[Mkguild] Heraldic Beginnings (1/7)

[C. Matthias]

I want to thank both Misha and Ryx for reviewing 
portions of this tale.  This is in rough draft 
because there is one scene still awaiting Ryx's 
review.  But I really want to get this out here 
before the New Year.  This will finally get me 
caught up in my own plotline to Healing Wounds in 
Arabarb; so expect to see hat and the other 
stories in an upcoming update to the Archive sometime early in 2012.

---------


Metamor Keep: Heraldic Beginnings
by Charles Matthias


March 20, 708

The vixen healer Jo, with the aid of Lady Avery, 
concocted a series of broths that would help 
sooth Charles's healing jaw and ribs. Mostly they 
seemed to put him to sleep and so for much of the 
four days after returning to the Glen he spent 
only a few hours each day out of bed tending to 
his home and to his needs. He had no shortage of 
visitors wishing him well, and when he woke that 
morning he could still smell the rest of the 
freshly baked pie that Annette Levins had made 
for him. The bread crust has been soft and the 
juices succulent, more succulent than they should 
have been for the season, but at least chewing hadn't hurt.

Despite this, Charles hated resting. The litany 
of visitors only made his home feel all the 
emptier; not even Baerle was left now that she 
had gone out on another patrol with James; they 
were slated to return in another day and while he 
was happy for him, being all alone in this house 
meant for his family made him downright 
miserable. Had his jaws worked right, he could 
have rivaled Byron the tanner for the color and crassness of his invective.

But, he was grateful for the visits that Jessica 
paid him every couple of days. The hawk couldn't 
stay long, but she always checked his bones and 
used what healing magic she knew – much of it 
magic she learned from Qan-af-årael while they 
journeyed through Pyralis – to help fix his 
broken bones. So on this, the fifth morning that 
he'd woken in Glen Avery since their return from 
the Gateway, his body, though sore, no longer 
hurt him when he moved or even when he tried to 
gnaw on one of his chewsticks. And that was 
something his incisors sorely needed to do!

And even though Lord Avery had given him a month 
to recover from his injuries before he was 
expected to return to duty, Charles had no 
intention of spending however much time remained 
before the quarantine was lifted laying about his 
empty house waiting for friends to stop by to try 
and cheer him up. He did have other duties that 
he could pursue that would not tax his weak body 
so much and to those he directed himself after 
offering his morning prayers and eating a bit of 
bread and cheese. Dressed in his squire's 
clothes, with the vine curling about his chest as 
it too regained its strength and substance, he 
ventured into the stables that the knights of 
Metamor had built for him and his family behind 
the massive tree that served as their home.

Charles was greeted by the two ponies that 
belonged to he and his knight, Sir Saulius. They 
whickered and rubbed their forehooves against the 
stall doors, grateful to see him again but also 
eager for their morning oats. He ran one paw 
through their manes, tousling that and their 
scalloped ears with his fingers, before hefting 
the feed bucket with his Sondeck and filling 
their troughs. While they ate he took an iron 
rake and started to muck out the soiled hay. The 
offal made his nose twitch in distaste, but the 
earthy equine aroma calmed him and made his heart beat a little faster.

Despite the slight ache to his jaw, as he tended 
the ponies, especially his roan Malicon, he 
keenly felt the desire to secure the pony's tack 
and ride about the Glen and even through the 
woods where the ground wasn't too steep. Sir 
Saulius had been right, Malicon was a very 
important part of him now, just like the vine 
that curled about his chest and back. But at 
least this was a part that Kimberly didn't seem 
to mind; he hoped one day she would care for the 
gift of the Wind Children, but until then he would not force it upon her.

After he laid down fresh hay, he began to clean 
their hooves, checking for loose nails and bent 
shoes, but on each of the eight hooves he checked 
he found nothing out of place. Both Malicon and 
Armivest were very comfortable under his touch 
and he took his time with each of them, both in 
cleaning their hooves, and then in combing their 
hides. His motions were slow and deliberate, both 
because of the soreness that still gripped his 
jaws and chest where James had struck him with 
the Marzac-infused bell, and because he felt very 
comfortable in their presence, an indefinable 
sense of rightness pervaded those stables. It was 
more than just that while with them he wasn't 
alone; for other, deeper reasons he didn't want 
to leave. What those reasons were he couldn't 
quite catch between his claws; like a pesky fly 
it seemed to dart out of the way just when he thought he'd finally captured it.

