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It had been a long and trying day. Even Nuala's pale head drooped as she walked alongside her chosen. Maria Peregrine had her arm slung over her guardian's shoulders companionably; both were liberally splattered in mud and less savory things after a day spent helping a local farmer gather up his sheep for shearing.

The sight of a blind guardian herding sheep better than their finest dogs could was a sight that never failed to draw a bit of an audience; Nuala relied on her chosen's sendings as well as whistles and shouted instructions to navigate, and they had it down to a fine science.

It also didn't hurt their popularity the rumors that the handsome young Mark Peregrine was in fact a woman in trousers. Some of the more prudish farmers pretended to grumble and sneer, but secretly half of those were curious and wanted to know if it was true, and the other half didn't actually give a damn because she and Nuala could save them hours of work, and therefore a handsome pile of money. Most of them didn't even care enough to pretend to give her trouble over her trouser-wearing ways.

That suited Maria fine. What suited her less well was the big crowds milling through the marketplace at dinnertime. Sailors stumbling in and out of bars, housewives wrapping up a bit of late shopping, men procrastinating going home. The stall owners were doing a brisk business and the mood was high with people laughing and smiling all around, but all she wanted to do was go home, have a bite of dinner, and sleep. And all of these disgustingly cheerful, happy people were completely in her way.

It made her sick; she knew they'd heard the rumors. Wolves in the Wardwood for the first time in centuries. What were these idiots doing buying shiny gifts and plum puddings? Stifling a growl, she patted Nuala's shoulders, willing herself to calm. Starting a brawl wouldn't get her home any faster, even if it'd make her feel a whole lot better about this stupid mess.

Maria had been reconsidering her policy on not murdering her way through the crowd to the tiny apartment she called home when a strange rusty-red shadow swept through her field of vision and Nuala's drooping head perked up in surprise at the strange scent. Maria sensed her guardian's interest, and she watched the trail of startled pedestrians making a wavering path towards a butcher's shop.

Well, this just could not end well. "Was that a fox?" she mused aloud, looking to Nuala, though the doe of course couldn't answer. "Should we...?"

She frowned in confusion as she saw a rather put-upon looking fellow trotting almost exactly after the fox (if that is indeed what it had been, but the shadow looked rather large or any but a Wardwood fox). "My lovely, I have a terrible feeling that this is going to get ugly," she sighed to the pale doe at her side.

She'd dealt with that particular butcher before, and he was quite an ill-tempered beast of a man, built like the beasts he slaughtered and only about half as clever. If the fox stole from him, it would be lucky to survive, and was almost certainly going to lose its tail or nose for its trouble. If the fellow trailing after the fox was indeed its caretaker as the situation seemed to imply, then it was very likely he had no idea what he was walking into.

With an irritated huff, she started sharp-elbowing her way through the crowd towards the butcher's stall. This was either going to be hilarious, painful, or both. But whatever it was, it was not part of her evening's agenda, damn it all.

Maria and Nuala arrived just in time to see the intimidatingly built butcher wheel on the fellow she'd been following. Feeling rather clever that she'd been right, she trotted up to stand nearby and watched the butcher's face flush red. "That mangy mutt's taken ten links of me best sausage!"

The man lumbered forward, reminding Maria forcibly of a particularly grumpy bear and poked his finger at the center of the stranger's chest with a fearsome scowl. "I got the best meat in the city here in this stall, mister," he growled. "And my cuts ain't no dog food! I'm oughta beat you black and blue and kill your damn mutt!

Well, that sounded like a prelude to violence if she'd ever heard one, and while the fox's master looked athletic, he was a darn sight smaller than the butcher. "Hey now," Maria said as she stepped forward with her hands raised, Nuala following her closely. "No need to get physical. The man made a fair offer. You should take it."

Maria sighed as the stranger failed to keep his anger out of his tone. Not that she blamed him, if the butcher had been talking about Nuala that way, she'd have decked him by now. But still, it wasn't going to help- a notion that was only confirmed when the butcher's nose wrinkled even further and his face (somehow) turned an even deeper shade of red.

Sensing her chosen's growing uneasiness with the situation, Nuala stepped up to stand at Maria's shoulder with a low snort.

"A Wardwood fox, eh?" the butcher sneered, then spat onto the snowy ground nearby. "Damn thing's probably diseased. Sure don't look healthy." He looked at the fox again, and Maria watched a terrible idea come to light in the man's eye as his hand tightened on his cleaver. "Killin' it would be a public service. And it sure would teach you a lesson, beau' iful," he snarled at the stranger with obvious sarcasm.

That act made Maria frown in confusion because he looked fine to her. So did the vixen. Sure, the fox was a little scarred but she had a glossy coat, bright eyes, good weight... In fact, the only thing that looked diseased here were the marketplace rats.

"That's enough," Maria said with a frown, taking a step forward which Nuala shadowed. "There's no need to take this any further. The man made you an offer for fair recompense..." She paused and winced back a little as the butcher's attention turned to her fully and she saw recognition replace the terrible anger in his eyes for a moment only to return tenfold.

"You're... you're no boy! You're that Peregrine girl! What do you think yer doin' wearin' a man's trousers?!" His voice was rising with every word until he was roaring, and Maria sighed, shifting her stance slightly into a more balanced stance. It didn't matter what she said next- if somebody was that offended about her choice of dress, the next step was inevitably some kind of brutality.

