The newspapers said he was the epitome of evil

My unique challenge was to write about 1000 words including the above phrase...and.... I had promised Gail that I would write a furry animal story again..... That would be two challenges then.

Brock Meles.

The day had been warm and the laughter, shouts and obscenities echoing from the day-trippers had died off as the sun dipped below the harvested hills. An occasional clank of boat life drifted down the embankment along with cooking smells wafting on the autumn breeze.
In the fading light Brock shuffled down the burrow to the mouth of the sett and placed his chin on the ground.

Feeling for vibrations through his whiskers he determined there were no more walkers on the towpath now. Out of habit born from caution he lifted his nose to sense what else was happening around the canal above him.    There was the oily smell of the floating metal things nearby, a vixen and her kittens were on the prowl on the other side of the water. The beasts that fouled the meadow were all at the far end of the field. As he crouched beneath the brambles tonight he could still faintly smell the old scent of his father who had carved this home and left his marks. Catching his nose too, was a wisp from the marshland bog that had grown nearby and now attracted frogs and newts, a doubtful legacy of Bardo’s foolishness.

Although the growth of the bog worried Brock, it may encourage Millie and Lizzy to bring on their next lot of cubs. This had been a dry season and until the bog formed there had been little food nearby. Now there were worms and frogs aplenty and the berry bushes were providing good crop. More food meant more cubs and more cubs are a reason to dig a further den in the set.  Brock was worried about digging here, his father had taught him caution, never to dig too high in the embankment.
Subconsciously Brock instinctively licked at his wound and that reminded him of Bardo returning to the set smelling of clay.
Brock had guessed there was treachery afoot and went out last night looking for the site of Bardo’s industry. He found it not far away, Bardo had started a burrow up the embankment where the sandy soil was quick easy work . It was the confirmation Brock needed,  Bardo did want to steal Millie and Lizzy and den their new cubs.
This could never happen.
Bardo's burrow was small but Brock’s fears were confirmed. He found Bardo had dug right up to the clay and water had started to seep through. This was what Brock’s father had warned him about and he quickly began to back-fill the burrow and retreat to the entry intending to collapse it , to scent mark the area, and to teach Bardo, once and for all time, who was head badger.
Bardo however had had other ideas, and following Brock out that night, had crept up and attacked from behind.  Bardo was no match for Brock’s 12 kilos and 5 years of fighting skill. By launching the surprise attack though Bardo had managed to tear a strip of flesh from Brock’s shoulder and rip open the sinew of his ear. Brock was already angry and  was then merciless enough to guarantee Bardo could never return to the sett again.

     A gentle movement now behind Brock broke into his victory reminiscences. With a final check of the air he grunted and let Millie and Lizzy past so they could forage, nosing both of them to check their condition.
He watched as they disappeared into the freshly turned field looking for fresh morsels.
Tonight Brock had decided to take the cubs to the new marsh and teach them how to catch some tasty frogs. With a growl he summonsed the cubs to the entrance and made them wait.  Smelling the air and feeling for movement through the earth Brock moved away to ensure the route to the marsh was safe. Other than the acrid smells from the distant village Brock was satisfied they were alone and with a soft grunt he called the cubs to him. With nips and squeals, tumbles and trips the cubs attacked the marshland with enough noise and vibration to scare everything but the slowest of worms into deep cover.
This frog catching lesson was going to take some time.

Brock flattened some reeds down for the cubs to start hunting. They jumped in with glee more at the prospect of the hunt than to stave off hunger as they were still being fed on milk and pre-chewed food. 
Despite all the fighting and digging going on at that moment Brock detected a worrying vibration and lifted his head to take a breath. He stood still and took another.  Yes,  the confirmation was there, that rancid grease and stale flesh smell, wafting around from a position up-wind. He had no idea how close they were and let out a low warning grumble. The cubs dropped to the ground and Millie and Lizzy arrived silently to huddle them all into a tight group. Brock stood tall and again smelt the air.
The sense was closer now although the vibrations had stopped.
He gave a bark to action.
Millie led the way and Lizzy herded the stragglers quickly back to the sett.
Brock followed, checking back constantly.
He dashed through the fence as the ground vibrated from the hunter’s footfalls. Simultaneously the branches overhead splintered and the ground in front of him erupted in a spray of soil. A boom sounded and more twigs splintered, a sharp searing pain burnt into his flank and another boom filled the air. Brock dived down the mouth of the sett making sure the others were all deep inside. Immediately he twisted around to bite at the burning hole in his side and with his teeth he grabbed at and bit out a small hard thing. The burning subsided and with his whiskers brushing the wall of the burrow he felt the hunter’s foot vibrations approaching over the field outside.

Fred watched the quarry disappear into the brambles and laughed at Henry,  “Ya missed ‘im ya daft bugger!”
“ I hit ‘im but owt but rabbit shot.  Tha said nowt ‘bout there being badgers.”
“ Aw shit!" Fred swore as he sunk ankle deep into the marsh.  "Fook the badgers, 'Enry, this whole bloody canal’s goin’ to give way!”
                                                                      ~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~

The repairs to the embankment took six months and the badger protection group lost their battle to prevent baiting. But hopefully, what with all the protesters picketing about Tuberculosis, the smelly, noisy machinery bought in to dam the canal and the workers sent to re-build the embankment, I really hope Brock and the girls moved out long before the baits were laid. I doubt Brock's kind will ever again live around Gargrave since the newspapers said he was the epitome of evil, spreading disease and threatening to flood the village.