As the last bit of muck was cleaned from 
Armivest's hooves, Charles heard a familiar 
flapping of wings. A smile stretched across his 
sore jaw, and his long whiskers danced as he set 
the hoof down, patted the friendly pony on the 
flank, and then climbed back out of the stall and 
stable. Perched on one of the roots preening her feathers was a black hawk.

“Jessica! It's good to see you. What brings you to the Glen?”

The hawk lifted her head from her back feathers, 
golden eyes as bright and happy. “It is good to 
see you too, Charles. I see you are up and about; 
how is your jaw and how are your ribs?”

“Sore, but not as bad.” He put one paw against 
his cheek and gently rubbed. “I ought to be able to ride today at least.”

“And you're going to want to.” Charles's ears 
tilted forward and his heart clenched in his 
chest. “I bring wonderful news, Charles. The 
quarantine was just lifted this morning by order 
of the Duke. You can be with your family again!”

Charles fell to his knees, paws clasped together 
so tight that his claws prodded is soft flesh. 
“Thank you, Eli! Thank you! Hallelujah and 
Hosanna in the highest! Thank you, Eli! Sweet 
Eli, thank you!” He continued silently in this 
vein, his chest aching as his heart beat in 
feverish excitement. Just the thought of actually 
holding his five – four – little children in his 
arms again, and to touch his wife's sweet, and 
gentle face made him as happy as he could remember being in a long time.

Jessica hopped down from the tree and wrapped him 
in a wing. “With everyone fleeing Metamor, it is 
better if you head there yourself to find your 
family. I'm so happy that you can be together again. I know how much it hurts.”

“Thank you, Jessica. Come?”

“I have to go back to the Lake and then return 
with Weyden and Dallar's company. But I will see you at Metamor.”

He nodded and took a long deep breath to try and 
bring some measure of calm to his body. He 
couldn't withstand being this excited long. “I 
will see you there. Thank you, Jessica.”

After the hawk flew away, Charles moved swiftly 
through the Glen asking after Sir Saulius. His 
knight, he learned from Gibson the frog, was 
meeting with Lord Avery in one of the inner rooms 
at the brewery. He thanked the merchant and then 
headed to the de facto halls of power for the 
Glen. He rather liked the idea that all of the 
most important decisions were made in the same 
place the beer and ale were made.

Lars directed him to the room, and he found the 
squirrel noble and rat knight studying a map of 
the northern half of the valley. Little stone 
markers were placed on various forests, with 
sections and fiefs marked off with pine needles. 
They both looked up as he entered, and the 
squirrel laughed brightly. “Charles! I didn't 
expect to see you up and about so soon.”

“The quarantine's lifted!” Charles blurted, 
before quickly genuflecting to the squirrel, chagrined at his lack of decorum.

Saulius and Avery glanced quickly at each other, 
before the rat declared, “Hast thou readied our 
ponies? We shalt leave at once for Metamor.”

Lord Avery nodded. “Take a week at Metamor to be 
with your family. Then bring them back home; 
we'll have a little party for when you come back.”

Charles offered another silent paean of thanks to 
Eli for providing him such good friends. “Thank 
you, your grace, sire. I will have our ponies ready to leave in minutes.”

Saulius laughed, “Then I shouldst ready myself! 
Shalt we continue ere I return?” The squirrel 
nodded, even as with one paw he swiped the map clean.


----------

They were on the road for not more than an hour 
when Laura, Allart, Ralls and Padraic caught up 
with them. “We were on our way to the Glen to 
give you the good news from Misha,” Laura 
explained, “but then we learn you heard already! 
I'm surprised you aren't riding harder.”

Charles truly wished that they were, but with his 
ribs and jaw still mending, they could risk no 
more than a trot on the long journey southward 
through the hills and forests toward Metamor. He 
allowed his friends to do most of the talking and 
they regaled him with stories of their time in 
Hareford, offering their opinions on Nestorius, 
Dupré, and the tentative trade contacts made with 
some of the human settlements north of the Dike 
such as Starven and Politzen. He listened with 
interest and allowed Sir Saulius to update the Longs on matters in the Glen.

