The cat's stance changed and the mouse charged him. The cat's advance was supposed to put a smaller opponent on edge, but the forward momentum he was trying to attain stipped away.

"Who are you?" He yelled.

Another gash slashed across his cheek as the mouse's deft strikes now had the force of a cats. The swordmaster was crushing him and Shin Yueng realized that the mouse had been holding back.

Shin Yueng snarled, meeting each blow with one of his own. He was completely on the defensive now and the spicy smell of the newcomers trickled into the back of his brain. There was something missing.

If he wasn't fighting for his life, he might have had the time to figure it out but quickly he realized that he would…

The mouse slashed hitting his non dominant paw and he winced.

"You! You insolent, little…!"

Shin has murder in his eyes as the sun went dark. The blue jay had come between himself and the sun.

That brief moment was all the red eyed mouse needed.

He parried the cats blade and disarmed him, sending it flying.

Shin Yueng knelt down, looking for his knives. The mouse extended his sword.

It was then that it struck him what the smell meant. Wide eyed, he opened his mouth to plead for his life.

"You! You're one of…"

The mouse's face, a twinge of regret marring his mask of calm determination, was the last thing he saw before his head rolled.

"Nasty work that is," Crenshaw said.

He had been in reserve, waiting to trap any of the cats who ran. Stone had watched as the swordmaster brought down the leader. The three cats with him had gone down in the initial assault, though Stone and Woda had checked them.

Freya looked haggard after the battle, but resolved.

Crenshaw hoped to never have to fight his old friend. It was the speed he moved with, when other mice his age were retiring to more leisurely pursuits. Crenshaw knew of the old mouse's habits, having spent a month following the old swordmaster along from morning lessons to afternoon lessons. He’d felt broken after his time, but now he appreciated the gravity of such concentrated practice.

The elders spent only a handful of minutes stripping the cats of anything useful. He nearly lost his breakfast when he smelled the meat they had with them. It wasn’t a familiar scent, and his eyes watered.

"This could have been one of us," he said to Woda. He tossed the small food items away.

"It will never be us," he said, a cool icy voice keeping them all together.

The rest of their search was silent. No one said anything until they returned to riding. When they saw Freya flying overhead, Crenshaw gave a sigh of relief that he didn't know he was holding.

"I'm not mad that either of my swords missed such an opportunity, as that was truly something, but perhaps one day you could teach us something?" Stone said.

"Perhaps."

"Did… Freya see any of that? I don’t want to discourage the young lass, especially when she has yet to make a decision about where she will go next?"

"She will go to the druids," Woda said, "her talent is undeniable. She must. My wife's talents were never so strong, and our daughter, Freya's mother, wasn't quite so strong either."

The chickens fluttered a little bit as Freya flew down. A brief trot away, she smoothed their feathers. Far off in the distance, the convoy was climbing another hill.

"She needs to see the truth to make her own decision. I know that it was rough the first time I was in combat."

"It's always rough. It changes you," Woda replied, "and you have to adapt to it. That was… particularly rough."

Woda lookee unharmed , but Crenshaw could see some bruises forming. He was certain that if Wodas gloves were removed, his paws would be shaking.

"Oh gentlemice, shall we return?" Stone said, his chickens loaded up with some of the evidence of their battle.

"You didn’t complain about your swords not getting any action, Stone you old otter are you right in the head?" Crenshaw remarked, trying to get ahead of him.

"They were perfectly fine watching the cusser do its work from a safe distance. Bluejays…"

"Are absolutely insane," Woda and Crenshaw said.

"Don't you know it. I am glad that we don't have sappers in the company."

Freya joined them without saying a word. Crenshaw knew better than to try to treat her like one of the guys, but also he was aware of the trauma of the past two days. He hoped that she’d not stayed to watch the fight. It was a bit one sided, but all battles had the capacity to go either way.

His poor cousin, normally going as fast as a bird, would have to keep up with her. That is if he even wanted to stand a chance. He wondered if Muk even knew of the mouses capacity. The poor fool had spent too long out in the field.

The now familiar movement of the chickens strutting to the rear of the convoy lulled him into his normal post incident though patterns.

The cats were clearly ranging closer and closer to Yellowrock. That would be a problem and he would have to write a certain kind of report.

A certain kind of report that he had hated to receive in his old position. Captain Bell would know what to do, but Crenshaw worried that he might not do the right thing. Perhaps if he stuck a bit of commentary about how he would approach this particular brand of bad news, the rabbit would follow his advice for once?

A mouse could only hope.

Written in Rabbit cipher:

Captain Bell-

It is unfortunate that I must write this letter to you but it will be something that you need to relay on to your superiors.

At roughly two days out on a special mission, I encountered a supply train and attached myself on it, leaving with them from the Ball of Yarn. For most of the day we were followed at close range by a Marquisate scouting party. They were virtually indistinguishable from the terrain and it took the team of specialists that I traveled with a great deal of resources to counter. There were four cats, on foot, following the well worn path. They clearly bore marks of the marquis, and they will bother us no longer.

Retirement is a cruel Mistress

Master Sergeant (Retired) Crenshaw Chin-Hwa