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Involves:
- Fenton
- Smutclaw
- Zenobia


A cool spring night rests on Holgrave House. The scent of jonquils floats through the open windows. After keeping Jesmin down in his study for a number of hours, Fenton has finally allowed her to go back to her tower room. Zenobia guides her, unlocks the door, and opens it. Inside, all seems dark and quiet, but for a few patches of moonlight.

Zenobia has arrived.

Jesmin readily returns to the sanctity of her tower, having learned to come to actually like it when her day had been spent with the ferrets. With wings cloaked about her, she turns back to face the door, and Zenobia, momentarily.

Zenobia stares past Jesmin, as usual. Everything seems quite normal and orderly, but for the pinewood cot. The sheets have been rumpled up into a pile with a depression in its center, like a nest, and the pillow lies on the floor.

Jesmin glances backward, suddenly noticing the disarray of her room. The bat's ears perk up and twitch all about, quizzical.

Suddenly, the heap of white cloth stirs and makes a sharp clacking noise. Zenobia blinks for a moment, then smirks and does nothing.

Jesmin starts, glancing back at Zenobia questioningly before circling around the pile, wondering what has stolen her cot. The bat had been using it, never yet caring to try and climb the ladder up into the safety of the rafters.

A black head, wild-eyed and vicious, pops out of the pile. "Kragga!"

Jesmin starts, leaping back against a wall with a low shriek. She squints at the offending creature that has invaded her tower, before flicking a look at Zenobia that demands to know what in the name of seasons this thing is.

Zenobia doesn't even twitch. She grins at the bird, chuckles (rather bird-like herself) and turns to leave.

Fenton has arrived.

Fenton dashes in, still pulling taut the sash of his robe. "I say! What's in hellgates is all this ruckus about?"

Jesmin stares hard at the bird, fur prickled and uncertain about the beast. Her good paw holds at her splinted wing, eyes narrowed. She mutters darkly. ".. You tell me.."

Fenton adjusts his spectacles and peers at the bird. "Smutclaw! Satan's whiskers, what do you think you're doing? You can't just barge in here and make yourself comfortable whenever you like."

Smutclaw squirms out of his "nest" and glares at Fenton with his good eye. "Kraw! This Smutclaw's room! You say I take when I like. What wing-mouse doing here?" And he snaps at Jesmin.

Jesmin's ears stand on end, indignantly. Just when she was actually starting to even vaguely -like- the room, this hideous creature makes things worse for her situation.

Fenton strides towards the bird, arms akimbo. "Now, see here, Smutclaw. This is my house. Right? My nest, eh? When I said you could use this whenever you liked, I still meant you to ask me before you go slinking up here and bedding down. Alright, now, up with you, come along. Get out."

Smutclaw shrieks and flaps his filthy wings. "She let me up here! She say it my nest! She say!" he squawks, glaring at Zenobia.

Jesmin's snout crinkles as she watches the bulky ferret approach the bird, remaining near the wall. She then stares over at Zenobia, obviously offended and irate at the old ferret- as can be seen by the hate laden glance.

Zenobia starts skulking out of the room.

Fenton swings his enormous body around. "Zenobia. . . !"

Zenobia stops. "Yes, sir?" she says in a quivering, whining tone.

Fenton asks, "Is that true?""

Jesmin watches the two.

Zenobia asks, "Is what true, Sir?""

Fenton says, "Come now, the jig's up. It's all been very funny, but you owe us an apology--Smutty, Miss Jesmin, and me. Out with it. You let him up here. Now say you're sorry.""

Zenobia squirms, her bones cracking at every movement.

Jesmin stares at Zenobia, glancing warily at the bird occasionally.

Fenton taps his massive footpaw. "Well?"

Zenobia sneers at Jesmin, then stares at the floor and mutters, "'Pologies."

Jesmin leans away a bit at the sneer, producing one of her own and chirping lowly.

Fenton sighs. "Well, I suppose we'll have to make do with that. Never mind the details; all's well that ends well. And no doubt you're exhausted. We've all been up too late--though I suppose it doesn't much affect you, eh, Miss Jesmin?" he says, smiling cordially.

