[Firefoot]

Sondo froze in the act of obligingly returning Sassy’s hug. He could feel his ears heat. He had been relieved to see her, if not so thrilled as she, but now the sentiment was buried deep in the recesses of his mind. That despicable nickname!

“Indeed,” answered Sondo sardonically. The sarcasm was lost on the elated Sassy, however. Why, oh, why, oh, why! Why could she not have been stranded on the other bank? Was she really so traumatized by the event? It had been several years since Sassy had last used the horrid nickname, and even more than that since he had endured it with good humor. Why now? And in front of his friends, no less! He knew they had heard; it was evident from their expressions. His icy glare met the eyes of each hobbit, daring them to say something or laugh out loud (or in Rory’s case, to continue laughing). Most averted their eyes and Rory stopped laughing, though many were unable to fully wipe the traces of amusement off their faces - but not Falco. A slow smile spread across his lips. Sondo set his jaw and raised his chin slightly. Then he very deliberately turned his attention back to Sassy. Falco, apparently unaffected, continued about his own business.

Sondo gently removed her arms from around his waist. She looked up at his face with a smile. He did not match it; rather, his brown eyes, usually full of fun, looked down at her with a gaze hard as steel. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Sassafras Brandybuck?” he asked, so lowly that none save Sassy could hear him. It was enough, and without another word he stepped around her so that she was no longer in front of him but to the side and slightly behind him.

Sondo looked about him. Somehow every single one of the hobbits had managed to reunite, looking rather rumpled, hungry, and perhaps tired but none the worse for wear, really. It was time to move on. He had not previously considered their next path, but he had to decide now. They were without supplies and lost, outside the Shire. He wondered how they had all landed on the eastern bank - the wrong bank! He had never looked very closely at a map, and certainly not one that showed more than the Shire, and he had no idea where they might be. Somewhere north of Sarn Ford, he thought, but how far? It could be one mile or forty! If they were close, that would prove the best plan of action, but barring that knowledge the only sensible path would be to start heading north, back home. He wondered how long it would take to get back. Not too long, he hoped.

Sondo opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped. Would they still listen to him? Could they still respect him as leader - Leader Bunnymuggins who had crashed the raft? What if they decided a new leader was in order? They wouldn’t do that, he assured himself, and without pausing to think on the matter further, he did speak up.

“Hey, everyone,” he said. They looked up - at least they were listening. “Obviously, we don’t have a raft anymore, or any of the supplies on it. At least we have only been out here three days - we shouldn’t have such a long path home. As for food, well, we’ll have to find something as we go. We can probably catch some small game, and maybe we’ll be able to find some early fruits. I figure that if we follow the river north, we’ll be home before too long.” There were sighs and groans, but mostly they followed his logic, and there were nods too. Heartened, Sondo said, “We should probably get going, then.” He began to start off, and hobbits followed, but he stopped abruptly at a voice behind him.

“Hey, Sondo?” He could practically hear the “Bunnymuggins.” “Are you sure you’ve covered all your options?” It was Falco. Sondo was in no mood to be contested.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” snapped Sondo.