Summer & Spellbooks

[Cross]

Victiore was visibly shaking when the feral weasel finally noticed her. She nearly dropped her knife as her employee and the feral spoke with each other. The feral kept calling Nik "Red Nose," and the mouse assumed they somehow knew each other. When she was mentioned again, her full attention was back on the two vermin.

"On my side?" he chuckled, "why she's my personal slave."

Victiore caught the wink and lowered her knife. She had to resist a scowl of contempt. His slave? To get out of this situation, she had to be his slave?! That's the best he could come up with? Fine, she mouthed as the feral weasel turned back to Nik.

"Yore own slave?" he smirked.

He obviously wasn't buying it, so Victiore would have to brush up her acting skills to save their hides. "Oh, um, yes, master," she said meekly, dropping her knife and cowering back. "I-I got dinner ready . . . just like you told me to. You-you went out to fetch water, a-and I got worried." She gasped as if remembering something awful, her paws flying to her chest. "I-I'm sorry I left camp unattended!"

She might be overdoing it a little, but at least her acting wasn't as wooden as she had feared. All those games with her friends in the caravan had paid off. The important thing now was, did the feral believe it?

[Promatera]

Victiore seemed to take Bon Vaygan's hint well as she did her best to act as a slave.

"Oh, um, yes, master," "I-I got dinner ready . . . just like you told me to. You-you went out to fetch water, a-and I got worried." "I-I'm sorry I left camp unattended!"

The feral weasel looked at the distraught mousemaid and was satisfied by her performance enough to believe Bon Vaygan.

With a hearty laugh the weasel grimaced at the mouse and began to approach her.

"Well, mate, looks like she'll be needin a lesson."

With cold, blue eyes the weasel grinned in sadistic delight. Thinking quickly Bon Vaygan tried to diffuse the situation.

"That won't be necessary," Bon Vaygan replied, "she'll be fine after I starve her a bit."

"Y'sure?" he replied, "cuz I'm sure that after we're through with her, you'll never need to worry 'bout her makin mistakes agin. Y' won't even need t' lift a claw."

Pace by pace he grew closer to the tattooed mouse, he looked as though he was anticipating something. As if he was hungry and just about to be fed.

"No no," Bon Vaygan replied quickly stepping in between Victiore and the weasel, "I already lost other slaves that way. I'm not taking any chances."

Separated from the mouse, the weasel's excitement turned to disappointment. "Ah you were always t'soft!" he spat.

"Well it is always nice to have a cook around," he faked a chuckle, "in any case we should be going."

Standing between Victiore and the weasel, Bon Vaygan began to escort her out of the stream and situation. However, the feral weasel was not ready to say goodbye just yet.

"Leavin already? We jus met!" he chuckled in sudden mirth. "Why don' we celebrate wit dinner?"

If Bon Vaygan had not hated this weasel before, he certainly did now.

"Of course where are my manners?" he said through gritted teeth, holding back his tongue. "Come! I'll show you our camp. My mouse slave just needs some water for dinner."

"O'course!" the weasel replied joining Bon Vaygan.

Kneeling down Bon Vaygan whispered into her ear, "As soon as we're out of sight run, I'll keep the oaf off your tail."

He gently prodded her and yelled, "Now get down to the river and fetch my mate and I some water!"

Standing he beckoned for his friend. "Shall we?"

Together, the two weasels set off for the camp Victiore and Bon Vaygan had set up earlier.

[Cross]

Victiore did not like the way the feral weasel was looking at her, and she backed off another few paces. If her fur wasn't white, she would have gone pale at the mention of punishment. No, Nik wouldn't try to hurt her . . . would he?

She held back a sigh of relief when Nik stepped between her and the feral, dissuading the other weasel from punishing her. Hoping to leave soon, the tattooed mouse got ready to pick up her knife again and flee. But then the feral asked to join them for dinner. Victiore bit back a curse.

Kneeling down Bon Vaygan whispered into her ear, "As soon as we're out of sight run, I'll keep the oaf off your tail."

She nodded imperceptibly. She was a good runner, but she didn't want to leave Nik alone. Pretending to fumble with the pot he handed her, she slipped and managed to grab her knife. At least now she would be able to help her employee if he wasn't able to keep the feral at bay.

He gently prodded her and yelled, "Now get down to the river and fetch my mate and I some water!"

