The village doesn't seem large enough to support the number of people here – even if one excises the crew-members of the Merryweather from the calculation. However, as Willow has had an opportunity to learn more of the people of Bakanal from "Misty", it has become evident that there's a reason for this – Namely, all these people don't live here. Bakanal is the central village in a scattering of settlements, many of which are small enough not even to have proper names, and most of which are not more than a few decades old.

After all, as "small" as Sinai may seem with the widespread use of air travel, there is still plenty of room for settlements, and the vast wilderness surrounding Himar is still much of a frontier.

The reason for the gathering of so many people from the outlying settlements would be the festival coming up soon. Alas, comments overheard from Captain Merryweather have indicated that he has no intention of staying around for it. Or, rather, he makes profuse apologies to his hosts that, yet again, business concerns force him to leave a bit early, "… but maybe next year… "

The airshipmen have been treated quite well by the natives. Very, very well, if the boasts of some of Willow's crew-mates are to be believed.

A new day finds Willow in a makeshift excuse for an "inn" on the outskirts of the village – in actuality a granary that has been emptied out, and will remain so until the harvest later in the year, instead stocked up with a few kegs of fermented beverages and fresh produce, where several crew-members entertain themselves while awaiting the conclusion of Captain Merryweather's negotiations.

A steel gray rat emerges from around back of the granary, grateful for a moment's privacy to bathe and change, although in doing so she's probably sacrificed getting to some of the more choice bits of breakfast. It's probably better than what she'd have to deal with by bathing with the rest of the crew after breakfast. She manages to swipe up a few fruits that don't look too bruised from the selection, stuffs most of them in her pouch and leisurely munches on the largest of them while she eyes the villagers outside.

A few villagers peer curiously into the granary, while a few others are bold enough to share tables with the crew-members, or to serve them. The wretched white one-eyed Skreek, Whitehead, sits on an upturned bucket, leaning his elbow on a crate serving as a table, while he tells off-color jokes to a young Lapi girl, who giggles at each one of them – though a number of them have very obscure punch-lines. It must be the timing. Or Whitehead's charming wit … er … or maybe not.

She's fairly pretty, really. Someone might be inclined to wonder just why she'd bother with a wretched little rat like Whitehead. But then, come to think of it, this settlement seems to have more than its fair share of pretty young things running around, when the stereotypes of backwater places like this would have a fair deal more snaggletooth types like Misty.

A scarred cheetah shuffles into the granary, his cowled head hung low.

Willow scowls and abruptly storms out of the granary, opting to spend some time away from her crew-mates to head deeper into the settlement. ( What in blazes is with these people… Does this while place have a fetish for airship men, or is it just a big breeding farm? ) She tosses the remnants of the fruit at the Savanite for him to deal with and then gives the dust at her feet a good swift kick with one of her funny plantigrade feet.

There's no telling just how well Burr handled the fruit, though some tell-tale sounds of minor commotion suggest that he might learn not to keep his head bowed quite so low next time. As Willow heads out, she passes a couple of large, young and muscular Jupani … and then sees Morning-Mist, dressed in the same white dress she always wears – though it is evident that the doe has taken great care to wash it each day to keep it a bright white that contrasts strongly with the earthen tones favored by the bulk of the natives.

Morning-Mist smiles upon seeing Willow, and she frees one hand from the bouquet of flowers she's holding, to wave at the Skreek.

The rat manages a smile in return, oblivious to any commotion she caused behind her. "Good morning, Misty. What's with the posies?"

Morning-Mist replies, "I collected them this morning, and shall weave them into adornments for my last day of purification before the Festival of the Balance. That is tomorrow. Will you be there?"

"Maybe… depends when we're shipping out." Willow gives a nonchalant shrug. "What's going to happen at the festival that might be worth seeing?"

Morning-Mist looks fairly dreamy-eyed. "It is a celebration of life and all its aspects. It is an outpouring of emotions freely, without reservations. It is our way of giving tribute to the Mother of all living things, according to the teachings of Sister Fauve."

The rat's smile fades. "Er… you mean… um… " Her ears suddenly perk and then droop again. "Sister Fauve? Tell me about this sister Fauve?" She bites her lip and moves a step closer to the doe.

