(Author's note: TRIGGER WARNING: So, I'm recovering from self-injury, and to help me process my feelings I sometimes will accidentally have my characters sometimes do the things I do. If you are struggling with self-injury, then this may not be the best story for you to read.)

THE TAVERN WAS CROWDED and noisy, but that was normal for the Inn of the Leaping Lizard. In the smoky, music-filled atmosphere, few creatures would notice anything short of a barfight, and on this evening, those few creatures noticed the lone mousemaid enter the tavern. Maidens just don't wander around alone, especially after dark.

She slipped into a vacant booth, keeping the hood of her mottled green/brown cloak up over her ears. Blue eyes hard and cold, she gazed at the 2 beasts that sauntered over to her table. A monitor lizard and a rat, both male, both smoking on their pipes and drinking watered-down wine. Leaning on the table, the rat asked in a friendly tone, "What's a lovely maiden like you doin wanderin' around all alone?"

Eyes flashing slightly, the mouse said, in a voice that brooked no questions, "I am DoraRose Strongheart, daughter of the wielder of the battleaxe Nightsong, Farrer Strongpaw. Why I am here is my own buisness." She wanted to scream, to stab this stupid rat in the chest, to cut her arms, to raze the city of Delphi to the ground. She could no longer say that she was the oldest daughter of Farrer Strongpaw. She was now the only daughter of Farrer Strongpaw. And she hated it. She wanted to die.

The lizard blinked slowly, puffing his pipe, then, taking it out of his mouth, he hissed, "Farrer Zztrongpaw? He'ss the one who'zs youngeszt daughter, whazhername, LilyMoore, whaz killed, yez? Ssshe yourzzsisster?"

"What's it to you?!"

Jumping slightly at the tone in DoraRose's voice, the 2 malebeasts backed off, leaving her in peace. Sighing, she ordered some heavily watered wine and a plate of food: flat bread, seasoned olive oil for dipping, fish, hummus, raisins. She then leaned back, surveying the room.

When her order arrived, she paid with a gold coin, more than enough, and told the server to keep the change. She didn't show the device that was on her money bag. The device of her family. Family. It hurt so much to think about it. After all, it had only been 2 days since LilyMoore's funeral.

Don't think about it. Think about anything else. Anything at all. She sipped her wine-tinted water (since it was mostly water). Stories said that creatures elsewhere in the world drank wine straight, with no water in it. DoraRose wrinkled her nose. How could they stand it?

When she was finished eating, she shouldered her haversack and approached the innkeeper, a big, sturdy, solid-looking weasel. When she had gotten his attention, she posed her question: "Has a male fox with stormy gray fur passed this way? He goes by the name of Stormfeather."

The innkeeper shook his head. "Sorry, Miss. No fox o' Stormfeather's been here in Delphi."

DoraRose's shoulders slumped. Not been here. A dead end. She sighed, then thanked the weasel. Could she have a room for the night? Yes, she could. The innkeeper took a key from its hook and had one of his daughters take the mousemaid to her room.

When they got there, DoraRose gave the weaselmaid a bronze coin as a tip, then went inside, locked the door, and placed the lamp she'd been given on the table. Bed, chair, table, hook. A sparsely furnished room. That's what you get for not letting everyone know that you're someone important.

Sighing, the mousemaid hung her cloak on the hook, set her haversack on the chair, and unbuckled her sword belt. The blue cat's-eye pommel stone on her bastard sword gleamed dully in the yellow lamplight. Placing the sword, scabbard and belt on the table, she untied the sling from about her waist and placed it and her stone pouch beside the lamp.

Sighing again, DoraRose crossed the room and gazed out the window. Lights were beginning to go out throughout the city. The palace of the Governor of Delphi was still lit. It always was.

Despair washed through the maiden. The fox wasn't here. He appearantly never had been. She slumped to her knees. How was she ever going to find him?

Standing, stumbling over to her haversack, she opened it, dug through it, looking for something. Ah, there it is! She took it out, and held it tenderly, gently, lovingly.

It was a doll. A brown mouse with embroidered purple eyes, a green dress, a blue apron. LilyMoore had been holding it when she died.

DoraRose stroked its head. It was the only thing of Lily's that she had brought with her.

She knelt there, thinking, remebering, for almost half an hour. Then she laid the doll down and crossed over to the table, picking up her stone pouch and digging out a knapped flint arrowhead, as sharp and keen as a knife blade.

She sat down on the side of the bed and rolled up her left sleeve. She paused. Should she do this? Could she do this? She picked up the arrowhead in determination. Yes, she should, and yes, she could.

Taking a deep breath, she cut a little line on her left arm, near her elbow. Staring at the doll, she stated in a flat monotone, "I make this blood oath to you, LilyMoore Braveheart. I will not rest until Stormfeather has died for killing you."

Placing the arrowhead on the table, she did a quick, slightly sloppy, but adequate bandage on her arm. Satisfied, she blew out the lamp and changed into a nightgown.

Picking up the doll, DoraRose crawled into bed, hugged the doll close...and cried herself to sleep.