Dancing Bear (Open)

[T-Bone]

((Fair warning, it's kinda long. ))

---

He sat in a great library, his gaze fastened to an old tome. He didn't remember why he was there or how he arrived, but he did know one thing: He was looking for something, something important. He flipped a page, his eyes darting back and forth. There was a clue in the book somewhere, and all he had to do was catch the right detail. So many words, so many phrases, so many paragraphs. There was just so much keeping his eyes glued to the pages, and. . .Wait.

He closed the book. That was it. This whole time, he had been sitting here, flipping through pages, scanning for the slightest hint. He had been so focused on the details, that he'd missed it. . .

. . . There was a dancing bear in the library.


~~~~~~~~~


Tobias' eyes opened. But he did not rise. Not yet. He lay there, recalling every detail of the dream that he could manage. Slowly, he repeated it to himself aloud. Finally, when he was sure he had it firmly in his mind, Tobias sat up and let his mind wander a bit.

It was morning. A light rain was dripping off the leaves of the dark green tree under which he lay. The gray sky giants floated flatly above the forest, tagging along behind the departing storm. Bird chirped overhead, which boded well for the day's weather. Flowers stared up at a presently concealed sun, hoping to catch a glimpse of its brilliant face. Meanwhile, a patch of matted grass stared up at Tobias. . . Jaroah. Always the morning mouse.

"Jaroah!" called Tobias into the forest. "I've got it!" He paused and waited until his brother's undiscernible reply sounded from somewhere deeper within the forest. Tobias cupped his paws around his mouth. ". . . We need a dancing bear!"


~~~~~~~~~


A lone fox stepped over a fallen tree. The previous night had brought with it quite a gale. Sleeping had been no easy matter for the fox. Every time he thought he'd get a moment of shuteye, a sudden noise would awaken him from his slumber. Eventually, he'd noticed the sun clambering up the horizon, and finally decided to just give up. And now, he was ducking under a low-hanging tree branch vehemently as his footpaws sank in the mud. He growled.

Picking up his one remaining boot, the fox tossed it at some nearby foliage.

There came the distinct snap of an old branch, and the fox whipped his head around to find the source. It was Jaroah. The mouse cursed, rubbing his head. "You threw a boot at me!" he complained.

"I thought I told you leave me be!" shouted the fox.

Jaroah held up his paws innocently. "I know, I know, but. . ." He glanced around nervously, as though expecting a killer to come crashing through the foliage. "I think I'm being followed," he whispered.

"So?" the fox demanded.

"Well, I think he's trying to steal my food!" Jaroah whispered.

The fox's brow furrowed. "So, you thought it would be a good idea to lead 'im to me?" He gestured to his haversack full of stolen foodstuffs.

"Well. . . aye, that way he'll have a new target and stop following me," admitted Jaroah.

The fox pointed angrily at him. "I knew I shouldn't'a trusted you."

Jaroah raised an eyebrow. "You didn't. You tried to kill me last time."

"So why would you come back?"

"I told you! I need t'get away from the thief!"

The fox rolled his eyes, turned, and left. Jaroah followed, adding, "And besides, if I hadn't told you, you wouldn't have known, and he would have stolen everything you own. All he had to do was find you."

The fox kept walking, not bothering to look at Jaroah. "Do I look like an incompetent fighter to you?" the fox demanded, holding up the wicked-looking blade in his right paw.

"That's just it!" persisted Jaroah, "He doesn't steal with force!"

"Like you tried to do?"

"I said I was sorry--"

"Save it."

"Fine. Anyway," Jaroah resumed, "He's going to try to trick you. That's how he works. He already stole half of my supplies."

The fox chuckled mirthlessly. "Robbed by one of your own. . . You are, by far, the worst thief I have ever met."

"Never seen a mirror before. . ." Jaroah muttered under his breath sullenly.

