Eventually, Karen and the boys had to go home. There wasn't much fuss from Claire's side, but Gray cried a little bit. When Karen reassured him that he'd see his aunt soon, he brightened up, and promised to bring more carrots next time so that Claire wouldn't go hungry. Zach, in turn, promised to buy her "a saddle or something", which got him a quick slap from his mother. Owen was sad to see them go, as they had momentarily distracted Claire from her unfortunate situation. On the other hand, the boys wouldn't stop talking about that magical world of theirs, so it would be beneficial for them to return to an urban setting and forget about their fantasies. Owen wasn't sure what Gray meant by the phrase "Zach was flirting with fauns", but that kind of escapism didn't seem healthy.

In any case, they didn't have to worry about being lonely, because Barry decided to stay over for a brief period of time. Of course, since he was Owen's friend, Claire rarely participated in their bonding activities. It wasn't that much of a hindrance, however, as she had taken up the job of repainting the barn. All Owen had to do was open a couple buckets and tie a brush to her horn, and she was set for the day. This gave him a lot of free time, which he used to investigate certain unusual occurrences.

"Every day, Claire leaves the house at exactly eight o'clock, and returns ten minutes later," he explained as Barry sipped his coffee, "I don't know what she's doing out there, but I've compiled a list of possibilities."

He handed Barry a sheet of paper that had bullet points such as "love affair", "secret agent", and "ALIENS?". Barry took one look at it and laughed.

"Owen, you're overthinking this. I know we're friends, but I feel it necessary to point out that sometimes you can be a moron."

Owen frowned.

"Well, what's your theory?"

Barry gave a cunning smile.

"Owen, what's something that people do almost every day?"

Owen's eyes went wide.

"But she doesn't even have hands . . ."

Barry slapped his forehead.

"No, not that. Something else."

Owen rubbed his chin.

"Is she eating?"

Barry shook his head.

"No, Owen. In fact, it's quite the opposite."

Owen stared at him for a long time. When he realized what he meant, his jaw dropped.

"You think she's pooping?"

Barry nodded.

"Most likely. I mean, have you ever seen her go to the bathroom in the house?"

"No . . . That makes so much sense, though. It also explains why she brings a new roll of toilet paper every once in a while."

They sat quietly, deep in thought. After a moment, Owen frowned.

"Barry, do you know what this means?"

"I get the feeling you're about to tell me."

"She schedules her poops. She's literally so organized that she has timed her biological functions to suit her needs."

Barry laughed.

"Sounds like Claire, alright. I'll never understand why you two get along so well."

Owen shrugged.

"I think we complete each other. Claire encourages me to be less loosey-goosey, and I convince her to have fun every now and then. It's a win-win situation."

"I think she has a negative effect on you."

"Why's that?"

"You just used the term 'loosey-goosey', for one thing . . ."

Owen smiled.

"Well, I don't really mind. I've been wanting to settle down for a while now. I might even start wearing sweaters."

Barry cringed.

"Owen, this isn't you. Don't you miss being reckless and free?"

Owen shook his head.

"After what Claire and I went through, I've had enough adventure to last me a lifetime. Recently, I've decided what's really important in life. I want to be there for my family and friends. A person can't be a lone wolf forever."

"Is this because of your fa-"

Owen stood up quite suddenly.

"Barry, I told you never to bring that up again. It's in the past, okay?"

"You can't run from your problems."

"I'm not."

"It still bothers you."

"I'm fine," Owen hissed through clenched teeth.

They both jumped in surprise as Claire burst through the door, her horn-brush dripping all over the place. Judging by the panicked look on her face, she had some bad news to deliver.

"We have a problem."

***TSJWFEW***

Barry, Claire, and Owen stood by a deep tunnel that ran all the way under the barn. They bent down to get a better look inside, but it was too dark to see.

"Are you sure there's something down there?" Barry asked.

Claire nodded vigorously.

"I saw it with my own two eyes."

"You might be mistaken."

"I . . . I can also smell it," Claire admitted.

Barry rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know . . . There doesn't seem to be anything down there now."

Claire frowned.

"I know what I saw, Barry."

Owen stepped between them.

"Alright, let's not get testy. I'm sure Claire saw something, even if that 'something' is no longer around. Given the area we live in, I wouldn't be surprised if it's dangerous. Barry, why don't you go into town and buy some rat poison or something?"

He nodded in response and jogged away. Owen turned to Claire.

"While he's out, we'll stand guard and see what lives in the hole."

"It's probably a badger. Could be a whole cete."

Owen blinked.

"Cete?"

"You know: a cete of badgers."

Owen hummed.

"Interesting. Do you think they're left over from when Barnaby was living here?"

"Undoubtedly."

Owen frowned forebodingly.

"That makes them all the more dangerous. While we're waiting for Barry, why don't we see if we can 'off' the resident on our own?"

"Good idea. Grab your rifle."

