[Mkguild] Snow Storm- Part 5

[Hallan Mirayas]

Feb 29

 

    Drift had found a second love at Glen Avery.
 Thus it was that, on the morning of their departure from the village, he
could be found at a table in the inn's common room, his tail threatening to
batter Xavier off of the chair next to him as Kinslee Sapere, the innkeeper's
very pregnant wife approached.  The doe, in spite of the semi-waddle that
her gravid belly forced upon her, smiled at her guest's enthusiasm.

 

    "More biscuits, Mr. Snow?"

 

    "Yes, please!"

 

    Wolfram chuckled from across the table as the
doe set a plate of sweet, buttery biscuits on the table, replacing the one
Drift had emptied so quickly before.  Xavier, intercepting the samoyed's
swinging tail and seizing it to stop its assault on his backside, remarked, "You
are to biscuits as Misha is to muffins."

 

    "What?" Drift asked around a mouth
full of food, then swallowed and pulled his tail out of Xavier's grip.  "I'm
hungry and they're good.  Leggo my tail."
 Turning his attention to the doe, he belatedly wiped some crumbs from his
muzzle and asked, "Would it be possible to get the recip-" 

 

    "Kinslee!" The innkeeper hurried
over, the protectiveness of a stag for his doe mixing with the anxiety of a
first-time father as he put his hands on her arms and tried to herd her back to
the private areas of the inn.  "What're you doing up?  You're
supposed to be resting- the babies could come at any time!"

 

    Kinslee would have none of it.  She shook
him off and swatted him on the rump with the emptied platter.  "I'm
tired of resting, Jurmas- they'll get here when they get here and not a moment
sooner.  Now quit fussing."

 

    Jurmas' nostrils flared for a moment as he
tried to rein in his temper, and the trio at the table gave him a sympathetic
smile.  "We already tried," Wolfram said, holding up his hands
in surrender, and the other two nodded.  Kinslee gave a triumphant smile,
flicked her tail once, and waddled off to see if one of the other tables wanted
something.  Jurmas watched her go, huffed once, and fixed Drift and Xavier
with an 'I'm watching you' glare before departing.

 

    Xavier leaned back in his chair, brow whiskers
raised in a mixture of amusement and astonishment.  "I almost feel as
if I've been assaulted by a look alone," he said, and Drift nodded agreement.

 

    Wolfram chuckled.  "It's an instinct
thing.  Don't worry.  I don't think
he means anything by it."

 

    Misha chose that moment to enter, breaking the
train of thought.  "All right, people," he said, snagging a
biscuit from the tray.  "We're delayed.  The wagon we're to
escort back to Metamor broke down on the way, and they don't expect it to be
here until sometime this afternoon.  So, until it arrives, we've got some
free time.  Don't go too far in case they get it fixed more quickly than expected."

 

    Wolfram's face lit up like a child getting a
present on Yule morning.  Xavier, on the other hand, steepled his fingers
in concern.  "Can you send a message back to them, to ask if they can
expedite the repairs?"

 

    "Why do you ask?  In a hurry to get
home?"

 

    The weather mage lowered his hands to the table
and shook his head.  "There's a large storm building to the north and
heading this way.  I expect it will be here by nightfall, and I'd rather
not be caught out in it."

 

    "Why didn't you mention this earlier?"

 

    "I didn't think it would be necessary.
 If we had left on schedule, we would have been back in Metamor well
before the storm arrived."

 

    Misha frowned.  "For the record,
Xavier, I consider that a mistake," he said slowly, not pleased with this
new development.  "Never assume that things will go as planned.
 Still, better late than never.  I will try to get a message to them.
 Can you get me a better approximation of when it will arrive?  If
necessary, Drift and I can head out in taur form to assist."

 

    "Even with magic, predicting the weather
is not exact, but I will try.  I have heard that the Glen has a tall scout
tower that can see above the trees- if I can get up there to study the clouds,
I should be able to get a closer approximation."

 

    "All right," Misha replied, nodding
in agreement, and then broke into a smile.  "If Wolfram's
near-vibrating is any clue, he wants to go try a spar with Sergeant Angus."
 The ram chuckled, but didn't deny it.  "I guess that means
you're with me, Drift, unless you'd like to commune with the clouds with
Xavier."  Like Wolfram and Xavier, Misha had decided not to leave
Drift alone in Glen Avery.