"Talk again an' I'll slit your throat."


~~~~~~~~~


The moon relieved the sun of its duties for the night as the fox settled down in a clearing. Jaroah, having followed the fox all day without resting his tongue, built a fire. The fox set his supplies down and sat beside Jaroah, warming his paws. Flames danced in the fox's eyes. Mischief danced in the mouse's.

Suddenly, though not entirely unexpectedly, a rustling came from within the wood. A mouse wearing a fedora-like hat emerged from the shadows. Mild surprise registered on the fox's face as Tobias approached.

"D'you mind if I join you?" Tobias asked.

"Yes," reacted Jaroah.

The fox elbowed him. "No, we don't. Anything to keep him quiet."

"I will not," Jaroah stated simply.

"Will you shut--"

"I refuse."

"My name is Temiree Longstocking," Tobias interrupted.

Jaroah laughed aloud. The fox elbowed him harder.

Temiree continued. "I was wondering if you," he glanced at the fox's haversack sitting on the ground nearby, ". . . might be interested in helping me out."

The fox pretended to take interest. "I'm listening. . ."

"Well, you see, I've got a family to take care of, and our food was recently stolen by a horrible stoat."

"I'm not gonna give you my vittles, if that's what you're asking," interrupted the fox.

Temiree took a deep, frustrated breath. "I'm not asking you for your 'vittles.' I just wanted to know if you would be so kind as to guide me to Redwall."

The fox seemed to think about this for a moment. Finally, he regained eye contact with Temiree and spoke decidedly. ". . . I don't believe you."

Temiree held a level gaze. "What are you talking about?"

The fox stood up, crossing over to the other side of the fire. "I know who you are," he spoke in a low, gravelly voice, his menacing form silhouetted by the flickering flames.

Temiree did not back down. "I am just a weary traveler who has a family to feed."

"Oh really?" challenged the fox. "What's your mate's name?"

Temiree shook his head. "Look me in the eyes," said the mouse coldly, "and tell me I'm lying."

The fox glared into Temiree's eyes. ". . . You're lying."

Tobias hesitated, hoping the fox would back down. He didn't. "Her name's Kaera," Temiree snapped.

"How many babes you have to feed?"

"Six."

"What's their names?"

Tobias berated himself inwardly for choosing such a high number. "Haddo, Shorin, Rifgar, Braeson, Coll, an' Tobias."

"How old are they?"

As the interrogation continued, Jaroah quietly gathered up most of the fox's supplies. He stuffed into the haversack whatever food would fit, taking care to move as quietly as possible. He removed the weapons from the sack and gently placed them in the grass, not wanting to catch the fox's attention with the clanging of metal. Minutes passed. It was clear that Tobias had the situation well under control, so Jaroah even sat down to eat, comically making faces at Tobias and gesturing at the fox.

Temiree's brow furrowed. "I also have a brother. He's an idiot."

Jaroah crossed his arms in mock indignity.

"A terrible idiot who needs to move his tail--"

"What are you talking about!" the fox interrupted, irritation growing by the second. Tobias realized his statement had been a little too off-topic. The fox started to turn around.

"Dancing bear," said Temiree quickly. That got the fox's attention.

He turned back around slowly. ". . . What?"

"That's how I'm going to rob you," he said.

The fox lifted his blade to Temiree's throat. "Start speaking sense, mouse, or I'll kill you right here."

"You were right. . ." Temiree admitted. "I am a thief. And I am going to steal from you." His voice shook a bit, giving off the impression that he was bluffing.

"Oh really?" sneered the fox. "And how do you intend to do that?"

"It's called inattentional blindness," the mouse replied. "It's when a beast is so focused on the details, the small things, that he actually misses the most obvious fact. It's when he gets so caught up in the precise wording of a storybook, that he doesn't notice the dancing bear in the library." Tobias smiled. "It's when he becomes so suspicious of one thief, that he turns his back to another."

Finally, something clicked in the fox's mind, and the realization hit him like a blow to the face. He whirled around to find his haversack and a rather important mouse missing. Before he could react, Tobias planted a foot in his back and sent him sprawling into the fire. The fox screamed and cursed, rolling around in a frantic attempt to extinguish the flames engulfing his body.

"Like that," Tobias added bemusedly before tipping his hat to the panicking fox. And with that, he disappeared into the wood.



~~~~~~~~~



Fog began to cover the darkened forest. Birds slept soundly above the muddy grasses, ignoring the light of the full moon. Marshland faded away into the solid forest floor as the mousethieves made their way northward. Having diverted their path nor'noreast, they were now approaching the River Moss.

"Jaroah, you can stop running now." Tobias held a paw to his forehead as he tried to keep up with his energetic brother.

Jaroah seemed too excited, however, to slow his gait. He smiled at Tobias. "That was perfect! Absolutely perfect!"

Tobias sighed. "Jaroah. . ."

"We did it! We actually did it!"

"Jaroah."

The burly mouse stopped and grabbed Tobias by the shoulders, smiling. "Tobias. We did it. We outfoxed the fox, hahaha!" Even Tobias couldn't help but smile at his brother. It was true. They had accomplished quite a heist.