As they continued on their way, they passed a few 
travelers returning from their forced confinement 
at Metamor. Most were merchants from Hareford or 
Lake Barnhardt. He even saw one of Julian's new 
sleigh-wagons, but he didn't recognize any of the 
Keepers driving it. Some of them related how they 
had been waiting near the gates since well before 
dawn when they'd heard the rumor that the gates 
would finally be opened. The Longs, the knight 
and his squire all looked at each other with 
dread at what they'd find waiting for them at Metamor's gates.

When, early that afternoon they reached the gates 
of Euper they discovered that things were not as 
bad as their imagination had suggested. About two 
dozen Metamorian soldiers were busy inspecting 
wagons at the gates, each of them working as fast 
as they could so that the many irate merchants 
could leave. With the fully rebuilt and fortified 
walls about Euper, they couldn't see anything 
past the gate and the particular trio of wagons 
being inspected while the merchants groused 
angrily about how long they'd been trapped behind the walls.

One of the other guards recognized them and made 
a path for them to ride through into the city. 
This they did, grateful to once more be within 
the walls of the lower town and on the road 
toward the city on the hill and the Keep itself. 
The main road was clogged with merchants, their 
impatient horses, muck churned up by their wheels 
and by the last of the melted snow, and from 
other malodorous leavings. A good number of the 
merchants appeared to be Keepers, but on 
listening to their conversation, they realized 
that most of them had been transformed by the 
Curses in the last week of the quarantine ad that 
each and every one of them was very unhappy about that!

“That can't be good for Metamor's trade,” Ralls 
noted after they passed a newly made badger offer 
a tirade of invective and outright blasphemy in Metamor's direction.

“They all knew the risks of coming to Metamor,” 
Allart chided. “They loved money more than their human shape.”

“I'm not sure I like what that implies,” Padriac muttered under his breath.

The road up to Keeptowne and through the Killing 
Fields was lined with merchants and other 
travelers grateful to finally escape Metamor. As 
they were heading into the city, they were able 
to move at a comfortable pace, forced only to 
dodge the occasional newly made child playing 
improvised games in the street as they could not 
abide to wait on the interminably slow moving wagons.

At each of the gates, they were met with more 
guards, often coming in packs of two dozen or 
more, watching over the messy affair. Their faces 
were all filled with both relief, amusement, and 
disgust. They smiled as they saw the Longs and 
ushered them through as quickly as possible, 
which usually brought about a string of cursing 
from the next merchant in line. Those who had not 
yet fallen prey to Metamor's curses managed to 
sound even more frightful than those just 
becoming accustomed to a beastly voice. Charles 
eyed them, wondering if he'd seen any sprout fur, but none did.

After leaving the Killing Fields behind and 
entering Keeptowne proper, they were met by a 
greed clad ferret who nearly leaped onto 
Charles's pony to welcome them. “Charles! You've made it!”

“Garigan!” Charles cried with delight and patted 
his friend and fellow Sondecki on the back. 
“You're all right. Where are the others?”

“Misha and the Longs have their hands full right 
now managing this exodus! Everyone's involved. 
All of George's patrolmen still at Metamor are 
here, all of the Watch, all the knights, 
everybody!” Garigan gestured at the line of 
merchants and travelers that stretched in either 
direction as far as they could see. “Half the 
merchants are from Metamor to begin with, and 
half of the rest are probably going to be moving 
here soon thanks to the Curses. Anyway, I'm here 
to bring you straight to Long House. That's where 
Misha is pulling what's left of his fur out.”

“And my family?” Charles asked.

Garigan's smile stayed strong, and he offered the 
rat and hug around the shoulders before 
scrambling back down the alarmed pony. “They're 
waiting for you at Long House. Come.”

Hearts greatly cheered by the ferret, all six of 
them followed, moving quickly onto a side street 
to avoid the crush of everyone fleeing the city.

----------

Following the side streets they made good time 
through Keeptowne and to the Keep itself. Garigan 
and the Long exchanged news, while Charles 
listened attentively and from time to time 
massaged his aching jaw. Most of what the ferret 
had to say Charles already knew from Jessica or 
the other Longs, but it was still good to hear. 
Garigan struggled with impatience to hear news of 
his home, one that he'd been cut off from for far longer than he liked.

Sir Saulius did his best to sate the ferret, but 
Charles found he could not listen. Rather his 
eyes strayed to the homes and shops of Keepers, 
many of whom he'd known in his many years living 
in this land. Most had open windows and bright 
colors abounding from every gambol, rafter, and 
sill. Some few had been sealed with shutters and 
plaster, but those had been recently torn down. A 
few, a precious few, had been burned to the 
ground and the ashes swept together and buried 
beneath dirt. All that remained was the char 
marring the buildings on either side and an empty 
space where once a home had stood pressed tight to its neighbors.

