“You know what, there probably are some betting odds on this competition,” Sela said, “I should check that one out, “If you’re certain to win? I’ll bet there isn’t any action yet though. There’s probably…”

Sela counted on his paws. The scent of the nearby fish cart caused him to lose track once or twice.

“Four? Otters in this competition. At least I know four food vendors that would love to get those spaces with the blast furnace. The rest are other races of creatures.”

Sela looked past Chip, down the short walk to the bazaar. The dirt path they were on led between the large manor on the edge of the mesa, a few minutes walk away, and the biggest plant on the mesa was no larger than a small mouse.

“Ah, it’s my stalker again,” he said.

“It’s your- you have a stalker? This I have to see,” River said.

“I thought you said you wanted him to be your ranger?” Chip said.

“Because he is strong! Did you think I wanted him because he’s handsome?’ River said, “Handsome doesn’t kill large beasts.”

Chip smiled.

“It does when it’s this amount of handsome,” Sela muttered.

“I’m curious to see who you’d consider your stalker,” Chip turned, whiskers erect,

A familiar otter with an apron approached, going around the crowd of assembled foxes who were all munching and chatting away. River seemed to be listening in on what they were saying as Chip and Sela both watched the otter ambling up from the bazaar.

“Sam is your stalker?” Chip said, incredulously.

“Yes- wait, you know her?” Sela replied.

“Yes, I know her! Also why is she walking so slowly?”

Her footwork seemed wide as she came in closer.

“Maybe she’s got something in her pouch?” River said, inserting herself between the two of them.

“I don’t know, maybe? She’ll be here in a minute and we’re bringing her into the squad,” Chip said.

“I’m sorry, the squad?” Sela said.

“You’re in it now. She’s in it. It’s about lifting otters-and corvids- up,” Chip said.

“And making money,” River said.

“And making money,” Chip said.

Sam arrived to see the three of them all staring intently at her.

“Well this is not how I thought that this would begin,” Sam said, “I throw myself at the mercy of the court.”

“Ah. Court is in session, the honorable Sela presiding,” Chip said, “You stand accused of deliberately feeding working otters extremely hot sauce. The guard will swear you in. How do you plead?”

Sam gulped.