Shepard's Keep

Turtle Tots Fiction! (I do love them so....) There was a terrible flood in the sewers, and Splinter and his family nearly drown. Getting them to safety-in Master Yoshi's old home-Splinter reflects on what his children mean to him in the loft.

Okay, okay-Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT. And, if I did....Hmmmm.....(Evil smile. ^^)

Hello! I've been away for quite awhile.....figure I ought to get cracking. Soon. ^^ I have Division.....Bubbles.....and Unexpected Places to write....not to mention a few more chapters for ghostly angel and Timmy in Peril, so forgive me if I update slowly.

Dedicated to Rhoda, Mikell, Second Daughter of Eve, and YoTicTac13.

Thanks!

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Quote:

".....and with that there is nothing more to add
Because all the love he's shared makes me very glad.
So the greatest man that I have ever known
Is the father I am proud to call my own."

Crack!

Twirling about, in golden perfection before striking the grey walls with a sullen snap, sparks twisted in a hazy blur around the flames, as they

curled and licked at the darkening wood, causing the rising sparks to snap and crackle once again.

A grey hand had tossed an old bit of wood into the dying, ruby like embers. Sparks shot up as the fire hissed in surprise.

But soon, flames were beginning to eagerly churn over the new material, growing as it began to flex itself and grow dominance over the wood

once again, bits of grey ash falling absentmindedly to the grate below, glowing orange embers fading to grey with the other ashes.

The flickering of light came back in a greater number, as did the warmth.

Splinter the rat watched the flames for a moment, golden light reflecting his eyes. Soon after, he lost interest and picked up a worn little novel by

his side, cover hanging by a few threads to the damaged spine with yellowing pages....

"The sound of theGion Shōja bells echoes the impermanence of all things; the color of the sāla flowers reveals the truth that the prosperous must decline. The proud do not endure, they are like a dream on a spring night; the mighty fall at last, they are as dust before the wind."

This looked interesting. Splinter read on.

When the Heike were routed at Ichi no tani, and their nobles and courtiers were fleeing to the shore to escape in their ships, Kumagai Naozane came riding along a narrow path on the beach, with the intention of intercepting one of their great captains. Just then his eye fell on a single horseman who was attempting to reach one of the ships in the offing... Kumagai beckoned to him with his war fan, crying out: "Shameful! To show an enemy your back. Return! Return!"

The warrior turned his horse and rode back to the beach, where Kumagai at once engaged him in mortal combat. Quickly hurling him to the ground, he sprang upon him and tore off his helmet to cut off his head, when he beheld the face of a youth sixteen or seventeen, delicately powdered and with blackened teeth, just about the age of his own son and with features of great beauty. "Who are you?" he asked. "Tell me your name, for I would spare your life."

"Nay, first say who you are," replied the young man.

"I am Kumagai Naozane of Musashi, a person of no particular importance."

"Then you have made a good capture," said the youth. "Take my head and show it to some of my side, and they will tell you who I am."

Yikes. He had forgotten.....some of the Japanese folktales about the war between the Heike and Geishu were a bit grisly. Splinter sighed.

There was no way he'd ever let his sons read this....

Well.....Perhaps when they were a bit older. Splinter smiled faintly at the thought before turning a page, a rustling sound filling the small room.

Splinter froze.

Did he wake his charges?

No.....that did not seem to be so. Splinter read on to the next chapter.

"Though he is one of their leaders," mused Kumagai, "if I slay him it will not turn victory into defeat, and if I spare him, it will not turn defeat into victory. When my son KojirÙ was but slightly wounded at Ichi no tani this morning, did it not pain me? How this young man's father would grieve to hear that he had been killed! I will spare him."

Splinter quietly closed the book. He would certainly have to outline that passage. It was one of the only pleasant ones in the story.

The aged rat anxiously turned to the side, mentally counting the small bundles beside him in the bunk.

One.....Two.....Three......Four. Ah.

