The Badger's winter stores, which indeed were visible everywhere, took up half the room—piles of apples, turnips, and potatoes, baskets full of nuts, and jars of honey...
the two tired animals came down to breakfast very late next morning, and found a bright fire burning in the kitchen, and two young hedgehogs sitting on a bench at the table, eating oatmeal porridge out of wooden bowls. The hedgehogs dropped their spoons, rose to their feet, and ducked their heads respectfully as the two entered.
These former star dragons often end up as reefer heads, but I believe poor old Puff started out as one. Still, basically harmless, I'd say.
As for all these leprechauns, they put me in the mood to go rage-tastic, but the warning about fey is well-taken. Who knows what dark fey lady dotes on them, and then we'd be in an even bigger to-do. I've been out seeing that welcome signs are erected in Gnomish. A good influx of gnomes, driven off by the evil sorcerers on the far shore, would probably take care of our leprechaun drifters.
The badger stares, slack-jawed in momentary disbelief.
In spite of your unfortunate name, my forgotten friend, you claim to be quite gifted. I propose this: before we accept a stranger and non-Mustildae into our sett, we will confer and set you a challenge. If your complete the project to our satisfaction, then we will make a place for you here, Drip. What do you say?
Yes, we should help our two-legged friends.
Actually, I was hoping that as we attract new badgers to our sett, one of them would take the alias Trufflehunter, like I took Mr. Badger from WitW. Can't think of any more famous badgers, but there are probably some other ones out there. Of course, obscure badgers are also good!