The outskirts of the settlement of Clear Lake, a fallen tree to the northeast to be precise, was the agreed-upon meeting place that morning. Bindle waited for them, looking far more squirrely than the night before. His red fur was meticulously groomed to optimal fluffiness, and his triangular ears were tipped with long hair. Each time he adjusted himself, a ripple effect ran up his tail and made him look larger. Purely from measurement, his body was the same size as Thatch’s.

When he caught sight of Amie and Thatch, Bindle exploded forward and circled them a few times. When his burst of energy calmed, he leaned into Amie’s face and chittered, “Thanks for the save last night with that wail. I thought I was a goner!”

“Of course, Bindle, we’re a team after all.”

“Aw, such cute modesty.”

“How about you save those kinds of compliments for a squirrel, eh?” She brushed down her fur.

Thatch interrupted the young rodents’ chatter, “You have the item, Bindle?”

“You betcha!” In a moment, the red squirrel bounded up into the fallen log, then returned with a bulging cheek. He procured the item: a shiny, blue, oblong pebble that filled his two paws easily. It sparkled in the sunlight with each tilt.

Amie reached out to touch it. It was a little moist and warm from being in Bindle’s mouth, but it was smooth and captivatingly blue. She now understood why the rock had been so important to recover. Its beauty was beyond compare. If it were hers, she’d place it as a centerpiece in her burrow. If she had a burrow of her own, that is. She shrank away from the thought.

“Good.” Thatch raised his head, scanning the sky. “Our client should be here soon.”

“I hope you asked for something awesome in return, boss.” Bindle handed over the stone. “Diving through fish-infested waters under a dozen guards’ noses ought to be worth a winter’s supply of food, right?”

“I’ve set the parameters and will trade our rewards further for supplies in Clear Lake.”

“What good things do birds have anyways?” the squirrel scoffed, “They can’t get anything a squirrel can’t reach and don’t even have the paws to craft much art or tools.”

“Maybe downy feathers?” Amie theorized. Most rodents traded exorbitant amounts for the luxury of sleeping on a pile of them. Bindle nodded along thoughtfully.

Thatch was interrupted by a sudden flurry of wingbeats overhead. Amie instinctively crouched, hoping her brownish-gray fur camouflaged her against the dirt and grass.

Two large birds circled down onto the fallen tree. Their plumage was inky-black, and their beaks and feet were a lighter gray. One was taller than the other and seemed to be the one in charge. They squawked at each other in their native bird-tongue, beaks snapping and feathers fluffing for a moment. Then, oddly, the larger one began mimicking perfect Squeakish, “Thatch and his crew, yes? You have Krakaw’s blue stone?”

He nodded and held out the pilfered object. “Your stone has been fished from the depths of the sacred lake without incident.”

“Bah!” The crow Krakaw raised his head and fluffed out the feathers around his throat. “If not for silly rodent ideas, not such a convoluted plot needed to dive in for lost treasure. You have Krakaw and his family’s thanks for returning the stone. Say thank you, Fledgling,” his beak poked at the smaller bird’s head.

The younger bird squawked something that sounded closer to “aunk yew”. It was impossible to tell gender from the throaty birds’ voices, but Amie guessed the younger bird was also male.

Krakaw hopped forward and picked up the stone in his beak, then raised his head to send out another crow-call through the air. A third bird fluttered into sight, carrying a large bundle in its claws. Once the prize was placed on the ground, Amie was surprised to see it bounce lightly. Maybe Thatch had asked for down.

Dipping its head, the third bird backed away from the bundle. It seemed to have sleeker feathers and a rounder head. Maybe this was Krakaw’s mate?

“Your odd request for Biters has been fulfilled, at great care,” Krakaw announced, “sort through the feathers carefully. They are hard to find.” He flapped his wings heartily. “And that concludes business, Thatch and crew. Your name will be remembered for generations, just as this stone has been won and passed down through our family.”

Thatch dipped his head respectfully. “Always a pleasure to do business with a gracious avian.”

“Good rodent, others would do well to learn from you.” The crow turned and flapped into the sky, the other two birds trailing after him.

The bundle of white cloth they had earned suddenly seemed too large to carry and a little nerve-wracking. Amie couldn’t find a way to communicate herself.

Bindle, on the other paw, burst out, “Biters? What are those? You traded a complex job of deception and near-drowning for something called Biters?”

Thatch pushed his nose into the goods and nodded his head slightly. “I have contacts in Clear Lake who would trade a winter’s supply of food for a Biter.” His tone grew slightly more pointed, “It would do you well, Bindle, to consider further trade and value rather than instant gratification.”

Flicking his tail back and forth, Bindle avoided the rat’s gaze and brushed at his fur.