Morning-Mist seems so moved by her reverie that she wipes a tear away from the corner of one eye.

"Sister Fauve was a wise woman who came to Himar from the far away land of Half Valley," recites the doe. "The beloved Sister was close to the land, and close to the heart of the Mother. She received visions that she shared with kindred spirits there, but was not satisfied to stay there in contemplation. Having a burden to share the Truth with the rest of Sinai, she traveled abroad."

The doe continues, "Sister Fauve was not well received by all to whom she spread the Truth. Many false religions deemed her a blasphemer, and persecuted her and her few followers mercilessly. At last, however, the Mother guided her here, to a land of plenty. She brought with her those faithful disciples who had accompanied her through her travails, and spread the Truth to those tribes and settlers to be found here. The people here were scattered, rivals for the land … but under Sister Fauve's gentle guiding hand, they learned to live in peace and harmony with each other and with the land." Morning-Mist smiles.

( I can't believe I'm doing this… but I'd rather spare one person from this village from Whitehead's attentions, and as long as he still thinks I'm a buck and not a doe… ) Willow reaches out and puts a hand on Morning-Mists' back. "Tell me about some of her teachings… maybe I'll convert."

Morning-Mist smiles all the more. "Our village is a living example of Sister Fauve's teachings. We are not bound by the artificial restrictions imposed upon the sapient races by the Temple and its Human masters. Our laws are those of nature and of reason. We are a true community, sharing everything equally – even the raising of children, so that they will see each other as different, yet equal, from the time of birth, to the end of their productive lives."

Somewhere out of the corner of Willow's eye, she can still catch a hint of the rat that shadows her. No sign of his Lapi breakfast companion. He seems to be keeping a respectable distance, though not enough to rule out the notion that he's poking his nose in where it doesn't belong.

The rat gives the doe a light push, trying to encourage her to take a 'leisurely stroll' away from the granary. "So there's no parents here? Just the kids become public property? What about old folks?" Her tail flicks in an odd way.

The doe takes the cue easily enough, taking a stroll through what passes for the village. Alas, so many questions fired off at one time don't all come back with answers, as the doe seems to be easily distracted. "No, I have never known my sire. And children are not property, of course. There is no property in the way that the outsiders reckon things. We do not mark off our territory and fight over it, nor do we horde possessions. All is divided reasonably, by need and worthiness. Oh! Here, let me show you how we live in harmony with nature… "

Morning-Mist then launches into a definitely recited schpiel about recycling materials, being a part of nature, occasionally pointing out examples in the village here and there to underscore her points. Much of it is so awash in vague generalities as to just sound nice, but to be utterly confusing if one tries to pin down particulars.

Still, there are bits of common sense here and there. The surroundings may be a bit earthy and dingy … but there's no trash thrown about, and nothing like the filth that characterizes so much of Rephidim and countless other urbanized places. As much as a society can be on Rephidim, this settlement would be called agrarian.

Willow glances back over her shoulder to check on her 'shadow'.

Whitehead does a positively horrible job of being stealthy, sometimes being so brazen as to "tiptoe" from a hut over to some stacked barrels. Spending so much time on airships hasn't taught him the finer arts of sneaking around that the average rat would pick up in the city.

"Misty. Hold up for a sec, would you? I'm going to go and get another apple real quick." Willow pats the doe on the back and dashes around a hut. As soon as she's around the corner she goes into stealth-mode… hoping to sneak up on her pursuer's back.

Just as Willow heads around the corner, she picks up a cawing voice. "Captain, even if we cut the ropes and took off this instant, we couldn't outrun the storm! We can ship off tomorrow … or the day after, at the latest! We can afford a delay… "

Whitehead looks about, but it seems that he hasn't had enough time for his hormone-laden little brain to even register Willow's absence just yet.

Morning-Mist seems a bit taken aback by the sudden departure, but she busies herself by weaving a few of her flowers together, quickly forming it into a bracelet.

Willow keeps her ears perked on Barnacle's voice as she tip-toes around behind Whitehead, trying to be as soundless as she can manage.