"Shouldn't they call it 'out-mousing' now, then?" asked Tobias with a half-smile.

Jaroah whirled around and skipped along comically. "Aye, that they should, my dear brother. We're officially the smarter."

Tobias laughed. "You can drop the accent now, Jaroah."

He cleared his throat. "Right, right, furgot. Uh. . . Where we goin' now?"

Tobias tipped his hat. "River Moss, I believe, would be a good start. Water's important, an' I suspect business'll be good there."

"Huh, anything t'get away from these boggy parts. Mah footpaws are all covered in mud," Jaroah complained.

"Well, you can wash 'em off at the river."

"Assumin', o' course, that we find it tonight," Jaroah added. He growled, "Can't hardly see a thing in this blasted--Oof!"

Tobias heard a thud and some startled moving about, followed by a curse from Jaroah. Tobias saw another figure through the foggy darkness and, half-certain that it was the conned fox who had just collided with Jaroah, braced himself to run. Jaroah, meanwhile, instinctively kicked the unexpected visitor away from himself.

[Cross]

A frightened squeal erupted out of the night. Pain rocketed up her ribs as she stumbled back. Her green eyes were wide as saucers, and she scrambled to gather up her overlong scarf. She found stability against a tree, holding her side where the burly mouse had kicked her away.

"I'm so sorry!" Victiore Fawn cried in her soft voice. The tattooed mouse shrank further away from the two males, holding her satchel in front of herself for defense. "I-I didn't mean to startle you." She held back a groan against the bruise forming on her ribcage.

It had been such a wonderful day for Victiore. She had collected enough herbs to last her weeks of potion-making. And her incantations had been coming along more than satisfactorily today. Unfortunately, she had wandered a bit far into the marshes, but she'd taken advantage of her situation and had found some potent herbs that only grew around marshes.

Just now she had been searching for some food for her dinner, and a nice place to make camp for the night. She didn't know what to make of coming across two mice. She had heard part of their conversation (something about clean footpaws and a fox), but she had not been paying attention when she ran into the bigger one.

"I'm so sorry," the white mouse said again. "I-I didn't watch where I was going."

[T-Bone]

Jaroah realized immediately whom he'd kicked, and in an instant, he was on one knee, apologizing profusely. "Oh my g-- I'm sorry, I didn't know you were-- I thought it was a fox, I'm-- I'm sorry." The apologies were exchanged lavishly between the two, both Jaroah and the mousemaid speaking simultaneously.

"I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean to startle y--"

"--an accident, I-- I wasn't--"

"--so sorry--"

"--too fast an' I--"

"--didn't watch where I was going."

"--kicked you, an' I'm just-- I apologize."

Finally, Tobias shook his head in confusion and interrupted them both. "Okay, okay, you're both quite sorry," he summarized.

Jaroah shot him a look. He turned back to the mousemaid. "You, uh. . . Are you all right?" He stood up and offered a big paw, trying to get close enough to help her to her own footpaws. He adopted a disarming smile in hopes that she would accept his offer. It wasn't often he got to meet mousemaids outside of a con. "Name's Tugg. What's yore's?"

Tobias crossed his arms and shook his head disapprovingly at Jaroah. This could only end with a headache.

[Cross]

"You, uh. . . Are you all right?"

Victiore nodded, still slightly petrified by the sheer size of the mouse before her. His companion was a much more normal size, but he seemed to be a bit frustrated at the moment. "I, oh, um, yes, I'm fine," she replied softly. She wasn't completely fine as she tried to stop her features from twisting into a grimace at the throbbing in her ribs.

But she accepted the proffered paw nonetheless. Her own dainty, tattooed paw was dwarfed by his, and Victiore felt even smaller than usual. Achieving balance on her two hind feet once more, she dusted herself off, slinging the straps of her bag over one shoulder as she tried again to gather up her scarf.

"Name's Tugg. What's yore's?"

The mousemaid hesitated, her shyness getting the better of her. But Tugg's big smile was so friendly and open. "Oh, uh, Victiore," she pronounced her name with a distinct accent. "Victiore Fawn. It's . . . It's nice to meet you." Sort of. Most introductions didn't begin with a brutal kick to the torso, but stranger things had happened to her.

"I-I should probably be getting out of your way . . ." she murmured, avoiding eye contact. Though the big mouse seemed nice enough, Victiore remembered something about a fox, so she figured these two must be busy.