"Y-yes, master," she stammered, making as if he had jabbed her roughly. As the two weasels made off in the direction of camp, Victiore knelt by the dammed up stream. Suddenly, she got an idea. Once the vermin were out of sight, she hefted the pot in one paw. She then threw it with all her might at the dam, and it bounced off the hefty sticks. A reasonable dent was made in the blockage, but not enough to disassemble it completely.

Glancing at her knife, she wondered if it would be enough. She slid down into the stream bed, kicking up clouds of dust. If it wasn't dammed, the water would be up to her chest, probably up to the waist or thighs of others, though. Rapping her knuckles on the dent she'd made, she briefly wondered how the feral had managed to make the dam.

Nik had told her to run, not destroy the dam, but she couldn't help feeling sorry for the creatures downstream, who no doubt had to face the feral if they needed water. Picking up the pot from where she had thrown it, Victiore held it by one handle. Her camp further downstream was above where the water level would hit, wasn't it? She knew her bag was in a safe place, at least. Their food might get washed away, but the dam would be gone.

Taking a deep breath, she sidestepped to the edge of the stream bed and leaned back, aiming her pot at the dent in the dam. With a grunt of effort, the mouse hurled the pot at the blockage again, and this time she made a sizable hole. Water spilled out into the dry bed, and more, and more, until the dam surrendered to the pent-up waters completely. Smiling in satisfaction, Victiore dashed off into the woods, headed for her camp to see if she could grab her bag and get away safely.

[Promatera]

"Y-yes, master,"

As Victiore ran off to the stream, the other weasel approached him. Together the two began to walk for the camp Victiore and Bon Vaygan had set up earlier that day.

"So wat's dat mousey makin fer dinner?" the weasel asked Bon Vaygan.

Bon Vaygan let out a false chuckle, "Oh something grand I can assure you."

As the pair walked, Bon Vaygan considered his options. Currently he was walking with a potentially deadly enemy who he hated. Although Bon Vaygan could try to slay him with his weapon, there was no telling how skilled the beast was in fighting, which was definitely not Bon Vaygan's forte. Besides it would bloody his beautiful weapon.

Running was out of the question. This weasel would track him down one way or another. The only logical situation seemed to be to appease the creature until he left or some opportunity to leave presented itself. He had already given up one chance by allowing Victiore to escape. If he had let the weasel get to her then it would have been easy to make his exit, but Bon Vaygan felt some odd sense of responsibility towards her. Must have been his father's mark.

Fortunately the weasel was very loquacious so Bon Vaygan did not need to carry the conversation. There was very little the weasel said that was of any interest to Bon Vaygan. He never paid attention to other vermin matters.

"Well here we are," Bon Vaygan exclaimed, relieved the weasel would stop talking at least for a moment.

Bon Vaygan showed the weasel to the small camp and beckoned for him to sit in the stream bed.

"When's mousey comin back?" the weasel asked with impatience.

"She'll be here shortly," he replied annoyed by his 'mate's' poor courtesy.

Ignoring Bon Vaygan's gesture to sit down, the weasel began to search the camp. Noticing the pot of berries and other assorted forest edibles, the weasel moaned.

"Red Nose," he groaned, "this ain't a meal!"

Offended by the weasel's callous behavior Bon Vaygan responded sternly.

"Well we have been wandering the forest for some time, we have yet to restock ourselves."

Picking at the assortment with disgust, the weasel kicked over the pot.

"C'mon Red Nose, le's get some real food," he smirked licking his teeth.

Bon Vaygan was furious. That was food they had collected throughout the day just spoiled. However, Bon Vaygan had to keep playing along for now. He simply nodded to avoid spilling his anger.

Getting up, Bon Vaygan followed the weasel onto the bank when a low rushing noise became audible.

"Wazzat?" the weasel murmured as the noise grew louder.

Just then a wave of water suddenly rushed into the stream bed where they had been only moments before. Good thing Bon Vaygan had listened to the weasel. However, he would never thank that beast.

The feral weasel was not quite as relieved as Bon Vaygan was. In fact, he was beside himself. Letting out some colorful swears the weasel charged off along the stream bank.

"My dam!" the weasel lamented.

It suddenly occurred to Bon Vaygan that Victiore may have had something to do with this. Either that or the weasel did not know how to build a structurally sound dam. Chasing after the weasel, Bon Vaygan hoped Victiore had managed to make her escape.

