Sirithal’s brief examination of the Stoats uncovers no explanation for their bestial behavior. The condition of their paws, however, suggests that they wore boots until relatively recently. Their reversion to a more primitive nature is curious, but there are no further clues to provide insight into the hows or whys.

Consuming the berries offered by Mistral, they do indeed work wonders, and Dixie feels considerably restored. The hawk has moved on, hopefully, though the members of the patrol know they are quite capable of hunting from a perch. It can no longer be seen circling overhead, in any case, and there is no sign of it in the trees.

While the rocky outcrop offered cover for an ambush, it provides little in way of shelter, from the cold of night. And as the adrenaline of the encounter subsides, the bitter cold seeps in. The Stoats can be heaped onto Dixie’s sled, though she will require assistance in pulling it, with the additional load. The pelts will fetch a fine sum, in addition to the bounties; and an owl cannot digest the fur, regardless...

By the time the party reaches the safety of the shelter, pressing on to Tourmaline is not an enticing prospect. (Exhaustion level two for all, save Sirithal, but a long rest may be achieved here- and you have this rocky den to yourselves).

‘Rest everyone. I will task Ssat’ral, my familiar, to guard us as we sleep. They will alert me if anything threatens…’ Sirithal says, sitting in a corner of the shelter and pulling his blanket from his pack.

Blackbur arranges his cloak around himself, and attempts to sleep. 
 “Wake me for the second watch.”

Hurdrak will help with pull and moving the bodies as needed.  "I shall take 3rd watch," he offers up.

Perception 16

Whiskers is also willing to help with the sled, and he will volunteer to take the 4th watch. "If we are going to give these bodies to the owl, can we somehow poison them so we don't have to deal with him again?" the monk suggests.

When her comrades offer a safe environment to be created by cautious guarding, the inside of the den seems really enticing to Dixie for a quick nap. The suggestion from Whiskers is even more alluring than a good night's sleep, it could be a permanent solution for dealing with the owl. Then she recalls something of great significance and decides to let him know, "As much as I can remember, the owl explicitly asked for a lagomorph offering. Is there any way to transform these stoats into rabbits or hares?"

Mistral is initially nonplussed by this. "That would require powerful magic... more powerful than my own. I can transform myself, but not others. And it would only be a temporary transformation."

"The transformation needs to be permanent in nature to deceive the owl into thinking that it's a lagomorph, otherwise we would need to slaughter an actual one"- she comments on the possibility of a disastrous event while trying to make the bedroll cozy. The Goodberries successfully restored her health, healing the wound so that only scar remains. "I'll try to search for someone powerful enough to cast this kind of spell when we reach Tourmaline, I fear that we're running out of time"- she whispers softly and tries to recall how many days have passed since the Shrikes' attack.

Intelligence (Nature): 4 (disadvantage)

The winter nights are long, and the patrol is able to glean a decent rest from its remainder, before the grey twilight of day returns. With the brief clearing in the sky overnight and the full moon, it had indeed been brighter than it is now, at what passes for dawn in this dismal realm.

After some further speculation on Loki, tactics are discussed on the path to Tourmaline- though with all that has happened in the past few days, the events have become somewhat muddled in their heads. Dixie’s keen mind self-corrects its recollection of the owl, as she hops along, pulling her share of the sled. The scene replays in her mind, and it becomes clear to her, as if it had just happened:

The owl had actually been consuming a shrike at the time of the exchange; though it had subsequently brought back the second shrike as a rabbit, for its second course. A cautionary lesson, for those who might fail it..?

The heavily-laden sled slows them somewhat, even with the others assisting, but the patrol reaches the town of Tourmaline before night sets in. There is a fierce wind blowing off the frozen lake when they arrive, and they are grateful for the relative shelter and safety the mining settlement has to offer. Hemmed in on three sides by wind-sheared pines, now nearly buried in snow and ice, a snow tunnel leads beneath one log to a gated entrance.

Just inside the closed gate, a Vole with a spear challenges their approach, squinting: “Halt! Advance to be recognized! Oh! Mouse Guard, irregulars I see... Well, come in, come in. Welcome, and pleased to have you! Welcome to Tourmaline, gem of the lake!”  The sentry suppresses a shiver beneath his heavy coat.