[T-Bone]

Somehow, Jaroah doubted that she was okay. As a professional liar, he could smell a lie a mile away. But it wasn't anything substantial; usually, most beasts would try to shrug off the pain in front of a stranger and promptly remove themselves from the situation. Especially beasts as timid as this one. So it came as no surprise to Jaroah.

"Oh, uh, Victiore. Victiore Fawn. It's . . . It's nice to meet you."

"Victiore," Tugg repeated, nodding to seal it in his memory. It was a nice name. Fun to say aloud.

"I-I should probably be getting out of your way . . ." she murmured, avoiding eye contact.

Tugg held up a paw. "Er, wait, uh, Victiore," he said gently, "I really am -- sorry. I thought you were somebeast else, is all."

"A fox," Tobias interrupted, "who probably wants us dead."

Jaroah glared at Tobias, as though to demand, "Why would you tell her that?"

Tobias shrugged nonchalantly. "She's safer with us."

Tugg sighed, turning back to Victiore. "Uh, look, he's right. There's a pretty angry fox, an' you'd prob'ly be safer stayin' with us fur a spell. An' we have food," he added smilingly, removing the newly obtained haversack from his shoulder, "in case yore hungry, it's, uh-- It's the least I could do, fur kickin' ya so hard." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. ". . . Again, I'm really sorry about that."

Tobias furrowed his brow. Jaroah was really trying hard to make this work. Too hard, most likely. Chances were, this mousemaid would go on about her business with nothing to remember "Tugg" by, other than a bruise in her side. So, why bother?

Tugg held up the haversack, his expression hopeful. "So, whaddya say?"

((Blegh, that was scattered.))

[Cross]

Tugg held up a paw. "Er, wait, uh, Victiore," he said gently, "I really am -- sorry. I thought you were somebeast else, is all."

"A fox," Tobias interrupted, "who probably wants us dead."

Victiore noted the silent exchange between the two mice, but she couldn't make much sense of it. The bruise in her side was demanding much of her attention at the moment. But she did catch the part about the fox. "A-a fox?" she repeated with no small amount of fear in her voice.

Tugg sighed, turning back to Victiore. "Uh, look, he's right. There's a pretty angry fox, an' you'd prob'ly be safer stayin' with us fur a spell. An' we have food," he added smilingly, removing the newly obtained haversack from his shoulder, "in case yore hungry, it's, uh-- It's the least I could do, fur kickin' ya so hard." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. ". . . Again, I'm really sorry about that."

The tattooed mouse nodded at the repeated apology, wincing slightly and placing a paw on her torso. She didn't know these two mice, the shorter one hadn't even spoken his name, but they'd offered her food and had warned her about an angry fox. Victiore had dealt with angry foxes before. She'd nearly died. Mice were safer than angry foxes, so she decided to take her chances with the mice.

"Um, yes, thank you," she replied finally. "I'd rather not encounter a mad fox tonight." She shut her eyes tightly as a sharp pain shot up her ribs. The next thing she wanted to do was find a dry place to sit so she could make a salve for her bruise. "Do you . . . have a camp nearby?"

((No worries. ))

[T-Bone]

Tugg scratched the back of his head, glanced back at Tobias, then returned his attention to Victiore. "Er, no, not really. B-but we can make one, can't we, Braeson?" He turned to look at Tobias, who raised an eyebrow.

'Braeson' shrugged. "Sure."

"Here, uh," Tugg rose to his footpaws, thinking. He pointed at Braeson. "You stay here with Victiore, an' I'll go find a good place t'set up camp." He glanced at the mud his footpaw had left on Victiore's clothing. "Someplace. . . drier."

"Wait," said Braeson, "Why don't you stay here an' I'll go look for a place?"

"It won't take but a minute." And he was gone.

Braeson turned to Victiore and shrugged. "Sorry, he's a little hard to control." He offered his paw. "It's nice t'meet you, Victiore. I'm Braeson." Braeson. Why would Jaroah choose that name, of all things? Yes, Tobias had used the name earlier when trying to distract the fox -- he had used all of his five brothers' names -- but did Jaroah really have to go and make that his alias? Of all the brothers, Braeson was the worst. Braeson was the reason Jaroah learned how to fight and the reason Tobias learned how to disappear.

And now Tobias had his name. He touched the brim of his hat and asked without making much eye contact, "I see you've got a lot of herbs, uh, whaddyou do?"--cue eye contact--"Are you a healer?" It was an awkwardly-phrased question, but those were always the best kind -- for an actor.

