The next morning, Mousey awoke to find himself wrapped in leaves. He looked up to see a ceiling made of twigs and branches. He could hear the sound of rushing waters. Then there was that smell. Not fish, though he smelled fish too.

Mousey jolted up from his foliage bedroll, a wide grin on his lips.

Was it real? He hadn’t just imagined it? Or, perhaps, conjured it in his sleep?

He left the hut wherein he’d slept and walked out to the riverbanks, where Sir Ranae sat upon a rock, his tongue lashing out to catch gnats and mosquitos.

On a pile of leaves just beside Sir Ranae’s rock sat a gathering of berries and nuts.

Mousey leapt upon the pile and stuffed his face with the food his dear friend had gathered for him. His cheeks were soon full, and he savored the deliciousness on his tongue. Tears fell from his eyes as he chewed, and the sugary juices squeezed out of the berries.

Sir Ranae looked down at him and smiled. “Truly, there’s nothing like a great feast after so long a captive.” The frog knight hopped down off of the rock and wiped Mousey’s mouth. “Wouldn’t you agree, my friend?”

“Yeth,” said Mousey, his cheeks still bulging.

Sir Ranae chuckled. “I will spread tales of your heroic deeds at the tower. Truly, young Mousey, you have proven yourself both courageous and capable. I thank you kindly for your… kind… kindness once again.” Sir Ranae’s smile faded, and he rubbed the back of his head. “But… for now we have other matters to worry about. We have to hurry back to your mother’s home. Hopefully, we can reach her before the Nocturnal Patrol does.”

Mousey dropped the dripping remains of his breakfast and scurried off down the riverbanks.

“Hold, pup!” Sir Ranae croaked as he chased after him.

“We have to… get to my… house before the…. Nocturnal Patrol!” Mousey squeaked back between huffs.

“It’s at least a day’s journey by leaps!” Sir Ranae yelled in turn. “We need to pace ourselves! Already you are winded!”

“Listen to the knight!” Sopher spoke in Mousey’s thoughts.

Mousey felt as if a great weight sat in his pocket, and it only grew heavier with each step he took. Soon, he realized that weight was Sopher, working to slow him down.

Sir Ranae caught up with Mousey and scooped him off the ground. “Consider this rationally, wee one!”

Mousey squirmed and wrestled to get out of his friend’s arm. Yet, no matter what he did, he couldn’t get Sir Ranae to budge an inch, and he couldn’t find any way to simply slip out. Mousey had thought himself so tough after all his training with the Nocturnal Patrol. It seemed he was still no match for a real-life knight.

If my family is in danger, he’s exactly the sort of person I want protecting them.

Mousey sighed and stopped struggling. “We need to get there faster… faster than we can on foot. The Nocturnal Patrol can fly. That already gives them a huge advantage.”

“I apologize, lad, but I left Bahamut in the Dank Marsh.”

“Bahamut?” Mousey asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“My riding iguana,” said Sir Ranae, “His family and mine have fought together for generatio—”

“We need a plan now!” Mousey squeaked and stamped his paw. “My family is in danger!”

“Right, right,” Sir Ranae said, scratching under his bulging chin.

Mousey looked down at the stream running beside them, “Maybe I can just use the river again. I can overflow it, and make it carry us down.”

“We were fortunate not to drown last time,” said Sir Ranae. “You don’t remember, do you? The waters turned violent when we arrived at the stream. We were pulled under… you almost didn’t make it, pup.”

Mousey stared at him, certain that the frog had lost his mind. Yet, as he thought about it, there were gaps in his memory of the events from the previous night. He remembered being swept away, beyond the reach of the Queen’s magic, but he couldn’t recall what happened after that. His next memory was waking up the following morning.

Or was it the next morning? Mousey looked up at the shelter Sir Ranae had constructed.

How long have we been here?

Has the Nocturnal Patrol already beaten us there?

“Be mindful of your worries!” Sopher warned.

No sooner had the thoughts entered his head, than his ears twitched at the sound of the roaring river. A wall of water crashed around the bend and galloped at them, with mist spraying out in all directions. The raging current carried with it twigs, stones, and terrified fish

Both Mousey and Sir Ranae turned and fled. Yet, soon Mousey felt the water splashing on his tail. Then he found himself kicking it with every stride. Finally, the water engulfed him. Up was down, down was up. He couldn’t orientate himself to escape.

The stream tore down the banks, dragging Mousey along.

Until two green hands snatched him out of the water’s flow.

“Tell me you’re still breathing, wee one!” cried Sir Ranae, perched atop a bull-rush stalk.

“Yes!” Mousey squeaked back.

At least he would have, had his nose and mouth not been filled with water.

He choked and coughed, as it poured out his nostrils.

Sir Ranae chuckled. “If you can cough you can breathe.” The frog set him down on the stalk next to his own.

“Your thoughts bend reality!” Sopher said. “You must keep them under control!”

“I understand…” Mousey replied.

“And why is your solution to every problem ‘add water?’ You’ve nearly drowned yourself twice, and you’ve soaked my pages. Now they’re all curled up and stuck together!”

“Oh… I’m sorry! Will you be alright?”

There was a brief pause, then Sopher said in a softer tone. “Yes, I’ll be fine. My ink won’t run and my binding will hold.”

Mousey hacked and fought for breath a little more and looked up at his friend. His paws grasped the bull-rush stalk even tighter as he said, “Thank you, Sir Ranae. I’m sorry I put us in such danger.”

