Five minutes after they entered Long Tail, they found the Last Tea on the Left. To its credit, it was a tea house and on the left side of the road before the gate to exit. Rather than forming a circular pattern the village itself was a lot of buildings built along the main road as well as against the outer walls.

The morning sun showed how much work and care had been put into the outer walls. It looked like generations of druids and moles had taken their time to shape the earth as if to defy the heavens. The lowest parts of it had stone-carved artwork which glinted as they stood outside the Tea shop, feeding their chickens.

A rabbit stood out front, gaping at the motley crew.

“I haven’t seen this many otters here in a while, but these chickens? Are you lot… scouts?”

Freya smiled warmly. The air smelled dank of brewed tea leaves as the rabbit stretched up to pet her bonded beast. He wore a mismatched set of brown pants and a red vest with embroidered tea cups.

“Not us, kind rabbit, but I’ve trained many chickens.”

A menu outside the tea house drew in her grandpaw and Crenshaw. Stone stretched as he joined Freya.

“This young mouse here? She’s a saint, probably going to save the war for the coalition, I reckon,” he said, “Er, you wouldn’t happen to have Ka-pi would you? I see it on the menu.”

The rabbit was crestfallen briefly, as his ears receded. His whiskers drooped.

“Unfortunately no, the last group through here, scouts mind you so I’m not angry at them, bought out my entire stock. Something about using it for favors on the front lines.”

"It would be worth a lot of money to someone with nothing to spend it on," Stone said.

Grandpaw grunted. He moved out into the middle of the street and peered down at the gate. Freya followed his gaze.

"A round of tea and scones if you will, good rabbit," Crenshaw said.

The rabbit brightened. He nodded and disappeared into the shop.

The wood paneling around the door spoke to utility, but the painting of rabbits and mice dancing spoke to a small child with a paintbrush. Freya examined it, looking for a fox. She finally found one in the image of a circle of dancing creatures, but the visage was different.

"The one fox, it looks like whatever young artist made this," Crenshaw said, "they aren't so familiar with how foxes should look. I don't know many foxes that get this far out from the capital."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"There's no otters either. Beavers I can forgive their absence, but otters? We're joyful creatures! I must have a word with the artist."

The rabbit motioned for the party to have a seat as he returned.

"You'll have to consult my daughter. She made the mural. Also, she is about eight years old so please be kind."

Stone sighed.

Freya waited for everyone else to sit, and all but River were waiting for her. River had done her disappearing act again, probably to change back to raven form. Freya briefly considered doing the same. Then she remembered the number of times her face had unwillingly snogged the ground and she considered it a third time would be the charm.

The wooden seats provided were half barrels, previously of mead use or some other drink. Probably one that only adult mice got to drink.

River returned, and Freya put her sugar in before her teabag without noticing it.

A gasp came out from across the way. A small rabbit was talking to the tea shop proprietor, and Freya gathered that this might be the artist.

"You okay lass?" Stone said.

“You said something about your son being a ranger?”

“He is, he left last season with River. Are you considering becoming a druid? If you have the talent, you would make a great one. I am so glad that River is a part of my family now.”

“Did he mention anything about how the initiates are treated? Or how it is? My mother has only told me cryptic things. I don’t need to know how it was fifteen years ago.”

Stone paused to consider.

“And you didn’t ask River because…? Oh, you don’t want to tip your paw eh?”

Crenshaw loudly sipped his tea.

River came around the corner, fully a raven now.

‘I hope someone steeped my tea for me,” she said, before taking the only empty seat.

Guilty eyes circled the table. Twice.

A few rabbits gawked at her, making the sign of the raven. River eyed Freya's tea before swapping her hot water with the mouse's hot sugar water.

"Uh, Druid river? You might not want to…uh?" Freya said.

River made an unforgettable face that told Freya two things. One was that the raven liked her tea a certain way, and two was that River rejected the reality of the hot water she had just drunk.

"Freya, did you put the sugar into the tea before the leaves?"

Freya blanched. She had hoped to have no one notice her faux pas, what with the journey and all being on their minds. Of course, a lady mouse would have prepared a proper tea, actually making the ingredients sing together. She mentally recounted how Lady Raina had explained how bad it was.

Something about it being tantamount to a declaration of war if the tea was served that way. Suppose it could be called tea at all.

Freya did not want a war with River, but neither did she expect her mentor to just steal her cup. She must have been similarly on edge.

"Apologies for the mouse, daughter," Stone said, patting the raven on the shoulder, "She's probably just a bit jittery."

"Aren't we all," Crenshaw said.

"Hmm," Grandpaw grunted.

"It's alright. Just never serve tea like that to anyone. You will have a lot of meetings as a druid."

Freya nodded, placing leaves into Rivers' cup.

The second breakfast arrived to much fanfare and the travelers ate their fill.