[Cross]

"Sorry, he's a little hard to control." He offered his paw. It's nice t'meet you, Victiore. I'm Braeson.""

Victiore shook his paw shyly and quickly let go, nodding in reply. Her mind was already on the salve she would make for her bruise, and how good it would feel to sit down and rest near a nice warm fire. The nights were getting cooler lately. Fall was on its way.

"I see you've got a lot of herbs, uh, whaddyou do?"--cue eye contact--"Are you a healer?"

Braeson caught the white mouse's attention with that last question. "Oh, I, um," no, she wasn't a healer. She was a witch, or she had been trained in witchcraft. Her career in Mossflower as a witch was not going as planned.

Nearly ten years of training had gone to waste almost the moment she'd stepped out into the woods alone. Constant encounters with vermin, multiple near-death experiences, not to mention various times when she'd been robbed blind, had made her shy and reluctant to even attempt any of the techniques her mentor had taught her.

"Y-yes, you could call me a healer," she replied finally, fiddling with the tassels on one end of her scarf. Victiore was an expert healer, that much was true. She knew the right herbs and such to heal almost any kind of ailment. Not to mention she was amazing at guessing just what ailed a beast without them even telling her.

But she wasn't just a healer. She knew how to heal beasts up, yes, but she also knew how to tear them down. She was a witch. She wrote spells, she made potions. She had a different tattoo for every witchcraft lesson she had successfully learned, for crying out loud! But she would never admit it to any beast unless she found good reason to. So, to Braeson and Tugg, her spells were mere poems, and her potions were simple healer's mixes.

[T-Bone]

"Y-yes, you could call me a healer."

Braeson absently stared at the tassels as Victiore fiddled with them. "I could call you that, huh?" he remarked. "So, there's something else I could call you, then?" He was overanalyzing the answer, sure, but it was late, and he wasn't in the mood to filter the words coming out of his mouth.

Tugg appeared almost immediately after Braeson finished the question. His excited smile announced the news before his voice did. "Found the perfect spot!" He looked at Victiore. "It's quite a walk, though, you want me t'help you?" Apparently, he wasn't asking. Tugg practically picked Victiore up off the ground and carried her. Braeson laughed.

Tobias took a step to follow them, but he stopped for a moment. He heard something. He glanced around, but nothing could be made out in this fog. He touched the brim of his hat, reminding himself to keep a watchful eye out. It was probably nothing. But he wasn't the sort of mouse to take chances. Tobias turned and followed after Jaroah and Victiore.

Jaroah had really picked a good campsite. It was a surprisingly dry spot next to a surprisingly clean stream. The trees looked broad enough to provide ample protection from the rain. And Jaroah, after helping Victiore to a moss-covered rock, immediately set to building a fire.

"Somebeast's been here already," Braeson remarked.

Tugg nodded. "Yeah, there's even extra firewood lyin' about."

Braeson furrowed his brow. "You don't find that suspicious?"

"Not really." Tugg shrugged. "So, you ever seen a magician before, Victiore?"

Tobias crossed his arms. Apparently, Jaroah wasn't going to take this situation seriously. Something was clearly off, but what exactly it was, Tobias couldn't figure out. . . Even the foliage looked suspicious.

[Cross]

"I could call you that, huh?" he remarked. "So, there's something else I could call you, then?"

A nervous blush colored Victiore's cheeks, but she quickly covered it with her scarf. "Oh, uh, I, um." Why was Braeson so curious, anyway? She didn't have time to dwell on it for Tugg reappeared then, looking quite satisfied with himself.

"Found the perfect spot!" He looked at Victiore. "It's quite a walk, though, you want me t'help you?"

The tattooed mouse cried out in surprise as Tugg lifted her clear off her feet. Obviously, it hadn't been a question. Though the gesture was appreciated, it aggravated the bruise in her side. She cringed slightly as she was carried, but she didn't complain. When Tugg set her down, she nearly doubled over in pain. Regaining her composure, she smiled her thanks.

Victiore did not pay much attention to the two mice's conversation. She was already digging in her bag for the herbs to make her salve. Locating the right ones, and one or two good substitutes for those she did not have, she mashed the plants together with her small mortar and pestle.

"So, you ever seen a magician before, Victiore?"