A small smile tugged on Mikey's lips as Splinter carefully put another blanket over the turtles but continued to doze.

Let the children sleep-after all, that was what they desperately needed. Hopefully, it would only take two or three days recovery.

After today....warmth, peace and quiet was all they should be exposed to as of right now.

And so, Splinter lay in the old loft, watching the embers quietly burn, occasionally throwing another bit of wood into the dying flames, startling it

into another shower of sparks, flying everywhere in a hapless, puzzled frenzy, like blind fireflies.

Splinter reached for his stitching to repair his sleeve. It was still ripped.....though, luckily, no longer soaked. It had hung dripping over a roaring

fire for hours....

Since....

The thing that had given life was ready to take it away.

The sewers were overflooding with icy water. The rain storms had been so utterly wild these past few days....

"My sons! MY SONS!"

Splinter had looked wildly around as more and more of the freezing water streamed in....

Gushing, Roaring, Falling, Splishing, Splashing, Pouring, absolute torrents of living ice in dark, gleaming waters....

Splinter had to take deep breaths as he held a small bundle of possesions that they could not get along without over his head, first running....

...then splashing.....

....then wading.....

..........and then, swimming.

Splinter kept his hands clenched around Mikey's and Don's, who were holding Leo's and Raph's respectively.

It was obvious the four were terrified. Since the storm had bent out all its fury on the city...it had been restless around their home. Splinter had to

spend three tiring days comforting his little ones over the roar of thunder outside.

Until, one night, it had been simply too much. Splinter had to frantically shake the befuddled and puzzled turtles awake.

"MY SONS! We must go! NOW!"

Higher ground. They must seek higher ground.

"Sei-Sei-ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

And a pair of hands slipped from his own.

Splinter wrenched forwards, cold hand seizing Michelangelo....

....but Raph had slipped off.....

The rat managed to kick forward enough to grab the gasping turtle around the waist....

Splinter's dark eyes twisted in every direction as he scanned...

They couldn't stand the frigid temperature much longer....especially the little ones....

There was only one place to go.

Even if that one brought haunting memories....

"My sons?"

As Splinter shoved the iron manhole cover to the grey gravel, falling with a loud CLANK, he pulled himself, gasping and retching, into the cold night

air, the master tugged the four up to the surface.

Thank heavens this road was rarely used. No one would be coming.

Leo gasped, gazing blankly into space with glazed over eyes. Splinter blinked.

"A-Are you alright, my sons?"

Surely, they would start crying any moment now. Even as the rain continued to mercilessly pelt down.....

But nothing.

Don paused...

...and then threw up all over the stone cement.

Splinter drew back for a moment, surprised.

Don sniffled, wiping his face, looking punchdrunk.

"Sei.....zis ot," he whined, his eyes shining with tears.

"Ot."

To anyone else, this would've been a foreign language....but it was evident Donatello was complaining about....the heat?

That was....odd.

Mikey swayed, goosebumps popping over all his skin. Raph groaned.

As Leo hiccuped, Splinter grasped his bundle. Thank heavens the bundle had been fairly waterproof.

Splinter had seized a medical book he had found on one of his excavations a month or two ago.

As he frantically flicked through the pages, he half stood up, using the dim light from a nearby streetlamp to make out the words in the shadows.

Finally, one passage seemed to match their symptoms. Splinter's eyes scanned the lines so quickly, his dark eyes almost appeared rather blurred.

Hypothermia is the opposite of hyperthermia, the condition that causes heat exhaustion and heat stroke.

(from Greek ὑποθερμία) is a condition in which an organism's temperature drops below that required for normal metabolism and bodily functions. In warm-blooded animals, core body temperature is maintained near a constant level through biologic homeostasis. But, when the body is exposed to cold, its internal mechanisms may be unable to replenish the heat that is being lost to the organism's surroundings.

