Stay for a Spell ((Braythe, open))

[Cross]

Never, in her young life had the skilled forest witch Victiore Fawn felt so utterly, so absolutely, so completely, so abjectly . . .

Small.

Now, the tattooed mouse knew she was small. Even by mice standards, she was a tiny creature and generally considered rather a minuscule mouse. But as she stood on the shores of the western sea, wind billowing her overlong scarf every which way, she had to stop and gape at the monolithic volcano before her.

Salamandastron was, by far, the most enormous thing she had ever seen. Easily hundreds of feet high, it loomed over her like a massive storm cloud, only ten times darker and much, much more terrifying. Victiore swallowed hard, bringing her neck back to a more comfortable position than craning backwards. But even the gates were huge. As she walked up to them, she wondered if any beast would be able to hear her knocking.

Why had she come here in the first place? Oh, right, because she was out of money and needed food. She had been running low on provisions before even making the trek across the plains to get here, and much to her surprise, there was little, if any, food to be had on the open ground. Having had to ration out her waning supplies over the past few weeks, Victiore had lost quite a bit of weight. So she was even smaller now. Great.

Why hadn't she gone to Redwall? It was much closer to her home of Mossflower woods and far less frightening. But she had heard some rumor that the healers got paid here and, not wanting to bother the nice creatures living here for free food, she had decided to see if they would take her. If the rumor was false, and she didn't get paid, well, she'd still offer her services. Fall was setting in, and she needed a place to stay, anyway. Taking a deep breath, she made to knock on the door, and . . .

-----

Twenty minutes later, Victiore was inside the mountain itself, quite frazzled after nearly being trampled by a parade of hares in soldier uniforms. Luckily, she had dodged out of the way by hanging onto the gate as it was swung open forcefully. She had then slipped inside and run into a straggler. After helping her back onto her feet, he had profusely apologized.

Victiore had simply asked him for directions to the Badgerlord she had heard presided over the stronghold. The hare had cheerfully pointed her to a flight of steps carved into the rock curving high into the blackness of the mountain. After the hare left, Victiore had stood at the bottom of the stairway, trying not to tremble as she worked up the nerve to actually start walking up the steps.

But walk she did. And now she stood at the door to another room, she didn't know what lay beyond the oaken door, trying to calm her shaking paws. She took several deep breaths, desperately hoping the Badgerlord wasn't a massive, terrifying beast. But, then again, she had heard a lot about the badgers who'd ruled here, and every single one of them had been a massive, terrifying beast. Steeling herself for the worst, she mousemaid rapped her knuckles on the door.

[.:Fawn:.]

She took several deep breaths, desperately hoping the Badgerlord wasn't a massive, terrifying beast. But, then again, she had heard a lot about the badgers who'd ruled here, and every single one of them had been a massive, terrifying beast. Steeling herself for the worst, she mousemaid rapped her knuckles on the door.



The small satin mouse was met with a soft, seemingly endless wall of fur, the door having been wrest open by Salamandastron's present Badger Lord -- a beast of epic proportions by anyone's standards. For a few minutes, Braythe was under the impression that a couple of cadets had decided it would be funny to knock on his door and run away giggling -- and his lips pulled away from his teeth, muzzle wrinkling in a look of childish agitation. I'll box the ears off the next creature who comes knockin' on my door,
Hours of pouring over old documents had left Braythe with a headache the size of his fist, his dark eyes looking somewhat bleary as words swam before his eyes -- even as he looked out into the hall. Intending to close the door with a slam, his temper flaring along with the ache between his eyes, by happenstance, the badger looked down.
There's a tiny mouse knocking on my door.
For a few seconds, Braythe was under the impression that a dibbun had somehow stumbled it's way up to his chambers, but that didn't make sense. Then again, having a mouse here didn't make sense. When one was surrounded constantly by hares of all shapes and sizes, anything of another species tended to stick out like a sore thumb.
This mouse was no different...