The tattooed mouse looked up from her herbs. "Hmm? Oh, um, yes, I have," she answered, her mouth on autopilot. "He and his mother lived with my family's caravan. His mother was my mentor, and he once tried to teach me sleight of paw." Kale. He had been a nice guy. The last day she had seen him was probably the last good memory she had before coming into Mossflower.

Victiore finished her salve and set it to one side. Unwinding her overlong scarf from around her neck, she stored it in her bag. Next she got out one of the numerous little sacks she always carried and rubbed some of the salve on the outside of it. Gingerly, she lifted up her shirt a touch, wincing when she saw the bruise. Placing the little salve-soaked bag upon the wound, she pulled her shirt back down.

[T-Bone]

"Hmm? Oh, um, yes, I have," she answered, her mouth on autopilot. "He and his mother lived with my family's caravan. His mother was my mentor, and he once tried to teach me sleight of paw."

"Oh, really?" Tugg was surprised. The brothers rarely ever met anybeast who had had a real encounter with a beast of Tobias' profession.

Tobias half-smiled. He wondered if he should provide a bit of a demonstration for Victiore. At the moment, her focus should be on Tugg, which meant Braeson would go unnoticed for several seconds. He used that time to prepare himself for a few small-scale parlor tricks.

Tugg's face lit up as the flames were sparked -- literally and figuratively. He flattened himself out on his stomach and blew gently on the small flame. Once the fire had grown considerably, he rose to his footpaws, brushing the dirt off his tunic. "So, you know a liddle somethin' about magic?" The flames cast his shadow on the tree closest to Victiore.

Tobias' gaze moved from the shadow to the healer herself. For the first time, he could properly make out her features. Tobias tilted his head as his attention was drawn to her fur. She had quite a lot of tattoos, didn't she? And the rest of it. Was it naturally that. . . shiny? She stuck out like a badger amidst mice, even in the dark, obscured nighttime forest. It caught the moonlight beautifully. His eyes moved immediately to the scarf. It was positively the brightest shade of blue Tobias had ever seen, but in a good way. Next, he noticed her bracelet and earrings, which were only a little shinier than her fur. She was certainly well-dressed.

He glanced at Jaroah, the mouse wearing a simple sleeveless red tunic and brown breeches. Bare footpaws. Tobias took notice of his own clothing. Dark brown tunic, black breeches, black shoes, and his hat. The two almost looked like thieves. Tobias made a mental note to fix that. . .

((Sorry. Apparently, Tobias has no attention span. ;D))

[Cross]

"So, you know a liddle somethin' about magic?"

Victiore nodded shyly. She caught Braeson studying her and she blushed brightly, suddenly wishing she hadn't put away her scarf. "I know some magic," she murmured, avoiding Braeson's eyes. "I-I mean, I know about magic, but I . . . I'm no magician."

No, she'd never handled magic. Except perhaps the time when that weasel had read one of her spells aloud. The leaf growing on the long-dead tree . . . Coincidence or magic? She would probably never know for sure.

Curling her long tail round her legs, the tattooed mouse ventured a question, "Um, do you know about magic?" It was obvious to her that these inquiries about magicians were leading up to something. Did one of these mice have talent in the magical arts?

((Haha, it's cool. I have no attention span, either. XD ))

[T-Bone]

Tugg beamed. "Braeson does!"

The mouse in question shook his head. "You know I don't like being called a magician, Tugg."

"I could call you several other things."

Braeson opened his mouth to make a witty retort, but he couldn't help but laugh. Tugg was funny. Braeson simply shook his head at his brother. Then, suddenly, he produced a playing card, one he'd picked up somewhere in eastern Southsward. He flicked his wrist, and the card was gone.

"Oh!" Tugg found it stuck to his footpaw. He muttered something about mud whilst Braeson said something sarcastic.

"Tada! Magic. . ."

He smiled smugly for a moment. And another. And another. . . Tugg raised an eyebrow. A card trick? That certainly wasn't Tobias' usual caliber of-- nevermind.

The fire turned green.

[Cross]

Watching the two mice, Victiore couldn't resist a sweet, musical giggle. These two acted like brothers, or at least really close friends. Victiore hadn't seen such funny mice outside her family's gypsy caravan. She brought a paw up to her mouth in delighted surprise when the campfire changed color.

Though the white mouse had learned a similar trick with flames, all it took was the right plants, really, it was always entertaining. "Bravo," she said, clapping her paws and giggling again. She vaguely wondered how the card trick worked, but her bruise was acting up.

