Freya realized that she did not have a good reason for her absence.

“Is that a dragon?” She said looking intently upwards.

“Unlikely,” River replied, “for I have only known of two to exist, and neither would spend their time here.”

“It’s probably a wyvern,” Sela replied.

“Those are real?” Freya gawked.

Around them, the soft loamy soil felt quiet and welcoming. Freya felt at home, and if that brief flash hadn’t made her think otherwise, she might feel peaceful.

“Is there a difference between the two?” Freya asked, looking to the druid and ranger for some feeling that they might be cracking a joke.

“There might be one.”

“There definitely is. We don’t fight dragons, we would lose,” Sela said, “But I think right over here is a good marker?”

The ranger produced a long wooden stick, a polished one that he placed two fists deep into the soil. He took a piece of cloth and placed it around it, before stepping back.

“No wind.”

The ruins of stone structures called out for a little bit of spring cleaning. Freya had never desired a broom more in her life.

“These webs look ancient, and the dust? This is all rubbish,” she said, looking closer.

“I’m afraid that we’re looking at the ruins of an old Inujag city. They must have abandoned it a while ago?”

“Centuries ago,” River replied, “If the archives are complete. Which, I’ll always doubt.”

“Are there druid librarians now?”

“The Raven house has taken charge of that particular branch of knowledge,” Sela replied, “They’re great boors are parties.”

“You keep going on about druid parties and they never seem to sound like anything much?”

“When I was younger I thought that I’d be a merchant, but I got tapped to be one of the mercenaries,” Sela replied, “of course, every otter and beaver thinks that they’ll be one of the best and get that particular honor. My husband got it, but he turned it down to become a ranger with me.”

“Ah.”

“This is wonderful, but look alive you two, we need to make our way, wildshape, and move across the realms. Think you can handle a little walk?”

For the first time in forever, Freya didn’t sense her bond.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“I can… say why can’t I feel my chicken?”

“Bonds can’t cross the realms. You’ll sense it again when you return, it’s the same for rangers, although you still feel that there is one, what with the marked absence. Sela? Can you give us two minutes?"

"Yes," he said, walking over to one of the smaller buildings.

"Anything you can live without, we'll leave here," River said, beginning to change. Fur sprouted over her.

Freya followed suit. She’d gone through the practice with herself a few times and what had come of it was the slow methodical movement of change. Bones extended slightly, and her teeth changed as she turned slowly and inexorably into a cat.

Two minutes later Sela was checking on them.

"Oh bother," he said.

"What is it now?" River said.

"Well besides the wyvern circling, Freya is going to stand out."

The stark moonlight played over her features. Her black and orange face twinged.

"You're a calico cat freya," the black cat in front of her said," you're going to be noticed."

"So what? Do it again?"

"No, that won't work. It just means that we need to change our cover and appear as different creatures than I intended."

"Is she the new ranger?"

"What?" Freya blinked in confusion

"Freya, thank you for taking the role of my wise and studious yet nearly mute ranger."

"I feel like perhaps you might have gotten the better end of this deal," the calico looking cat mused,"it's too bad that there isn't a mirror or some water here by which I can look at my reflection."

River shrugged. Against the black background her eyes shone brightly. Freya knew that it was the reflection from the moonlight, but for a brief time, the druid looked sinister.

"Let's move. The Wyvern is looking hungry," Sela said, his eyes on the sky once more.

Sela lead them through the spooky city of the dead, over a small hill and next to a dry riverbed as they moved farther away from where they'd came from.

The only sound she heard for a long time was the breathing of her companions. She was overjoyed that her vision in the dark seemed better suited to the burrow than before.

She might not have made it as a mouse.

As a cat she felt more than capable.

***

The chicken scrawled something on the ground. Crenshaw frowned.

"It seems that they're far enough that Freya can be sensed. Good call on working out that with the chickens beforehand," he said.

Woda grunted, as he was wont to do.

They had taken up residence on an outlying farmhouse, the closest one from the northern approach.

Crenshaw had paid the owners, a pair of raccoons, a hefty price for the usage of their barn. They had picked it precisely because the regimental scout platoon had taken up residence right south of them.

The five chickens they brought were at home next to the scouts and before long several of the scouts had popped in to see their neighbors.

Crenshaw had welcomed them, speaking at length of his concerns with their Master Sergeant before asking them to call upon their special team if anything happened.

He left with assurances that they'd be called if needed.

Crenshaw didn't mention their stash of magiced arrows, but he didn't need to. After they had heard about the blue jays, the master sergeant had found out about their exploits.

"Where's the jays yall done came in wid?" She asked.

"Why my dear," Crenshaw replied coyly, "they are on mission."

The scout nodded.

“Knowing yee, the type of mission… that roach don’t pull.”

“Indeed,” Crenshaw said.