The tip of her tongue had long since gone dry. It was a habit, an act she never normally realised she was doing until it was pointed out. Every time she concentrated, the tip of her tongue would poke out between her lips, as if it aided her in some great way. The only eyes other than her own in the dank room were the multiple ones belonging to her arch nemesis, creepy long legs, and the glassy ones of the small army before her. Very small, and not likely to mention how daft she looked in her deep state of focus. With a steady hand, she placed a small sword, made from a hammered down nail and a tiny bit of leather, into the paw of the dead mouse. He looked rather smart, she thought anyway, in his red cloak and posed in such a way that he looked ready to attack whatever orcs, demons, though more likely cats, would dare challenge him. In this instance though, it was Cecil the demented looking squirrel that stood before him, he too donning a cloak, though his was brown, perhaps he could have been a great brigand of the Chetwood, or an ally, maybe one of those mysterious ranger folk, the one that the other rangers shun because he was a bit too odd for their liking.
She'd kept to herself lately, it was safer and smarter. The upshot was she had acquired many more items to sell and business was rather good. Yes, she still had to find homes for some of the more unique items, but the goods she sold to the women folk were going down a treat, bringing about repeat business in some cases. The downside was she had lost touch with those she would have normally kept company with. She missed them, and on more than one occasion vowed to pull herself away from her work and seek them out again, but the days passed by quickly, and before she knew it the lamp lighters were out and her bed seemed too inviting. Even so, she always had time to think before sleep claimed her. She thought of her friends, of Thad, Wist, the magic man. She thought of Calum...and Faer, neither she had seen in what seemed a very long while, which might have been a blessing in disguise. Things had gotten rather complicated but thankfully she managed to untangle herself from what would have been a terribly messy situation. It was her last conversation with the magic man that inspired her to take a rather different tack. He had suggested to dress the mouse, perhaps add spectacles to it, but she rather preferred the idea of it as a soldier of sorts. It even had a name, Mr Twitcherwhisker, though now perhaps Captain Twitcherwhisker was more suited.
Although things had been a constant, something pulled at her, a feeling. Something was going to change.