Braythe, feeling somewhat awkward that he practically had to look down at his toes to see her, backed up a little and hunched over, resting his massive paws on his thighs in the process. He still wasn't even close to be level with her eyes, but at least the small creature craning their neck up to look at them wouldn't have to look quite so far. Scrutinizing her, Braythe had absolutely no idea how to talk to dibbuns...and if he could even understand them. Glancing down the stairway she'd undoubtedly walked up, the badger felt his ears go back with the realization no one was going to come and get him out of this mess.
Right then... Braythe tried to smile, but it came out an uncomfortable looking grimace, as though he had a stomach ache or something.
"What do you want?" He said in his nicest tone (which sounded more like a very quiet growl than anything), trying not to resort to shutting the door and ignoring the mouse completely. Yeesh. Children.
Why did they have to be so small and defenseless? He felt like he might kill them just by looking at them... And the heavens forbid anyone write a dictionary of their common words and phrases, because that would just be too darn helpful, now wouldn't it?[/size]

[Cross]

"What do you want?" He said in his nicest tone (which sounded more like a very quiet growl than anything), trying not to resort to shutting the door and ignoring the mouse completely.

Sweet mother of the spirits . . . The badger was huge. The badger was huge! THE. BADGER. WAS. HUGE!!! Victiore's eyes went wide as saucers as her gaze continued further and further up the wall of fur and tunic until she finally, finally, found the creature's face. Oh, merciful heaven . . . He had teeth! Of course, all badgers have teeth, but . . . he had teeth!! As he hunched forward to get level with her face, even though he still towered above her, she swallowed hard, her ears flattening against her skull.

"I, um," her voice was even quieter than usual. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I-I w-would like to-to off-offer my services . . . as-as a healer . . . here, uh, s-sir." Her voice was still quite inaudible, but the echoing chamber added volume to her trembling words. Great season, he was massive! Was he . . . snarling at her? Oh, gods! His teeth! HIS. TEETH.

Luckily, Victiore was not prone to fainting, otherwise she would be flat on her back by now. Clutching her bag tightly, she really, really hoped she hadn't disturbed the Badgerlord. If he was angry with her, it would not end well for her. If her fur was not already white, she would probably be pale as a sheet.

[.:Fawn:.]

"I, um," her voice was even quieter than usual. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I-I w-would like to-to off-offer my services . . . as-as a healer . . . here, uh, s-sir." Her voice was still quite inaudible, but the echoing chamber added volume to her trembling words.


Pffst, then what was she asking him for? He wasn't a healer, and frankly, he didn't care if the infirmary was run by mice or hares, so long as they got their jobs done. It was not her request that surprised him, however, it was the fact that she was a fully grown mouse that had caused his eyes widen and his mouth to close in atonishment. I've eaten muffins bigger'n this mouse. "Okay," he said slowly, wondering who in the hell had sent her all the way up here for such a simple request. Why hadn't someone sent her to the Brigadier or General, or made her fill out a form and they'd get back to her in about a week or so? Yeesh, apparently no one knew how to run a mountain 'round here.
Well, he probably wasn't helping too much there either...
Examining the petrified mouse, Braythe was suddenly hit with an idea. "Yeh can 'ave the job, if you take a look at my back." Roughly a week ago, Salamandastron's badger ruler had sustained quite a nasty little wound on the center of his back -- and after hurriedly soaking every tunic he owned trying to stem the bleeding, Braythe had wrapped it up bits of leather strips and whatever else he could find to patch it up. He didn't dare go down to the infirmary for a wound he received for sheer stupidity on his part.
The big beast stepped aside, holding the door open with his paw as he indicated with the other that she was to go in. If she could somehow fix up his wound, she could have the job, paws down -- and he'd knock the block off anybeast who said otherwise.

[Cross]

"Okay," he said slowly, wondering who in the hell had sent her all the way up here for such a simple request.

Wait . . . What? Now it was Victiore's turn to be surprised. It happened just like that? She didn't have to prove her skills? Give her name, perhaps? Surely she had to do something other than just ask for the job. "Shouldn't I--" she began softly, but he answered her questions even before she finished.

"Yeh can 'ave the job, if you take a look at my back."

There we go. Giving a demonstration of her healing abilities. She nodded in response. "I'll, um, I'll see what I can do, sir," she replied softly, a little of her confidence returning. Stepping carefully past the big badger as he let her in, the tattooed mouse nearly dropped her bag in astonishment at the massive room in which she found herself.

The beautiful weapons decorating the walls shone in the sunlight streaming in through the massive window. Every weapon measured at least twice as long as her height, and most, if not all, were just as thick around as she was. There was no way she would ever be able to lift any of these weapons, let alone drag them across the floor. Her new awareness of her diminutive stature multiplied tenfold, and she suddenly felt tiny as a ladybug.

