tossed the horrified doctor to the floor. Her dark outfit spoke of more deadly intentions. An irate pitch in her veiled voice told him everything, despite not understanding a single word. The blade swung side to side. The taller otter rolled his eyes.

“I AM NOT HAVING AN AFFAIR! YOU ARE AND WILL ALWAYS BE THE ONLY ONE FOR ME! GET…A…GRIP!”

The elkhound cringed in the corner, her dark fur pattern, instantly taking on a lighter hue. Kira’s muzzle quivered. After a long pause, the ninja otter looked down at the canine, the edge in her eye’s still breathing a warning. Marcus stepped carefully across the floor, his eyes meeting the would-be assassins’. A moment later, Mercedes laid down the blade and pulled off her mask.

Dish shards scraped the linoleum floors as the two shuffled closer. Kira, still quivering on the floor, started scooting away with every step the two made towards each other. Marcus froze in front of the smaller otter. The angry glare, now mixed with tears, was too much – the same one he felt all those years ago…

“Mercedes…I am so sorry. My little sweetie-shrimp, I just didn't want Marty and Lexi, or you for that matter, to live with a bitter otter. I've been struggling with it all this time...” the basketball star pleaded.

Mercedes broke down in sobs, instantly collapsing into her husband’s arms. His large, webbed paw went and caressed her thick, brown hair, The doctor froze at her shrieks.

“I've always loved you, and I always will. No one understands me like you do, even though we grew up worlds apart…Dr. Holt,” Marcus paused, knowing not to call her by her first name, “Are you okay? I promise you, we’ll clean this up and pay for all this.”

As the doctor slowly got up, she kept a healthy distance. Kira began to brush herself off. She read about extreme cases, but never thought a ninja was going to slice her throat.

Mercedes looked down as she sniffed. Her downcast gaze told her volumes.

“Well,” the doctor swallowed, “It seems you neglected to tell me that your wife was an orphan as well. I guess that I'll be seeing you two for some serious counseling, starting right now.”

Wisely sitting across from each other in the living room, Dr. Holt had taken command once again. Mercedes, now in a shirt and jeans, was so completely embarrassed.

“Now, first thing, I do not always do this, but I will have to insist that I only counsel you two together. Is that understood?”

Mercedes looked down at the floor as she slowly nodded her head.

“Let us begin with you,” Dr. Kira noted in newly firm tone.

Mercedes leaned backwards against the sofa, her wet, weary eyes gazing upwards at the vaulted ceiling. She breathed ever so slowly.

Memories began to take shape out of a formless past once long forgotten…

***

Clouds rose about the green jungle canopy with the melody of wildlife singing all around the banks of one of the Amazon River’s many tributaries. The humidity mixed with the heat of the small town’s business life. It was the last post before heading into the unknown regions of feral territory.

Raul Miguel Walstein sat in the mission’s office. A fine specimen of sable antelope, the young entrepreneur held a proper dark mane and a small beard off the end of his chin. His stature demanded respect from the locals, but no one could find a bovine more friendly.

<We do hope you have not waited long.>

<I'm good. The Walsteins are glad to help. Putting in a new water filtration system will help the poor furs in this village. With all the mission does, it is my honor.>

Little kits and pups scrambled about in the courtyard, many wayward orphans whose parents were lost to some illness or dropped off in the middle of the night. The sable peered out the window and smiled, until the doors suddenly slammed open.

<Monsignor, you must hurry. It's the Wisemoores, the young couple we sent out on a medical mission. They whole expedition has been ambushed...>

The tall sable, and short capybara rushed out the doors only to find a young otter couple carried on slats covered from head to foot-paw with cuts and puncture wounds. The priest tuned his head and crossed himself while Raul began to recite the Mourner’s Kaddish. The little ones were ushered into their rooms.

After several moments, the two looked at each other. <I’m sorry, Raul, but we must hurry if we are to save the rest of the expedition…What of the Wisemoores’ daughter? They took their daughter with them!>

The sweltering hot sun almost seemed to steam the river. Flies and other various insects circled the convoy of motorboats. Several otters and river dolphins had their rifles poised and ready; the jungle had more than its fair share of dangers, and one had to be prepared for anything, if they hoped to survive. Raul, insisting on joining, begrudgingly stayed in the center vessel.

