The council had been called. It had been a week of upheaval. The factions within the regiment were all happy to see the cats retreating farther and farther away from the furrows.

What little forces remained to war chief Alexa had streamed north out of the furrows, stopping only to pick up their tents and supplies before walking west in the direction of the Marquisate. A small reserve platoon had been detailed to watch their forces, and the reports had so far been positive.

The claw had called the meeting that evening. Muk expected that it would be time for the full-on withdrawal. With a month of winter remaining, they would still have time for a social calendar, and the planned officers' mess he so dreaded.

Mounting his chicken, for Freya had left one with explicit instructions to protect him, Muk took the short path from his supply depot in the city, where more and more was being diverted backward, to the councils meeting place atop the largest building left standing in Marwei.

His route took him past the river, and the five bridges all side by side and now, neatly cut in half. A clutch of the Riverfolk company had arrived that afternoon and began setting up bridging materials. Rafts for residents to cross back into the furrows. A line of badgers and moles waited.

Muk nodded to a Riverfolk Sergeant who was directing the line. The contracted help would be taking over parts of the recovery.

Ahead of him, the crowd parted and a regimental soldier waved him past. He approached the command building, then dismounted.

The claw, colonel in chief of the regiment, flitted down from his flight ahead of Muk. The sparra looked younger than the twenty-nine Muk knew the bird to be.

"Sir," he said, "well met."

"Lieutenant."

The claw shook himself, his feathers fighting against a cruel gravity.

"Your... intended, was the one we have to thank, is that correct?"

"Once the druid River found out they were using some forbidden magic, yes they were able to intervene. "

Feathers furrowed over the claws' brow. (name) sighed, his years finally showed as he slumped down.

"Things we are not supposed to be able to harness, much less discuss. It's good that a druid and a powerful magician were able to help us and the people of Marwei, but I don’t think that this will be a thing that we can count on for the future."

Muk nodded.

"Well then, let's discuss this in the council."

The two officers strode upstairs passing by many Sparras in field dress. Their rumbled browns fit the fields and woodlands outside of Marwei but stood out against the white walls. At the top of the building, open windows showed the river in each direction.

Before long the three remaining officers of the high council arrived.

First, the Marshall, officially the senior officer in chief of the regiment ran the day-to-day operations of the regiment. His imposing bulk made Muk wonder how he had been keeping up his eating. Especially since as a sparra, he would need to stay at a weight where he could fly and fight. The claw might be expected to direct grand strategy from a tent, but the marshall carried out the tactics on the ground. It was no wonder then that the claw was often chosen from someone who performed the duties of the marshall well.

Next, the historian arrived, on the marshalls' heels. The mole, the only officer among them of that species, always carried a book. It was he who wrote the annals of the regiment. He also carried a pack full of paper. His primary duties were medical care of the regiment, he also carried a small white medical bag with the sign of the raven across it.

Finally, the spymaster of the regiment arrived. This rabbit, whose look could cut carrots from across the room, assumed a position across from Muk. She was the only female of the five and Muk believed the best fit for the role. She was the only one that he feared. Were they not on a war footing Captain Bell would have been there in her stead, but he was tending to the crown and the homefront.

Thus assembled, the five primaries of the regiment all turned to the marshall. In the center of their power sat a table with a map of the western holds of Yellowrock out to the free cities of Marwei and Furrows.

"The council has assembled, Sir, shall we begin?"

The claw stood, brushing a pile of correspondence he had been reading to one side.

"We're not done yet, but I think that the regiment can now return home to Yellowrock. If no one has any objection I'm going to order the second, fifth, and seventh companies to begin preparations to return."

“It will help the supply trains, as well we would appreciate the company,” Muk replied.

The historian scribbled something.

“I believe that it would be good for us to acquire some local talent,” the lady rabbit said dryly, “If we could leave the scout platoon with whichever force remains until the end, it would benefit the crown in the long run.”

A few heads nodded.

The claw turned to the marshall.

“Such will not be a problem. Your agents can bed down with the eighth company.”

The rabbit nodded.

“Now onto the other problem. I have in on good authority that war chief Alexa was working with cat druids to create those monstrosities. I have been told that druids are not able to do that, as it would break their bonds to the circle. So something else much be afoot.”

“Wyrd magic, perhaps?” The historian said, “There is precedence.”

“Perhaps,” the claw said, "and in such cases, we should ask the druids for their help. Their lives are dedicated to fighting such abominations."

The mood around the table grew somber. Most of them had seen the Ragamuffins that had tried to infiltrate their lines. Though strong, their best defense lay in blending into the pack, and their attack had come at an unfortunate time.

"We will have to find a way to make members of the regiment distinct," the Marshall intoned,"Perhaps a special password or piece of cloth on the arm or wing?"

The claw nodded, absentmindedly. He turned to the spymaster.

"We will have some ideas to present to you at our next meeting, lord claw," the rabbit said.

"Very well," he replied, curtly, "In two weeks' time I will be calling for an officer's mess. I understand that one was planned already so this shouldn't interrupt your social calendars much. It will be a way to show the gentry that we uphold their obligations to the coalition. Of course, a general mess will be the day before the season ends, meaning I want my troops back home by then if possible. That gives the quartermaster time to prepare before he takes the robes of a ranger and leaves us "

Muks ears shot up.

"Milord, I didn’t…"

He blanched, trying to find the words.

"Stuff it son, your lady friend is a powerful druid initiate. You would be wise to follow her into the circle. We will survive without you if you do so."

Muk tugged on his collar.

"Those that swear their lives to the circle, they leave on the first day of spring," the historian said,"mayhaps you could tell me about the valley of red mist upon your return? For the annals of course."

The room had grown uncomfortably expecting. Muk nodded trying to accept that the pregnant pause he was taking wasn't an omission of anything whatsoever.

"The council has decided to weigh in on this matter and I…I will respect their decision. I shall consider this with a heavy heart."

"That is all we can ask, quartermaster. Now, I have heard it said that we found something of significance."

The rabbit's ears perked up and she brought out a long wrapped package, laying it on the table. Muk looked on as she pulled it open, revealing a small star.

He gasped.

"We will require someone to return this to whom it belongs. Perhaps, quartermaster, this task could be among your retrograde actions?"

Muk choked back tears at the claw's words.

"It would be my honor, sir."