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Description
Through the rain you could just see in a small clearing at the edge of a forest as old as time - a cottage. It wasn't the usual accomadation of the elven guard but then the woman who lived there wasn't the usual sort of guard. All that could be heard inside apart from the stamp of the unrelentless rain - it was the wettest month on record- was the scratch of pen on paper and the dying crackle of a fireplace unattended. It seems that the foul weather isn't hindering their movement. Action must be taken soon! The urgent letter was written by the hand of the Elven princess's most trusted advisor and only she could get away with the abrupt way the note was written. Rachel raised her hand poised to write her next sentence when there was a scrape and knock at the door. Her brown eyes glanced out the window nothing could be seen through the rain.

Breathing a breath of calmness, Rachel reached into the pocket of her furlined cloak to grasp three darts. It could be friend or foe at such a time though your friend could very well be your foe. Standing to the side nearest handle she flung open the door to see a creature who could only be Cent fall flat on his face. A soaking mess of mouse fur on the floor along with the revitalized rust of blood making its way by rivulets into the cottage.

Evoloping her comrade in a warm embrace she made sure to hold him carefully as he was bleeding from a wound somewhere. Pushing her papers hastily to the side she laid him gently on the bench he was speaking about something or rather but it was coming out as gibberish, "shhhh" she said gently and put a pot of hot water over the fireplace.
Once it was on she removed his little message bag, the note could be read later. Her comrade was a mix between a mouse and an armadillo with something like a helmet shell on his head, back and in this case it had given him little protection.

Whipping up her maroon locks within the confines of a band she leaned over and ran her hands gently over his head, sides and tail. There was no wound to be found. Frowning she leaned over his mouth to listen to him mutter, "the...ywe.." It was impossible to understand him but she had to stay calm for Cent and so she tended to him and found he had a fever as well. Placing him, asleep, on her bunk she proceeded to open the message, it said....

Description
Through the rain you could just see in a small clearing at the edge of a forest as old as time - a cottage. It wasn't the usual accomadation of the elven guard but then the woman who lived there wasn't the usual sort of guard. All that could be heard inside apart from the stamp of the unrelentless rain - it was the wettest month on record- was the scratch of pen on paper and the dying crackle of a fireplace unattended. It seems that the foul weather isn't hindering their movement. Action must be taken soon! The urgent letter was written by the hand of the Elven princess's most trusted advisor and only she could get away with the abrupt way the note was written. Rachel raised her hand poised to write her next sentence when there was a scrape and knock at the door. Her brown eyes glanced out the window nothing could be seen through the rain.

Breathing a breath of calmness, Rachel reached into the pocket of her furlined cloak to grasp three darts. It could be friend or foe at such a time though your friend could very well be your foe. Standing to the side nearest handle she flung open the door to see a creature who could only be Cent fall flat on his face. A soaking mess of mouse fur on the floor along with the revitalized rust of blood making its way by rivulets into the cottage.

Evoloping her comrade in a warm embrace she made sure to hold him carefully as he was bleeding from a wound somewhere. Pushing her papers hastily to the side she laid him gently on the bench he was speaking about something or rather but it was coming out as gibberish, "shhhh" she said gently and put a pot of hot water over the fireplace.
Once it was on she removed his little message bag, the note could be read later. Her comrade was a mix between a mouse and an armadillo with something like a helmet shell on his head, back and in this case it had given him little protection.

Whipping up her maroon locks within the confines of a band she leaned over and ran her hands gently over his head, sides and tail. There was no wound to be found. Frowning she leaned over his mouth to listen to him mutter, "the...ywe.." It was impossible to understand him but she had to stay calm for Cent and so she tended to him and found he had a fever as well. Placing him, asleep, on her bunk she proceeded to open the message, it said....