"Oh, my," she breathed, awestruck by the size and craftsmanship of the weapons. They were all breathtakingly beautiful. Only the shutting of the door brought her back to reality, and she turned sharply around, ears standing straight up. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I'll--I . . . will look at-at your back now, sir." Autumn's Ghost, where were her manners? "I, ah, m-my name is Victiore Fawn."

[.:Fawn:.]

Come to think of it...this tiny little mouse, Braythe noticed, as she scurried to and fro into the room, was almost like a living toy. A tiny little porcelain figure suddenly come to life...and Braythe almost felt enchanted by it, the badger judging Victiore to be a pretty little thing, like a piece of colorful glass he knew better than to touch, least he might break her.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I'll--I . . . will look at-at your back now, sir." Autumn's Ghost, where were her manners? "I, ah, m-my name is Victiore Fawn."

Nodding his head gruffly, the Badger Lord yanked off his tunic, grimacing as he undid the makeshift bandages. Straddling a nearby chair, the badger folded his hefty for arms over the top of the chair's backing, nose wrinkling unpleasantly as he felt cold air sting the partially scabbed over wound. Almost as if on cue, the Badger Lord noticed the Hell-Bringer sitting innocently in the corner, the axehead facing upward as it hung from it's iron pegs hammered into the wall.
Braythe cringed.

Alright, so war axes didn't exactly make decent back scratchers...

"Well? Can'tcha fix it up? This thing hurts like a sonuva witch."[/size]

[Cross]

"Well? Can'tcha fix it up? This thing hurts like a sonuva witch."

Oh, no name from him? Okay, then. Victiore nodded and set her bag down beside the chair the badger had chosen, biting her lip as she inspected the wounds. What on earth had he done to his back? It was torn open, seemingly by a large blade. She carefully placed her gentle paws on the cuts, examining the ripped skin. Smooth cuts, spaced not quite far apart from each other. The flesh had been cut deeper down low in some places, and higher in others.

Did something actually try to saw him in half? If so, they hadn't succeeded, and it almost looked like they had been swiping the blade up and down across the badger's back as though they had been trying . . . to . . . "Winter's Ice!" she gasped, grabbing her supplies. She had water left in her canteen, and it should be enough to give the wounds a decent cleaning. Realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she had to bite her lip again to keep quiet.

Dipping an extra rag into the water, she paused before placing it upon the cuts. "This will sting," she warned, making sure he heard her loud and clear. The last thing she needed was a startled, upset Badgerlord. She then touched the damp rag to the torn flesh, wiping away stray blood and pulling off, as gently as possible, the half-formed scabs. She knew those kinds of scabs hurt the worst.

[.:Fawn:.]

"Winter's Ice!" she gasped, grabbing her supplies. She had water left in her canteen, and it should be enough to give the wounds a decent cleaning. Realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she had to bite her lip again to keep quiet.

Dipping an extra rag into the water, she paused before placing it upon the cuts. "This will sting," she warned, making sure he heard her loud and clear.


Sting a little? Ha, he'd dealt with much worse things than a few stings and smarts, that's for sure. Not about to look weak in front of a mouse slightly bigger than his footpaw, Braythe steeled his nerves and straightened his back. Yeouch! Was she pulling off his scabs? Well sheesh, she didn't tell him she was gonna do THAT! It did more than sting a little, but the childish badger lord was acting surprisingly sedate at the moment, trusting this small healer mouse to do what she did best.
It just wouldn't do to make a big deal of something that had to be done.
"Name's Braythe," he grunted, his introduction coming out a slight hiss, as he'd chosen to spoke while she'd pulled off a particularly nasty scab. It had only occurred to him now that she might not know his name, but it had been quite a while since anyone on this mountain didn't know who he was, and had just assumed she was in the know the moment she'd entered the mountain fortress.

[Cross]

"Name's Braythe," he grunted, his introduction coming out a slight hiss, as he'd chosen to spoke while she'd pulled off a particularly nasty scab.

Victiore winced and got a new rag, this one thoroughly soaked in the badger's blood. "Hmm? Oh, yes, it's--I'm honored to meet you, sir," she replied distractedly absorbed in her work. She quickly checked to make sure she'd gotten all the scabs and cleaned the wounds of blood once more. Now, how on earth was she going to get bandages on him?

