River nuzzled a chicken as Freya’s third attempt made a good bond. By that time, the mouse looked exhausted.

Leaning against the pen, she held out a hand.

"Scouts! We're going to break for lunch! Master Sergeant Mongoose, I suggest you do as well. We will try again in an hour or so," River said, "If Miss Uki is up to it."

Mongoose snarled a command that was somewhere between a yelp and a growl and the scouts filed out expediently.

River saw a familiar elder female mouse with a toddler and a young pup in her arms. The toddler was pointing excitedly at the approaching pair of River and Freya.

Freya looked gaunt as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. River knew the look well, as it was commonplace enough for druid initiates and apprentices to pull almost more energy than they held, burning nearly everything they had. It was an accepted part of training and the kitchens at the valley of the red mist served the best food. Either because one was starving when they arrived or because it was actually delicious, River could never tell. She always pushed herself to the point at which she was ravenous.

The tiny mouse toddled over to Freya pulling out a roll.

Freya took a knee.

"Now, Kayli, was this in your pouch all day?"

The tiny mouse squealed with delight. Freya bit into it.

River knew that feeling of happiness well, as euphoria tracked across Freya's face. She hoped to see it more often.

"I should probably go eat my lunch," River said, "Midwife Uki, is that you?"

"Ah, one of my students I take it?" the elder mouse said.

River tried to remember her first name and came up blank. It had only been a year since she'd followed the mouse around during the delivery season. Perhaps she could ask? No, that wouldn't be right.

"It's Beatrice," she said, “but I don't remember any black otters. I do recall a corvid named River? Any relation?"

River gulped, in the most unnatural and unfamiliar motion.

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“You could say that, Ma’am.”

Freya and Kayli continued walking towards the house as the elder mouse and otter plodded behind them.

By long agreed upon rules of courtesy, all woodland animals tried to shelter a druid when one was about. To feed one, or a ranger, was considered an honor. River knew that Beatrice was one of the best midwives. She had taken it up at the behest of the druids, once her aptitude for magic was shown to be lacking.

At least that was what Spring had said before they'd met.

A round of rolls and dried fruits brought Freya back to life. River munched happily on everything they fed her, awkwardly palming the smaller portions in her hands. Mice were smaller than otters but not too much so.

Before long, Master Sergeant Mongoose had the scouts all working on firing their bows from the chickens at some targets they found out back. They alternated between charging the targets with swords and firing arrows, trying to get a tempo going.

The chickens loved it and the scouts all looked sick. One even vomited as River and Freya watched.

“My father's targets,” Freya said, looking at the cat-sized targets, “He’ll be really happy that they’re getting used like this when he gets back.”

“Let’s ‘ope me scouts make the old corporal proud,” Mongoose said, approaching the pair.

Freya and River waited for Mongoose to say something but she just settled in. It couldn’t have been that they had the best vantage point over the scouts' multiple attacks. Behind them, a bonded chicken Freya clucked contentedly.

After the longest pause River spoke, “The real trick, is going to be getting a rider to do the same thing on a chicken bonded to someone else. Then you’ll know that they can follow commands.”

Mongoose pulled her whiskers for the longest time.

“Some of these will probably be better warriors than me scouts,” Mongoose said.

“That makes me think, and thank you, Druid,” Freya said, pausing to look back at chicken Freya, “Master Sergeant, care to give it an attempt? You can use my chicken.”

River could see the paws gripping on both of them. Was this gruff veteran scared of a fluffy beast?

“There’s a bow down there,” Mongoose said, standing up, suddenly very serious. She checked her quiver,” Ask yer chicken to help grab it and we can attack that target.”

Mongoose pointed to the farthest target of the lot.

Chicken Freya perked, ruffling her feathers.

River felt Freya take a set of deep breaths as Mongoose mounted her bonded chicken.

The two bounded down the small hill towards first the bow.

Mongoose leaned over and grabbed the bow with ease, beginning to spring an arrow overhead.

All of the scouts stopped as the two closed the gap to the minimum bolt distance. Mongoose lowered the strung bow from overhead to shoulder to mid-chest.

Closing her legs, she squeezed with both and loosed an arrow.

The scouts gasped as the chicken turned, banking left right before running over the target.

Freya couldn’t quite make it out but the cry from the scouts made the result crystal clear.

The scouts had found a new way to terrify their opponents.