Barnacle's voice, alas, is lost, drowned out momentarily by an outburst by the voice of Captain Merryweather. "Dagh take it! You should know better! We can't be around another day! We have to leave tonight … and if that means leaving our cargo and braving a storm … I'll do it!" There's the sound of toppling wood, and breaking glass, followed by muttered curses from the captain and a startled caw from Barnacle.

The one-eyed rat has caught the sound of the captain's outburst, and he peers off in the wrong direction, wiggling his nose. (Apparently his hearing is as bad as his eyesight.) Then, he looks back at Morning-Mist, and makes a "heh heh heh" sound in his throat.

The medic winces, wondering what it is that has the captain so eager to leave the village before the supposed festival. Whitehead's cackle jerks her attention back to her present goal. She moves closer, and then grabs the white rat's shoulders, trying to yank him back a little. "What's the matter, Whitey… half the girls of this village aren't enough for you?"

Whitehead screams like a speared Creen, causing Morning-Mist to drop her flowers in a moment of surprise, and several villagers to look this direction. However, seeing that Whitehead doesn't have his throat ripped open, or anything else amiss, everyone seems content to minding their own business. (Morning-Mist's business would be to pick up all the flowers she's just scattered on the ground at her hooves.)

The one-eyed Skreek shudders as he regains what little he can of his composure. "Wa-wa-wa-wa-Wallow! Er, Willie! WILLOW. Aiyiyiyi… I was … gulp … just gonna ask a few questions'v yer … yer girlfriend there."

The gray rat lets her 'captive' go, shoving him as roughly away as she can. (Alas, strength isn't one of her strong points). "I don't like people following me, mate. If you've got something about me you wanna know, you can ask and maybe I'll spring it. You've got enough of a harem here; don't go thinking you can add Misty to it."

Captain Merryweather's voice is deep enough that the resonance of the "low notes" in his conversation with Barnacle carry this far, but not enough to be able to hear just what he's saying, even with Willow's keen ears. He's obviously chosen to keep it a little more quiet.

Whitehead quiets down, too. "Uhhuh… yeah … I mean … no! I wasn't going to … I … " No telling just why he's so intimidated so easily. It's not like he's really smaller than Willow. He's obviously a lot more easily shaken up when surprised, though. He tries to smile. "Well, better hurry up. Captain plans to ship out tonight!" He gives a pathetic wave, and scampers off.

Willow scowls and circles back around, meeting up with Morning-Mist again. "Sorry about that. Poor fellow mistook a rock for an apple. That happens when you're up in the air for too long." She shoves her hands in her pockets. "So what exactly happens at the festival? I mean… I'm not up on all this dogma yet. So explain it to me in a way that might let me know what to expect."

"Well," says Morning-Mist, "all of those present partake freely of herbs that elevate the participants to a higher plane of being. In this state, we become one with nature, with the Mother of All Things." Morning-Mist says, "It is my first attendance to the Festival of Balance, for fawns are not mature enough to participate."

This instantly starts to make the rat feel uneasy, "Herbs… right. And then?"

"I shall be able to perform a special role, as one of the selected Maids this year," Morning-Mist adds. "I was born homely and undesirable, but by the blessing of the Mother, I shall be able to contribute to the betterment of the community to offset my consumption of valuable resources."

The rat's neck-fur bristles. "And how will you contribute?"

Morning-Mist takes a deep breath, then makes a quirky smile. No, she wasn't just taking a deep breath. She was whispering to herself under her breath. "… must be brave … " Maybe that was it. But before there is an opportunity to ponder this much further, she continues, "In other societies, I would be considered utterly worthless, for no male of my species would have an interest in someone so malformed with me. Thus, I take my place with those of our people who would otherwise have no way to productively contrib – "

"Morning-Mist!" calls out a somewhat older doe – though by no means elderly. In fact, Willow hasn't seen any elders about at all during her stay. "Morning-Mist, you are going to be late for the cleansing ritual of the day!" The older doe casts a sidelong glance to the Skreek. "My apologies, but there is so little time. The Festival of Balance is tomorrow."

Willow snatches up the doe's hand in her own, her voice dropping. "They're going to kill you, aren't they?" Her tone doesn't change, just the volume.

