"So what you're saying is that there are other forms of payment?" Crenshaw said.

He had taken the lead position ahead of the pack, with Stone close behind him.

"If you were to ask me to do a job like this one for pay? Old me would have charged a couple hundred clams. Assuming the company would let me freelance. But this? This is priceless to me."

Crenshaw grunted. They were close to making camp for the day, and Freya already felt weary. Ruby the hen had been carrying Stone all day and needed rest the most. They’d changed mounts after their encounter, and Chicken Freya had now begun to complain.

Freya was happy that neither of them could understand the chickens squawking.

"So you are saying that you value the experience, it all."

"Something like that, look Master Sergeant, there's not a lot of adventure left in my life. Sure, my bones are old and creaky and there's more streaks of white on my fur, but I still feel strong. It's priceless to me."

"I think that we can set up camp over there-that or find a brew or two," Woda said, his voice a gruff undercurrent.

Ahead of them one side of a tree was lit up. It wasn’t fire, it looked more like candle light, and as it flickered Freya breathed a sigh of relief.

It was the second sign of civilization they'd seen since leaving yellowrock. If you didn't count the path leading between the two places, it would have been the first.

Her mind, usually spinning miles a minute was quiet as they approached a large evergreen pine tree with several lamps outside. The daylight was still heavy but it was evident that would not be for long. Freya followed her guardians.

A large building, carved into a tree, the Ball of Yarn was a trading post, inn and most recently a stables. The first floor looked like it had been very recently cleared out to allow for stalls and chicken feed as well as the less glamorous instruments that kept a ranch clean.

Out front a sharp looking raccoon in a black beret kept watch. He nodded at their approach. Two small possums played at a game with sticks and bats out front under his watchful eye.

"Scouts, eh?" He said as the two mice dismounted ahead of Freya.

"In a manner of speaking," River said,"pray tell do you have beds and stable room tonight for us?"

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The raccoon eyed the group and came to a quick conclusion.

"Might be we has the room, eh, but I want not trouble from you lot. Clear as day, we are not wanting anything from that place," he jerked his paw in their direction of travel,"affecting these ones."

He looked over to the possums, who both yipped with glee.

"That won't be a problem," River said.

"Very well, guide your beasts into our stables and then follow the stairs to the second floor landing. Might be that someones not there, and if so ring the bell. Someone will come along shortly."

The grey raccoon ushered them into the converted first floor.

"I'm sorry sir, but what did you say your name was?" Crenshaw said.

"I didn't," the raccoon replied.

There were enough stalls for ten chickens and hay enough for those ten to become very comfortable.

Crenshaw his his best disdainful face, Freya even gave him points for trying, but the raccoon didn't say anything else.

River seemd to accept the situation as well, keeping her silence after they entered.

"Most excellent innkeeper, we would like to partake in three? Or perhaps four? Of your finest rooms?" Stone said at the top of the stairs. His eyes darted around his group, looking for guidance and finding none.

The small creature behind the small counter put his glasses on and brought out a ledger of twice his size. Around him the gnarled wood looked not only treated well but perhaps spoiled by the touch of some unknown woods creature.

"You should know that our finest rooms start at ten clams a piece," the mole behind the counter said, matter or factly.

"You'll be paying the tab, eh old otter?" Crenshaw guffawed behind him.

Stone turned pale.

Behind him River sighed and pulled oit forty clams.

"The circle always comes around," she said.

The mole was taken aback.

"Milady kindness, there would be no fee for you if you could possibly minister to-"

"I am not a member of the clergy."

River briefly flashed a necklace at the mole.

"Ah, nine hundred and ninety six pardons milady druid, I had no foreknowledge. Our best…four rooms are at your disposal. Perhaps if you are able to sit in on one of the creatures here, my wife is close to being in labor and she …well I fear for her."

For a second, Freya could hear everyone around her breathing.

"Freya, are you ready for a lesson?"

Then she could only hear her own heartbeat. It thundered around the room. Could no one else hear it?

"Yes, druid."

Her chest hammered away, ignoring the countenances of those around her. Those few wjo wanted to not be drowned out by a mouses cardiac problems. She was grateful that no one noticed as River beckoned for her to follow. She was ecstatic that her paws continued to carry her up two flights of stairs as River asked question after question to the mole.

Questions like 'Is this her first?' and 'Has she been in pain?', they all faded into the background static of what she was being asked to do.

"There may be a time in which you will have to pretend to be a druid initiate, trust me to take the lead and do exactly what I say," River had said before they left the walls.

"How will I know?" Freya had replied.

"I will ask you if you are ready for a lesson. You will indicate that you are prepared, you will adopt the persona of a druid initiate and so what is needed."

Freya had understood what she needed to do. But understanding and doing are neighbors from across town, not down the road.

"Bring me water," River said as they entered the room,"and towels."