[Cross]

Victiore waited until the two weasels had run back upstream before emerging from her hiding spot. She had actually made it back to camp mere moments after they had, but she had concealed herself within a hollow log several yards back from the stream bed. She couldn't resist a roguish grin as the feral weasel wailed his anger to the heavens.

The stream settled itself quickly, but it still had a swift current form being cooped up so long. Sticks and other debris floated by as Victiore located her bag, which had thankfully been missed by the newly liberated stream. Shouldering the straps, the mouse wondered how she was going to find Nik again.

She had to get away from the feral weasel, but the only sure way to do that would be to actually cross the stream. If she went back into the woods, she was sure the feral would be able to track her down. With a sudden surge of unfamiliar bravery, Victiore hurried up to the edge of the stream bank. She took out her knife and carved a V deep into the wet mud. Beneath that she drew a wide arrow pointing to the opposite bank.

Sterling herself, she replaced her blade and looked for a good place to cross the current. A group of boulders stood out of the water about halfway to the other side. Wading into the cool stream, she reached the first rock without much incident and readied herself for a jump to the next one. She didn't think about what she was doing, she just did it. It was terrifying to think about, but something had changed in her after taking out that dam. She felt . . . courageous. Not invincible, just braver.

Victiore made it to the end of the boulders and waded the rest of the way to shore. On the bank, she stopped and looked back at the far side. Had she really just crossed this current? Apparently so. She let out an excited giggle. Covering her mouth, she hoped no beast had heard her, and then she knelt on the bank, carving another V and arrow, this one pointing into the woods beyond the stream. Then she darted into the forest.

[Promatera]

As they arrived at the formerly blocked off stream, Bon Vaygan knew the weasel would be furious. The danger of the situation was mounting. An angry weasel was something not to be messed with, he should know.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHH!" the weasel shouted to the heavens. The weasel had spent a lot of time blocking the stream. To see all his effort come to naught was too much for him at the moment.

Bon Vaygan knew it would be best to leave the weasel be for now. He tried to make a hasty retreat into the woods, but the weasel called him out.

"Red Nose!" he screamed. "Yer slave! Where is she?"

"We probably missed her when we left the camp. She couldn't have done this," he replied trying to diffuse the situation.

"Don' play dumb, Red Nose," the weasel shouted turning his attention to Bon Vaygan. "Yer just tryin to save yer slave! Help me find er or I swear I'll run y' through!"

The tension in the air was thick, but Bon Vaygan always enjoyed these experiences. He had been in many dangerous situations before and they were always a rush.

Bon Vaygan did not find the moment just right for trying to run so he decided he would lead the weasel on a false trail.

"Fine," he sighed, "you win. Just before you came with me to the camp I told her to run to just west of here so that you would not be tempted to kill her. I never suspected she was capable of this."

"Well ya figured wrong!" he shouted, "When I get mah hands on dat lil' mousey, she'll wish you had let me kill'er!"

Darting into the forest, Bon Vaygan rushed after him. This false trail would give Victiore plenty of time to escape. It seemed that Victiore had some guts, he was surprised that she took the liberty of destroying the stream, but it may have sealed her own fate if this weasel did not stop looking for her.

[Cross]

Victiore picked her way carefully through the dense woodland, her pace spurred on by an angry wail from across the stream. She didn't know for sure if it was the feral weasel discovering his destroyed dam, but she wasn't taking any chances. She hoped Nik was alright.

It was times like these when she wished she owned a good compass. The last one she had had been lifted off her by some rude ferret. As she walked, she put on the violet fingerless gloves she sometimes wore for gathering herbs. Better safe than sorry and with a pawful of thorns.

Every now and then she would carve a V and another arrow into a tree trunk, just to give Nik a trail to follow. That is, if he had even made it across the stream yet. She wondered if the feral weasel had been angry enough at the loss of his dam to hurt Nik. A twinge of guilt tugged at the tattooed mouse, and she turned around. She could just barely see the stream through the dense stands of trees. No sign of Nik, or the other weasel, for that matter.

With a sigh, the witch continued on her way, subconsciously heading west. She didn't know exactly why she wanted to go west. Maybe it was to see that big abbey place again. It was gorgeous to behold, but she'd never worked up the courage to go in.

((Sorry for the half-heartedness of this.))

[Promatera]

As Bon Vaygan followed the weasel deeper into the forest, he hoped Victiore had managed to escape with the time he had given to her. Now it was his time to make an escape.