Morning-Mist is nearly dragged off by the older doe, looking somewhat startled at the interruption. "But … Foxfire… " She gives Willow an expression that is so hard to describe easily. Lost? Perhaps.

The rat digs her feet into the ground, hauling the doe back as best as she can. "Aren't they?"

Morning-Mist tries to smile, looking quite unprepared to deal with any sort of conflict – as if this whole incident just isn't part of some script she was rehearsing. "But … I shall rejoin the Mother, and be given new form! I shall find worth … "

"The outsiders don't understand, Morning-Mist," interjects the older doe. "They do not share our faith in the Life-Giving Mother. They cannot understand. We must go now, so that the outsider cannot plant any doubts in your mind."

"Go blow," Willow growls at the 'elder'. "You don't mind outsiders planting other things in your ladies." She gives Mist-Walker's hand another tug, "If it's so great, Misty… then convince me. You'll be serving your mother by converting a heathen like me. I'm your last chance to gain extra favors… surely your ELDER wouldn't deny you that."

The older doe isn't any stronger than the Skreek, and Morning-Mist isn't exactly adding to either side in the awkward tug of war. At last, the adult gives up in visible frustration. "You have been warned, Morning-Mist! You shall endanger your rebirth, if you stray from the teachings of Sister Fauve! Hurry, or you shall miss the cleansing!" With that, the older doe stomps off.

Morning-Mist watches her departure, tears coming to her eyes. "But … "

Willow keeps her grip on Misty's hand and starts pulling her towards the forest. "This way. After we talk, you can decide if you want this cleansing, but by fires I want my word in first."

Morning-Mist pleads, her mouth quivering, "Please … please don't … I … I am so ashamed! I … I have been having doubts … fears. I am too weak! And I'm so stupid! I can't think on my own – If you try to confuse me … " Nonetheless, she offers no resistance as she's led away from the village, and into the forest – which, really, isn't very far at all, considering the arboreal nature of the settlement.

The rat keeps quiet until she judges she's far enough away from sailor and villager ears alike to hear her. "Answer me this: If I was born here – look at my legs – would I be 'cleansed' as well? Just because some bit of flux thought it would be silly for me to pop out different?"

Morning-Mist shakes her head. "Oh! No, the Mother touches us in many ways, as we evolve into varied creatures. But the … but… " She strains to find the proper lesson or some fragment thereof to regurgitate to fit the situation. "By natural selection, deformities are to be culled from the tribe. Stance of legs poses no problem … but one so ugly and stupid such as myself is nothing but a burden to the tribe." She judges herself so casually, like she has been calling herself that for all of her life. Or taught that.

"And besides," adds Morning-Mist, "the male folk, however ugly, can still serve as laborers. They can find fulfillment in more hazardous duties, though they are forbidden to contribute to the next generation."

"Bah. You know that with a bit of wire, some wood, chitin, and ivory, I could probably fix up your mouth to look like… " Willow stops for a moment and shakes her head, "And you think you're ugly. You wanna know how ugly I am? I'm so ugly that pretty maids like you mistake me for a buck when I happen to be a doe."

"A doe?" Morning-Mist looks genuinely confused. She tries to piece this together. After a moment's consideration, by the look in her eyes, she has probably figured it out well enough, but for some reason she feels compelled to play the part of being stupid. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Misty… or do you want me to yank my shirt up and show you?" Willow grabs the corner of her baggy cotton shirt as though she actually meant to make good on her claim. "There's a rule among rats – you're not what people say you are… you are what you are. I wasn't trying to bed you; I thought you were too good for those sludgesuckers back on the ship. I wanted to be your friend, and that's something I don't do very easily."

Morning-Mist looks positively lost. "But … why? I have nothing of any use to you."

The rat shakes her head and grabs the doe's arm, pointing at the rumpled chain of flowers. "Here… this is a sign of skill. You could probably weave ropes just as well as you weave flowers." She points to the hem of the doe's dress as well. "And I bet you washed this by yourself, probably mended it too. A few bent teeth don't make you stupid; you've got enough brains to know that."