 

    "What did you have in mind?" Drift
asked.

 

    Misha's smile deepened into an outright grin.

 

-----

 

    "Uncle Misha!"

 

    "Taur rides!"

 

    "I want piggybacks!"

 

    "Yay!"

 

    Drift had encountered hordes of children
before, having delivered food to the Metamor orphanage.  He had been
charged and climbed on by the Maus children during the Harvest Festival.
 But he had never before encountered a true swarm...  until now.
 Wryly eyeing Misha from underneath the small hands of the shoulder-riding
rat that was unknowingly attempting to squish his brow down below the level of
his muzzle, he asked, "You had to introduce me to your godchild and his
siblings, didn't you?"

 

    Misha looked back with two children riding on
his taur body and grinned.  "As a matter of fact?  Yes, I did."

 

    The Matthias children.  Four kids, all the
same age, all at a high-energy stage in their life, and all very excited to see
their Uncle Misha and his friend.  Even with their mother and their nurse
to help, it was, for a time, utter chaos.  And then, just when the
children had started to settle down, Misha had wound them right back up again
with an offer of taur rides.  The foxtaur's grin widened.  "Where
else was I going to find another willing taur-shifter on such short notice?"

 

    "Charge!" shouted Erick, the
tan-furred boy-rat on Drift's own back.  One hand extended skyward to wave
an imaginary sword, he bounced his feet against the samoyedtaur's ribs like a
knight spurring his charger.

 

    Drift yelped and half-turned at the taur-waist,
frowning down at the excited rat-child.  "I am not a horse," he
protested... or he tried to.  It came out more like "I am nod a
horff," when Baerle, the dark-furred daughter on his shoulders switched
from patting his brow to clapping his cheeks and giggling, a sound mirrored by
her siblings on Misha's back.  "Hay!  Qui fat!"

 

    Even Misha couldn't suppress a chuckle (not
that he tried hard), but when Drift turned a much-put-upon look on him, he
shooed his smile away.  "That's enough, you two.  Drift is being
very nice to let you ride on him.  Settle down and no more playing with
his face."  To the dark-furred boy and light-furred girl on his own
back, he said, "Charles?  Bernadette?  Are you ready?  Then
hold tight, because off we go!"

 

    "Whee!"

 

    The morning passed with surprising speed, and
the children weren't the only ones disappointed when the wagon back to Metamor
arrived just before noon, pulled by a team of Keeper horses.  Kimberly and
Baerle came to collect their brood and invite Misha and his companions for
lunch while the wagon team rested and ate, but it had to be a short meal.
 Xavier brought word that they would need to leave the Glen within the
hour if they wanted to outpace the coming storm.  Still, Drift was in a
happy mood while he, Wolfram, Misha, and Xavier helped the Polygamites load the
wagon, humming tunelessly to himself as he tossed another bundle of fur up to
Misha.  "Catch!"

 

    The fox caught it without trouble, snagging it
by the twine with which Wolfram had tied it to keep the freshening wind from
catching it and carrying it away.  "Got it," he said as he
stowed it and readied himself for another.  "So what do you think of
the Matthias family, Drift?" he asked.

 

    "They're good folk.  I'll miss those
kids," Drift replied, taking another bundle from Wolfram.

 

    "Even 'Squishyface'?" the ram teased,
his eyes glittering with mirth.  Drift hadn't been able to keep the story
concealed, not that he'd tried hard.

 

    Drift lofted the bundle up to Misha.  "Yes,
even Squishyface."

 

    The fox barked a laugh.  "Thinking,
maybe, about a few of your own?"

 

    Drift paused for a moment, his brow furrowing,
while he waited for Wolfram to finish tying the next bundle.  "Yeah,"
he said at last, his tail started to wag.  "A few at least."

 

    Work around the wagon ground to a halt as
Wolfram, Misha, and Xavier's heads turned to look at Drift, and the horses then
looked as well trying to figure out the reason for the pause.  For a
moment, the wind blowing through the trees had no competition, the gentle creak
of wood against wood the only sound to be heard.