“I will make trades in the settlement, then I’ll be back here before the noon sun. Bindle, I trust you remembered where you placed our travel bags?”

The squirrel bounded up a nearby tree in a blink and returned with two heaps of rough fabric that they had been using to carry their food and supplies. Amie pawed through one bag and confirmed that all that was left were crumbs of grain and old berry juice stains.

“Very good.” Thatch donned both bags and took the crow’s reward between his teeth. Dragging the light but bulky cloth, he marched away without another word.

Amie stared after the cinnamon and white rat, letting her gaze lose focus. She supposed the next thing would be to wait for further orders and perhaps forage for food. She started examining the flora around her.

Bindle tapped her back with a paw, jolting her. “Don’t let that old rat order you around too much, alright? I know he’s a leader and all, but you’re a member of this team too. And don’t let all those rats down there make you feel like a helpless baby.”

She looked at the young squirrel fully, wondering where this niceness had come from. Maybe he was still grateful for the distraction last night? She raised her ears, “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

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His whiskers perked forward and looked her over, red tail moving in a wave. “You’re looking a lot better than, what was it, just a few days ago now?”

“I suppose.” Amie self-consciously tried to wave her little tail like Bindle. She’d heard that tail movement and position were important in squirrel-speak but had no idea if what she was wiggling to the right meaning.

Tapping his teeth together, he said, “Well, regardless of what brought you to us, I think you’ll fit in just fine with the guild. We’ll take you back home, show you around, get another few jobs, and who knows what! You’re not the first to be recruited by Thatch, and you won’t be the last. Some other rodents he helped have made their own teams and have branched into all sorts of professions. Isn’t it exciting?”

She fiddled with her paws quietly.

Bindle continued, “I joined his crew because I want to get some exploring under my belt before I’m chained to a life of cultivating, harvesting, and family rearing. You get that?”

A quiet sound of agreement emanated from her throat.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

She shook her head.

“Well, we just met. We’ll be great friends after a couple more jobs. You can count on that!”

“I, um, thanks.”

Suddenly, the flapping of wings overhead sent Amie crouching and scanning the sky. Bindle scurried into the nearby log and froze. The mouse felt her muscles tense, ready to dash in any direction at a moment’s notice.

Wingbeats filled the air. Descending clumsily with legs kicking about the air was another crow, or maybe the same one from before. With a loud squawk, the bird landed and announced, “Thatch and mice, come. Squawk with mice. Fledgling must talk.”

The two rodents traded glances. This wasn’t part of the deal with Krakaw. She found herself frozen in place. The bird hopped closer, scanning the ground and warbling softly to himself. He seemed to spot Amie and pause. Her heart thundered in her head, driving out any thoughts.

Bindle bravely picked his way out of the log, then raised his head. “What do you want?”

The crow trundled forward, wings held up and head dipping. His broken Squeakish grated on their ears. “Good mice. Fledgling was bad. Fledgling was the dropper of the stone in the pool. Fledgling follow mice to learn squeaks. Become better than foolish fledgling. Yes, yes?”

“You, uh, what?” Bindle asked.

“Fledgling learn squeaks of mice. Follow mice, mimic squeaks. Good friends. Krakaw learn squeaks and help of mice. Fledgling learn too.”

“You want to learn how to speak Squeakish?” Amie guessed at the translation.

“Learn squeaks, yes,” the crow bobbed his head. “Good mice, good mice.”

“I’m not a mouse, but Amie is.” Bindle shook his tail stiffly.

The bird cocked his head, eyeing them more fully.

Amie found curiosity blooming in her. It was like she was finding a fully grown pup trying to figure out how to properly communicate. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘rodent’. We are both rodents, but there are differences between a mouse and a squirrel.”

“Both so little, look same from sky. All mice.”

“Rodent. Say it with me.”

“Ro-dent.” The crow repeated several times, trying out the new sound and where to place the emphasis. He clacked his beak and announced, “Fledgling already master of squeaks! More, more!”

Amie finally raised herself from the ground and tilted her whiskers forward in greeting. “When mice meet for the first time, it is nice to tell each other their names. I am Amie. What is your name, crow?”

“Not important enough for name. Do great thing, then get name. Until great thing, called Fledgling.”

The idea felt rather sad to Amie. To not even have a name whispered to you in the nest in infancy, a name which defined you against all others, that sort of gift had to be earned by birds? Even so, she raised her ears and said, “Nice to meet you, Fledgling.”

“Nice to meet you, nice to meet you,” he repeated back.

Bindle scampered over to Amie’s side. “I’m glad you’re having fun with this, but are you really thinking of taking a big ol’ bird’s request seriously? He’s kind of loud and not the least bit stealthy.”

The mouse tilted her head. “You saw me and thought I could be useful. What’s wrong with a crow? What kind of jobs do you and Thatch do anyway?”