Each rescuer looked frantically about them. Some natives could be quite compassionate, some, but not all. The large sable was crestfallen. When the western world brought trouble for these people, even help was highly distrusted. If they did not hurry, there would be more bodies that would have to be buried. The image of a particularly smaller grave began to form in his mind. No! Raul shook his head violently, some annoying insect as it appeared to some.
<The villagers said this is the direction.> an otter priest noted softly.

<From your muzzle to God’s ears.> Raul almost blurted.

Two members of the team, plus the Wisemoore’s pup, were taken, and from what the villagers relayed, the raiders, under the direction of some unknown leader, they would not last long. Raul cast his gaze upward beyond the leafy canopy and grew quiet. As he bowed his head, smoke started rising not far ahead to their left. Rifles clicked and bodies hunched over.

The motors turned off as paddles were pulled out. The boats began to draw close to the shore. Raul cracked his knuckles as he ground his teeth. Unintelligible voices mixed with cries rose from the end of a nearby path. Steps barely worn on the jungle floor hid under low lying leaves. Each foot step closer seemed deafening, yet a pup’s cry called them forward.

The pup’s screams began to mix with that of another. Raul began to shake, he just could not take it anymore.

<Raul, wait!> the priest pleaded, but to no avail. The sable bull was seeing red.

HAAAA! Raul charged in like a feral, striking and hitting as fast as he could, without reason. The natives, a group of tall, Amazonian River Otters, reeled just for only a second, as spears came hurtling to the ground, thrown from above. Yet, as reckless as Raul appeared to be, he did not let up, not even for his own good.

Shots went off, but still the otters were not deterred. As one or two fell from their high canopies, the leader, a tall otter with a pair of scars under each eye, growled while pointing a spear right in Raul’s line of sight. Still more shots went off, another native fell from his height, barely able to touch the wound in his leg. Raul stood tall, making his stature all the more apparent.

<Raul, we have the couple and the pup, We need to withdraw…Please, we have committed violence already, Lord forgive us.>

The ugly mustelid bared his canines, shouting something intermittently. The river dolphins raised their rifles. Several otters pointed to the mystery of the jungle, still the otter pointed his spear, ever ready to strike. His aim sure, the spear sped through the air, only to miss just as the bovine sidestepped at the last possible moment. His scard eyes widened as his glare intensified. Raul pointed at him and then right in front of them.

<Raul, no! I will tell his grace, the monsignor.>

Too late. One brave otter growled lunging madly at the foreigner. Raul cupped his fists together, pulled them to the side like the American game of baseball, and connected right on the otter’s jowl.. Raul stood tall, dignified once again grabbing the shaft of the otter’s spear and sent it just short of where the otter chief stood.

Crack! A bullet zipped by the warrior’s ear, a frightened shot from an unsteady rescuer. As soon as they gathered, the raiders fled away, abandoning their friends. The ugly warrior squinted at the sable before he too fled away into the rainforest. A pup’s cry brought the sable antelope back. Covered in filth and almost naked, the little one pleaded for someone.

“Mama,” the little one yelled, tears pouring down the sides of her muzzle. Raul patted her matted, brown hair to check for any wounds, seemingly calming her down in the process.

<…For His mercies never fail. They are new every morning….Mercies.. That is what you are, a little bundle of mercies…>

One month later.

Raul looked about the stuffy office, his business trip finally at a close, He peered into the courtyard watching the orphans, thinking of one in particular. It had already been a month since the rescue, and his ‘Mercedes,’ as he called the little otter, clung to him whenever she got the chance. Calling his wife, relaxing in Buenos Aires, Argentina while he ventured in the Amazon, told of his noble rescue and so much more…

<Sorry, Senor Raul, we are most sorry to see you depart; you have done so much for us. With the new wells and medicine, we will be able to help these people for some time to come…Senor Raul?>

<Uh, sorry. My apologies…What will happen to the little one, Mercedes?>

<A relay has been sent to America, but unfortunately there is no family or guardian. She will most likely be raised like all the other orphans. She was born in this village last year…>

The door opened, and Raul’s wife, Rosa, waltzed in with her usual boisterous flare. Rosa instantly read her husband’s weary smile. The small capybara fell back into his seat, used to the villagers’ more quiet reverence. Her colorful dress spoke more of a dancer than a dignified multi-millionaire.

