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Description
Characters are, left to right: Alen Mossbank(otter), Grunan Forstan a' Cail(otter) and Boris Tinwhittle(hare)

Story
They came to a fork in the path, where it branched off in two directions. Grunan tapped his chin, trying to remember which was the one that would take them to Eigred's Rest. Boris could care less which path they took, as long as it led to a soft bed and a warm belly. Alen and Grunan carried on a hushed argument, punctuated with gestures at the wrinkled parchment between them. The problem lay in the fact that Alen's map faded off into nothingness at this very fork.
"Now why couldn't the mapmaker just at least write a few words, tellin' where each leads, eh? Why not that, eh?" grumbled Alen.
"No matter what he says, I've been this way afore. Just need t' sit on it awhile til it comes to me." said Grunan, frowning.
"Then we'll be 'ere all night!" Alen said throwing his paws up in exasperation. "Just let me toss me dagger, an' see where it points an' be done wit' it, eh?"
"Let's do!" piped Boris, quite ready to be done.
Grunan's frown deepened. "Nay, for I seem t' remember one o' these paths leadin' to a dark an' dangerous place... the lair o' the Screamer, no less."
"I'll take a stuffy ol' Screamer an' a hot bowl of porridge over a night in the open, layin' me head on a blasted rock!" Boris fussed.
Alen looked to Grunan. "Make up y' mind, an' let's be on our way, fren'."
Grunan scowled and made up his mind. "We'll take the right fork, then." and he tramped off down it.
Alen and Boris shared a brief look and followed suit.

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Art and characters (c) me

Description
Characters are, left to right: Alen Mossbank(otter), Grunan Forstan a' Cail(otter) and Boris Tinwhittle(hare)

Story
They came to a fork in the path, where it branched off in two directions. Grunan tapped his chin, trying to remember which was the one that would take them to Eigred's Rest. Boris could care less which path they took, as long as it led to a soft bed and a warm belly. Alen and Grunan carried on a hushed argument, punctuated with gestures at the wrinkled parchment between them. The problem lay in the fact that Alen's map faded off into nothingness at this very fork.
"Now why couldn't the mapmaker just at least write a few words, tellin' where each leads, eh? Why not that, eh?" grumbled Alen.
"No matter what he says, I've been this way afore. Just need t' sit on it awhile til it comes to me." said Grunan, frowning.
"Then we'll be 'ere all night!" Alen said throwing his paws up in exasperation. "Just let me toss me dagger, an' see where it points an' be done wit' it, eh?"
"Let's do!" piped Boris, quite ready to be done.
Grunan's frown deepened. "Nay, for I seem t' remember one o' these paths leadin' to a dark an' dangerous place... the lair o' the Screamer, no less."
"I'll take a stuffy ol' Screamer an' a hot bowl of porridge over a night in the open, layin' me head on a blasted rock!" Boris fussed.
Alen looked to Grunan. "Make up y' mind, an' let's be on our way, fren'."
Grunan scowled and made up his mind. "We'll take the right fork, then." and he tramped off down it.
Alen and Boris shared a brief look and followed suit.

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Art and characters (c) me