While the two passed by some large shrubs, Bon Vaygan suddenly had an idea.

"Allow me to check in these bushes," he spoke, "the mouse enjoyed plants such as these."

Making a ruckus as he inspected the trees, he suddenly paused and beckoned the feral weasel.

"She's in there," he whispered.

The feral weasel, alert, checked the spot Bon Vaygan had been inspecting. As he did so, Bon Vaygan grabbed a branch he had found right next to the bushes. Silently he raised it into the air. Just a swift strike and he could make a break for freedom. Just then the feral weasel turned his eyes towards his partner and saw just what was about to occur.

Snarling the weasel turned on Bon Vaygan. Surprised, Bon Vaygan tried to club the weasel, but the beast was too fast. Raking Bon Vaygan's face with his claws, the feral weasel was indignant and he would not stop until Bon Vaygan was dead

"Ya tricked me!" he growled, "I can't trust ya no more, Red Nose!"

Clutching his bleeding face with his paws, Bon Vaygan groaned in agony as he bumped against a tree.

"No beast b'trays me!" he spat, "Yah won' live t' see tomorra!"

The weasel charged at Bon Vaygan, but he moved out of the way just in time. He had to get away fast! Not paying attention to where he was going, Bon Vaygan charged back towards the stream, holding a paw to his bleeding face. The weasel was fast, but Bon Vaygan was faster. His cape flapped in the wind as he darted across the stream and nearly stumbled into the forest.

Unbeknownst to him, Bon Vaygan was heading straight towards Victiore; leading the weasel right to her.

[Cross]

Victiore was enjoying her walk, despite the earlier events of the day. She was headed west, like always. Periodically she would check back over her shoulder to see if Nik had followed her clues. With no sign of him, or any beast for that matter, she kept walking.

The day was growing dim as evening crept in, and she could just make out the sun beginning to set above the trees. The air got a little cooler, and she took out her oversized green jacket to ward off the chill. She left her scarf in her bag since she didn't want to get it damaged.

She heard the crashing through the underbrush much too late. Turning at the sound, she suddenly found herself being run over by Nik, who was pursued by the feral weasel. Nik barreled into her forcefully, and she cried out in surprise and pain as they fell, tumbling for several yards before finally coming to an agonized halt at the base of a tree.

Victiore ended up beneath Nik, who appeared to be wounded. And he didn't seem to have recovered from the fall just yet. The feral weasel, however, looked absolutely furious as he charged towards them.

"Nik!" Victiore cried, trying to lift the big weasel off herself. "Nik! Get up!!"

[Promatera]

"Nik!" Victiore cried, trying to lift the big weasel off herself. "Nik! Get up!!"

Still holding a paw to his raked face, Bon Vaygan pushed himself up and turned to face the feral weasel.

"Ah'm goin t'skin both o' ya alive!" the feral weasel spat, "don' need any weapons t'do that, just me claws!"

Bon Vaygan drew his weapon and stepped into the stance Nik had taught him sometime ago. This weasel was getting on his nerves, now was no time for restraint.

"Well if we're abandoning pleasantries then allow me to say that you are the single most repulsive creature I have met yet!" he shouted venomously back. Bon Vaygan was glad to finally give the weasel a piece of his mind, and felt excitement wash over him as he shot each word from his mouth.

"Perhaps if you bathed occaisionally I would pay you the honor of bothering to remember your name, but then again, not even a bath could wash away the scum that's built up on your hide!"

Bon Vaygan smirked, he had clearly come away from this mincing of words the victor. He revelled in goading the foebeast. However, it seemed to have little effect on the feral weasel.

"..wot did y'say?" the weasel replied clearly confused.

Muttering under his breath Bon Vaygan unwrapped the cape he had been wearing and held it in front of him.

"Just charge at me you fool!"

He wondered if Victiore would still help him after this incident. Hopefully she managed to sneak away.

((OOC: Sorry this took so long! Perhaps I write too slow XD))

[Cross]

The two weasels squared up to each other. A fight was inevitable. There was actually little chance of a clean escape. Once again, Victiore did not think before acting. She simply acted.

Working quickly to get her knife out of her bag, the mouse made as if to run. She scrambled to her feet and turned away from the fight. When the feral weasel's attention was even halfway drawn to her, she struck. Flinging her knife at him, she sprinted the moment it left her paw.