Well, she technically didn't need them, yet. The bleeding had stopped, or at least slowed enough for the time being. She needed to make a salve. Thank goodness she'd had the sense to stock up on herbs before coming here. She estimated she would have just enough to cover the wounds. Glad she had removed her scarf in the heat of the forge, she walked around to the front of Braythe's chair, offering a polite smile.

"Your wounds will heal up nicely," she announced. "I-I just need to make a salve for them and apply it so they won't get, um, get infected. Do you, uh, have extra bandages somewhere? Or perhaps some clean fabric you don't mind me, um, cutting into strips?"

[.:Fawn:.]

"Your wounds will heal up nicely," she announced. "I-I just need to make a salve for them and apply it so they won't get, um, get infected. Do you, uh, have extra bandages somewhere? Or perhaps some clean fabric you don't mind me, um, cutting into strips?"


The badger ruler nodded, processing this in silence until she asked him about bandages. Glancing around himself for some clothing he wasn't presently wearing, the Badger Lord hastily swiped his tunic off the ground and thrust it out to her, obviously not caring that his prior act of foolishness was going to cost him a perfectly good tunic. Braythe wasn't very materialistic towards clothing, the only exception being the wolf pelt he kept more like a trophy than anything else. Weapons and muffins, however, were another thing entirely.
"How long'll this take to heal?" Questioned the Badger Lord, distinctly remembering how unpleasant it had been trying to sleep on his back with those nasty wounds trying to scab over while he slept. He wasn't very fond of sleeping on his stomach, so he'd settled for curling up on his side, and had awoken with a bit of a stiff neck and pins and needles in all his paws. Ugh.
Maybe with some decent bandages and something to hold off the pain, he could finally get a good night's rest.

Besides, the sooner this healed, the sooner he could stop trying to hide his injury, because Braythe had the stinking suspicion that the Brigadier was already on to him...[/size]

[Cross]

"How long'll this take to heal?"

Victiore returned to her position behind his back, carrying the tunic and judging the durability of the fabric. Her mouth was on autopilot as she replied, "Oh, no more than a week or two." She then rummaged in her bag for her silver knife and dutifully began cutting the fabric into strips. Simultaneously, she got another wet rag and continued to wipe the cuts as new blood trickled out. She was glad no more scabs seemed to be forming.

Once she had a few strips cut, she got out her mortal and pestle, the herbs she would use, and another of the numerous extra sacks she always carried and started on the salve. It wasn't hard to make, it was just that she had to make quite a bit of it. "This will probably sting, as well," she warned him again. She held the mortar bowl in the crook of one arm and used the pestle to mash the herbs with her other paw, dipping the sack into the pulpy mixture every few moments to apply it to his cuts.

She felt like she was painting on a canvas, with the cloth as her brush, and the herb mixture she kept adding to as her paints. So focused was she on her repetitive process of smoothing the mixture over his wounds, adding more herbs to the mix, and turning them into pulp, that she didn't realize she had started humming. It was a simple tune, one that she'd forgotten the words to. She subconsciously used it to keep a pace going with her work so that she wouldn't slow down.

It actually took less time than she thought it might to finish covering the cuts. She put down the mortar and pestle and picked up the long strips of fabric. Walking around to the badger's face again, she offered a small smile. "Would you, um--" she was about say stand up, but that wouldn't do, "--ah, kneel down, please? So-so I can get these bandages on. You may be sore, so be, um, be careful how you move."

[.:Fawn:.]

Her mouth was on autopilot as she replied, "Oh, no more than a week or two." She then rummaged in her bag for her silver knife and dutifully began cutting the fabric into strips.

Ugh! A week or two? The Badger Lord almost snorted in disgust. Well which was it? A week or two weeks? Jeez, why couldn't creatures just give him straight answers? Well, the upside to this was that the little satin mouse had finally stopped stuttering. Normally he didn't mind it -- it was a sign of fear, and he liked seeing it in others, but sometimes if they kept it up for hours on end, it could get extremely annoying. Braythe merely grunted his displeasure at her words, accepting them begrudgingly as something he couldn't change.

"Would you, um--" she was about say stand up, but that wouldn't do, "--ah, kneel down, please? So-so I can get these bandages on. You may be sore, so be, um, be careful how you move."