 

    Xavier was the one to break the spell.  "So
you found your sign, then?"

 

    "Yes," Drift replied.  "But
not where I expected it."

 

    "Good."

 

    Wolfram hefted another bundle of fur, freshly
tied.  "Definitely good."  He heaved it up to Misha,
bypassing Drift entirely.  "Catch!"

 

    "Oof!"

 

    "That's the last of the loading."
 Xavier made one last count of the goods on the wagon, just for
completeness' sake.  "Is there anything else before we go?"

    

    A glance shared itself out among the horses.
 "We still have one passenger unaccounted for," one of them
said.  By the sound of his voice, this wasn't exactly welcome news.

 

    Misha looked up from tying down the last few
bundles, his good ear flicking forward and his eyes widening in surprise.
 "I thought we were the only ones coming," he said.

 

    "He was a last minute addition- he said
he'd come into an unexpected windfall and wanted to take care of some business
in Metamor."

 

    "Who?"

 

    The newcomer was heard before he was seen.
 Tump.  Thump.  Tump.  Thump.  Tump.  Pause.
 "Aw, hell."  

 

    Almost unrecognizably clean compared to his
prior appearance, the bear-otter Byron nevertheless gave himself away as soon
as he opened his mouth.  "You're coming, too?" he griped.  "There
goes the neighborhood." He pushed past, his cane and wooden leg the source
of the distinctive sounds that had preceded him, and he growled irritably as he
climbed aboard the wagon.  "I'm here.  You're loaded.
 Let's get the hell out of here before the whole town decides to come
along."

 

    Misha cursed under his breath, and Byron
smirked in reply.

 

    As he had done with everything else Byron had
said, Drift mentally sanitized the trapper's comments even as he committed them
to memory.  He planned to mimic them to Alexis later for her
entertainment.  Xavier, however, was not so amused, and he promptly asked
Drift and Misha if either was planning to run in taurform rather than ride.
 When both said yes, he then asked for a taurback ride rather than share
the buckboard with 'that odious devil'.

 

    Byron, hearing this, raised one arm to sniff
his armpit.  He snorted.  "Shows what you know, you stupid
dandy.  I bathed no more than three hours ago.  The girls don't like
it when I show up smelly."  His scowl segued into one of the most
nausea-inducing leers Drift had ever seen, coupled with a swaggering little
hitch of his trousers.  "At least most of 'em don't.  Stella
thinks it's manly."

 

    Silence descended on the group again, and again
Xavier was the one to breach it.  "I'm trying to think of a way for
you to be cruder, I just-"  The leopard shook his head.  "It's
not coming."

 

    Byron started a snarling reply, but Wolfram
'accidentally' bumped the trapper as he sat down next to him.  "Get
your own chatting companion, city boy," the ram called down to the leopard
with a sly wink, and he clapped Byron on the shoulder hard enough to nearly
unseat him.  Seizing the bear-otter's shoulder, he squeezed the abrasive
trapper side-on against him and grinned.  "Us country folk have to
stick together."  Farm-grown and soldier-trained, Wolfram could
nearly match Byron in crudity when he put his mind to it, and he did.  The
bawdy banter kept the trapper busy, too distracted to start antagonizing anyone
else.  It was a mixed blessing, as the rest of the party soon discovered.
 Between the two of them, they hastened the trip back to Metamor by at
least half an hour by driving the horses and taurs to run faster and so drown
the two reprobates under their footfalls.

 

    Byron was laughing, a raucous and grating
guffaw, when the group crested the last rise before Metamor.  Overhead,
dark clouds swept in fast, flickering with internal lightning as they strangled
the setting sun.  The wind, rising all day, now buffeted them in earnest,
carrying the cold, sharp scent of snow.  In the dimming twilight, Xavier's
sharp feline eyes were the first to spot something amiss- a reddish glow over
the nearby town of Euper.  He pointed.  "What is that?"

 

    Misha recognized it, and his fur bushed out in
alarm.  "Euper's on fire!"  The foxtaur lunged into a
gallop, and yelled for the rest of them to follow.  "Come on!
 They'll need help!"

 

    The party raced down the road, the lowering
storm clouds in hot pursuit, as the first snowflakes started to fall.

 		 	   		  
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