Pressing down gently on the salve, she winced slightly. Leaning back on one paw, she released the pressure on her side and looked up at Tugg, smiling a little. "So, Sir Braeson is a magician," she began, feeling a little more at ease. "What does Sir Tugg do?"

((Short one.))

[T-Bone]

"So, Sir Braeson is a magician," she began, feeling a little more at ease. "What does Sir Tugg do?"

Tugg smiled back at the healer and ambled to the stream, submerging his muddy footpaws. "Sir Tugg is the failsafe. He makes shore ev'rythin' goes right an' nothin' goes wrong." Tugg sat beside Victiore. "The backup fur Sir Braeson."

Braeson nodded, gesturing at Tugg. "That includes putting out fires, distracting the audience, gasping after a trick if nobeast seems impressed, bein' a bodyguard. . ."

"So on, an' so forth," Tugg concluded. He pointed to their supplies. "I also get t'lug aroun' all the important stuff."

"Oh, I don't know about all of it," started Braeson.

"Everythin' except him," Tugg chuckled. "So, what's it like bein' a healer?" he asked, suddenly interested. Jaroah had once thought about quitting thievery, and that train of thought had lead him to the idea of entering the healing profession. After all, he had been in enough fights in his time that understanding the body and learning how to heal it was an appealing prospect.

Tobias' ear twitched. He glanced over his shoulder and thought he saw movement. Now alert, he kept his gaze on the forest behind him, searching for anything. The corners of his mind whispered that he might just be acting paranoid. But he ignored them; he wasn't an actor. That was Jaroah's job.

[Cross]

Victiore giggled again. "Sounds like you've got quite a career," she said, crossing her legs. What was it like to have a travel companion? She had had a brief experience with a weasel, but he'd had other things to do. Braeson and Tugg had obviously traveled together a long time. Victiore wondered what it felt like to have that dependency on another, to not be responsible for everything.

She was shaken out of her reverie by Tugg's next question, "So, what's it like bein' a healer?"

"Oh, um, well . . ." What was it like being a healer? Honestly, Victiore didn't know. Her time wasn't spent just on the healing arts. "It, uh, keeps you busy, I suppose," she replied finally, rubbing her shoulder absently. "You learn a lot about plants and such, what they do, how they work. And you've got to know how the body works, too; what ails it, what heals it, what calms it, how to patch it up when it gets torn." She always loved the metaphor her teacher used in comparing the body to a length of the finest cloth.

"You learn to guess ailments before they surface completely," she continued, glancing at Braeson. He had something going wrong with his head, she was almost sure of it. But she kept her thoughts to herself for now. "And you learn the kinds of things that can protect against ailments. You learn how to fix everything in the body, really."

She went silent a moment. That was her simplified definition of the healer's arts she had learned. Out of habit, she lifted her right paw, tracing the big sunflower tattoo on the inside of her wrist, her reward for successfully completing the healing arts. But then she had the twisting hyacinth vine down her left arm, given after successful completion of the darker side of healing, poisons.

With a single drop in their drinks from the right plant, Victiore could kill both Braeson and Tugg without ever having to touch them. It sickened her that she possessed that knowledge, but it was useful in one way, at least. She knew which plants to avoid handling. Leaning back once more, she turned to Tugg.

"Why do you ask?" she inquired, smiling again. "You want to be a healer, too? Has lugging Braeson's things around and putting out fires become too boring?"

[T-Bone]

Tugg laughed. "Haha, aye, pretty much," he joked. "Ahh, but really, uh, I just always wanted t'be a healer instead o'. . . well, this." Instead of being a thief. In all honesty, he wasn't being entirely honest. Grifting was fun. It was exciting, it was fairly easy, and it usually paid well. And sometimes, he got to steal from beasts who deserved it, like the fox. But at the same time, it came with a huge cost. And healing. . . Healing seemed like the one profession that everybeast could respect.

Jaroah looked over at Tobias. "But I wouldn't quit mah job fur anythin'," he told Victiore quietly.

Tobias was too distracted to hear them. His eyes were trained on the nighttime forest. But the fog was much too heavy; he couldn't make out a solid shape to save his life. Literally.

A paw materialized from the shadows, and Tobias was gone. Jaroah was on his footpaws instantly, braced to attack. But he couldn't see a thing. He cursed aloud.

"You know," came a voice from the dark haze, "you really shouldn't have left all my weapons when you stole from me." The vague form of a fox appeared, holding a knife to Tobias' throat. "Rule number one. . ." He stepped into the firelight. "Don't steal from a thief."