<Senora Walstein.> was all the priest could bring himself to say. She smiled showing off her bright white teeth.
<I’m sorry for this meeting to be so short; we really will miss you both. We will let you know when little ‘Mercedes’ has found a new home or if some family is hopefully contacted.>

The sables looked at each other for a moment and then shared a soft smile. Rosa closed her eyes while Raul looked down.

<We will adopt little Mercedes; we will go to the local courthouse in the next town over to make it legal,> Rosa spoke up, <We can make a world of difference, even if only for this one.>

The capybara looked for a moment; he knew not to argue, but being so obviously different in species would have its problems. Beyond Rosa’s soft gaze was something deeper. It did not plead, it was determined. He went to speak up, but only nodded his head. <I will write a letter recommending your adoption to the magistrate.>

The three of them smiled as the sun rose and shined through courtyard window.

Four years later.

“Mercedes Rosa Walstein, you cannot just simply be afraid and run from your problems,” her father, Raul, noted carefully, “You must stand up for yourself.”

The little otter pup, bedecked in a cute little, red dress, large, dark shoes, and cutesy pigtails, began to tear up. Mercedes had her fair share of bullies, both in and outside of school. Was found too awkward for ballet, all the other girls constantly teased her, especially the ever graceful gazelle twins. Raul’s long muzzle hung low in silence. The pup was the smile on his lips, but he had to do what he felt was best. His wife came into the doorway to the bedroom, locked eyes with her husband, and gave slow nod.

“Mercedes, look at me,” her voice boomed, immediately stopping her tears, “Since you need to stand on your two footpaws, there is a beginner’s class for kits your age at the local martial art school. It will build your self-confidence. You can take it as long as you like. Just remember, you will learn how to dance. Agreed?”

“Now Rosa, I'm sure she'll be fine. Who knows? Mercedes will probably make some better friends than those girls in ballet school,” he noted cheerfully.

Mercedes was all excited to learn. He had to practically hold her paw to keep her from running into a class already in session. The only little tykes class that was available was Krav Maga, something that did not set well with Rosa. She knew enough to know that Krav Maga was a very direct sport.

“If she loses a tooth or gets a gash, that is the final class Mercedes is ever going to take as long as I am breathing.”

“Let’s just see was the teacher says and see how merciful our little Mercedes really is, agreed?”

One Hour later.

Rosa was unusually quiet as she watched the kits file out and run to their parents. She watched the children leave, except for her little Mercedes jumping up and down excitedly in front of her smiling instructor. Seeing her mother, the pup sprinted as fast she could with the largest smile her small lips could muster.

“Mama, mama, Master Ibn Caro said I’m in his superior class…”

Rosa and Raul looked on stunned. The short lion laughed, “She will be from now on – she absorbs it far too easily.”

“B..bb..but..Mercedes weeps after dance class and you are telling me she is gifted in combat?” Rosa interjected.

“Well, she started to act shy when I asked one of the older kits to demonstrate before the class. This little powerhouse starts to get teased by one of the other little ones, and all of a sudden makes a mean face before doing an almost spotless performance of what the whole class saw just a moment before. The whole class was stunned. Mercedes will need to be challenged, if she is to go any distance in this discipline. I teach the most promising little ones in a smaller class twice a week. A new class will start Theursday night at the same time – I would highly recommend she take it.”

“Please mama, I'm good at it. I really am.”

Smiling softly, tears formed in her eyes, “I guess my little dancer is going to be a warrior.”

The pup jumped up and down once again.

“Mercedes,” the lion snapped. The otter stood immediately at attention.

“You will be on time, understood?”

“Si, Master Ibn Caro!”

Twelve years later…

“I knew I was going to regret this. I never wanted to take your sister with me back to South America. Mercedes can handle herself in a fight, that is for sure, but to let her go back to the village mission? What were you thinking, Crispin? I told you she was not to leave Buenos Aires without us. If anything happens to our little Mercedes, Rosa may very well serve you to a predator,” Raul snapped at his son.