“What danger have you put us in, pup?” Sir Ranae asked, giving a confused look.

“I summoned the river,” said Mousey. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh, that was your doing?” said Sir Ranae. “Well, it’s quite alright, lad. You’ve endured enough peril to win my friendship, the least I can do is endure the same for you.”

“I…” Mousey sighed and smiled.

“You are not wrong,” said Sir Ranae, “We must get there swiftly, as we’ve already lost some time, and raising this river is not truly a bad idea. We just need time to make a raft.”

“A raft?” Mousey repeated. “I can make one!” he squeaked.

“Can you just… make anything you want?” Sir Ranae asked.

“Umm… Not really,” said Mousey, scratching one of his ears. “I… I can conjure up things I’m familiar with, if I remember them fondly enough. But, even then, it’s only temporary.”

“It should work well enough for this,” said Sopher.

“Have you any fond memories of boats?” Sir Ranae asked. “And can you conjure one for long enough to transport us back to your house?”

“I do have one memory…” said Mousey. He closed his eyes and thought back to when he was still a furless pup, and his father gave him a toy sail-boat. He recalled taking it down to the stream by his village, and letting it ride the waters.

He heard Sir Ranae gasp, and when he opened his eyes he saw a sail-boat, just big enough for the two of them, sitting on the riverbank.

Sir Ranae smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Glorious! Climb aboard, captain.”

Mousey grunted as he pulled himself up. Once over the boat’s wall, he flopped onto the deck. Sir Ranae pushed on the boat, until it started to move with the rushing river. Mousey hurried to the helm to keep the boat in place by the shore as Sir Ranae jumped aboard.

Wind filled the sails, and the vessel glided down the river.

With his paws on the helm, Mousey steered them past rocks along the way. The same wind that filled his sails blew through his fur and whiskers. “We’ll make it there long before the Nocturnal Patrol arrives!”

Sure enough, the town of Okber was as boring and peaceful as ever when Mousey and Sir Ranae sailed up to its stream-banks.

No sooner had the two of them stepped onto dry land than the boat vanished into thin air.

Both Mousey and Sir Ranae ran to the Souris farmhouse.

Mousey threw the door open, “Mom!” he shouted. “Mom, we’ve got to leave!”

But his call echoed in an abandoned home.

“Heavens! Are we too late?” Mousey squeaked, and rushed around the house for any sign of his mother or siblings.

“Calm yourself,” Sir Ranae croaked. “And take a moment to study your surroundings. There are no overturned tables or chairs, no broken windows, no sign at all of a struggle. When your family departed they likely did so by their own agency.”

“But, where did they go?” squeaked Mousey. He tore through the cupboards. It seemed they’d taken the food with them when they left. “Where could they have gone?”

“If they took the food they did not expect to return soon,” said Sopher.

“I know not…” said Sir Ranae, giving Mousey an apologetic look. “Have you any relatives nearby?”

“I… I don’t know of any…” said Mousey, still searching behind every door and under every piece of furniture. “Wait! Here’s something!” he said, as he pulled a slip of paper out from under the dinner table.

“A note?” Sir Ranae croaked.

“This looks like Mom’s hand-writing.” Mousey unfolded the paper and read.

Mousey,

I have gone out to search for you. The other townsfolk tell me you are likely dead, but I don’t believe it. I won’t give up until I’ve seen you again. I’m leaving this note here in case you somehow escape and come back here looking for me.

Your siblings are staying with an old friend of mine, a rabbit named Mr. Lapin. I’ve hidden a map to his hutch in your favorite book. If you arrive home, please go there immediately. I will check Mr. Lapin’s hutch every couple of weeks to see if you have returned.

My dear son, I love you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stop them from taking you.

With All My Love,

Mom

“Your favorite book, hmmm?” said Sopher, a tone of feigned jealousy in her voice, followed by a giggle.

Sir Ranae approached Mousey, holding in his hands the stick that Mousey had fashioned into a crutch for him. The bandages were still wrapped around the Y at the top.

Mousey took the stick from Sir Ranae’s hands and smiled at it. “What’s this for?”

Sir Ranae shrugged, “A memento of your kindness. I found it on the floor back there. I still don’t have any real reward to offer for all your help.”

“You helped me escape too,” said Mousey. “I think we’re even. But, if you want me

to, I’ll hang onto the stick.”

“What did the note say?” Sir Ranae asked. Rather than repeat everything to him, Mousey simply gave him the paper. Sir Ranae read it over, then said, “It appears your Mother wishes you to go to this hutch, where your brothers and sisters are.”

“Yes, that’s what she wrote.”

“But with the Nocturnal Patrol out searching for you now…”

“I need to find her first,” said Mousey, “And make sure she’s safe.” He folded up the note and shoved it into his pocket, then produced Sopher from that same pocket, setting her down on the dinner table.

“What’s this? A book?” Sir Ranae asked.

“A very helpful book,” said Mousey. He gestured to the front door, which caused it to close, then waved at the curtains, which drew over the windows. Once he was sure they were hidden, he opened the cover and leaned in close to the wet, wrinkled pages. “Sopher, I need your help.”

A wind swirled around the hovel, and Sopher’s spirit appeared in front of Mousey, clad in a dress made from white pages, as before. Mousey glanced back at Sir Ranae, and saw that his friend could, indeed, see what Mousey saw. The frog’s mouth hung open, and his eyes were so wide Mousey half-expected them to fall out.

“How may I help you?” asked Sopher.