The doe's ears droop. "But … it has been decided. It is the way of our people. If I were to raise a voice in discord … I could jeopardize the faith of others who have doubts." Her eyes go wide. "No! I cannot betray the Mother! It is the circle of life that must be completed – as my ancestors ate of the plants, and were in turn preyed upon by the meat-eaters, who in turn died and were reclaimed by the Mother … I cannot break the circle!"

Morning-Mist looks around – perhaps hoping nobody can hear her confess her doubts … perhaps looking for some sort of deliverance from this – whatever this happens to be.

"Then you are stupid." Willow frowns. "You close your eyes and skip merrily into the slaughterhouse. It's probably really easy for the pretty vanderats to watch the ugly ones go to slaughter." Her tail lashes harder. "Look, I'm not expecting for you to change the whole scruddy village. But you don't have to be a part of it. Heck, we could probably use someone who can mend and clean on the ship… You saw how much of a mess our gondola is."

"As for your teeth, I could fix those. I'm a doctor, and a blasted good one too," Willow chatters. "Do you want to die useless, or go out and be useful?"

Morning-Mist bites her lip worriedly. She seems to be doing that a lot. "But… " is all she can say, before the tears flow freely from her eyes, and she drops to her knees, covering her face with her hands. "I … but if what you say … is … t-t-t-rue … But … then … then the others would be wrong! And they … "

The rat sighs and offers the doe a handkerchief. "They'd probably rip us to shreds in that little hunt of theirs if we went and started cursing their great mother." The rat rolls her eyes and sighs. "How many are going to be 'cleansed' tomorrow?"

Morning-Mist spends some time making use of the handkerchief, then some more catching her breath, and making several false starts before she can choke out a whole word without crying again. "Thirteen," she answers. "Eight maidens who have reached the age of maturity, and have been deemed too unsightly for any male to take an interest in them. Two warriors who will not recover from their wounds in a clash with bandits. And the rest are advanced in age, and would not survive the winter."

The doe looks up to the Skreek. "Why? Why do you question this? Do you not believe in the Mother? Even if you do not know her as the Mother, do you not believe in the ways of Nature? Surely you have not been poisoned by the lies of Rephidim?"

"I don't believe in anything, except demons… and that's only because I killed one once." Willow shakes her head. "Nature gave people brains as well as looks. Sometimes nature even makes people ugly so they'll be more cunning. Haven't you noticed that the most useful plants in the forests are the ugliest … and the prettiest like flowers are usually barely edible? What feeds you better? A perfect rose or a lumpy, dirty potato?"

The doe blinks. "But if you believe in nothing but demons … what makes you care about anything? What gives you purpose in life? With the Mother, I can serve a greater purpose … and be renewed in the next life. If there is no Mother, if there is no renewal … then there is nothing, for all things die without the Life-Giving Mother."

"Why do I need a mother to care about anything? I didn't need one as a grub, and I don't need one now to drive me." Willow throws her arms out. "I'm driven by the need to prove to this dustball that a rat can do as much as a poodle, or a stag, or whatever have you. Why do I need an ambiguous mother to guide me when I have tangible people – feeling, breathing, and emotional people – around me to do so? And none of them has the right to tell either me or you who's useless and who's useful breeding stock."

"But how can they guide you, if you cannot trust their wisdom – the wisdom of those wiser and more experienced, and more valuable than yourself?" asks the doe. She's stopped biting her lip. Despite her challenges to the rat's statements, she does have a glint of hope in her eyes.

"Because I have the sense to tell the difference between guidance and suicide. I know the difference between when someone tells me how to stitch up a wound in a better way, and someone telling me to go stick my butt in a fire for a few hours." The rat taps her head. "Mother gave you this up here. And I know scruddy well that there's something in there telling you this is a bad idea. What voice are you going to listen to? The one of the person who won't have to feel the knife for awhile, or the one in your head that's pushing you to show them all that some bent teeth don't mean you're not worth a flip?"