Alright, this time a muscle in the Badger Lord's jaw twitched. He knelt for no beast, whether it had anything to do with respect or pride or not. Sizing up the mouse irately, Braythe struggled with his overwhelming defiance towards authority to try and see through little Victiore's words. Obviously she hadn't meant to embarrass him or dishonor him in anyway, she was only trying to make it easier for her to reach his wounds... Besides, even kneeling, he'd still be a few heads taller than her. Giving up his chair so she'd have something to stand on, Braythe made a grumbling noise of discontentment as he slowly lowered himself to his knees -- hoping, praying no one came in to see him like this.
Badger Lords didn't KNEEL, for Stonepaw's sake!

[Cross]

Victiore bit her lip again as the badger reluctantly did as she asked. Clearly, he was not happy about this. Quickly climbing onto the chair, she knew it would be in her best interests if she worked fast. The badger had a worrying look on his face, and the little mouse would rather like to remain conscious today.

She began wrapping the bandages as carefully but efficiently as possible. She would reach around his bulk as far as she could, pass one end of the bandage to him, and then grab it from his other side once he moved it there. This went on for nearly ten minutes, and Victiore began humming quietly again, to relieve the oppressive silence. Once she had finished, she hopped down from the chair, making one circuit around him to inspect her work.

Thankfully, it had all been easy enough. The only difficulty was his size, but she had worked around that. Still humming, she fixed the fold of a bandage in the front so it wouldn't be twisted and uncomfortable for him. She then took out a clean cloth, walked around to his back, and wiped any stray salve that had leaked through. Double-checking to make sure the bandages were secure, she backed away, folding her paws behind her back to show she was done.

"You may still be sore, sir," she said again. "You will, ah, want to be careful how you sit and lie down." Wiping her paws on the cloth, she began gathering her supplies, smiling as she realized the badger's wounds had all but depleted her store of herbs. Looking up from where she knelt on the floor, she kept her smile as she asked, "How do you feel?"

[.:Fawn:.]

"You may still be sore, sir," she said again. "You will, ah, want to be careful how you sit and lie down." Wiping her paws on the cloth, she began gathering her supplies, smiling as she realized the badger's wounds had all but depleted her store of herbs. Looking up from where she knelt on the floor, she kept her smile as she asked, "How do you feel?"

Once he was given free reign to get up out of this kneeling position, the badger lord rose at once, giving each shoulder a roll as he got used to the feel of proper bandages on his body again. Heh. Maybe it would leave a scar? His axe was no butterknife, he'd designed it to leave a mark after all...
whoops... Maybe he should've made himself a nice wooden backscratcher too?
"Good," he replied, a beast of few words. Looking down at the helpful little mouse, Braythe found himself quite taken with her. Sometimes it was nice to have a bit of a change of scenary -- all these hares could drive a creature absolutely batty.

Eying her closely, the enormous badger cleared his throat, attempting to get her attention again. Suddenly reduced to a more awkward nature, Braythe avoided her eyes, his fur growing hot around his neck. "You'd better not tell anyone!" He exclaimed, trying to make it sound more like a threat than a plea. Badger Lords most certainly didn't plead for anything. Pffst. If they wanted it, they'd bloody well take it!
But the urge to be his typical ferocious, short-tempered, ill-mannered self didn't quite surface around the satin mouse. Perhaps it was because he was all too aware of her fragility, but whatever the case, Braythe was behaving himself.

[Cross]

"You'd better not tell anyone!" He exclaimed, trying to make it sound more like a threat than a plea.

Despite herself, Victiore jumped slightly, nearly dropping her mortar and pestle as she placed them into her bag. "Of-of course, sir," she replied quickly, trying to regain her composure. She glanced up at the big badger and noticed a red color around his face. Dropping her gaze, she hoped her own features weren't doing the same thing. Considering what he'd done to himself, Victiore was pretty sure that, if it had been her, she wouldn't want anybeast else to know, either.

At least he was able to move freely without feeling too much pain. "I should, ah, come back and replace those bandages in a few days," she added. "Otherwise the salve will get stale." She wasn't her usual whimpering self today. It was great to realize, but also a little strange. Braythe was gigantic, and normally she'd probably be reduced to tears at the mere sight of him. Perhaps she was just excited about getting this job. And the fact that he wasn't really giving her much cause for alarm helped.

[.:Fawn:.]

"I should, ah, come back and replace those bandages in a few days," she added. "Otherwise the salve will get stale."

