.The foxes carried on their hootin' and hollerin' as the rafter of turkeys and herd of horses guiding them all traveled south down the Meadow. The commotion was a continued drive that sent the turkeys ever on, but there was a noticeable slowing as weariness gripped the large birds, their original fear subsiding to merely a sustained distrust. Those stragglers that panicked and shot off in different directions were all rounded up by the accompanying horses, and as they moved fewer and fewer of the toms and hens attempted such theatrical escaping, instead falling into line with their fellows.

It would seem like smooth rustlin' from here on out, except for the river that cut across the Meadow in the south.

The whole operation came to a halt as the foxes, birds, and horses arrived to the inside of the branched water. "WELL TARNATION!" Zippo cried out from the rear as he perched ontop of a turkey and surveyed the hold up. Winter had come on so quickly the river was frozen over in this spot, but the season was still young, was it safe enough to assume it was solid? "We can't risk losin' theese here gobblers!" Flint exclaimed from another side of the back, his attention drifting between the other two foxes as his flames drifted back and forth impatiently. The turkeys milled with an anxiousness that sent many shooting off in random routes.

"I was 'fraid o' this," Matches muttered from up near the lead, his flaming gaze squinting unhappily at the stream. The sound of his nervous brothers and the flock behind him had him twist around, his form bounding effortlessly onto a nearby rock to better address the group; orb still glowing hotly in his jaws.


"THIS HERE'S THA' ORGEON TRAIL!" he announced loudly, his tail whipping to and fro with a trail of fire. "IT'S MIIIIGHTY TREACHEROUS, BUT IMMA THINKIN' WE CAN MAKE IT OCROSS!"

"No way in hell Matches!" the other fox, Flint, cried out from the western flank. "We need ta find ah smaller place ta cross, tha ice will be thicker there!" Matches was right at the widest part of the river, where it branched from two, but to go find somewhere smaller to ford across would mean wasting more time and possibly losing more turkeys.

"Yous both crazy!" came Zippo's disgruntled cry. "This ice ain't thick enough, we gotta swing back 'round the water and come down dry!" Certainly the safest option, but that'd take the most time and with the most travel meant tired and lost turkeys for sure - but would that be less to lose than the possible hundreds that could fall through the ice?

Each fox had a clear method of travel and refused to accept the other's. It'd be up to you to decide who you wanted to support, keeping in mind that whoever succeeded with the most turkeys would be the owner of the orb, regardless of which fox possessed it currently.