Was mucking about with expressions today and liked these two well enough to color them. Character is Tamarack, a 14-seasons-old gravedigger. She's impulsive, athletic, optimistic, and nosy. She's also empathetic, stubborn, and stupidly brave. She's a very mature gel in a lot of ways, but still very much a kit in others. An excerpt from the story is below. Hopefully the full thing should be available again in the near future. It disappeared from the Interwebz when the site originally hosting it went down - that's what happens when you don't pay your bills on time, kids! We've got the .xml file and Word copies and so on, though. Just need to put it up.

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"Tamarack, child, what are you doing here?"

Tamarack whirled about, clutching Merritt's envelope to her chest as she watched the Abbot pad forward. His sandals hissed softly along the floor.

"I was looking for... for Brother Raimun, Father."

"Who let you in, child?" There was no accusation in his voice, no challenge, but she could feel the rebuke all the same.

"I'm sorry, Father. Mist-er... Brother Aloysius and Brother Andrew asked me to deliver this here package to him." She nearly bit her tongue as she tried to clamp down on the lie. Of all the beasts she could name... the bookworm and the mouse who jumped at his own shadow?

The Abbot looked about as incredulous as she felt. "And what would Brothers Aloysius and Andrew wish to deliver to Brother Raimun?"

In for a copper, in for a gold. "A... recipe. Aye! A recipe. Brother Andrew's a cook, and Brother Aloysius is... It's an historical recipe, Father. Brother Aloysius found it in his archives and knew... knew Brother Raimun would want to see it right away because... he likes food."

"I like food," the otter said, a smile sharper than broken glass cut across his muzzle. "Come, child, let me see this recipe." He advanced, and Tamarack retreated, matching his stride.

"It's a secret, Father."

"There are no secrets in my Abbey."

"I mean it's a surprise, sir! For... for after the festival." She'd run out of room to back up, her tail brushing the wall. "Wouldn't want to spoil a surprise."

He still wore the smile, but it was no longer so dangerous. It had been a trick of the light, an odd reflection off the windows. "Ah, a surprise. It would be so very unfortunate to spoil a surprise."

"That's right, Father. That's right." The guard hairs along the nape of her neck lowered. The Abbot was a kind beast. He was only curious, like her. "You'll find out soon enough, I reckon."

"Could you not give me a hint, though, child? A small sampling? I must confess that, while I enjoy them, the 'surprise' of these terrible murders have rather dulled my taste for the unexpected."

As she watched, it seemed to Tamarack that the horrors of the past season began to etch themselves into every line upon the Abbot's brow. The otter slumped before her, his shoulders carrying a great, invisible weight. His whiskers drooped, and his eyes fell. Such sad eyes. For all his seasons, he looked to Tamarack like a kit, lost and alone.

"I'm sorry, Father, I–"

"Tamarack?"

The vixen and otter both started, the envelope dropping between them with a light smack.

She dove for it, but before she could do more than place her paw on the brown paper, the Abbot's sandal had pinned her in place.

"A very interesting recipe, then, this 'Julian Case'?" Tamarack looked down. Part of the cover page for the pamphlet was peeking out.

"Y-yes, sir." All of the care had vanished from his face as she struggled to retract her paw. "You're hurting me, Father. Sir. Please!"

"Ah." He removed his sandal, and the vixen scooped up the envelope, wincing as she licked her crushed claws. "Brother Andrew, young Tamarack was just speaking of you."

Hellgates.

Tamarack watched the mouse's tail twitch as he scurried toward them, his bloodshot eyes fixed on her. "Have you found out more since last night?"

"What were you and young Tamarack up to last night, Brother Andrew?"

"We–"

"Brother Andrew!" Tamarack reached out and grasped his paw, tugging him back toward the entrance of the building. "I just found something out. Come on, we need to ask Brother Raimun about it."

"Eh? But..."

"Run along, Brother Andrew," the Abbot advised. "I'll find out soon enough. Don't you reckon, Tamarack?"

The vixen fled with the mouse in tow, the Abbot's kindly chuckle chasing them down the corridor.