The Keep was bustling with activity, soldiers, 
scouts, and knights of all orders running in each 
direction, none of them sparing them a moment as 
they carried out their instructions. Garigan 
assured them that it had been like that since the 
morning when the announcement was proclaimed 
through the castle, through Keeptowne, and in 
Euper. The soldiers had been given instructions 
well before the first hour of dawn to prepare 
them for what was to come, and many looked 
haggard and unkempt. Nevertheless, they all 
appeared happy and relieved as they went about their duties.

The entrance to Long House was guarded by several 
familiar faces who waved them all through 
immediately. “Misha wants to see all of you,” the 
bull said, jerking a thumb over his broad 
shoulders. “He's in his office most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” Laura asked.

“That's what he said to tell you.”

Charles and the others laughed as they entered 
the large hall that the Longs had made their 
home. The many areas in the vaulted chambers were 
often given over to practice, leisure, training, 
and even festivity. The usual green banners with 
bow and axe adorned all of the walls, with 
freshly woven tapestries made by the families of 
the Longs featuring forest scenes and the Keep 
itself interspersed between them. At the rear of 
the chamber hung banners welcoming each of the 
Longs home; Charles was grateful to see his name among them.

“Laura, Charles!” a large booming voice echoed 
and before they knew it, both of them were swept 
up in large furry arms, held close, and then 
dropped so the same voice could snag the other Longs who'd just come in.

“Meredith,” Laura chided while Charles gasped in 
pain, one paw to his chest. “You horrible 
scoundrel! Have you been waiting here this whole 
time to surprise us by crushing you big bear?”

The bruin laughed after setting down a struggle 
Padraic. “Misha asked me to welcome you all back. 
I wish I'd been able to go out with you, but... it's good to see you again.”

“So is Misha actually in his office?”

“For the moment, but he will have to go report to 
Duke Thomas in an hour or so. It's more hectic 
today than it was at his grace's wedding! And 
we've got a big party planned this evening once 
all those merchants finish leaving town.” 
Meredith turned and glanced at the still gasping 
rat. “Oh, I forgot about your wound. Are you okay? Did I break anything?”

“No...” Charles managed after coughing and 
pressing one paw against his chest. “Just... give me... a moment.”

“Your family is visiting with my wife and 
children. They've been getting themselves into 
all sorts of mischief here at Long House.” 
Meredith steadied his fellow Long with a single 
paw on the shoulder. “I do say they have brought 
a lot of joy here, especially when everyone was 
worried about that damn plague.”

Charles took several deep breaths, felt the ache 
ebb, and then smiled with all of his whiskers. 
“Thank you, Meredith. I know the way.” He glanced 
at Sir Saulius, but the knight merely nodded with a smile.

“Thou dost not need my permission for this, Charles.”

Nor did he need any more incentive. Charles 
smiled once more to his friends, then ran down 
the length of Long Hall and dived into a side 
passage that led to the quarters for the families 
of each of the Longs. The corridor led straight 
with doors on either side, each quarter affording 
more space than they would have ever been able to 
purchase in Keeptowne itself; all owed to the 
magic of Kyia herself. There were even quarters 
for Charles and his family in the hall, but they 
had only ever used them when visiting Metamor; at 
one point the rat had hoped they would move into 
them, but after he'd been sent on the journey to 
Marzac, Kimberly had elected to remain in Glen 
Avery and thus the children were all used to that 
place; there could be no other true home for them, at least for now.

Little signs adorned each of the doors, and 
Charles was able to find Meredith's home, not 
just from the sign of a bear hanging on the door, 
but also because of a quintet of familiar scents 
that made his heart race and every strand of fur 
on his flesh stick out. What sweet memories 
percolated through his mind at just that whiff of 
delectable air! He reached the door, knocked, and 
danced back and forth in his raw need while he waited.

Meredith's oldest child, still young enough not 
to be cursed, opened the door. The girl took one 
look at Charles, then turned her head and yelled, 
“Lady Kimberly, your husband is here!”

