Chip returned to the grill just as a gaggle of foxes came over. Their noses had led them to this stand. Chip would make then pay out those snorty snoots.

“Five fishes!” Uncle Brit yelled over the bustle of the crowd,”Two savory fishy Britpops!”

“Five fish, two savory pops, gotcha.”

Chip could feel Sela moving away with his quarry. He got a whiff of the poor otter feeling… was that sorry? It was something.

Chip started passing the sticks through, turning the fish on the grill. His uncle’s idea was to sell them this way because the cook time was short, and foxes ate them. Otters appreciated it as well, and usually all the working mercenaries dropped in.

Chip handed the final order for the den of foxes in front of the stand, and grabbed another box of skewers.

Well if Sela wouldn’t make it, at least perhaps River would? The little feeling he had of her, it made him feel worry. As if she was tending to someone and it wasn’t going well. Chip shuddered at the thought that the generally calm cool and collected raven could be worried. She probably wouldn’t bat an eye at the purple robes.

“Four sweet, one savory all vegetarian!”

Uncle Brit was holding court with some mice. Chip focused on the task. He had more savory ready from the last order to he passed that to Sam. Sam ran it up as Chip popped another already prepared fish shaped pastry onto the flames .