There had been a moment when time stretched like molasses that Maria had been quite sure she was going to watch the stranger's nose get broken. Then, as if she'd risen into being out of the snow, there was a second guardian that was doing a fine job protecting the man who seemed to be her chosen.

Nuala, her ears cupped and head lowered to catch any sound their aggressor might make, was standing next to Maria as the butcher turned to look her way again. Now faced with two wardens and two guardians, (and a gekkering fox, which was not an experience for the faint of heart), he seemed to deflate somewhat. He was still angry if the red face and heavy, growling breaths were anything to go by, but Nuala and this new doe were not small, and neither of his human opponents seemed afraid.

"It ain't natural," he protested, pointing at Maria with one sausagelike finger. "It ain't right!"

"I don't give a damn whether you think it's natural or right," she answered coldly. "You or anyone else. There is nothing about a wolf that is natural or right, either, and if wearing trousers makes the killing of them easier then that's what I'll do." She smiled slightly, but the expression was neither kind nor comforting as she took a slight step forward, Nuala echoing the movement as they'd practiced.

The butcher didn't take a step back, but he shifted his weight away slightly and his eyes widened a touch; that was enough for her. "If it helps," she continued, her voice dropping into a dangerous purr, "don't think of me as a 'girl.' Until every last wolf in Sunderland is dead and rotting, I'm not a woman. I'm a warden."

The crowd had started murmuring the moment the other warden mentioned wolves, a wave of dark unease rippling through the crowd. She heard children asking about the wolves, their mothers whispering comforting lies. She saw men shifting uncomfortably with hands on the hilts of their weapons at the thought of the great predators of legend.

Good. They should be afraid, every last one of them.

Taking a breath to steady her nerves, she smiled wider, though no more warmly, up at the butcher. "Now. The gentleman offered you a fair price for your damaged goods. You charge tuppence for five links, yes? So he owes you four? That is a reasonable offer. Take it, and we'll be going."

She snorted softly and gave him a small smile, this one a damn sight friendlier than the chilly thing she'd bestowed on the butcher. "You're welcome. Something tells me you didn't need it, but I do hate a bully." She smirked at the deeply pleased vixen and offered her hand to the new doe for her to sniff if she so desired as she mulled over their next move. Her home was less than a block away, but sharing that knowledge with a stranger, even another warden, didn't seem like the best of ideas.

"There's a bar nearby that's probably packed to the gills this time of night with men trying to avoid going home to their wives, but Mrs. Gimsby serves a mean hotch-potch and the mulled elderberry wine is the best in the city."

As she spoke, she began taking a step or two in that direction, eyebrow arched to see if he'd follow. She wasn't in the mood to spend any more time in this particular corner of the marketplace if it could be helped.

Tucking a few stray brown curls up under her hat and adopting a quick stride away from the scene of the crime, as it were, she shot him a quick, albeit nervous grin. "Your discretion's quite a gift, friend. It's a pleasure to meet you. Call me Mark, at least until I find a skirt. Mark Peregrine. This is Nuala." At the sound of her name, the blind doe flicked her ears and bleated softly, nosing her mistress' sides and face to make sure she was okay.

Now that she had a better look at him, Maria realized what the butcher had been going on about with his sarcastic nickname. The scar over Desmond's eye didn't bother her, but it was the sort of thing a particularly unimaginative bully would latch onto to try and get a rise.

"I'm fine, dear," she reassured her fussy guardian as she led the way to the Lion's Stein, resisting the urge to jog. She well knew that running, or even walking too briskly, would only draw more attention and she certainly didn't trust that butcher not to call the law on her now that he'd recognized her. Good thing she didn't have much at her apartment she cared about losing.

She'd chosen the Stein for the fact that she'd only ever been there once; it wasn't a place folks would recognize her or come looking for her. It was a good place to wait for any unwanted attention to die down before heading out of Palisade for a couple of days; that was her plan, anyway, and as they came upon the Lion's Stein with warm light and laughter spilling out into the snowy evening, it seemed to be working.

"Here we are. After you, sir and madam," she said to Desmond as she let him and his elegant doe enter first, if they so desired. "I just hope there's an empty table. And I hope you're happy with your snack, you wee scamp," she added with an amused smirk for the vixen.

Nuala had accidentally taken advantage of Liadain's distraction, slipping into the bar with her head low, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, and had accepted her chosen's quiet nudges to help her choose an inconspicuous position in the corner by the wall, so that she'd be as out-of-sight as a horse sized doe could be.

"Why thank you," 'Mark' answered with a fond smile for her companion as she draped her jacket over Nuala's rump. It was an attempt to further hide the doe's distinctive dapples, for all the good it would do. Still, every little bit helped. "Day like today that's less a lovely thing than usual. We're not usually in Palisade except to sleep; long hours herding sheep in the surrounding farms makes for little time to spend in town hobnobbing. "Probably why I haven't seen you and your companions, either. Quite the pair they are, too; one refined lady and one little miscreant."

Maria wrinkled her nose in amusement at how pleased with herself little Vex seemed. She dared to attempt scratching the vixen lightly under the chin, hoping the fox would accept the affection as it was intended. "Lovely girls both, though," she added with a faint smile.

Meanwhile, Nuala had leaned cautiously forward to sniff Liadain in polite greeting. She wasn't entirely sure where the other doe was standing, but hopefully she wasn't too far off the mark.