"You know," Timothy remarked, "this is the first Festival we'll be attending alone since the twins were born."
Christa smiled. "The whole purpose of Festival is bring all of us together. Look- there's Arthur, come to escort us."
"Well, they don't call us gray squirrels for nothing." He was only mildly surprised when his wife reached the ground ahead of him.
Land at last! Gratefully, Aaron stamped his paws on the firm soil. By his reckoning they'd been at sea for two weeks. This was the second day of their third.
"Here, ferret, catch hold of this. I'm not doing all the work!" He just barely caught the bundle of supplies Hope threw at him. When she starts calling me "ferret", it means I'm to work like a dog. Ah well, what are friends for?
It was a pleasant spot they'd chosen to camp- not really a wood, but a small grove.
The twins were fairly certain they'd find other squirrels here.
Aaron didn't doubt it. He'd already scented a dozen, and one in particular. This one had the scent of a healer about her. What's more, he was fairly sure she carried some authority, as no other smells came so close to the campsite.
I hope she knows if there any ferrets here.