Body temperature drops by 1-2°C (1.8-3.6°F) below normal temperature (35-37°C or 95-98.6°F). Mild to strong shivering occurs.[1][2] The victim is unable to perform complex tasks with the hands; the hands become numb. Blood vessels in the outer extremities constrict, lessening heat loss to the outside air. Breathing becomes quick and shallow. Goose bumps form, raising body hair on end in an attempt to create an insulating layer of air around the body (which is of limited use in humans due to lack of sufficient hair, but useful in other species). Victim may feel sick to their stomach, and very tired. Often, a person will experience a warm sensation, as if they have recovered, but they are in fact heading into Stage 2. Another test to see if the person is entering stage 2 is if they are unable to touch their thumb with their little finger; this is the first stage of muscles not working. They might start to have trouble seeing....

Enough.

Enough was enough....

Splinter had pulled them away the moment he had finished reading.

Very well-it was evident now.

He had to get them out of the cold.

Master Yoshi had sometimes come to this small adobe cottage in the woods for spiritual training away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

And it was here that Splinter could find sanctuary....the room underground.

When he had arrived forty nine minutes later, the house was exactly the same as Yoshi's final visit.

Even the furniture was the same.....in the same place, albeit a bit dusty.

The best place seemed to be Splinter's favorite....the little one.

They had called this specially made location-in the small, rather enclosed room with a large bunk filled with thick blankets over the fireplace, "The Shepard's Loft", in feudal Japanese times.

Splinter remembered this place quite well. Master Yoshi had sometimes come here with him on otherwise eventless nights, explaining the history of the room.

Orphaned newborn animals-usually lambs-were often brought here for the night with the shephard for the warmth and protection against harsh winds and rowdy creatures. It was rather closed in, so it made you feel perhaps a bit clausthrophobic, but infants were not usually fond of too large sleeping spaces. To be just a bit enclosed offered a quiet lull and soothing ministration to a confused, often frightened child.

The turtles were accumulated a little over one year old each now.....they enjoyed each other's prescence while napping, although they often, now that they were getting a bit bigger, needed their own space.

Leo murmured a bit in his sleep. Splinter smiled faintly as he carefully climbed down the old wooden ladder rungs. When he silently slid on the floor, he looked up at the bunk with dark, soft eyes.

The book said to keep them warm....they might come down with a fever in the aftermath, however.

Splinter sighed as he reached for a tea kettle whistling on the camp stove. After taking a quiet sip of the gingseng, he threw more wood on the flames and carefully climbed up with the tea cup.

Perhaps....when his sons awoke, he could read another story....one appropiate for them.

Donatello murmured in his sleep. Splinter put a palm on his head before reaching for the book again.

Here was one....The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter.

"One day, while walking in the bamboo forest, an old, childless bamboo cutter called Taketori no Okina (竹取翁?, "the Old Man who Harvests Bamboo") came across a mysterious, shining stalk of bamboo. After cutting it open, he found inside it a baby the size of his thumb. He rejoiced to find such a beautiful girl and took her home. He and his wife raised her as their own child and named her Kaguya-hime (かぐや姫 "radiant-night princess"). Thereafter, Taketori no Okina found that whenever he cut down a stalk of bamboo, inside he found a small nugget of gold. Soon he became rich, and Kaguya-hime grew from a small baby into a woman of usual size and extraordinary beauty. At first, Taketori no Okina tried to keep her away from outsiders, but over time...."

Splinter smiled and shook his head. No. The Princess loved her foster parents, and they in turn loved her, but, in the end, she was still taken away to her true world, and the emperor, husband, and wife, died of heartbreak.

Could he sympathize with the old bamboo cutter? Probably.

Splinter sighed, and lay down, staring at the whitewashed ceilings.

The affection of a cutter....an emperor.....a kind, honorable master.....

...a shepard, hoping to save an innocent, unfortunate soul.

Splinter smiled.

Perhaps this was, in truth, a certain irony-The Shepard's Keep?

Perhaps not a keep as in a sanctuary so much, but another keeping-

A keeping of the Heart.