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that Prap had, he would soon learn that Till had a no-nonsense demeanor and was practical to the point of being insufferable.
    “ Good evening,” Bander said congenially when Errol got within earshot.
    “ Evening, Bander,” Errol replied. “ I’ve been expecting you.”
    Bander acknowledged this with a nod, then introduced his companions. Errol couldn’t help but notice that they were all eyeing his clothes. He was still wearing the shirt that had been clawed by the bladebeak (and subsequently ripped by Errol himself), which – despite being dark in color – was now visibly bloodstained.
    “Rough day, Warden ?” Prap asked, emphasizing the last word in a way that suggested Errol was unworthy of the designation.
    “ Regular day,” Errol replied, trying to remain civil despite being irritated by the man’s tone.
    Frowning, Prap opened his mouth, clearly intending to say something less than genteel, but Bander cut him off.
    “ I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “ but we took the liberty of watering our horses and stabling them in your barn.”
    “Not at all,” Errol replied. “Please, come in.”
     
    *****
     
    Although they’d actually had the right to enter once they arrived at the Station House, Errol’s visitors hadn’t done so. Their waiting until he returned so that he could invite them in – something Bander had probably insisted on – was a sign of respect for him as Warden.
    Once inside, Errol went to the pantry where, as expected, he found his evening meal. This was one of the few perks of the job: the people of the various wards cooked and provided the meals for the Wardens, with the duties typically being rotated among the residents on a regular basis. In Stanchion, if no one was around to receive it (as had been the case this particular day), the meal would be left in the Station House pantry.
    Word had gotten around that Errol would be having company. As a result, the meals he’d received over the past few days had been prepared with additional servings in mind, and he’d found himself eating extra helpings in order to avoid wasting food. Even then, there had been a lot of leftovers, but – as Berry had taken on the duties of cleaning up after meals – Errol had no idea what became of them.
    On this occasion, the meal had turned out to be a large pot of stew and two loaves of bread. Errol encouraged his visitors to eat while he first took care of his horse and then cleaned and dressed his wounds, and they were happy to oblige.
    It was roughly a half-hour later that Errol rejoined his guests. Although thorough, he had raced through the process of getting his horse watered and bedded down. He had also gone through the treating of his wounds at a marathon pace. Fortunately, the damage to his stomach was mostly superficial. However, the bladebeak’s talons had done a more vicious job on his back and left painful wounds in their wake; there was no permanent damage, but he would definitely carry scars from his encounter with the bird.
    After cleaning the wounds, he carefully treated them with a salve that would not only aid the healing process, but also minimize any stiffness or pain. Then he applied a dressing and bandage before putting on a fresh shirt. Satisfied that he was now presentable, he went to check up on his callers.
    When Errol rejoined his guests in the kitchen, they were already eating dinner. One of them had taken the initiative and warmed up the stew using the Station House’s wooden stove. Errol ladled some stew into a bowl for himself and sat down to join them.
    “ Good stew,” Bander said after a few spoonfuls.
    Errol, his mouth full of food, merely nodded without making comment.
    “ Could be better,” Prap said, sopping up the remnants in his own bowl with some bread. “ The cook could have put in a little more meat. Also, they didn’t have to skimp on the spices – makes it taste kind of plain.”
    Errol felt himself getting angry. There were some Wardens who