Charles pressed past him with only a perfunctory 
apology for his rudeness, and saw them all 
scampering about the floor with wooden staves and 
pinions made from scarves. Erick and Charles, his 
two boys, were dressed as scouts and were trying 
to fight through the monsters that were 
Meredith's other children in order to rescue 
Bernadette and Baerle, his two daughters, each 
dressed like a little princess. Kimberly reclined 
on a couch with Meredith's ocelot with Elisha at 
her side, sharing a cup of tea as they waited.

But all heads turned to the door with the boy's 
pronouncement. Charles gaped as he saw his own 
flesh and blood lift their snouts and twitch 
their whiskers. His eldest boy, the one named 
after him, in a high-pitched squeak murmured, “Dada, is this a dream?”

“Nay!” he cried, running to his children and 
wife. Kimberly rose, her eyes filling with tears, 
while the quartet of little rats fell to all 
fours in their excitement, scampering up into his 
arms and legs, holding and nuzzling against him, 
their voices reduced to mere excited squeaks and 
squeals. He laughed and rolled onto his back, 
holding each of his children one by one, wishing 
he had four arms instead of just four legs from 
time to time to grasp each of them at the same 
time. His chest felt light and his heart strong.

All at once his children welcomed him and tried 
to tell him how happy they were to see him and 
all about how they, the boys, were going to be 
rescuing princess from evil Lutins and how the 
brave scouts were going to rescue them, the 
girls. He barely understood half of it, but 
didn't care as he touched his snout to each of 
them, saying their names over and over again, 
seeing their faces, holding them and feeling 
their little bodies against his paws, and wishing 
that he could stay in that moment forever.

Kneeling over him was the most beautiful face he 
had ever seen, with soft, tan fur, large 
scalloped ears beige in hue, prodigious whiskers 
always kept in order, neatly maintained incisors, 
and large, black eyes that warmed him as if they 
were a pleasant fire roasting a succulent ham. He 
lifted one paw from the pile of his children and 
stroked his furless knuckles across her cheek; 
her paws cupped his own, pressing his fingers against her face.

“I love you, Charles.”

“And I love you, my Lady Kimberly.”

----------

Charles, despite the soreness in his chest, did 
little but play with his children and hold his 
wife for the next several hours. Even when the 
Long's celebration that evening arrived, Charles 
found that he could not bear to be parted from 
his family for more than a few moments. He did 
take the time to embrace Misha and the other 
Longs, as well as Kayla who had been invited, and 
Jessica who'd arrived a few hours before; he and 
Rickkter nodded perfunctorily when they met but otherwise ignored each other.

The party was set to last well into the night, 
but Charles elected to retire early with Kimberly 
and his children. All four of his children shared 
the same bed, boys on one side and girls the 
other, but he let them cuddle up in the bed the 
Keep had provided for Kimberly and he. There he 
told them a fantastical account of his journey 
into the mountains with James, Baerle, and Angus, 
omitting that James had been corrupted by the 
Marzac bell. His boys especially loved the fight 
against the snow and wind, and the ever present 
threat of the Lutins, while his girls especially 
beamed when he told of James and Baerle coming 
together. Kimberly was radiant the entire time, 
and the glow from her face seemed to shine on each of the children.

By the time Charles had finished telling the tale 
and helped carry his boys, while Kimberly carried 
the girls, off to their own bed, the ache in his 
jaw was almost too much to bear. Still, he prayed 
with them, and it was only after blowing out the 
lanterns and closing the door that he admitted 
how much pain he was in. Kimberly nodded with a 
faint smile, kissed him on his good cheek, and 
then drew him down into the bed where they lay 
holding each other until at last she fell fast asleep.

Charles rested for some time, the ache ebbing as 
the minutes turned into hours. He could distantly 
hear the fox's party continuing, but that too 
dwindled until sometime past midnight all grew 
still and quiet. The rat slept intermittently, 
his eyes opening to the shallow darkness of the 
stone room from time to time only to slowly close 
again for a time. But, once the party had come to 
its inevitable end and Long House remained a 
place of quiet repose, the revelers all soundly 
sleeping off their revelry, those eyes remained open and fixed.

He stayed that way for several long minutes 
before slipping out of bed, carefully so as not 
to disturb Kimberly, and then, draped in a robe, 
he quietly made his way out into the corridor, 
and then into the main hall. Most of the lamps 
had even been extinguished, and with the moon 
already set for the night, everything was 
darkened as if wrapped in a heavy cloak. As a 
rat, Charles eyes managed quite well, and with 
confidant steps he crossed the empty expanse to a 
familiar and little-used door.