“We stole a treasure from a guarded lake. Our services are not the most reputable, Amie.”

“Repu-Reputa-ble.” Fledgling chirped to himself.

“But we were returning a lost item…” Amie trailed off as the realization hit her. Thatch and Bindle had framed their goal nicely at first, saying that a poor crow had dropped its stone and couldn’t retrieve it because the local rodents were weird about their lake. Now she realized that she had lied and stolen, even if the property was accidentally misplaced in the first place. Her insides flipped over each other.

The red squirrel relaxed and pushed his nose into her shoulder. “Thatch is good about which jobs he takes. He doesn’t do petty jobs for item disputes or for profit alone. But hey, if you’re not up for another heist, you can find a new guild in our home base in Craggy Hill to do good for. It’s water off the duck’s back if you want to do your own thing, you got it?”

Ears lowering to her head, Amie simply acknowledged the statement with a hum. Her head spun with confusing thoughts. Unwilling to speak more about the future, she then suggested foraging and self-grooming while waiting for Thatch. With a wave of his bushy tail, the red squirrel agreed and scampered up the nearest tree.

Grasses were the easiest, though not tastiest food to choose. She placed herself at the base of a stem holding a sprig of seeds at the top and worked to chew through it. While occupied, she offered no new words to the avian. He squawked for a while, asking for more words, until he got the idea. Fledgling fluttered away a few paces to do his own preening and feeding.

Amie’s mind wandered. How deep of an obligation did she have to Thatch and Bindle? Part of her wanted to say everything. She would have been a pile of bones had the two rodents not stopped and nursed her back to health. She would not exist without them. To that end, this new life she’d been given had to be devoted to their goals in exchange. Preexisting morals had to be buried. Yet after deciding this, a deep part of her still felt like she was caught in a free fall.

Once her belly was full, Amie switched to grooming and combing her fur with her claws. Time flew by.

It was a surprise when a cinnamon and white rat ambled into the small clearing with two sacks filled with the fresh scent of luxury foods of the fruit and nut variety. Bindle zipped to the forest floor and chittered an exciting greeting to the older rat. Amie joined the other two, then jumped as Fledgling fluttered to the ground beside her.

Brief introductions and an explanation of the lingering crow were made to the leader. Thatch sniffed the air for a long moment, then asked, “Fledgling, you wish to shadow us to learn our language?”

“Yes, yes.”

“I see no issue in that.”

Bindle’s tail shook like an adder’s rattle, but he held his protests.

“Good mice, good mice.”

“That being said,” Thatch’s attention was strangely focused on Amie while he spoke to the bird, “can you carry one of us to our destination?”

“Dest-desti-nation.” The crow repeated with a fluffed chest.

“Can you carry one of us?” he repeated.

“Little mouse yes. Thatch and fluffy mouse too big. Not good air.”

“Still not a mouse.” Bindle grumbled.

Thatch picked up one of the food bags and placed it at Amie’s paws. “I think it would be good for you to fly back to our guild in Craggy Hill, little Amie.”

Her ears flattened immediately. “Fly? Craggy Hill? No, please, I can walk.”

The rat shook his head. “It’s rather unfortunate, but we had a time limit on our assignment. If we tarry another day, which we would need for the travel back, our guild master will take a greater cut of the reward.”

“You had a schedule this whole time?” Amie gulped. Her obligation to this crew suddenly intensified.

“And without your help, I doubt the job would have gone so easily.” His whiskers extended. “But if you could help us in one more way, Amie, please deliver this pack of food to the Fruitful Guild in the western sector of Craggy Hill. Ask for Fruitful Humphrey and most rodents can point you in the right direction. Can you do this for me, little one?”

She found herself trembling and scratching into the dirt under her paws.

He didn’t seem to take her terror as a no. Thatch turned to the bird again. “Do you know Craggy Hill? It is a rodent home a day’s walk to the northwest from here.”

Fledgling’s throat feathers puffed. “Day walk? Slow, slow mice. Hill of crags is large mice place near at northwest. Spine guard there, most bird know of mice place. Fledgling fly quick. Even with mouse in claws, fly quick. Go, yes?”

“I…” Amie squeaked quietly.

“I understand if this is too sudden or too much to ask, Amie. Do not feel like you must. But we would be grateful if you could.”

Bindle tilted his ears back and looked between his leader and the mouse. “Really, don’t worry about trusting a crow to carry you. I’d stay on the ground too.”

“Fledgling good! Fly safe, fast. Show, show!”

With that, the bird suddenly swooped forward and scooped up Amie in his claws. Sheer panic exploded from her lungs before a gust of wind drove it from her tiny body. Her eyes snapped shut as she careened into the air at the mercy of a very stupid bird.