The doe bites her lip hard, covering her muzzle in her hands. She squeezes her eyes tight. In an almost-whisper, she asks, "Foxfire … are you really my friend? Not just for a little while? If I went against the people … I would be exiled. I would be alone in the world." She shudders. "I … I don't want to die … " She shudders again, and for some reason throws in, "I'm sorry… "

"Of course I'm your friend! I don't go screaming at people I don't like." The rat sighs and puts her hands on Morning-Mist's shoulders. "We're leaving tonight. Merryweather would probably be happy to have you, and I'll keep the rest of the boys from trying to look up your dress or something. If it comes down to it, I'll have Burr bop them." The rat looks around nervously. "Listen… Let me make sure nobody's listening and I'll … I'll give you something to prove that I'm your friend… "

The doe looks to the rat. "But … you … you don't need to give me anything. I … " Her ears cant forward, and she's obviously curious, despite her mild protest.

Foxfire looks around for any eavesdroppers and then lowers her voice to the barest of whispers. "If this got out beyond you and me, I'd be a dead rat… you understand? I need you to swear to never tell anybody the secret I'm about to give you."

Morning-Mist nods, wiping at her eyes, though the tears have stopped flowing for the moment.

( Okay, rat… time to go all the way. Pleeease don't let this be a mistake. ) "My name's not really Willow, or Foxfire, or whatever." Her ears twitch at every single noise and her nose inspects every scent in the air. "It's Chiria Naochi. I was born in Himar and raised in Elamoore. I was a pirate for ten years on the Bloody Shekel until hunters brought it down. I hated piracy after the magic died, and I make no excuses for what I did or what I was. But after that I swore to make a better rat out of myself.

"I was a business owner in Rephidim for a while, until a monster took everything from me, and almost took my life in the process. While I was in Rephidim I had my appearance changed magically so any pirates looking to bring my pelt home would have trouble finding me, but they still might be able to if given half a chance. And now that you know the secret, you could probably earn some coins by telling, although I hope you're enough of a friend to keep my secret."

Morning-Mist's eyes are quite wide, especially at the end of this confession. "Never! I'll … I'll never tell anyone!" She pauses, then timidly asks, "A monster? For real?"

Some angry barking can be heard. Sounds like the captain has gotten worked up again.

"A demon summoned by a monster that killed over thirty people. It's why I left Rephidim and travel on the wing now." Willow shakes her head. "But it is possible to escape. I fought off the beast with just a box of shekels and some chitin daggers. You can fight back too." Her ears perk at the noise. "You need to make your decision quickly; it sounds like we're leaving soon."

Morning-Mist bites her lip again, and her eyes wander, as she traces her options. "I … " She takes a deep breath. "How soon?"

"Tonight. I get the feeling that Merryweather knows exactly what's going down here and wants to bail before we take off." Foxfire grasps the Cervani's shoulder. "Look, I'll get you some clothes. I'll even try to get you a few coins until you have a few of your own saved up. It won't be an easy way of life, but it will teach you more lessons and make you grow and learn things you never thought possible."

The doe looks as if some painful thought has afflicted her again … but she pushes it aside … and then manages a smile. She throws her arms around the rat and gives her a quick squeeze. "Thank you, Foxfire! I will make myself useful, I promise!"

Willow stiffens at the gesture, unused to affection either giving or receiving. She swallows, and after a moment of hesitation hugs the Cervani back. "We've not much time. If that elder of yours pops up again, let me deal with her. Now c'mon before we get left behind."

The doe releases the rat, and looks about, clearly lacking the initiative to propose what to do next.

In response, Foxfire grabs Misty's hand and starts heading back to the village. ( If Whitehead says one word, I'll load him up with so many pills that his eye-socket will whistle… ) She heads straight towards the moored airship and whistles sharply for Burr.

Burr looks up from a nearby stream, holding some laundry that he's washing – After all, there's precious little opportunity to do that on the airship.

A finely-bred, handsome Jupani – with fur that almost has a golden sheen to it – walks into view. He casts a glance in the direction of Willow and the white-clad doe maid, and looks as if he's pondering something.

Meanwhile, Captain Merryweather is visible, exchanging words with the village "elders" – in actuality, none of them much older than he himself is – and he seems to have lost his practiced smooth veneer, baring desperation in his attempt to speed up negotiations – and loading of his cargo, no doubt. In the background, crew-hands have already taken down the temporary supports securing the envelope of the moored airship, and have started preparations for departure.

