The rest of the day, Freya rode in silence with her crew. She didn’t have words for what had happened, and every time she tried to bring it up again, she felt ill.

War was sickening.

Freya tried to recall every time that she’d seen her father at the Corporals Complement. The only good note from her trip had been attending to the birth the night prior, and even that was fraught. She could have made so many mistakes.

She hadn’t, thanks to River.

Freya could have died twice over.

She hadn’t, thanks to all of the creatures with her.

All of a sudden, a life of idle socialite work seemed a lot more appealing.

Next to her, whispered words didn't reach her ears.

She had been in flight when the cat began his attack. She wanted to turn away, especially when he was on the offensive, but soon it was apparent that her Grandpaw had been holding back something. Freya thought back to all the early mornings he had spent training, stretching back even as far as to her childhood.

He had been prepared the whole time.

Freya felt in contrast that she’d spent no time at all with her bow. That it was her best martial skill stung. Her ability was of no consequence against such a strong fighter.

If she stacked her magical ability against River? The druid held back so many secrets that were for accepted members of the circle. She didn't even know what she didn’t know.

All that she knew was that feeling of powerlessness. That and the urge to never feel it again. She didn't lust for battle, but if one came, she would be prepared.

The druid's ride looked to be a bit more lively. Freya could see the occasional head pat and whispered words of encouragement.

She found herself at a loss for words. Her wariness leaked into the bond and the chicken looked back at her once. Comfort returned, where her nerves had gone.

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Later, they arrived without fanfare to the supply base. The weary Soldiers let them in hours before dawn.

“Follow us to third platoons area, it’ll be safe, and they’re out on mission,” a mouse said, leading them through. His black and orange fur reminded Freya of the day prior.

“Thank you, lad,” Stone said, leading the pack.

They were led to a small fire around which their chickens lay. They rested.

Freya chewed mechanically. She’d no sense of taste nor did she want to think about the rolls she'd accepted wordlessly.

She pulled out some resin from her pack, as well as some shafts.

As the others slept, she began to put together the shafts and arrowheads she’d brought. The pieces move together easily and she found that the digits on her wings moved as if she'd had them her whole life. In two hours she'd made a good pile. Then the sun began its rise and her body caught up to her brain.

River was watching her as she staggered over to sleep.

"Rest well, little knife."

Freya was too tired to reply and before she knew it she was blissfully asleep.

Hour later, the bluejays conferred over whispered mouthfuls of savory rolls.

"You're just able to hold this for days at a time?"

"Yes. It's important for druids like us to use the abilities we're given to steer society in the right direction. To do that?"

"It would help if there was an implicit trust."

Freya paused, floofing the chicken wing behind her. Chicken Freya peeked an eye at her ward and then returned to resting.

"An implicit trust because they think that you're one of them?"

"Because they know it. I didn’t show you all of this for nothing. Freya, the circle needs creatures like you. You could be the knife that rips apart the tapestry of war."

"That's poetic. I'm a knife ripping apart one of those ancient battles between creature and beast?"

River narrowed her eyes.

"Druids had stopped conflict more times than … well we could count the amount, but safe to say it's a large number."

"I'll…I'll consider it."

River looked content for the moment. Perhaps it was the water skin she brought to her beak.

"And since everyone here saw two blue jays enter, you still have to eat. You must maintain your red mist, or you'll eventually revert. The fact that you didn’t while you slept means that your talent is… strong."

Freya smiled. It was nice to be wanted for more than just marriage material.

"Now we're here and I expect we will be asked to make cusser arrows so…"

Freya's eyes widened.

"I'm going to have to stall them. I can show you a weave but…"

"You can't do it yourself."

"Not when I don't know who they will be used on. No one will know the difference except us, and perhaps another sapper who is paying attention."

"You're something else, Beatrice."

"I'm going to 'disappear" to 'gather materials' and then we'll make them."

Freya nodded. The coalition would need every advantage. It would be the least she could do. Then their trip would fade into rumor, hopefully.

River hopped up, a spring in her step.

"I'll…bring more food."