***TSJWFEW***

They waited behind a small shrub for a solid half hour. Owen had brought a bag of grapes to their hiding place so that they wouldn't go hungry (something of an impossible endeavor, as Claire was always hungry these days). They took turns feeding them to each other. Claire used her beak to pick up the fruit, giving Owen an excellent excuse to kiss her. When the food ran out, Owen stood up to get more.

"Wait! Sit down!" Claire whispered, pointing to the field.

A plump, fluffy shape was waddling over to the barn. As it drew near, it became clear that it was a badger.

"Ha! I knew it!" Claire boasted, "Do you think you can hit it from here?"

In a split second, Owen lifted his gun and fired. The badger was knocked off of its feet.

"Yes," he replied simply.

They wandered over to the body. Claire grabbed a fallen branch in her beak and poked the carcass tenderly. She spat out the stick.

"It's dead."

"I know. I never miss."

Owen grabbed Claire's discarded branch and used it to roll the badger onto its back. After a brief examination, he gave a curt nod.

"She's a sow."

"Sow?"

"A female."

"I know what sows are!"

Owen grabbed a garbage bag from his back pocket.

"Well, we'd better get rid of her before the vultures start circling . . ."

They froze as a quiet squeal came from inside the hole. Cocking their heads to listen, they leaned in cautiously. Owen shook his head, thinking that his mind was playing tricks on him, but another squeak came, louder this time. Owen reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small flashlight. When he shone the light in the hole, two small, pink shapes became visible. Although they were covered in fuzz and couldn't open their eyes, there was no doubt that they were baby badgers.

***TSJWFEW***

When Barry got back from town, he carried a bag of rat poison over to where Claire and Owen were hiding.

"Alright, I got your-"

"Shhh!" Owen hissed, "Change of plan: we're waiting for the father to come back."

"Father?"

"There are babies," Claire explained, "Owen killed the mother-"

"You told me to kill the mother."

"Because I didn't know she was a mother!"

Barry rolled his eyes.

"What do I do with the poison?"

"I don't care. Put it in the shed," Owen huffed.

Barry frowned sourly, but did as he was told. Owen and Claire continued to watch the den, waiting for the other parent to return.

"I don't think he's coming," Claire said fretfully, "What if he smells the leftover blood?"

Owen's lip twitched slightly.

"It wasn't my fault."

"I'm not blaming you."

"He left on his own. I had nothing to do with it."

Claire sighed.

"I know. But we have to get rid of the babies now."

"Do we have to?" Owen asked quietly.

"They're pests. They'll grow up and get into our garbage or bite us or do badger things."

"But they're just kits now."

"They won't always be."

Owen closed his eyes and sighed.

"Fine. Find me a bag. I'll drop them in the river."

As Claire lumbered away, Owen crept over to the den. He turned on his flashlight and looked inside. The kits were snuggled up against each other. Reaching forward with a small segment of the garbage bag wrapped around his hand for protection, he scooped up the babies and placed them on the grass. One of them mewed, but the other was absolutely still. Owen nudged it, but it soon became clear that it was dead. He wanted to believe that it had died because of some sort of unexpected illness, but in his heart, he knew that the kit had starved without its mother's milk. He picked up the remaining infant and held it in his palm, letting the garbage bag flutter to the ground. The animal squeaked, then opened its mouth, revealing tiny teeth, no larger than thorns. Owen bit his lip guiltily.

"I found a bag!" Claire called as she came running over with a burlap sack draped over her horn.

"Great . . ." Owen wheezed nervously, "One of them is already dead, so . . ."

Claire screeched to a halt.

"Ew, Owen! Don't hold it without gloves! You're going to catch rabies or something."

"I know. Quit bothering me."

Claire huffed.

"Geez, you're testy. And the correct term is 'badgering'. Now, are you going to kill it or not?"

Owen looked down at the baby badger. Before he could decide, a white hawk soared down from the sky and snatched it out of his hands. He was about to shoo the bird away, but she spoke to him.

"We've had enough cute animals die this week. I'll give the kit to Humphrey. He's gentle, and I doubt that he'll turn down a poor, innocent creature."

Owen nodded.

"Thanks, Ellie. Make sure nothing happens to her on the way back, okay?"

Ellie gave him a serious look.

"It wasn't your fault he left."

Owen sighed.

"Yeah, I figured that the badger must have-"

"You know what I mean."

Owen watched the bird fly away, disintegrating into thin air like magic. Claire gave him a questioning look.

"What did she mean by that?"

Owen glanced to the side evasively.

"Nothing. Well, something. I really don't wanna talk about it."

It was unclear whether Claire had even the faintest idea what he was prattling on about, but she leaned against him for comfort. He ran his hand over her frill and sighed.

"I guess we'd better find Barry."

"I guess so. Do you want to talk?"

"Not particularly."

"Will you be okay?"

"Eventually."

"Do you need anything?"

"If I do, I don't know what it is."

"I understand. I'm here for you."

"Thanks."