Private Monroe staggered, stepping back and taking a knee. His breathing went faster and for a time River looked worried. On top of the small hill, he wouldn’t get hurt if he rolled down, but all the same, Freya didn't need to hear it from Captain Bell.

The chicken strutted around him, leaning her head down, waiting.

Moving his hand, he pointed to the chicken without looking.

"That beast, I feel it."

River smiled. Freya unclenched her jaw.

"Private Monroe," River said, "for the next month, this chicken is your family. You are to do everything for her. This includes feeding her, taking care of her, keeping her safe from predators. In return, she is bonded to you for that whole month and she will do as you compel her to through your new bond."

Private Monroe looked up, nodding gravely. On one knee he bent forward, both hands together

"I shall take responsibility for this beast- she will be my family for this month. As you say, let it be written," he said, reverently.

"You'll need a bit of instruction, however, and who better to teach you, than the one who started all of this, hmmm?"

River looked to Freya expectantly.

Freya smoothed her cloak, as she did some mental arithmetic.

"Private Monroe, how many scouts are there?" Freya asked.

He stood up.

"Miss Uki, there's about sixty in the platoon, but a few are support staff."

"Right now I only have twelve chickens and you can understand how useful they are, right?" Freya said.

Private Monroe nodded vigorously.

"I can't bond every scout to a beast, I simply don't have enough of them, but if your leadership picks the best candidates we can bond those…"

The spark on his face showed that her point had been made.

"Not a problem, Miss. I am sure glad to be the first, it's quite an honor. Should I go straight away and get the master sergeant? He's going to be the one making the decision."

River and Freya exchanged glances. River shrugged.

"It's your fight, I am just here to make sure you don't get hurt, as well as to confirm that the circle has a vested interest in you," River said, "Perhaps he should test out the bond somehow?"

For a long moment, Freya forgot herself and then realized that both were waiting for her, intently.

"Private Monroe," Freya said, "Please ride the chicken, should she be willing, down the road to the Bun estate and back. Meet us down with the rest of the scouts."

"As I live, I serve, Miss."

He climbed up on the chicken as if he was born to do it and they moved out without any talk.

“Now you’ve seen it done once, Freya, so the next one is yours,” River said, “Let’s go speak to the scouts.”

The two walked down to the pens. Freya had a skip in her step as she drew closer to the pen. Five scouts stood outside, looking in as ten were inside. Each of the scouts was trying their honest best to persuade a chicken to do anything. Whistles and claps were all heard alternating as they approached.

Ten paces from the pen, all of the chickens swiveled their heads to look at Freya and River. Slitted raptor eyes watched their approach.

The scouts took notice. From the outside, one of the mice went to open the pen.

River held up a hand to him.

“There’s a master sergeant here?” River said to the assembled group.

Nervous eyes around the group led Freya to look at an unassuming brown rabbit inside of the pen.

“Master Sergeant Mongoose, at yer service,” a rough throaty voice echoed.

Master Sergeant Mongoose wore the same muted brown cloak as the rest of the scouts, but she had a small pin with stripes over the right breast, clasping the cloak into place. When she spoke, it sounded like she’d lost her voice years ago and hadn’t tried hard to find it. Her eyes were as brown as her fur and Freya thought she could learn a thing or two about concealment from the scout.

Freya noted that the rest had a pin with a boot or a skull.

“Ah, Master Sergeant. I’ve taken your first scout for the experiment. I am to understand that he volunteered?” River said.

Mongoose spat as she walked to the pen door. Without stopping, her mouse at the door let her pass.

“Is ‘e dead?”

Freya was taken aback.

“No, he isnt dead,” Freya started, but River held out a hand.

“Private Monroe is fine. We need another. And we’ll need another volunteer from the beasts,” River said, staring down the lot of them.

“If’n ‘e isn’t dead, where’d yas put ‘im?” Mongoose said, nonplussed, “I got ta account for the old git is all.”

Freya held out a hand to River, trying to imitate her calm, cool demeanor.

“He is going out, I mean to say that he is out on a test ride,” Freya said, “He should be back in a few…”

Shouts of joy and clucks came up from the road ahead of them as a chicken and rider came into view.

“By the Ravens’ beak, lass,” Mongoose said, “Okay, lads and lassies, who’s next up? Don’t all raise yer ‘ands at once, mind yas.”

Every single scout raised a hand.

“Miss Druid Uki, please do wot ye did for ‘im. Take yer pick of the rest,” Mongoose said.

Freya paused for a second. There should be a pecking order or some other way to pick which of the scouts got a bond and which didn’t.

Speaking of pecking, Freya looked up to see all of the chicken still waiting on her. She’d spoken to all of them about the threat of war, which seemed always present now, against the cats. The chickens all agreed that they would fight in principle, but Freya felt reluctant to send a living thinking beast into battle.

“I need to ask the chickens if they’ve already decided,” Freya said.

A few cloaks ruffled as Freya made her way into the pen. Would bonded beasts even need a pen? Perhaps for the purposes of sleeping unmolested by predators.

Freya was sure that she could count on the chickens to choose correctly. All the stories she had been brought up with talked about noble beasts knowing the heart of any creature. The chickens could smell if you were a bad person or something like that. Freya had always dismissed it as tall tales, but now she was beginning to believe that there was some truth behind it.

The chickens crowded around Freya as she began to tap into her red mist, this time only using the faintest bit to understand and be understood.

“These scouts,” she said, one paw on chicken Freya’s neck, “They want to bond with you, but only you can choose a scout, if one suits you.”

Necks swiveled as each beast turned to look to the scouts, then to the other beasts, then to Freya. Chicken Freya spoke first.

“Friend Freya always gives the best food. We pick. We pick. I pick Freya,” the chicken got all happy.

Freya’s whiskers twitched.

“I’m not a scout,” Freya said, “I’m more of a consultant… how do I say this so you can understand… Not scout, a friend of scout.”

“Ah,” chicken Freya paused, “I pick friend of scout. Others have to pick now.”

Freya sighed as one by one the other chickens stepped close to a scout.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see River speaking softly with Private Monroe. He nodded vigorously, then saluted, then bowed apologetically. The whole time, River looked as if she was sighing louder and louder.

Freya walked over to the first pair and began to burn, nodding to both the mouse and the chicken. She weaved a flow that felt like warmth and togetherness as she attempted to reflect Rivers' work.

Holding both ends she tied them off, awaiting a nod from River, who appeared out of nowhere.

River pulled on her whiskers as she walked around Freya’s front, examining the weaved bond.

“It is sufficient. Bond the mouse first,” River said.

Pausing for dramatic effect, Freya pushed the bond into the waiting scout.

He gasped, falling to one knee.

When she pushed the bond into the chicken, he dropped to the ground, weakly throwing up a hand, signaling he was good.