The small jet plane landed on the clear airstrip. His daughter had excelled in all her martial art classes, she had even began to study other techniques and disciplines to make her abilities all the sharper, but the natives of the Amazon can be very warlike, something he did not wish to see ever again.

“I have ten children. I will return to Valencia with ten children – that is my promise to HaShem,” the father marked coldly.

The Monsignor’s ageing vehicle was anything but good news. The half-rusted, clanking jeep putted up to the plane, grateful for a reprieve from the jungle pathways that led anywhere. The two sable antelopes jumped in. The raiders were back, the very same ones as before, attacking villages and taking from both settlers and villagers alike.
<Mercedes is at the mission, yes?>

The capybara turned pale in a weak attempt to explain. Mercedes was a beautiful maid almost of age, and the ugly scarred otter may develop plans. Raul took one look at his son Crispin and proceeded to swat him below his horns.
<We can make the first village within the hour. The raiders have more warriors and they will hold up in the little church, if need be. We must hurry, blessed name of God, we must hurry.>

Canoes and rowboats went up the river at the speed of their paddles. Each tiring stroke a determined push as river dolphins, otters, and jaguars loaded their rifles. The local magistrate had failed to capture them. This time it indeed would be different. All the faces were flint. Raul cracked his knuckles as he formed large, blockish fists; he grumbled at having let the ugly otter escape into the forest.

Boats pulled slowly up the stream as they pulled into the farthest edge of the villages clearing. Everyone looked around them, up, down, left, and right, front and back. Crashes and snapping of branches haled the advance. Three panicked natives, some of the raiders from the looks of it, sprinted for the safety of the jungle. Several dolphins and otters stayed back intercepting the natives. A high pitched scream snapped Raul out of his place.

Followed by his son, Crispin, the bull charged, horns and fists ready for whatever may come, except for what he saw. Villagers chased down fleeing raiders with Mercedes practically choking a large panther with a knee to the back of his head, pressing down on a thick tree branch against his adam’s apple. She let up only to beat the now cowering warrior. The ugly otter snarled in defiance as the emboldened rescuers cut off all means of escape..

“Crispin, make sure this one does not escape…Otter or no, muy feo is mine,” his little sister barked.

“No, daughter, Senor Feo is mine. This time I will settle it…”

Neither one of them got the chance. Rifles cracked loudly as nervous marksmen quickly ended their fear. A priest started shouting for calm waiving his arms madly about. Dropping their weapons, the rescuers dropped to their knees as they crossed themselves. In nomine patris…

Raul and Mercedes just clung to each other and cried.

The next day

<I still find it incredible that Mercedes…just incredible, Senor Raul, but the fact remains that the villagers fear your lovely daughter just as much as the raiders. In fact, I would say more so. Her skills are unparalleled, but the villagers are not fighters. Simply put, it would be best…> the Monsignor stated directly.

<It would be best if Mercedes never returned. They fear her even more. She is going to be so heartbroken, but with her parents now reburied in a private cemetery, there is no point really for her to ever return.> Raul Walstein noted sadly.

***

Mercedes drifted back from her thoughts, taking a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes, and began to shift in her seat. Dr. Holt was a bit silent - clearly the need to fight against the sense of longing and loneliness. The elkhound looked at the clock, a quarter past seven, Marcus’s wife had drifted for a whole hour and had barely scratched the surface.

“I am sorry Dr. Holt, I will pay for all the damages, but I feel no shame in fighting for my marriage, albeit the wrong way,” Mercedes noted quietly.

Dr. Holt loosened up. She licked her upper lip. “I feel that I may need to counsel both of you, but I want it understood, that I will never be involved with one of my clients, not now or ever. I do sense that more need to be said or relayed, but it is getting later than I normally allow for clients, that and I have to get something to eat.”

“Would you care to join us?” Marcus asked.

“As thoughtful as that may be, I recommend that you talk things out over a fine dinner.. You need to delve into each other’s lives a little more. Now, you don't have to go home, you just can't stay here.”

The three laughed, and Mercedes knew it was going to be okay.