<HTML> *** For some reason, as he moved to join the opossum, she flashed him that dimpled grin again.  Uneasily, he strode off into the trees, and up the eastern rise, back-switching when the terrain became too steep.  Baerle was behind him of course, easily following the trail he set, her foot paws crunching the snow lightly, or not at all.  He almost imagined he heard Zagrosek chuckling behind him through the trees as he worked up that slope, though he could not imagine why that would be so. The trees continued to thin, fur and pine having long since replaced the oak an birch that was predominant towards Metamor Keep.  Ice hung from the pine needles, crystalline like fragile glass, trapping the trees in their glossy cocoon.  Finally, after a few dips and rises, they saw one peak that opened out onto the valley beyond. It was even steeper than before, and slippery rocks jutted up from the hard earth. Digging his claws into the ice-locked stone, Charles hefted himself up the last few feet, before he crouched in shallow snow atop the slender rise. "Um, could you help me up?" he heard the opossum's voice call from behind.  The vista before him did not even have time to register, before he naturally turned about and looked down the rock slope at Baerle who stood at its base, her narrow snout admonishing, though her eyes were pleading earnestly.  She held out one slender paw, short claws reaching up towards him. Charles held out his own, and gripped her warm hand in his own, and pulled, letting his Sondeck draw her towards him. Her foot paws clawed at the ice of the rock, scrabbling some of it free before she finally leaped up the last of the incline, and landed atop the rat, knocking him over onto his back, his face full of surprise.  She laughed gently as she peered down at his embarrassed face.  Before he could reach out to object and before he even realised what she was about, the sly opossum had planted a firm kiss on his pink nose. "Thank you!" she exclaimed spritely, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Charles scooted backwards then, extricating himself from beneath her embrace, though in the process managing to shove a good deal of snow down his tunic, his whiskers twitching in a furious blush.  "Uh, you're welcome," he stammered, rubbing at his nose, still in disbelief about what she had just done. She giggled slightly, and then sat back on her haunches, clearing the snow away with one paw.  She then rested her legs, her long fleshy tail curling about them as she turned to look out across the hill. "Have you ever been this far North?" "Um, twice before," Charles said, still shaking slightly, though he peered out over the landscape on the other side of the hill too, still unsure of what had just happened.  The valley dropped off slightly just past the rise, but they could not see far, as the fog layered the hills on the other side of the depression, all the way to the mountains several miles distant.  It was still too dark to make out many details, but the clouds on the eastern horizon were brightening. "This is as far as I've ever come," Baerle said, when Charles did not speak further.  She crouched down a bit lower, resting her head on her paws, elbows buried in the half inch of snow.  Their clothes were much warmer than the Sondeckis robes that they'd arrived in, and so the rat found himself quite comfortable in the chill. "You're a scout from Metamor?" Matthias nodded, letting his eyes trail down the hillside, trying to spot anything he could.  When he wasn't looking at the young, female opossum, he could almost imagine that she hadn't kissed him.  He cringed at the thought of how irate Lady Kimberly would be when she found out another girl had kissed him.  And his beloved would probably blame the whole affair on him too he thought sourly. But, he kept all of that in his mind, and let his mouth stay where it belonged. "Yes, I've been on missions for the Keep sporadically over the last nine months." "Is that why everybody knew you when you arrived last night?  Have you been to the Glen before?" Charles nodded again and found himself, despite his best efforts, glancing over at her.  She was not looking at him, but was scanning the valley and the hills, as the fog threaded through them. "Yes, it was one of my very first missions in fact, back in April.  I don't remember seeing you, did you just move to the Glen recently?" "This last summer.  My father finally died, and so I came out here.  I like the Glen better anyway." Her voice was bereft of any melancholy, but Charles suspected that it was only because she hid it rather well. "Where were you living before, and how did your father die?" When she turned to meet his gaze, her dark hazel eyes finding his own as if by instinct, the rat returned his attention to the valley. "We lived in Mycransburg.  Before Nasoj attacked the first time, my father was Lord ard'Kapler's butler.  He lost both of his legs when their manor was destroyed, so I had been taking care of him since then." Her voice remained level as she spoke, and Charles found himself gaining an odd sort of sympathy for her.  Caring for an invalid could not have been easy, especially after the way Mycransburg had been decimated. "So why did you come to Glen Avery after he died?" She turned back to the valley, her voice taking on a slightly distant cast. "It's where my mother was from." "And where is she?" "My mother?  I never knew her. She died giving birth to me.  But many of the folk at the Glen knew her." She giggled then, her face brightening, her short whiskers laying back against her narrow muzzle. "Do you know the tailor's wife?" At seeing the rat nod, she continued, "She treated me so wonderfully when I fist arrived, I've started calling her Auntie Levins, and me her niece!" Charles could not help but smile, at the thought of the plump hedgehog acting as a surrogate mother for a friend's bereaved daughter. "That's rather lovely, I'm glad you found a home here." "Do you like Glen Avery?" Baerle suddenly asked, shifting about on her belly.  