Jesmin looks at Fenton, then stares at the large bird- well, it's considerably larger than she, anyway. Her short fur remains frazzled, and it would be obvious to anyone she /did not/ agree with this new arrangement. "I..." She keeps her gaze firmly on the bird, then gives a resigning sigh. "No, sir."

Smutclaw clacks his beak. "Then . . . I not sleep here?"

Fenton smiles apologetically. "I'm afraid not, old boy."

Smutclaw exclaims, "Raack! Kitchen again, heh?""

Fenton says, "I'm afraid so.""

Smutclaw ruffles his feathers and hops out of the bed. "Rack!"

Jesmin tucks her paws beneath her bed, watching the bird warily, flicking her attention from it and to Fenton.

Smutclaw begins hobbling towards the door. "I gotta good mind for not telling you what I see yesterday. . . ."

Fenton's ears twitch. "Eh? What's that?"

Jesmin's own ears flicker atop her skull, sidling away from the wall and standing near the messed up cot while watching them.

Something like a smile appears on Smutclaw's beak. "Reeek! Oh, I flying over woods yesterday, look down on path from Big Road, see somebody."

Fenton asks, "Well? Whom?"

Smutclaw hops over the threshold as he replies,"See skinny jill-ferret running along in rain."

Jesmin crouches down, tending to the sheets, brushing away feathers with a disgusted expression as she stands to shake it out.

Fenton bites his lower lip. "Jill-ferret, you say? What kind of jill-ferret?"

Smutclaw cackles. "I tell you. Skinny. Ugly."

Fenton rushes to the door. "Get back in here," he says, his heavy voice echoing throughout the tower. "It was her, wasn't it? Wasn't it?"

Smutclaw smacks his beak and hops back in. "Kreeeeegaw. Maaaybe. I flying very high up."

Fenton asks, "Was she alone?"

Jesmin looks up, holding the sheets to her as she listens and watches bird and ferret. Curious.

Smutclaw cocks his head to one side. "Maaaybe. She carrying something--something big. Her cloak all big, like something inside it."

Fenton asks, "What? What was she carrying?"

Smutclaw shrugs his shoulders. "How I know? Big bundle, all lumpy. I not see what inside. Maybe I guess. Maybe you guess. Heh, heh?" He grins and taps Fenton on the back.

Jesmin folds the sheet into a bundle as she listens, trying to busy herself in the background.

Zenobia takes this opportunity to slink out as she was bidden.

Zenobia has left.

Fenton arches one brow and smirks. "Maybe I do. Maybe I do. That's all for today, then?"

Smutclaw cackles and nods. "All quiet for now, but things are stirring. Whole forest stirring for springtime, eh?"

Fenton guffaws, his great body heaving and quivering. "Quite, quite. Thank you, my friend. Your services are much appreciated, as usual. Well . . . you know your way down."

Jesmin's gaze looks up to the windows that pour down the welcoming moonlight, as if suddenly reminded of the season. A soft tune comes to mind, which she plays over silently in her head. She presses the bundle unhappily onto the cot.

Smutclaw dips a jerky bow. "Yes, Sir. Many thanks. Good night." With that, he hops out the door.

Fenton leans in the doorway and watches him leave. A grin slides over his broad face. "Well, well, well. . . ."

Smutclaw has left.

Fenton lights his pipe.

Jesmin looks away from the high windows and back to the ferret, folding her wings back around her.

Fenton looks at Jesmin. A puff of smoke nearly obscures his face. "Well, what do you think, eh? One visitor tonight, and it looks as though we'll have another soon. I truly am dreadfully sorry about that little mix-up. You know Zenobia. She gets in these moods sometimes."

Jesmin abhors the bird, and most of the residence in this house still. She watches the smoke curl away from the pipe, replying, but not providing answer to the idea of more.. guests. "Yes.. I know."

Fenton stretches and yawns. "Well . . . maybe we can all settle down now. I--oh." He suddenly stops and sits down. Resting one elbow on his thigh, he leans over and says, "I understand little Pip paid you a visit the other day."

The soft tune playing in her head is suddenly silenced, shot dead. Jesmin freezes, then looks away with a nod. "He did.."

Fenton smiles and lays his head to one side. "You needn't stop. I quite fancy your voice. Very pretty."

