Muk pursed his lips. Kimchi's unfortunate situation with the burnt-off eyebrows was doing him no favors. Muk tried to concentrate on what the brown mouse was saying as he gave his short report.

It was a bit difficult, however. He would need to adjust. Muks ears popped and the Coronet came into focus.

"The area is secure."

Muk nodded. They would have words later, but for now? He would stop trying to educate the mouse.

Ten of his supply carts had been moved from his circled-up position since the accident. They were calling it an accident since it was almost certainly the Coronets' fault and they needed to avoid stepping on someone's feelings, that of a certain lord father Kimchi that Muk had the recent pleasure of corresponding with. The cockroaches were now being taken out of their harnesses and put back into the little mobile pen to feed.

Thankfully none of their chitinous black wings or carapace had been harmed by the grease fire.

Muk often thought about how difficult it was to get a thing and today was no different. True the Coronet hadn't even been able to ruin a pan, but to replace a cockroach potentially?

There was the husbandry of the young one and then they had to accept being a beast of burden. It had taken his forefathers hundreds of years to domesticate the animals and they were one of the most expensive things he had. Save for the life of another creature, they were worth the amount of work that went into the far and above it.

The chickens however were an anomaly. Muk saw a second scout approaching the area - a white mouse on a brown chicken. The mouse made a beeline for Private Monroe and the two conferred.

If Muks family could make chickens in a repeatable way, he could secure the family for generations. Was it birthing chickens? Raising them? Muk would have to look into the matter.

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The two scouts went to look at the scorched earth in the center of his camp.

He brought out his sheaf of papers and brought up the first blank sheet. From his field desk overlooking the interior of his small logistics camp, Muk penned a letter.

Dearest Freya,

The thing is that as soon as I left, I knew it was a mistake. Not in the sense that the war efforts are going terrible. They’re not.

I have no illusions now that the last few weeks have been some of the happiest of my life. I have been trying to think of exactly why that is and I believe that I have the answer.

The time we spent together pulled me out of my routine and caused me to look forward to something beyond my work.

Now I am jealous of that naive young mouse that idly spent hours waiting for our next meeting.

Here is to that mouse once again smiling in anticipation of when next we meet.

Muk Chin-Hwa

Muk put the letter down

This letter would make it back to Freya far slower than he would have liked. He mentally rewrote it five more times. It wasn’t that he could make it any better. He justified his position by seeing if he had promised too much. He didn't feel like he had.

After all the time he had spent working on getting out here, the first time he had taken anything remotely close to contact sent him reeling.

The flash of the explosion stuck with him.

So too that momentary pause in his hearing where his entire focus was on determining the threat. He realized that he was still gripping his pencil roughly and set it down.

Across the way, the scouts seemed to agree.

Muk gathered his requests for more manpower and a cheeky note for Captain Bell.

Private Monroe grabbed his satchel after seeing Muk bring out his stamp and begin to impress his seal upon the envelopes.

"Sir, we are wondering if you are okay?" He asked.

Muk nodded, his ears once again popping to the welcome sound of a voice.

"I believe that I will be fine. Corner Kimchi should make a full recovery. Where does your route take you next?"

Private Monroe smiled from the eyes up for the briefest of seconds. It was clear that something about his duties was pressing now. Probably reporting the grease fire to the command element. The brown mouse shook his riding cloak and then

Muk would need to attend a small council meeting soon, but they usually came back to his location as a central meeting point.

"Master Sergeant Mongoose, she has me reporting to the platoon but after that? Someone will take your letters back to the city. It may be me or," he gestured to his ally behind him, "Private Karl."

He missed the familiar feel of the vast Chin-Hwa manse. His winter holdings seemed so far away now with the war on. The mansion was a bit cramped for his fabulous lifestyle, but he couldn’t wait to host a party with all the scouts and see his cousin Crenshaw and his mother again.

“You know what I miss most about peacetime?”

“Sir?”

“The sweet rolls.”

The mice grinned.

Muk shook the scout's hand and gave him some sweet rolls for his trip.

“Thank you, sir. Yours is as always, our favorite stop.”