“We do, though it sounds like Glen won’t be in any condition to walk back tonight.”
Vaskel had apparently been thinking along the same lines. He approached them, his pointed tail swishing lazily behind him. “Now that we know where he is, we need to retrieve the ostrich before he wakes and wreaks havoc on Elmshire.”
“Or takes off for Port Frey,” Rog added as he joined them.
Thrain ambled up. “We’re going to need a wagon. A large wagon. And probably several sturdy folks to lift an unconscious ostrich.”
“I volunteer Korl.” Lira squeezed his hand. “He’s the strongest one here.”
Korl grunted but didn’t argue. “We’ll need rope, too. To secure him safely for the journey.”
“And blankets,” Lira added. “It’s cold out there, and Glen’s been sleeping on a snowy roof for hours.”
Thrain clapped Rog on the shoulder. “Fancy a journey to Elmshire?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” The gnome rocked back on his heels. “Besides, I want to see this drunk ostrich for myself.”
“We’ll need a cart.” Korl rubbed his jaw as he pondered. “I can ask my dads.”
“Maybe they’ll join us,” Thrain said. “Two more orcs wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
“I’ll let you work out the details while I check on things in the kitchen,” Lira said, suspecting that the chai Sass had been serving was courtesy of a talented flutterstoat.
Despite loving being surrounded by so many friends, Lira was grateful to escape into the space of the kitchen, even though when she backed through the swinging half doors, she did a double take.
Not only was Crumpet stirring a bubbly pot of chai, but his raccoon friend was lining up clean earthenware mugs on the large wooden table that dominated the middle of the room.
“It looks like you’ve got things well in hand, Crumpet.”
The white stoat swung his face to her, the black marks on his face making it look very much like he was wearing a mask. He chatteredsomething at her that sounded a great deal like scolding.
“Sorry, Crump.” Lira snatched her apron from the hook by the door. “I didn’t know you were manning the chai alone.”
Another unleashing of chatter and a wave of his tiny paw toward the raccoon.
“No, no, you’re right. You’re not doing it alone. Apologies to your woodland friend.” Lira eyed the raccoon, marveling that he was so domesticated and wondering if he possessed any enchantment she couldn’t yet see. “But if he’s going to be joining us, I think he should have a name.”
The raccoon sat up on its hind legs, its small black hands working together. Lira was certain he was grinning.
“You like that idea, do you?” She tilted her head. “We already have a Crumpet. What about Biscuit?”
Crumpet eyed the raccoon and then wrinkled his nose and shook his tiny head.
“No, you’re right. He isn’t a Biscuit.” She tapped a finger on her chin. “Cookie?”
Crumpet blew a raspberry, and the raccoon put his paws over his mouth and actually giggled.
Lira held up her hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. No need to laugh. I’ll come up with something better, something that fits him.”
Before she could think of more names, Val bellowed from the great room, “Cart’s ready! Everyone who’s coming to Elmshire, let’s move!”
Lira turned off the burner on the stove, certain that after the rescue party left, the crowd in the tavern would disperse. At least, she hoped so. Her feet ached, and she was eager to climb into her soft bed and curl up under a down blanket.
Pushing through the kitchen doors, she watched the rescue party bundle up in their winter cloaks and prepare to brave the cold. Klaff and Vorto stood in the tavern doorway holding the heavy wooden door open for Thrain, Rog, Val, Vaskel, and even Erindil.
As Korl walked over to kiss her quickly on the cheek, Lira cocked an eyebrow. “My uncle is going with you?”
Korl jerked one shoulder. “He insisted. He said he should be there if Glen wakes up. He also said his powers might come in handy if brute strength fails.”
