It was just before dawn when Jalua slipped into the druid's pocket alongside Borgios. He had been dozing, but he stirred at her approach. "Wha...?"
"I found my father waiting," Jalua said, chittering in that way that only another wererat would understand -- though a good hunter could distinguish it from the sounds of ordinary rats. "He blessed us, said I could stay with you. He's worried by this demon -- there were stories, two generations back. We have to keep the clan informed, and they'll inform others."
"That's..." Borgios managed not to yawn. "That's wonderful."
"Yes. For now, we get to be rats together."
"That was a quick decision," Borgios observed.
Jalua nipped gently behind his ear. "I told him about your clan. My father, he prizes survivors."
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