• The next day, Tal, Fenwick, and Knight again set off on their journey. Tal and Fenwick were still supressing laughs from the day before. Tal finally ceased her giggling, but Fenwick, on the other hand, didn't really stop.
    As the day wore on, it became unbearably hot. Tal and the martin were sweating up a storm. Knight didn't even seem to be remotely affected. Not even a single bead of sweat appeared on his flawless face. Tal thought she saw his thick woolen cape billow a bit. She raised a slender eyebrow.
    "Why don't you take off that cloak? It's hot enough to cook food on a rock!" she asked him.
    He looked at her and gave her a contented smile. "I feel fine wearing it. I don't feel hot at all. In fact, I pity you for having to sweat so much. It wrecks that beautiful face of yours."
    Tal scowled. "Shut up." she said irritatedly. That man always baffled her. She could never figure him out. While her hair was black and dirtied easily, his was white as snow and never even obtained a single smudge of dirt. And his behaviour was very. . . odd. He acted the way the young men in her village did when they were courting a pretty woman. Of course, no one had bothered to even look at her. Surely he was toying with her emotions and would drop her as soon as she let him in. But that wouldn't happen.

    Eventually, Tal and Fenwick had to rest and catch their breath. Knight on the other hand, said he would go scouting and see if they were close to a village. The girl and weasel let the man go, much to their delight.
    "I wonder what he's going to do this time. Rip his pants, or do you think they'll fall down again?" pondered Fenwick with a sneaky snicker.
    Tal thought on that and replied, "He might do both, but it would be kinda funny to see his pants rip."
    The martin smiled broadly, showing practically every one of his sharp white teeth. "What kind of underwear do you think he wears?"
    Tal shrugged with an amused flick of her bushy tail.
    The two of them merely lay there, thinking of what could possibly be more hilarious than what they thought of previously. By the time the sun was low in the sky, they were rolling on the forest floor laughing from the depths of their beings and gasping for breath.
    Then suddenly they heard an anguished scream. The two immediately ceased their whooping and bolted upright. Out of the bushes charged Knight Silverblade, his white shirt stained crimson with blood. His sword now had a long thin crack and smeared with gore. Tal leapt up and ran to the wounded young man. She touched his shoulder to find her palm dyed crimson.
    "Fenwick! Do we have any bandages?" she exclaimed worriedly, knowing time was of the essence.
    "Yeah! How much do we need?" the pine martin replied, scurrying to their packs to obey Tal's request.
    Tal looked from Knight's wound to the packs. "I don't know! Just take all of it! We'll deal with the amount later!" she cried, gently setting the young man down.
    So Fenwick brought the bandages to Tal. She quickly removed the heavy cape and white shirt and her mouth gaped open. Not only were there deep gashes on his back, but the snowy wings of a snowy owl potruded from where his shoulder blades were. They were now as red as a cardinal's. Regaining her senses, Tal worked fervently and wrapped the bandages snugly around Knight's torso, hoping he would be conscious long enough afterward to explain his wings.
    But no such luck. He soon toppled over onto Tal's chest and lost all consciousness. She would have to interrogate him tommorow.