Beyond the stone gave way to clay, a clay that 
burnished with flaming torches resting in bronze 
sconces along the walls. A hearth crackled with a 
fire in need of more wood at the opposite end. 
Between Charles and the hearth stood a large 
granite altar, at the base of which knelt an 
angel with palms upraised. With his paws placed 
firmly on the altar stood the ferret Garigan his face lost in meditation.

Charles closed the door behind him and 
immediately Garigan's eyes opened. “Couldn't sleep?”

“Nae,” Charles admitted. He stepped to his 
student's side and spread his fingers across the 
top of the granite altar. He felt a surge of the 
Sondeck flow into him and through him, and his 
chest swelled with a gasp of breath. The flesh of 
his fingers transformed itself into stone, 
merging into the altar. Garigan watched with 
narrowed gaze but said nothing. Yet, unlike other 
stone, Charles could not feel anything beyond 
where his limbs touched. All that was there was 
the Sondeck; it was as if the stone were a mere 
shadow, bereft of all substance.

Disturbed, he withdrew his paws and let them 
resume their native flesh. Garigan murmured, “It 
is really quite unsettling to see you do that.”

“I know. I had to live as stone for months; that changed me.”

“In a good way?”

Charles stretched his arms across the altar, 
wondering where his Calm had gone; usually it 
only took a mere tick and a tock of the clock for 
him to find it when he touched the Sondecki 
altar. He sighed and shrugged, “I think so, but 
I'm grateful I don't have to live that way. I 
couldn't have done so much longer. And I don't 
think I can take being away from my family any more either.”

“Nobody could have anticipated the plague,” 
Garigan reminded him with a frown that blossomed 
into a warm smile stretching across his musteline 
snout. The dark fur around his face glistened 
with the torchlight dancing in his eyes. “You're 
together again. Remember that.”

“Aye,” Charles nodded, that one thought helping 
him locate his Calm. For several seconds he 
savored the sweet warmth of desert sands beneath 
his toes, a quintet of children sitting around 
him and enjoying the dry, baking winds. And then, 
after a long series of breaths, he opened his 
eyes to the Sondecki shrine and his friend. “Why can't you sleep?”

“I've not slept very well in a long time,” 
Garigan admitted. “Ever since you left last year 
to defeat Marzac, I've had to keep up my 
practices all on my own. I don't know the forms, 
so I have to do what seems right. I'm not angry 
anymore like I used to be, but even in all the 
months spent at the Glen I feel so alone now. 
Shelley was the only one I was ever able to truly 
talk to until you took me under your wing, and he's dead.”

Charles had not heard his student speak so 
plainly about his feelings in a very long time. 
He put one paw on the ferret's shoulder and 
gently squeezed. “Come back with us to the Glen. 
I will have time to train you more.”

“That is good. I need it. I... I know I shouldn't 
blame myself, but I feel like I could have saved 
Ladero if I'd just known what to do, or if I'd 
been there a day or a week earlier so I could 
have tried things; I surely would have found the right thing to do.”

“Don't,” Charles said, tightening his grip and 
pulling the ferret closer. “Don't speak of it! I 
can't bear to hear it. Please!”

Garigan's face went blank and he closed his eyes, 
whiskers trembling as one of his paws pressed 
itself into the nearer of the angel's open hands. 
He wrapped his beastly fingers about that 
delicate, marble hand and squeezed. “I'm sorry, 
Charles. I just... I just have to be a Sondecki, 
no matter what it requires of me. I can't think about anything else anymore.”

“Then let us try another technique for sharing 
our Calm,” Charles suggested. It was an advanced 
technique that he'd only learned when he'd risen 
to the rank of a Red, but he knew that his 
student would be able to master it. He was 
already holding the angel's hand as if in some 
strange way he'd anticipated the rat's thoughts. 
“Reach out to your Calm, keep a hold on the 
angel's hand, and listen to my voice.”

Charles took the other outstretched hand, and 
rested his free paw on the altar's surface. He 
drew back the desert sands and his family 
gathered there with him, and brought to mind the 
ferret as well. His lips moved and instructions fell from them.

All worry and fear departed within moments as 
their Calms were juxtaposed. Both of their snouts 
stretched into peaceful smiles as the ticks and 
the tocks continued breathing the ages past.

----------

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias


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