The silver blade grazed the weasel's leg, and the witch kept running in the opposite direction. She hoped Nik would get out of that alive. She still needed a spell-reader. As she darted through the woods, she avoided obstacles easily. During the two years of her lone career, she had nearly perfected the art of running away cleanly.

((Kinda short. Not feeling uber inspired today.))

[Promatera]

Just as Bon Vaygan was about to check on her, she had already made her move. The knife shot towards the offending weasel that there was little time to react. He tried to move out of the way, but the blade still managed to graze his leg. The other weasel staggered as pain shot up his leg, but he had managed to glimpse the mouse. She was a deadbeast.

He roared as he attempted to charge after the mouse, completely ignoring Bon Vaygan. Seizing the opportunity, Bon Vaygan tossed his cape in front of the weasel's path just before he could pass by. Having charged straight into the cape, the weasel became entangled and lost his footing, crashing into the floor.

The weasel thrashed about as he tried to disentangle himself. This was the moment Bon Vaygan needed to remove the weasel problem forever. Clutching the rapier in his paw he moved swiftly and struck. In one strike the creature was gone from Mossflower forever.

Turning away from his kill, Bon Vaygan collapsed on the floor. He had never killed before, harmed maybe, but never killed. He now had blood on his paws forever, but it was the blood of a cruelbeast; he could at least find solace in that.

[Cross]

Victiore finally stopped, slumping against a tree and breathing hard. She listened intently for sounds of pursuit, but she heard nothing. Was Nik okay? Turning to face the darkening woods behind her, she saw no beast there.

The witch bit her lip in apprehension. She wondered if either or both of the weasels were still alive. Taking a few tentative steps in that direction, she called out, "Nik?" Receiving no initial answer, she decided to go back and see if he was alright.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way back through the dim woodland, wishing she hadn't gotten rid of her knife so hastily. Well, that was the consequence for acting so rashly. She finally made it back to the scene and discovered both weasels on the ground. One of them wasn't breathing.

With a terrified gasp, she mouse dropped her bag, her paws flying to her mouth. If her fur hadn't been white, she would have gone pale. Had Nik . . . killed the feral weasel? Feeling slightly sick, she looked over at the other weasel. He looked about as shocked as she did. Her eyes wide, she moved her paws away from her mouth, asking in a trembling whisper, "Nik, did you . . . did you kill him?"

[Promatera]

All of Mossflower around Bon Vaygan became a blur. He did his best to push the image of the dead weasel out of his mind, but he knew what he had done. It would not leave.

"Nik, did you . . . did you kill him?"

"Y-yes..." he muttered. "I-I..." he tried to speak, but for the first time in his life he was at a loss for words. He looked to Victiore as he tried to form words, but it failed him. He turned his head away and covered his eyes with a paw. The raked mark the ferret had given to Bon Vaygan was beginning to sting. Although in grief, Bon Vaygan was beginning to remember more of the weasel.

"I-I finally remembered his name..."

[Cross]

"Y-yes..." he muttered. "I-I..." he tried to speak, but for the first time in his life he was at a loss for words. [. . .] "I-I finally remembered his name..."

Victiore didn't know how to respond exactly. Still feeling a little woozy, she carefully knelt down next to Nik. Taking his paw, she gently tried to move it out of the way of the cut. It looked bad. It needed a salve and some bandages. Neither of which she actually had ready at the moment.

"Nik, you're hurt," she said softly as though neither one of them already knew it. It was funny, though. Neither one of them wanted to dwell on the fact that the feral lay dead only a few feet away. Digging out an extra cloth sack from her bag, she cupped Nik's face in one paw and pressed the cloth to the bleeding cuts with the other.

"Stay still for a minute," she murmured, glancing him over in case he had other wounds. She went silent for a few long moments, surprised to find herself this close to the weasel, and she had come willingly. Well, he had saved her life, twice. And he was her only companion in the woods. He also hadn't tried to harm her, besides threatening to take her food. He was . . . dare she say it? . . . friendly.

"_{Thank you,}" she whispered.

[Promatera]

Victiore seemed at a loss as to what to tell the weasel, but instead began to tend to his wounds.

"Nik, you're hurt," "Stay still for a minute,"

Bon Vaygan started at her for a moment as he struggled to keep his head up. He had forgotten that she still didn't know his real name. Carefully compressing a cloth bag over his wounds, Victiore was doing a nice job of helping him. At any other time he would have loved to have pointed out the irony of the mouse he had tried to steal food from was now healing him. He got into these sorts of situations a lot.