Braythe nodded his head curtly, his tongue suddenly growing heavy as he realized he should probably be thanking her right now. But his pride built a roadblock in his mouth, preventing him from uttering anything remotely like an expression of gratitude, the badger lord silently rifling through a stack of clothes to pull out a black tunic, which he wordlessly slipped on over his bandages. Turning around to face her, Braythe seemed to come to a decision. Pulling the door open, he reached over and gently hurried the tiny mouse out of the door, snatching her bag and handing it to her as he met Victiore in the hallway.
"Come on," he murmured, striding down the steps with ease, expecting her to follow him without hesitation.
Braythe had obviously come to a decision about her healing abilities, because he was walking straight for the infirmary. He couldn't thank her worth words, but the big socially inept badger could at least get her the job she wanted; she definitely deserved it.

(( ._. sorry, very short!))

[Cross]

"Come on," he murmured, striding down the steps with ease, expecting her to follow him without hesitation.

As Victiore was rushed out the door along with the big badger, she desperately hoped he wasn't about to kick her out of the mountain. She scurried down the stairs after him, worrying that she'd done something wrong. He hadn't thanked her, or criticized her, or said much of anything, really. She guessed it might just be that he didn't like talking all that much, but she couldn't shake the worry that her job was over before it began.

Well, at least she had done her best. Considering her patient, she felt pretty proud of herself, despite the possibility that she wouldn't get the job. And she rather liked Braythe. Badgerlord Braythe, that is. Even though he was enormous, he was obviously aware of her small stature. He hadn't stepped on her yet, anyway. It was also fascinating to actually meet a real badger. Once she got past the fact that he could crush her in the palm of his paw, he was quite a breathtaking creature.

"Sir, if-if I may ask," she began quietly, jogging to keep up with him. "Where are we going?"

((No worries, mine's a bit short, too.))

[.:Fawn:.]

"Sir, if-if I may ask," she began quietly, jogging to keep up with him. "Where are we going?"


Braythe didn't bother glancing over his shoulder to address her, but did at least give her some sort of response. "To the infirmary," he grunted, unceremoniously jumping the last few stairs (which made the wall sconces rattle as they clung to their backings for dear life) and winding his way to the infirmary's double doors. Not too accustomed to knocking and asking if he could come in, the Badger Lord pushed the doors open with ease, holding the door open and ushering Victiore once more to enter in after him.
"You still want that healer job?" Asked the ruler, dark eyes locked on the tiny white mouse by his feet. Looking up from the waiting room, Braythe could honestly say he'd never been here before...
Well, he'd gotten a tour of the place when he'd first got here, but he hadn't actually been here as anyone's patient or something. The smells of the different herbs and such were bothering his nose.
Wrinkling it distastefully, he called to Roseleaf's office in his usual gruff tone, "Anyone in 'ere?"
[/size]

[Cross]

"To the infirmary," he grunted, unceremoniously jumping the last few stairs (which made the wall sconces rattle as they clung to their backings for dear life) and winding his way to the infirmary's double doors.

The infirmary? Really? Was she . . . going to get the job? Well, probably not just yet. She would have to show the other healers here that she was qualified for the job. But, still, Braythe thought she had what it took. That counted for something, right?

"You still want that healer job?" Asked the ruler, dark eyes locked on the tiny white mouse by his feet.

Victiore nodded, standing near the line of chairs in the waiting room. "Yes, sir," she replied softly. "Of course I still want the job." Clutching her bag and hoping she didn't still have badger blood on her paws, she waited patiently for another beast to answer Braythe's call. What would the hare healers be like? Kind? Caring? Gentle? Or just as loud and rambunctious as the regiment that had nearly trampled her?

Well, there was only one way to find out, wasn't there?

[Kenyon]

"Anyone in 'ere?"

“No.” Roseleaf and Jamie entered the swinging doors behind the badger, Roseleaf pausing to secure them open once more, now that she was back from her walk. Dark eyes appraised both new additions to her infirmary. On the way back she’d dried her eyes, and she was back to business.

Her eyes dropped to the small mouse in front of her. White as snow, the creature’s many tattoos stood out. Roseleaf was content to class her as a traveler but was puzzled at her location inside her infirmary, especially as she didn’t seem injured or ill. And the presence of the badger lord only caused further puzzlement. She had had no occasion to treat him since he’d come to the mountain, and she didn’t believe that was his reason for being here now.

“Who are you?” She said crisply, paws on her hips as she surveyed the mousemaid again.