Charles noted that she appeared to be lying closer to him than she had been before. Even so, he pretended not to notice. "Yes, I do.  If I did not already have a life at Metamor, I would move her, for it feels as much a home as any place I've ever known." Baerle smiled then, her tail curling about her legs rather supply, more tightly than Charles could ever manage with his own tail.  Even so, she did not speak for several more moments, preferring to lay there, watching the valley move slowly in the last few minutes before dawn.  The only thing that moved before them though was the mass of fog that drooped over the hillside, shifting and eddying over the contours of the land.  A gentle breeze came up the incline, rattling the trees behind them, the ice covering the needles tinkling a silvery melody. At that, the opossum shivered visibly, and chattered her teeth together, "It's cold!" She wrapped her arms about her chest to emphasize the point. Charles moved closer and wrapped an arm about her back, and pressed his side into hers. He gave her a small smile then, "This should help keep us warm until that sun rises." She grinned back at him, her muzzle dangerously close to his.  He then remembered that kiss she'd planted on him earlier, and he was half afraid she'd strike again.  Yet, she kept her lips to herself, pressing her side into his as well, and slipping her own arm underneath his. The rat felt slightly uncomfortable at that.  He'd never been this close to any other woman but Lady Kimberly, and he'd no intention of being this close to any other.  But, this was to help keep them warm, as it was frightfully chilly laying there on the bare hilltop, with the wind rising over their fur.  And that was all it was to him, two companions huddling together for warmth.  "Feeling better?" he asked then. She favoured him that dimpled smile again, and nodded. "Much better." Her eyes turned back towards the fog bank, as it started to yellow with rising sun.  Charles watched in rapt fascination as the fog started to glow with the dispersed morning sun, looking more like a mound of warm cream melting into the groove of the hills they topped, like a delicious biscuit fresh from Gregor's ovens back at Metamor.  The glints of light began to make the ice gleam brightly, casting ephemeral light about them on all sides, reflecting it subtly even into the dense thickets.  The two animal morphs huddled together for several minutes more as they watched dawn bring light into Metamor Valley once more. *** As the scouts had reported, the area around the bridge was respectably guarded.  Groups of six or seven Lutins circled the area at the South end of the long wooden bridge, accompanied by at least two of their arctic hounds.  Ten Lutins stood sentinel at each end, bearing spears of crude but serviceable make, as well as hatchets and an assortment of stolen iron daggers.  Over the chasm, the long wooden bridge spanned, with one central support descending into the darkness below.  A few Lutins patrolled across it, though they usually stopped midway to see how long it took their spit to reach the bottom. Angus set his ponderous form behind the tree trunk, nestled in the midst of snow covered branches.  Despite his bulk, he had little trouble climbing the natural towers, though he did find it tricky at times seeking out trees with branches wide enough to support his weight without buckling.  As it was, he was only twenty feet from the ground, but it had been enough to gain him a good view of the Lutin forces, as they milled about. Taking a deep breath, he fixed his claws into the ice covered bark, and began to slide down the slippery oak, shivers of white glistening from his black claws as he descended.  He held on tight with his legs though, keeping his descent both slow down quiet enough so as not to attract attention.  Though he easily could have had one of his subordinates go up to take a look, he always preferred to do this sort of task himself. And no one was likely to argue with a three hundred pound badger either. Lord Avery waited while the badger wiped the snow from his sleeves after landing with a silent thump in the thick snowdrift.  The grey squirrel was grey no longer, his fur a snow white from the powder, his dark eyes shone like pebbles against them.  They were four standing in the snow so close to the bridge they wished to destroy.  The rest of their men waited several minutes back, while they went ahead and made one last survey before their plan of attack was set.  Garigan stood next to the noble, two wicked daggers clutched firmly in his paws, while to his left was Alldis, whose wide rack of antlers threatened to catch the squirrel's tail as it flitted anxiously from side to side. "It doesn't appear as if they've changed any of their patterns from yesterday.  Ten men at the at the end of the bridge, two groups of scouts patrolling the woods.  An equal number on the opposite side, though it will take a minute to cross once they know what is happening." Angus spoke in a low gravely voice, keeping his head close to the ground to further muffle the sounds. Lord Avery nodded, and then began to absently gnaw at the end of his long bow.  He quickly stopped himself, affording only a slight moue from embarrassment before speaking. "Let's kill the scouts first, as quietly as possible." Alldis shook his head, "They have hounds.  They'll start baying as soon as they smell us." The ferret let his eyes trial between the three of them, but held his tongue in check.  Brian Avery though bore an amused expression. "True enough.  We should give them something to bay at though.  