"So you see, Stone, seeing as we're both retired, this would be a good adventure for us."

The die had been cast outside the otter shantytown. Stone had been doing absolutely nothing of any importance to anyone, but still Crenshaw nearly needed to find his old network to locate him. It made a mouse think that he wasn’t so appreciated when he always made himself available to the otter.

"I don’t see what's in it for me, you know? Your person gets a thing done, but what's in it for Stone?"

"You might get a chance to stab a cat," Crenshaw ventured.

That had always seemed worth it to Crenshaw but otters like Stone did trade with the cats. The damn fool otters always tried to play both sides in order to turn a buck, or at least that's what he’d gleaned from his agents.

The crowd playing dice next to Stone was all otters and corvids. One beaver watched from nearby impassively.

"Last year, my son went to join the rangers so I guess it's my turn to make a go of it," Stone said, "Never stabbed a cat though. I think Stabitha might enjoy the prospect."

On Stone’s back a sword hilt read Stabitha. He pulled it around, checking the sheath and tightening the carry. It had been loose, probably a concession to one of his wives or husband. Otter relationships were far too much for Crenshaw. He’d listen to Stone prattle on about them but only really paid attention when the two talked about their shared hobbies.

"We are going to have to get Woda to come with us as well. He is the mouse's grandfather," Crenshaw said.

"The swordmaster probably has a few chickens huh? I’ve recently had me a thought about how riding a chicken would go,” Stone replied.

“And do you think it would be to your liking?” Crenshaw replied.

“Safe to say I’m interested. Let’s go see swordmaster.”

The two retired but dangerous woodland creatures walked from the eastern shantytown of Yellowrock at dawn to the Western farms, entering the Uki estate right before first breakfast.

“Four chickens, he’s got eh?” Stone said.

“Five. One’s on top of the old pen there,” Crenshaw said, “You might be good with the sword but you’re terrible at your situational awareness.”

The two stood in front of the sleeping chickens. An eye glazed over, watching them from inside.

“Good thing you’ll be with me then, eh guvnah?”

“Good enough. I think we’re about to have our first visitor now.”

They found a black otter waiting in a corner.

"River!" Stone said, "It's been too long! How's my son!"

The otters embraced.

"He is good. Sorry that I haven't been in too often, Spring has me running all over the place," she said.

"They’re all up at the valley, eh?"

"They are, and you should know that- we'll, I'll tell you later. You must be Crenshaw?"

The mouse shook the druid’s hand.

"The one and only. Stones told me a lot about you and the kids," he said.

"River is like a daughter to me, ever since she bonded my son as a ranger."

The three sat in the early morning haze.

"Are we really following this fool mouse to the frontlines?" Stone asked.

"Aye," Crenshaw said.

A gruff cough made them all turn their heads. A red eyed, tired old mouse came into view, slipping out of the darkness. A glint on his sword flashed red in the warm dawn light.

"And her fool grandfather."