After a long period of sampling and deliberating, the judges returned to the center of the table. "In last place,” said Spring, “is this one." She swept out a paw towards the tray on the far left.
Chip released a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He wasn’t last. What else mattered if he wasn't the worst?
The judges went through each sample, offering a few words of advice. Chip held his breath each time.
"In third place," the Admiral walked over to the tray all the way to the right, "this one."
Chip almost sighed with relief. His was one of the last two.
"Which leaves the second and first place."
Chuck the otter stood tall, chest out, ready to declare victory as the tension cut the air.
"In the second place," Spring said, pausing for effect, "is this one."
Chip gritted his teeth at the honor of being selected second. Next to him, Chuck's exultation drowned out what the judges were saying. Out of the corner of his eye, Chip could see Sela and Sam, hugging. Sam seemed to have resigned herself to it, but Sela was indignant.
The uproar from the crowd quieted.
"And now!" the Admiral said, his voice squeaking, just slightly. "The crowd favorite! Please! Everyone come on down and we'll arrange these in order of preference on your cards so we can crown not only who the judges liked best, but who the people like best!"
***
Sela stalked over to sample the sweet rolls and cast his vote for Chip. Maybe he was biased, but Chip’s rolls were the best anyway, so.
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He wandered over to Chuck to see how the champion was doing, but he was surrounded by a herd of well wishers. Turning instead, he tried a roll from Chuck’s batch, and was bowled over by the taste. These were not the same pastries he’d sampled on top of the mesa. This was a rich, smooth flavor that made him think of all the good times.
Sela stood there, tasting it, while Sam and Chip chatted up their own fans. Second place was nothing to sneeze at.
“I love how close you all are.”
River’s lilting voice felt like butter. Sela nodded, his face a knot of concentration.
She continued, “I’m kind of jealous – I wish we had what you have.”
“The druids don’t let you marry? Or is it that us three are…” He trailed off, looking at the third- and fourth-place rolls. “Or something else entirely. Have you ever been in love?”
“Only the unrequited kind,” River sighed.
Chuck’s rolls left a pleasant aftertaste in Sela’s mouth. He licked his lips, chasing the sweetness, and said, “Tell me more about what being a ranger entails.”
***
Agent Capybara stroked his goatee. He sat in a booth in the back of the inn, waiting for his contact to arrive.
“She’s not here yet,” said the serving mouse, “but can I offer you another carrot soup, if you’d like?”
He placed his pipe down on the table.
“I’m going to go for a smoke,” he said, “and perhaps one of them will return by the time my embers are done. I’ll take the soup, though.”
He wandered outside, only lighting his pipe once he stood beneath the sign proclaiming The Carrot and the Stick. The warm firelight flickering through the windows kept the overcast autumn day from becoming too depressing. He smoked for a minute, listening for any sound from inside. The usual motley crew of mice, rabbits and otters had cleared out after the lunch rush.
Two pairs or wings flapped above, and he stepped back to welcome his allies.
“Druid Spring,” he said to the sparrow, “Druid River.” He tipped his pipe to the raven.
River looked in no mood for niceties, feathers ruffled. “I take it that you realize that you’ve gotten terrible information, and have come to apologize?”
“You’re going to need to figure out what happened, if River is going to do well on her practical exam,” Spring said, “Your inquiry into the strengths of the competitors? It lacked a certain substance.”
“I think we need to widen the scope of your inquiry,” River added.
“By all means,” Agent Capybara said, “Let’s have a chat.”