Private Kay was nice as far as blue Jays went. Muk knew them to be eccentric at the best of times. She at least had the appearance of an even keel.

Sergeant Yates worried him though.

"Sergeant Yates, are you feeling well enough to travel?"

"Sir? Of course sir."

"How many missions have you gone on?" Muk knew full well that Yates knew the answer. Heck Yates knew that Muk knew the answer.

"Twenty-two."

Private Kay watched this exchange with rapt attention.

"And when was the last time you slept?"

Private Kay narrowed her eyes.

"Two days."

"I'm sending you back to headquarters. They're asking for someone to run the depot there. You're my fox in charge."

Something unseen passed between the creatures. Muk knew Yates time near the front was done and he hoped that this would some sort of Mercy. He’d filled in with otter labor at the homefront, but increasingly he had been relying on wounded mice and rabbits. Those that weren't fit enough to fight, but still sharp enough to count. There was enough labor to go around.

"Aye."

"That's no more missions for you, understood?"

The fox grimaced. Muk saw flecks of grey in his ears. His whiskers mirrored his own.

"...aye."

Muk grasped the fox's forearm.

"I know that I have found the right fox for the job."

The tension that had held up the air released and Muk was ready to continue his rounds.

"Sergeant Yates, Private Kay," he said, smiling at them.

He returned to where Crenshaw and Woda had been sitting in front of one of his terrain models. The poor thing was made of grass and nervous energy. While it looked like something official, Muk had only made the barest of connecting supply routes on it. His Marwei was jumbled and he was missing a lot of the map.

"It's very good for an amateur sketch," Crenshaw said.

"Every time the scouts pass through, I ask them to update it."

"It's good to understand the battleground," Woda said.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Muk had expected a hard sell on the merits of his granddaughter but he hadn’t even mentioned her. He had to ask the old swordmaster himself. She was apparently taking this time to do a trip of self-reflection, and he envied her.

The call of duty in the defense of Yellowrock made him move his entire company here in shifts to support the war effort. That combined with his official duties in the council kept him busy. He would have to go back out tonight.

"I think it's good enough to get an idea of what's going on. Also, I can just have the map destroyed easily in case we have to jump the supply base."

The old mice considered his statement. Muk was baffled beyond belief that Stone had pulled the two of them out here on some fool's errand. That or they knew something about these Private's special cusser weaponry. He had heard of it and laughed when they said it would not explode. But then he had to make whoever drove that particular cart a volunteer. It does no good to force someone into the wrong situation. The extra hazard pay he offered made it a more reliably asked-for position anyway.

"It's a strange war. Sometimes I feel like the cats are holding back deliberately. Then sometimes I hear reports like the one from your convoy."

"It's troubling. I'm even considering getting back in," Crenshaw mused.

"Crenshaw you're almost totally grey-haired. They’d take one look at you and send you to the Nithe house."

"He would deserve it," Woda said.

Woda on the other hand merely had streaks of grey. Idly Muk wondered if he would have distinguished grey hairs after this campaign.

"I feel like I should ask more about Freya, but it never seems like the time," Muk said, frowning.

"She will be there when you return," Woda said,"but you have to return. And keep writing her letters."

"Lady mice love letters," Crenshaw intoned.

Muk's face slipped back to his happy neutral one.

"I may send one back with you, if I see you again," he replied.

The blue jays and the otters were watching the terrain model as they approached the trio of mice.

"Pardon me," Stone said," but I believe we would like to help you with your terrain model a little bit."

Muk saw that Sela was holding various blue trinkets in his paws.

"Gladly."

***

It wasn’t far enough.

The river was visible four hours after they left in the middle of the night and it really wasn’t far enough. Marwei was farther north along the river still, but Freya had never seen it and it was a shock.

The massive walls around her country built to keep beasts out were an ancient marvel. Yellowrock itself, the bastion mesa that had saved countless generations nine hundred years ago was a unique feat as well.

This river was wild with white water. Freya had never seen such a thing. Surely anything on top of the water would be whipped along mercilessly. How the Riverfolk had docked a ship became immediately clear: a small lake of water lay on the south side of the furrows. It was the only calm water about.

Another thing she saw from her position, flying above the group was exactly how wide it was. It was so wide that she wasn't initially able to see the opposite side. She realized after a while it was because she was looking at the lake portion.

Ahead of her, she was finally able to make out a few birds flying. They were far and away from her, but it was a sign. The supply train they'd attached themselves to had moved quickly that night.

Freya and River had been kept under a covered wagon, as the owls that had been creeping recently hated the aviary the most. Perhaps hate was the wrong word for such unfeeling beasts, but that's what they were told to do.

Four rabbits fought each other for the chance to ride their chickens and it nearly became a brawl until the convoy commander dictated that none of the 'unworthy rabbits would get a ride unless they could handle themselves like gentle rabbits'. That fixed the problem.

"It wasn’t far enough," Freya heard a rabbit say as he was almost forcibly changed out for another.

"Riding a chicken is a privilege, and these… blue jays are doing us great service on the day. So either get onto a covered wagon or walk," the convoy commander, Sergeant Kim, another gruff Sergeant they'd traveled in with said.

Freya could hear the calculated indifference between the two as she sat in a covered wagon behind them.

She had been making arrows.