"Thank you,"

However, the gravity of the dark task he had performed left him in shock so he simply nodded his head. His thoughts would not leave the weasel and in bits and pieces, memories of his role in the horde began to come back to Bon Vaygan.

[Cross]

It was clear to Victiore that Nik was in a state of utter shock. Well, she knew the feeling. Sort of. She didn't know what it was like to kill somebeast, but she was quite astonished herself (and a bit horrified) over what had happened. But she tried to keep her mind off it by tending to the cuts on his face. They were definitely claw marks, and if she didn't get them cleaned properly, they could get infected.

How far were they from the new stream? She could definitely clean the cuts with the freshwater now flowing through Mossflower. But was Nik okay to walk? He might be dizzy, or even nauseated from the shock, so they would have to go carefully, if they went at all. Taking his paw in hers, she pressed it against the cloth bag.

"Nik, hold this right here," she said gently. "I need to get your wounds clean, so we'll have to get back to the stream. I don't want to leave you here, but do you think you can walk?"

[Promatera]

"Nik, hold this right here," she said gently. "I need to get your wounds clean, so we'll have to get back to the stream. I don't want to leave you here, but do you think you can walk?"

The stream? It wasn't that far. He could move. He slowly pushed himself up and used the trunk of a tree to keep himself balanced. Everything was out of focus for Bon Vaygan. What was going on?

"I will need some help," he responded as he swayed in place. His normal bravado had vanished and instead a silent melancholy had replaced it. Keeping the cloth to his face he did his best to stay balanced, but he would not stop swaying.

Voices began to cry out in his mind, but just as suddenly as they started they stopped.

[Cross]

"I will need some help," he responded as he swayed in place.

Shouldering her bag, Victiore took his arm and draped it around her shoulders. Immediately regretting this action, the mouse bit back a gasp of strain as his weight fell on her. He was heavy! But she would still help him. "Okay, here we go," she panted.

-slight time skip-

It took a lot of stumbling and nearly falling into each other again, but they finally made it back to the stream. Victiore found Nik a seat on a boulder near the water and fell to her knees, breathing hard. "Okay," she murmured, setting her bag down. Taking out another cloth bag, she dipped it into the cool water until it was thoroughly soaked.

Walking back to Nik, the witch carefully pulled the paw holding the blood-soaked cloth away from his face, inhaling sharply through her teeth as she studied the cuts again. "This might sting," she warned, gently placing the wet bag on his head. Her mind was already making a list of what plants she would need to make a healing salve. She didn't even possess half of them right at the moment, and to put too much strain on Nik was not a good idea. He needed rest from that ordeal.

"Nik, are you feeling hungry or thirsty?" she asked quietly. He would need some water at least. If he was feeling nauseated, she would not blame him one bit.

[Promatera]

Victiore let him wrap his arm around her, but his balance gave out and she had to nearly drag him to the stream.

"Okay, here we go," she panted.

As the two stumbled through the forest, Bon Vaygan could hear the shouting return. It sounded as though some sort of raid was taking place. He would have been more worried, but Bon Vaygan did not feel right after what had just taken place.

The yelling faded in and out as they traveled back to the stream, but when they arrived he could have sworn he was at the River Moss for a moment.

Victiore helped him down and as she searched through her bag he could see the shadows of the nearby trees transform into chilling shapes of beasts. The shouts had returned.

"This might sting,"

Bon Vaygan shut his eyes tight as he felt the cloth applied against his face. Suddenly he was at the River Moss. It was the night he had last seen the feral weasel alive. A horde of vermin was ravaging an otter holt. Everywhere was chaos around him. Otters were being chased, creatures were dying, and screams rent the night. It was as though he was in the middle of pandemonium. Scratch, the feral weasel charged at an otter who had been wounded by arrows. Her son narrowly escaped death by diving into the water.

"Nik, are you feeling hungry or thirsty?" she asked quietly.

"N-no, no..." he replied. His mind had snapped back to reality, but he felt the same as he had all those years ago during that night.

"Thank you, Victiore," he added as he took the compress from the mouse. "I'm sorry I put you through this."

Normally Bon Vaygan hated to apologize for himself, but he did not really feel like himself at the moment.