A knock on the door of the Chin-Hwa mansion reminded Crenshaw that the place was entirely too big for a sensible mouse. He’d been living in apartments in the back, but since his cousin had left, more and more he was inside the mansion, reading for the most part. It wasn’t the bad handwriting of a scout report, but he had to admit that contemporary fiction wasn’t too terrible.

Crenshaw had heard the knock and hurried to beat Grace Chin-Hwa there. She didn’t need to answer the door herself and with a skeleton staff due to winter celebrations, Crenshaw had been taking on more and more of the estate duties.

The retired master sergeant was taken aback at seeing Freya Uki. It wasn’t that she was disheveled, but he could sense that she had made a fateful decision. It was tea time after all, not that he was expecting anyone.

“Ah Miss, I suppose that you’re here to ask after my health are you?”

Freya blinked as if the utter absurdity of him speaking had caused her to short circuit.

“He… he… he’s…”

“Take your time Miss Uki,” Crenshaw said, leading her to a chair, “Take as long as you need.”

His paws didn’t linger on hers for long, but they already felt shaky.

The poor girl looked like she was about to break into tears and all Crenshaw could think was that he wanted some tea and biscuits.

His stomach groaned.

Retired life was for the birds.

She held out a letter to him. Slowly, he unfolded it.

“Oh, he shouldn’t have said that,” Crenshaw said, “I’ll have it burned.”

“Wait!” Freya said, somehow finding her voice,” Don’t please..”

“I’ll bring some tea.”

After a brief bit of steeping and munching the two finally sipped the tea. The midday sun through the sitting room hit just right to blind Crenshaw if he looked out.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The warmth made him smile.

"Should I have something made for your chicken?" the elder mouse mused.

He’d enjoyed seeing the chickens, but it was a bit of excitement riding one.

"She will be okay. I just made a fool of myself, but at least I fed her."

The aroma hit Crenshaw's nostrils. Earthy and sweet, it made his whiskers slick back with anticipation.

"Do tell?"

“I had an argument with the cobbler brothers. And then I got this letter. Muk makes it sound terrible and I want to do more. It made it into the society papers and now everyone is looking at me strangely.”

"That's not how it works. You can’t just run off and decide that you’re joining up in the middle of the war," Crenshaw said, offering Freya a biscuit, "You're thinking about them instead of yourself. Don't beat yourself up, it means that you care. Soldiers train for months before they leave. At best you would be helping in some small way. You especially shouldn’t run off and try to join the war effort to escape the season."

Freya accepted the biscuit, considered it, and in the end looked like she wasn't hungry. He didn’t mention that there were often camp followers and give her any ideas. Her family would blame him.

The two sipped tea.

"I just. I want to help!" Freya said, clearly frustrated. For a second, Crenshaw thought she was exuding a red heat around herself. It must have been a trick of his eye.

"You are helping! You could always write back or…no one has done more individually for the war effort than you. For years I cursed the birds who carried our messages, but now, with the threats of Archers, they are not doing what they used to. Your chickens, they have done a lot."

Freya's eyes went wide and Crenshaw felt his stomach tighten. He had heard the news from an old friend and cursed the commanders with their choleric moods.

"I could go to help! I could bake and...you could take me to him!"

Crenshaw almost toppled over.

It took the elder mouse a minute to gather his wits.

Several times, he blinked making sure that he wasn't having a lucid dream.

"Oh Raven's eye, Miss Uki, that is bold… he uh. I would...uh"

"So you’ll do it? Take me to the front lines? It's not too far, I heard. I'll make it a business trip, I need to see how my chickens are faring with the scouts, you know that they're terrible-awful at giving me feedback from the scouts with who I have bonded with a chicken and…"

Crenshaw put his teacup down in a controlled manner. His hands were cool and clammy.

"You know what, I do want to have a bit of an adventure. A two-day ride isn't too far off and…" he said.

"Ah, wonderful! I will need a guide."

Freya stood up, wiping her eyes with the napkin. She looked in control of the situation.

Then she pulled out a map, suddenly all business.

"Sweet Miru,” said Crenshaw, realizing what he’d just agreed to.

Woda was going to kill him. At least his granddaughter was about as crafty as he’d expected.