Jesmin glances at Fenton briefly, paws intertwining as she keeps her silence despite his compliment. "How is.. Pippin?"

Fenton smiles sweetly. "Oh, quite well, quite well. He improves every day. . . ." At this last comment, his smile grows especially twisty.

Jesmin shudders visibly, stooping down to retrieve the pillows strewn about the floor, muttering audibly. "I noticed..."

Fenton says, "He seems especially fond of you. He's such a timid, affectionate little fellow."

Jesmin pauses at his words, grasping a couple of pillows. "I noticed that, too." She deposits the pillows upon the bed. Then she glances up with a rather bold question, "What do you intend to do with the dormouse?"

Fenton knits his brows upwards in a saccharine, mock-pitying expression. "Do? Seasons bless me. I never thought you would stoop to actually asking. Really. Rather bad form, don't you think?"

Jesmin retrieves the spare pillow from the tower floor, ears drooping. "Yes, apologies.." There's a slight, doubtful string of sarcasm in her voice, though she does try to disguise it.

Fenton says, "Well . . . I only bring it up because . . . of course, you've seen already how it works. How we play our little game. So I'm sure you won't have any trouble catching on."

Jesmin turns to shoot a glance at him, briefly looking to be a glare, though she softens it as she stacks the pillow between the two she's already retrieved. ".. Yes.. Pippin told me about the rabbit that just... left.. one night." She still reserved a bit of hope that her suspicions were not true, but she knew better.

Fenton heaves a great, smoky sigh. "Aah, yes. Hm, hm, hm!" he chuckles. "That's all I wanted to know. You will play along, then? Of course, it's all for his own good and comfort. We don't need to go about upsetting him, you know."

Jesmin stands rigidly aside the cot, fears confirmed, and showing through her frightful expression. "Then.. then it's true!" She takes a pace backward, muttering something beneath her breath. "That's.. just.."

Fenton smiles in a long-suffering, paternal fashion. "Well, I suppose that's the sort of reaction I expected. What a dear little hypocrite you are."

Jesmin is absolutely horrified, and her whispering voice shrill, "Hypocrite? How am I...?"

Fenton's eyes screw into mere slits atop his fat cheeks. "Really! Haven't you ever thought about it? What is you generally . . . ah . . . consume for your sustenance? Hmm?"

"I don't.. Not.. Not otherbeasts! Like him.. or you! It's.. It's not the same!" Her ears stand high and indignant atop her head.

Fenton asks, "What about your little six-legged friends? Hmm? You certainly don't mean to tell me you live primarily on vegetation."

Jesmin tries to retort, but remains wordless a moment. She stares at him, before simply repeating herself in her horrified tone, "It's.. not the same!"

Fenton asks, "It's not, is it? I don't suppose you've ever held a conversation with one of them, have you? The bees, for instance. I have such a chatty little hive in the front garden. Oh, they never say anything of much consequence--a lot of blah about new buds opening, how many larvae hatched last week, and so forth--but they're aware, all the same. "

Jesmin's lip curls, unable to find a different reply to that. She continues to appear disgusted, despite her silence. And another thought causes the further welling of fear. "It's... just not . . . ."

Fenton shakes his head and stands up. "Well, don't trouble yourself too much about it. I'm only trying to make things easier for you. It's so much easier when you understand." He yawns. "But I really must be off to bed. I'm not accustomed to these late hours. Good night, my pet."

Jesmin stands still for several moments, before blatantly asking a final question. "Surely... You don't have the same plans in store for me?"

Fenton freezes in the doorway and stares at Jesmin. "Oh, oh, heavens. You poor thing. No wonder you've been jittery lately. Certainly not!" He shudders. "Really! I doubt even Zenobia has any entries in her book for your species." He winks. "Good night, dear."

Jesmin blinks, standing stock still. She didn't really think he would, but.. The though just dawned on her. And it certainly wasn't a pleasant one. She watches him closely as he leaves.

Fenton has left.

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:. Logs .:

- Log 1 - Capture

- Log 2 - Failed Escape

- Log 3 - Worries

- Log 4 - Confirmed Fears

- Log 5 - Escape to Redwall

- Log 6 - Legends and Songs at Redwall

- Log 7 - Recapture

- Log 8 - Spawn of Fenton