Eyeing the cheetah, the rat makes a 'come here' gesture to him and continues on her way to the ship. Her eyes fall on the newly arrived wolf as she hustles Misty along.

Misty's expression as she regards the wolf seems to be a mixture of fear … and something else. Maybe some sort of admiration? He is a looker, after all, even if he's not of the correct species.

"Who is that?" Foxfire whispers to the doe.

The Savanite pulls his cowl back over his ears, and grabs up two bundles of laundry, one drier than the other, as he heads over to intercept the rat and doe.

"Goldmane," answers Morning-Mist in an almost wistful tone. "He is so brave and strong! Oh! He's looking at me!" She tries to smile.

Goldmane, however, doesn't appear to be coming over to make a howdy-do. He looks a bit perturbed, actually, and quickens his pace.

The rat lightly pushes Mist-Walker towards the cheetah, "Burr, this is my new friend. She's coming with us. I want you to keep the other crew off of her back. If one of them so much as ruffles her fur, I'll take it out on you, understand? You're her bodyguard. Now get her on the ship and out of here as fast as you can… " Her hands add in sign, "I explain later. Just get her on ship, let her play with Thorn and if anyone bother her… bash them."

"Misty, Burr here is going to introduce you to a kitten friend of his. I'll meet you in a little bit." Foxfire smiles and whirls around to fend off the Jupani, or at least intercept him.

The Jupani is just about on the group, and he looks like he's inclined to simply bowl through the Skreek as he reaches out for the doe. "Morning-Mist! What is going on here?"

The cheetah, bundle of laundry under one arm, and another bundle under the other, abruptly drops both bundles as he spins about to face the wolf.

The doe seems to shrink. "Goldmane! I … " She gulps. "I'm leaving." She bites her lip, summoning what little courage she can. "I'm not going to be in the Festival. May the Mother keep you."

"Hey! What do I look like, a squish-melon? Just 'cause I'm a rat doesn't mean you can do stepping on me like a vermie." Willow signs behind her back, "Take her and GO!"

The cheetah suddenly grabs the doe by the arm, prompting a surprised gasp from the latter, and hastily makes his way back to the ship, leaving the laundry on the ground.

The wolf growls in response. "You upstart spotty! I'm not some backwater yokel who doesn't know a slave's place! Let go of her, or I'll tear your arm off!" He bumps into the rat in his careless pursuit.

( I'm going to have to probably end up treating her to pulled muscles after all this… if I don't end up treating myself for a few cracked ribs… ) Willow rushes to get in the wolf's path again, "HEY! He's my slave… I'm the only one who can insult him. And who are you to go calling him a slave to begin with? Isn't everyone here an equal?" She swallows. "And if you want a piece of him, you'll have to get through me first… or is a rat too much for a big yellow puppy like you?"

"Out of my way, sky vermite!" barks the wolf, and he makes a backhand at the rat's head.

The rat manages to dance away from the swipe. (Hurry up, X… c'mon.) "Some puppy, can't even swat a vermite. Maybe you should get cleansed for all the good you are." She squats down and gets ready to make a leap at the wolf's legs, trying to buy the Savanite more time.

The Savanite risks a glance over his shoulder … and probably contemplates coming to his master's rescue … but orders are orders, and he makes all the more haste, getting a more solid grab on the doe, lifting her up, and running for the airship.

Willow leaps for Goldmane's legs, hoping to trip the wolf up and slow his pace.

The wolf seems a bit surprised, recovering from his intention to simply sprint after the cheetah. (He probably also hasn't had much experience chasing cheetahs, either.) He turns about to try again to get his point across to the rat, but that gives the Skreek enough time to take advantage of his ill-preparedness. Or … at least in theory. Alas, in her dodge to evade the backhand, she had unknowingly stepped on one of the cloths dropped by the cheetah – still wet, and slick against the grass. As she goes for the legs, the unthinkable happens … and she slips!

"Gyaaaah!" Willow chatters. She rubs her head and grabs one of the damp cloths with her other hand. "The lady made a decision, Mister Goldmane-Whatever-You-Are. Let it be."