There are many animals in these woods, and we are certainly animals after all." The deer scowled unpleasantly as he found the Lord of the Glen's eyes upon him. "The last time we used that tactic, they shot the animal full of arrows if you recall." Brian nodded. "I know, but it is probably the only way we can take out those scouts without the rest of their party realising what we have done.  Let's regroup with the others, and then I'll want you to be our animal for us, Alldis.  I know it is a great deal to ask, but-" "But I am going to do it anyway," the deer morph affirmed, bowing his head thoughtfully. Angus gave his friend a comradely pat on the back as they retraced their steps through the snowbound earth, a good distance from the road.  Garigan slunk off ahead, eyes darting this way and that as he slipped between the trees. They were tighter packed here than at Glen Avery, as they were much shorter, and thinner.  Even so, a few giants rose up among them, stretching upwards to the sky itself, though none were large enough to build a home in, as had been done at the Glen. The return trip to their comrades waiting in the woods lustered between the trees, and in most cases, invisible amongst them, was uneventful.  The Lutin patrols stayed close to the bridge, preferring to run as close to the road as possible.  The Glenners though were at home in the woods, and even though most of them had never been this far from their home, they still walked among the trees as spirits riding upon the wind.  Only as they were so used to their own techniques were they able to even spot the guard of archers that had nestle in the crooks of branches all around their temporary camp, and even then, Angus was certain that he missed at least half of them! When Lord Avery motioned for the others to approach, shapes materialised from the woods, as if they had just been created out of the trees themselves.  Even those who had only been living with them for less than a year had become skilled, like the ermine Fellen who was suddenly at the badger's back, thumbing the pommel of his mein gauche.  Angus waited, giving the short musteline a firm pat on the shoulder, glancing from side to side as his friends made peace with whichever gods they worshipped. "There are two groups of patrols, and we need to silence those first.  Alldis will distract the hounds, so you should be able to kill the Lutins quickly.  The Lutins at the bridge must not know we are here until we attack them directly.  Archers, you will come with me to hide in the trees near the bridge.  The rest of you will go with Angus and Garigan to kill these Lutins.  It is nearly noon, so Burris should be at the bridge soon.  If we can take it before he arrives, all the better.  Now, let us fight for the Glen!" Though Lord Avery's voice barely rose above a whisper, the last statement felt as if it had been shouted directly into their hearts.  Angus could barely contain his pride.  Fighting for his home was one of the greatest joys he could think of.  Drawing his thick blade into one paw, gripping it tightly, and feeling the weight responding kind, a grin began to cross his features.  The badger did not enjoy battle for its own sake, rather, he was charged by the love of his homeland, and hatred for all those who would destroy it. His group consisted of roughly six other Glenners, including Fellen.  He watched for a moment as Alldis rubbed the snow across his muzzle and arms, removing the powder rather quickly.  He did not stay to watch his friend undress and shift.  Instead, he tasted the wind, and began to lead his group to the left of the road, circling far out into the thick woods, his men close behind.  The archers were already lost to sight far above in the trees, moving between them as innocuously as normal squirrels might. The stink of Lutins permeated the air.  Aside from this glaring fact, the patrols were decent soldiers among the Lutins, making little noise, and hardly talking amongst themselves as most were inclined to do, sharing bawdy jokes and the usual assortment of boasts and mischief.  If it were not for their foul scent, Angus was certain that he would have had a difficult time moving his men in behind them and their hounds.  As it was, they crept up on the unsuspecting patrol, weaving in and out of the trees, their blades ready and yearning to taste flesh. A flash of brown from one side caught his eye, and with a bit of a wry grin on his muzzle, the badger knew that Alldis was doing his best to attract the hounds.  And he did a marvellous job, as the poorly trained dogs began yapping and straining at the leashes to chase the deer, galloping through the woods.  Several of the Lutins swore at their animals, even as the Glenners crept up behind them. Angus was the first to reach them, followed by Fellen and a stoat.  He plunged the thick end of his blade into the first Lutin's neck, and grabbed another with one hairy paw, and snapped its neck with a single twist.  Fellen slid the mein gauche across one of the green-skinned throats, spilling the black blood across its studded armour and onto the mounds of disturbed snow below. After the first three of the seven were dead, the other four began to take notice, and one of them almost managed to cry out, but his voice was cut short when an arrow suddenly protruded from his warty lips, struck from some unseen perch among the trees.  Their master's now dead, the hounds, still intent on the deer, ran after it, their leashes bouncing along behind them as a horse's pinions might after its rider had been dislodged.  They could hear a bit of laughter from the bridge as the deer and the hounds bounded along down the road.  Angus waited quietly, standing amidst the dead bodies, listening to that laughter, hoping not to hear the sound of iron being drawn.  Yet, only the laughter continued, and it was followed by the silence of the thick woods, save for the baying hounds receding down the road. End part 57</HTML>