Blackbur stops near the coke while allowing the others to pass by to get in. 
“I need to speak to someone in charge here. Lonelybark has been through some trouble recently. And we found some trouble of an unusual variety on our way here. Seems like some coordination might be required to address.”

Dixie tries to cover the upper part of the sled where the corpses of the stoats are carefully tucked in, she uses a sheet of cloth to separate the bodies from adventuring gears and rations not wanting to ruin the scarce supply of edibles. These corpses needed to be taken care of and disposed afterwards, or stored somewhere else where the pungent scent will be less identifiable. 

She draws a circle around the landmark named as 'Tourmaline' on the map, as well as marking the frozen lake of Maer Dualdon in case of the party changing their mind to give it a look. When the guard welcomes them at the entrance, she asks him, "Do you know a shop where we can buy supplies or....cutlery items?" She intentionally omits the last part where she's supposed to ask about buying additional armaments, and using a synonymous word instead, "Also do tell us if we can store our supplies somewhere."

Charisma (Persuasion): 9

“You will want to report to Captain Durvin, who can also help sort your, er, cutlery and supply issues. Those the Stoats?!” Indeed, it is difficult to conceal the nature of the sled’s burden. ”Twill be a hero’s welcome for you! Lost an entire Vole Patrol to those voracious beasts, may they rest. Captain is likely drinking his brunch at the Eastside, down the lane. You can park the sled along the wall over there for now, I’ll mind it.”

"Thanks for the information"- Dixie thanks the sentry after a moment of embezzlement, as if she were caught red handed during an act of mischief, but finally feeling relief wash over her. She leaves the party to discuss further issues related to the town or the captain, moving on to park the sled.

She unsheaths one of the daggers to mark the exterior of the sled with the initial of her last name. A vertical line, intersected by two smaller horizontal lines to form a letter. When she's done, she seems a bit troubled or even slightly embarrassed at the marking, as a result she attempts to erase it by scratching. Then she casts Hunter's Mark on it to help tracking down the sled if it falls under the hand of a burgler, eventually setting out to search for the Captain Durvin.

Dexterity (Sleight of Hand): 4

Hurdrak scuttles around the side.  "To Captain Durvin you say?  Right, right, that seems appropriate.  What do you say squad, shall we make our way there?"

Sirithal nods ‘To the captain. We need information, badly…’ he rasps. His movements are still fresh - the trek through the cold seems to have invigorated him.

Blackbur will nod to the others. “Go find him. Find out what’s happening before revealing all of our story. I’ll be along after helping Dixie get the sled tied up. I think some of us maybe should take a walk around town to find out how things are here. The stoats might only be the tip of the ice berg here.”

"No one of us should go alone", cautions Mistral, the memories of their eviction from the last town they visited still fresh.

Those seeking audience with Captain Durvin do indeed find him at the Eastside. He is a stocky Vole, about the same size as Blackbur, but with larger eyes and smaller ears. His reddish fur is going to grey.

Tourmaline is a larger town than Lonelywood, and more prosperous, in better times at least. About half of the population consists of Voles, and though most are content working the mines, a fair number have joined the Mouse Guard- including the ranking officer, for some years now.

A half-eaten seedcake sets on the table before him, as well as a drink that smells strongly of juniper berries. He beckons for those approaching to have a seat. “Join me, join me! You must be Captain Trevor’s irregulars. I am Captain Durvin. What news from the Lonelywood?”

The other members of the patrol explore Tourmaline a bit. There is indeed a more cosmopolitan feel, and though it is mostly Mice and Voles, there are also Muskrats, and even some Sparrows. As the party moves west, nearer the shore of the frozen lake, Otters become a not uncommon sight. Music can be heard coming from an establishment with a strange, upright shrimp on its sign.

"The message that we have brought won't be enough to quench your thirst.."- Dixie blurts out suddenly after giving the goblet of juniper berries a wanton look. On the verge of choking on her own saliva, she attempts to patch up the error, "Uh..what I meant is that you will not like whatever news you receive from us. My friend Patrol Guard Blackbur offers a better explanation".

Hurdrak nods in agreement.  "Sadly, my friend here is correct.  There was some trouble with the city guard and their leadership."  He looks over at Blackburr for more explanation.