The big strong wolf doesn't pause to talk reason. He also doesn't pause to let the rat get back up into position for a fair fight. His fist comes down. The light goes out.

Much later, the rat comes to, in familiar surroundings – on the very bed where her patients would usually be. There's a slight bob to the surroundings. After a moment of adjusting and awakening, it's pretty clear that it's not just some side-effect of getting conked on the head. The airship is airborne … and in bad weather, too.

"Stupid laundry… ow. My teeth hurt." Willow pulls herself up and rubs at her head. "How in blazes did I get here?"

There are bandages around the rat's head. It doesn't take much to realize that they haven't been applied by someone properly trained to do so. Willow's vision focuses on a worried-looking doe … and a dejected-looking cheetah. The first thing she can make out from the cheetah is a hand-sign for "Sorry." His other hand is wrapped up in more bandages, and he has more over one ear. He also has a black eye.

The rat blinks and shakes her head. "Who won?"

The doe checks the rat's bandages, though it's more of an "I really ought to be doing something" gesture than anything terribly helpful. "Well, your friend here went back and … I'm afraid he beat up Goldmane something awful, and then the others started beating on him, while he was running you back here." She bites her lip. "I'm really sorry to cause you so much trouble!"

The cheetah signs, "Airborne."

"Others?" Willow manages to smile and bat away the doe's hands. "Get me some water. Burr, get me some yellowbark; it'll take the sting out of this headache."

Burr bows his head and complies. He knows enough, at least, to find the yellowbark in short order – and Morning-Mist, of course, knows enough to recognize water. "Here you go," she says, as she offers a ladle. "Or did you want a pan?"

The rat chews on the bitter bark and then waves the ladle over, "So who came to my rescue? I need to know who to be nice to until they forget that I owe them a favor."

"Oh!" gasps the doe. "Oh, I was unclear. The others were beating on … on … Burr? The villagers. While he was running you back here. But, yes, some of your fellow airmen helped you – I think one was the captain, and that bird-fellow, plus a big … Rhian? Yes, a Rhian, I think. With bandages on his hands."

"They were terribly anxious to be leaving anyway, I think," the doe comments, biting her lip again. "I think they left without getting all of the cargo that had been promised them. The captain, I think, seemed more interested in being gone, though, than worrying about that."

The rat smiles at the cheetah, one of her rare genuine smiles. "Thanks for doing what I told you before coming back. I didn't want them to get Morning-Mist." She looks back at the deer. "So… who exactly was that Goldmane fellow? He didn't seem to be one of the villagers."

Morning-Mist shakes her head. "No, he was one of the villagers. He … " She sighs. "He just thinks highly of himself and how much he knows about 'the world'." Her ears droop. "I feel like such an idiot for liking him. I mean … " She bites her lip again, and her eyes tear. "I've been so insane. Or maybe I'm insane now. You know … I was actually hoping that … that he would be the one who would hunt me?" She pulls up a rag and covers her eyes. "I mean … I … " She doesn't finish the sentence.

Burr's ears pale, and his eyes go wide. But then, he wasn't exactly around for the explanation of just what was going on, either.

"Now stop that. I've fallen in love with a dashing rouge once or twice myself. How exactly did he claim to know about the world? Some kind of later convert from the outside?" Willow starts to fuss with her bandages to get them in a bit better shape.

"I'm not sure," confesses Morning-Mist. "He wasn't from the main village. I think he came from one of the Himarian tribes … I think he has been to Elamoore before."

"Ah well. It's not like I'd get a chance to chit-chat with him after everyone pounded on each other. You know if the Cap is around? I… er… should probably apologize to him." The rat pats herself down as she takes inventory of her wounds and if she's even in any condition to try and wobble around.

The doe gasps. "Oh! I completely forgot! He wanted me to notify him as soon as you were conscious. Seems there's some work for you … and not everyone can fit in here." She bites her lip yet again.

The cheetah nods, and gets up, heading for the door.

"I'll get my bag." The rat staggers out of the bed, clutches her bandaged cranium and starts gathering supplies. "I hope Barnacle doesn't peck at my head… although it feels like he is right now."