At dawn the day before the contest, they gathered by the river.

Chip brought sweet rolls, a homemade offering to his partners-in-crime. Sela dug in with enthusiasm, ever the hype otter. At his feet stood a stack of fish tins.

Sam arrived with an apron full of spices, and she gave each otter a kiss. Sela stiffened. Chip beamed.

River flapped down to join them. Around her neck four beaded necklaces drooped low, and she removed them as she landed, one for each of them. Chip peered at the tiny dragon hanging like a pendant from the cord. Nithe, the god of luck, war and mercantilism.

“You’re going to need luck,” River said to Chip, “and I can only give you so much. Now I need to ask you all an important question.”

The otters nodded to her. Sam took Chip and Sela’s paws in hers.

River cleared her throat, feathers ruffling awkwardly. “This has been one of the best experiences I’ve ever had, and I’m so happy that I ran into the three of you. I…” She trailed off, holding back tears.

As one, the raft pressed in to give her a hug.

“River, you’re one of us,” Sam said. Blushing, she added, “If you were an otter, we would probably...”

“You’re like family now,” Chip sniffled. “You’re always welcome with us.”

“Thanks, that does make this easier,” River said, pulling out of the otter love pile. She drew up to her full height, spreading her wings.

“I can do something special for the three of you,” River said. “I want you to think about this. When a druid chooses a ranger, they shape a bond, a way to always be connected. I’ve already asked Sela to be my ranger.”

It was Chip and Sam's turn to step back, staring down their raft mate. “Sela? I didn’t…?”

“I know what you’re thinking, Chip, I haven’t said yes or no yet. But… I’m considering it.”

Sam gripped back onto Chip. Sela slumped down.

“The ranger bond is… it’s permanent,” River said, and then, casually, “and I can bond more than one ranger.”

Chip looked stunned. Sam reached out to Sela, stroking his cheek. “If you bond all three of us, then we’ll feel each other… always?”

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Sela brightened.

“Are there rangers that don’t fight… and maybe just do a lot of cooking?” Chip asked, holding out a hand for Sela to grasp.“Because that kinda sounds like polygamy with extra steps.”

“What’s polygamy without complications,” Sam replied. She and Chip both regarded River like the last sweetroll at the table. Sam squeezed his hand, as if begging him to say what they both thought.

“Can you bond all three of us?”

***

The bond took a moment to prepare as River wove between the three of them. Each thread snared them tighter until the final bond brought her insight into how they felt. A little clump of Sela, Sam and Chip sat at the base of her skull.

“I feel…stronger,” Sela said, flexing his muscles.

“I do too, but what I really feel is your presence,” Chip said, gesturing to each of the others in turn, “and yours and yours. Sam, you feel giddy, and Sela you feel … calm?”

Sela patted him on the back, big paw lingering. “Calm as a rock,” he said. “Sword forms would be easy as heck now.”

River felt empty as she wrung out the last of her red mist. She grabbed a sweetroll and began munching.

“I can jump super high now!” Sam said, testing out her legs. “Oh River, this is marvelous.”

“You don’t even know how high you used to be able to jump,” Chip ribbed. He was warm and soft at the back of River’s mind, a solid mass of… was that hope? River tried to tug on the bond, looking for it.

“River! Let’s get you fed, you feel hungry,” Sam said. “Have you ever done this before?” Chip and Sela picked River up, one wing on each shoulder. They started into town. Sela’s pack sounded with each step, the fish tins and wooden sticks clanging together.

***

“Today, we welcome all of the contestants! Now, the rules here are rather complex, but according to the mole inquiry office, they are fair. You won’t get any additional help from those.” Baron Cornflower's voice rang out over the mesa top. The small yellow mouse stood poised over a little outcropping of rock, the other judges sat around him.

The Baron continued on, going over the minute details that Uncle Brit had already made sure Chip knew.

A raised voice and a pointed cough stopped the noise from the rabble-rousers as the Baron let a raven give the invocation. “Nithe bless these cooks, and bring luck to the harvest and our continuing bounty,” the finely-robed raven said. Her ink-black feathers made River look almost pale in comparison. “Good luck to all of the contestants, and I hope that this year’s harvest has given you the ingredients you need.”

With those words, Chip and his uncle trundled over to their stand.

“Mr. Steal Your Pearl, good luck to you,” Sam said, setting up a row of spices on the table for Chip to display his wares. The Baron would pay for everything this week, the vendors keeping track with the marble chits that they bought. Those marbles would be counted and paid out, but also used to determine who the crowd favorite was.

“Sam, okay, remember the plan,” Chip said.

“Sell! Sell! Sell!” The voices of Sela and Sam came in chorus.

“Okay, you two,” Uncle Brit said, cleaning something in his apron. His big paws rose to show a teacup.

“I’m off to guard mount,” Sela said, kissing Sam and the Chip in turn. “Hope to see you soon.”

Sam patted his bottom. “Love to see an otter in uniform,” she said.

Chip looked down to his apron, then up and then down and her. He grinned hopefully.

“It’s a fine uniform, nephew,” Uncle Brit said. “If your raftmate doesn’t appreciate it, then those are the cards.”