"Um, begging your pardon, Your Lordship," (Patreon)
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Chloe quacked hesitantly, "but what are we supposed to do with Didelphis? Surely you don't intend to let a little child live alone in a shack in the wilderness."
"I am perfectly capable of fending for myself!" Didelphis snapped.
"You're right," I mused. "A youngling must be properly cared for, even if the wee tyke happens to be a transmogrified grouchy old curmudgeon."
"You know I can hear you, right?" Didelphis screeched.
"Hmm," I pondered, ignoring her. "I can't have her stay with any of you, because you seem to all still be dependents living with your families. I don't have to read anybody's mind to guess that your various households have enough trouble just dealing with you; never mind an extra cantankerous pipsqueak to keep track of."
"I'm right here!" Didelphis insisted.
I continued thinking aloud. "I'm sure that if I asked, Vernier would take her in ... no, that's no good. Vernier is overworked and is already sheltering Rebecca. I don't want to place another burden on her. Are there any orphanages in the area?"
"There used to be one," the vixen declared, "but some lunatic beaver woman burned it down. She's still at large. If we could find her, she'd make a fine addition to our coven."
"Well, that's out then," I determined. "What if ... what if ... ohhh, this will be good ... the pie-baking champion, the one Didelphis is obsessed with: Is she married? Does she have any children?"
"She is married," Rebecca piped up, "but she doesn't have any children. She's always wanted a son or daughter, but is unable to have any."
"That's why she's so good at baking," Chloe added. "She filled the void in her life by completely devoting herself to her craft."
"BAH!" Didelphis scoffed. "Practice and hard work are no substitute for natural talent! ... wait a second ... how do you know so much about her? Have you girls been consorting with the enemy behind my back??"
"She makes really, really good pies," the vixen admitted with a shrug.
"And she's really nice," Rebecca added.
"Plus she knows a lot of funny stories," the mouse (bear?) chimed in.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT," Didelphis shrieked. "I don't know you people at all!"
"Well then," I exclaimed, rubbing my hands. "The pie-mistress should be delighted to know that the coven has found a poor, helpless child in need of a good home."
"YOU WOULDN'T!" Didelphis gasped. "You can't! Please be reasonable! Don't make me dependent on my sworn enemy! Oh the humiliation! It's a fate worse than death! I'd rather be turned into a feral animal than live with her! Anything but that! I beg of you! Please, have mercy!"
"Wonderful!" I beamed. "Don't worry, young Didelphis, we've found you a good home. Oh, it's going to look weird for a kid to have a milky cataract. Let me fix that for you..."
"NOT MY EVIL EYE!" Didelphis wailed, covering her face with her arms. "It's all I have left of my cronely dignity! How could you be so Unseelie?"
"Fine, keep it," I shrugged, then addressed the rest of the coven. "Are there any final arrangements that need to be made? Speak up before we adjourn."