"Ooh, nice," Tobias remarked with a smirk, "dramatic pause. That'll scare 'em."

[Cross]

Victiore gasped in surprise, reeling away from the fox. "Braeson!" she cried in fright. Of all vermin, it was foxes she feared most. The ones she had met had been deceitful, clever liars, and she'd been nearly killed each time. Grabbing her bag, she resisted the urge to sprint into the woods. Was this the fox Tugg had mistaken her for earlier?

The reynard was obviously infuriated with these two mice who had . . . stolen from him? Braeson and Tugg were thieves? "Don't steal from a thief," the fox had said. Braeson and Tugg had lied to her? If her fur wasn't white, she would have gone pale.

"You're . . . thieves?" she breathed, her ears dropping back against her skull. And for a moment she thought she'd actually found some respectable beasts in Mossflower. But, maybe it was the fox who was lying, and not the mice. Biting her lip, she slid off the boulder and backed off a pace. What was going on?

[T-Bone]

Jaroah nodded to Tobias discreetly. The tactic was anticlimax. The fox was trying to be dramatic, so the easiest way to throw him off would be to ruin his moments. He was already tired from the lack of sleep he got the previous night, so a systematic destruction of the mood should throw him off almost immediately.

But then, Victiore spoke up. "You're . . . thieves?"

"Oh, what, she doesn't know?" laughed the fox. He pointed his knife at her briefly. "Look, these two, they're the lowest, filthiest, most worthless form of trash. I'm actually surprised they haven't already robbed you blind."

"Well, that was just uncalled for," Tobias objected mockingly.

"Aye," Jaroah seconded, folding his arms, "We're thieves with class."

"And talent," Tobias added.

"And dashing good looks," said Jaroah.

The fox exploded. "Shut the f--"

"Again, uncalled for," interrupted Tobias.

The fox pressed the knife a little too hard against Tobias' face, drawing blood. "How's that for 'uncalled for'?" he growled. He looked at the other two mice and barked. "Now listen! You," he pointed at Victiore, "Sit down and keep quiet. And you." He looked at Jaroah. "I got something special in mind for you."

Jaroah's face lit up. "Is it a hug?"

"Shurrup!" screamed the fox. "I'll slit 'is throat, I swear it!"

Jaroah held up his paws innocently.

"Good. Now, grab that food and bring it here." Jaroah started for the supplies, but the fox stopped him. "Wait!" he pointed the knife at him. "Not you. . ." The fox turned his gaze on Victiore. "You get it."

Jaroah compliantly backed off, but as he moved past Victiore and sat down, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "Take it an' run." Once seated, he spoke aloud, "Do it."

"You heard 'im," Tobias added.

Subtly, Jaroah winked at Victiore.

[Cross]

Victiore held back a sob as the fox blatantly described the two mice's thievery . . . and they didn't deny it. So, it was true. She hadn't found wholesome beasts. They had lied to her. A flush of anger colored her face, but she held silent, her green eyes boring holes into Braeson first and Tugg second.

She didn't move at first when the fox ordered her to bring the food. When Tugg passed by and whispered to her, she considered running off without obeying either one of them. Clenching her paws into fists, she shouldered her own bag, walking up to the sack of food. Kneeling beside it, she pretended to tie up the opening to buy herself some time.

What should she do? Here she was in the middle of three vermin. The fox for his species, and the mice for their actions. How could she have fallen for this? She had enough to deal with trying to survive out in the woods, and now she'd only brought more trouble upon herself, trusting these two strangers. Their names probably weren't even Braeson and Tugg, either.

Hefting the sack, she made her decision. Praying the fox wasn't good at throwing knives, Victiore sprinted off into the woods, disappearing into the night. She ran faster than she had ever run, not daring to check behind her in case one of the vermin was following her. Ducking into a dense thicket, she searched for a place to put the food sack. It was too heavy to take far, and she had to get further away.

A hiding place came in the form of a dead, hollowed-out tree. With much effort, she climbed onto one of the dying branches and stuffed the sack into the tree. She then leapt off the tree and continued to run. Was that the sound of footfalls behind her?

Suddenly, she collapsed with a gasp of pain. The bruise in her ribs did not like all this running. Crawling behind a bush, she hoped to at least be concealed from sight if the vermin came after her. She made a mental note to devise some sort of curse specifically directed towards thieves.